#if nothing else than for the fact that hes not being actively corrupted by a simulation?

[basilpaste]

frontiers!sonic: one day i wont be able to help the people i love, but ill die trying and keep fighting with a smile regardless, because if nothing else i can be a beacon for their hope.

prime!sonic: i ruined everything and im not sure how to fix it. but im sure that i care, which counts for something.

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Demon King Headcanons

You have accepted the Demon King’s marriage proposal!

I wasn't planning on writing a second part, but some of you gave me ideas and I decided on short headcanons instead. The image of a big, buff, evil Overlord lovingly doing house chores for their human was too tempting.

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance

[Main Story]

The proposal, as you quickly found out, came as a surprise to everyone. Not even the King’s loyal butler knew of such intentions; he’d assumed they were finally going to destroy everything and everyone at once. To him, the dramatic scene of you and his Lord enveloped in flames was anything but a romantic confession. It was your final battle. So one might imagine the poor lizard’s confusion when the Demon King returned with you following behind. “S-sir?” He questioned meekly. The armored creature nodded at his servant. “It has been done. We’ll plan the wedding upon our arrival home.” The what? His baffled expression must’ve given him away, because the Demon continued: “What’re you gawking like that for? Didn’t I ask you earlier how humans forge a bond?” The butler stumbled to search for his words, swallowing dryly. “Well y-yes, your Majesty…I just didn’t expect it to be anything more than curiosity.”

The same speechless reaction repeated itself all the way to the Kingdom. Soldiers, diplomats, other monstrous entities of the unknown Land, they all greeted you in disbelief. So much, in fact, that you began to poke fun at their hesitant response: “I am his mortal enemy”, you’d announce with a dramatic bow. “Spouse! We talked about this!” the Demon Lord would quickly correct you, flustered.

Truth be told, you're not quite sure what made you accept this ridiculous offer. Perhaps a mixture of intrigue and disillusionment. The city you've dedicated yourself to stood no longer, burnt to a crisp along with its corruption and crookery. In a way, the monster had unshackled you from a responsibility you no longer wanted to bear. And if that wasn't enough to convince you, well, the sight of the Ruler himself kneeling before you certainly sealed the deal.

Although it may take a while for you to accept the idea that your worst adversary had actually been infatuated with you this entire time. Were there even any hints? During your last battle you nearly died. You'd crawled out of an enormous crater on your fours, bones shattered and ligaments torn. When you pointed this out to your groom-to-be, he stared at you in horror. "I had no idea humans were that fragile. I was trying to adjust my strength so as to not do any harm." You could only nod, patting away the sweat beads forming on your forehead. Uh huh. Maybe it's better you didn't experience his full range of attacks.

Ever since the devastating revelation, he's been extra careful when handling you. Sometimes he'll awkwardly hover his large hands above you, with a concentrated frown on his face. "What the hell are you doing?" you ask, eyeing him suspiciously. "I'm trying to be gentle." he'll answer. "You're not even touching me." Fair point, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

The Demon King will often ask you about customs from your world as a way to make you comfortable, just in case you get struck by the occasional homesickness. His Realm is very different from what you're used to, after all. Lamentably, his own years spent in the human world were not too fruitful from a cultural point of view. He was either busy stalking you or devouring the souls of the innocent. Now that he has nothing else to worry about, he will gladly listen and even do his best to actively participate.

You wake up shrouded in thick smoke. Overwhelmed by heavy déjà vu, you rush down the grand stairs, searching for the source of the fire. Are you being attacked? Enemies of the Demon King? You elbow yourself against the kitchen door, similar to when you left your home to find the city ablaze. The Demon Lord turns to face you, visibly overwhelmed and exhausted. You gawk at the scene unfolding before you and remember to close your mouth, mainly out of politeness. "It's too small. I'm afraid I cannot use it", he reveals timidly, holding a human spatula between his fingers to showcase the impractical size difference. You glance at the disastrous attempt behind him and manage to deduce he'd been trying to make breakfast. In an unspoken agreement, he steps back and allows you to take over.

"I'm surprised you let him burn down the kitchen", you mention to the butler once you get a moment to yourself. The scaly servant sighs, and theatrically lifts his clawed hands in hopelessness. "Pointless to argue with him when he's like this, (Y/N). In my entire life serving the Family, I've never witnessed a more stubborn leader." He points to the lavish portraits adorning the walls with a faint smile. "And, to put it frankly, he's obsessed with you. I've never seen him in a more deplorable state. Marrying a human?! The shame, the outrage!” he cries out. “No offense intended to you, of course. You must understand." You hum in agreement, a tad uncomfortable, yet sympathetic. "M-maybe it'll tone down after the wedding?" you suggest as encouragement. "Oh, no, I suspect it will only get worse", he bemoans in return. Then, he promptly straightens his back and resumes his duties.

You go on your own way, not wanting to burden the lizard in his work. As you cross the hallway, you find the Demon King himself scanning each room, somewhat agitated. He notices you and his features soften. "I was wondering where you'd vanished." You approach him with the words of the butler still ringing in your ears.

[cathkaesque]

When it comes to understanding migration, this needs to be taken into account: if you are in a rural area in the global south, like Honduras, you have basically no access to social services, medicine, and education. In fact, the funding for those services is actually being cut, as the social security funds have been looted by corrupt politicans appointed by a military coup. Then you have to factor in that you likely have no access to the land, and no access to credit to buy seeds, and have to sell yourself for basically pennies to an agroindustrial giant. The peasants feed the local people; the agroindustries feed the Americans. In Guatamala, there is a neo-corporate fuedalism where you are allowed a patch of land if you are willing to work, unpaid, for coffee plantations which sell their produce to the German company Ritz. If you attempt to settle unoccupied land, a local businessman will claim it is his without any proof, and the police will take his side because the Agrarian Reform Institute, which issues land titles, is controlled by coupists whose main concern is squeezing as much wealth out of the country as possible. Thugs will murder a man and his wife in broad daylight, and the judge will respond by evicting you and your family from the land.

There is nowhere else for you to go but Tegucigalpa, where you can work trying to wash car windows or selling snacks to passing cars for a handful of lempira a day. Or perhaps you could work for a few dollars a day in one of the maquila factories making textiles for the American and European market, which are set up in special economic zones called Charter Cities where the constitution and labour laws do not apply, which can close down and spirit away whenever they like to another country when they are more willing to sell their people for even less. And then you have to factor in the hurricanes that sweep through the country, destroying everything, that the rains no longer come when they used to but when they do they come in flooding torrents. Much of the north of Honduras is currently underwater; most of the banana and coffee plantations have been destroyed.

And then you factor in when you tried to change this via electing a better government in 2006, he was overthrown in 2009; when you tried to get organised and resist the coup, your friends, your loved ones, your trade union leaders and peasant resisters all turned up mysteriously dead while the military and police worked with drug gangs disguised as agribusiness like the Dinant coproration to burn down villages that opposed them. For trying to change things in the way that you were supposed to, through non violently protesting, organising, and voting for something better, you were subjected to a decade of counterrevolutionary terror and violence that the “international community” not only ignored but gave its active approval to. All of the factors listed above have not only been ongoing for the last 10 years, they’ve been intensified, hothoused by the global counterrevolutionary terror that was the response to the 2011 wave of post-financial crisis uprisings and revolutions and accelerating climate apocalypse.

And at the same time, all of this is being done so more of the country can be turned into a massive cash cow for the benefit of foreign corporations and domestic oligarchs. The wealth of your country is siphoned off and flows around the American and European financial system, benefiting them and building a consumer disneyland that looks like paradise compared to your situation. That could, even if you are worked for nothing, give you a few dollars to send home that could build your abuela in the countryside a nice home for her to live out her days. What other option is left for you and your family other than joining the exodus of people heading north, to the countries where the wealth and profits and rewards of your homeland’s suffering are being kept. And after you cross mountains and rivers which freeze you to death and sweep you away, you are faced with a massive border wall of ahte and soldiers on horses which hit you with sticks. You are faced with an immigration detention centre that will chain you to your bed while you give birth and separate you from your baby who will be given away for adoption to a white couple. When you make a charge against the border fence in Melilla, fed up with being kept in shacks with nothing while the Northerners debate what to do about the problem people their greed has forced to move, the Moroccan police will beat 35 of you to death.

And then when you get there to that golden paradise, you end up doing work not dissimilar to the work you were doing back home, working for pennies (though pennies that are valuable enough back home to buy the family that remain the tiniest slice of comfort) for an agroindustrial giant that supplies supermarkets with cheap produce picked by cheaper people. While you work in the fields, a crop duster plane will spray you with paraquat; when support organisations try to raise this with OSHA they will ask for the plane’s number, and when this can’t be provided they will say nothing can be done. In fact, inspectors are ordered to stay away from the plantations on the Texas border. A member of the Border Agricultural Workers Project says she hasn’t seen a normal child born on the border in 20 years, such is the effect of agrichemicals. If you fuck up in the slightest, have any interaction with the state, you will be deported and sent back to square one. There are a 14 million migrants in the US in the same precarious state, effectively without any way of enforcing their rights. My aunt is a Mexican migrant in California. Her son was deported because he got a speeding ticket. It was 15 years before she saw him again, other than through the bars of the border fence, when she finally got her green card.

The situation in Honduras can be repeated for almost any other country. Syria, Venezuela, Iraq, South Sudan, Libya, all the headline countries are countries that have been subjected to a severe counterrevolutionary terror. The processes of dispossession and destruction of peasant economies and communities (primitive accumulation to use the Marxist jargon) have been hothoused over the last decade by war and violence. I just wish that relatively comfortable people in the imperialist countries realised that the “migrant crisis” is the result of policies that their governments forced on others. Violence that their elites made their fortunes off. What a monstrous, barbarous way of life we have.

[mochatsin]

MC as a Dating Sim Character

An AU in which the seven brothers knew you as a dating sim character from a game they love to play so much. Has nearly the same functions as the Obey Me app. 

It started off as a trend in Devildom, a new app that a lot of citizens and RAD students play with recently. Great reviews when it came to the storyline and the characters. The brothers gave it a shot and surprisingly became attached to it. The reason? You.

Levi is the first to fall down that rabbit hole because he’s been waiting for this game’s release for a while now. He saw the roster of dating sim candidates and he fell for you first. Something about your design was alluring to him and when he finally had the app downloaded, he spent the first night playing the storyline to understand you. Learning your lore is what made him fall even harder to the point he has a shelf dedicated to your merch. He grinded so hard to upgrade all your cards (he definitely got those UR and UR+ ones)

Asmo started playing when he saw the trends about it and he wanted to jump on that bandwagon. Play the game and talk about the characters, which ones he like and whatnot right? It was easy, but when it came to your character he found himself playing on the game longer than he wants to admit. His fans can immediately tell whose Asmo’s favorite character is with how much he talked about you in his videos. He makes sure to get all the pretty skins that get released because in his opinion, there’s not a single outfit that doesn’t look good on you. 

Mammon plays the game as well when he attempted to sneak into Levi's room to sell something and ended up finding his brother’s merch of you. Mammon doesn’t want to admit how many hours he’s spent on the game trying to max out the affection level with you. Definitely spent so much money to get the UR cards since he can’t grind as much as Levi does, and he’ll buy those limited gifts to hear those special voice lines from you.

Satan gets curious and downloads it because he’s wondering how good was this game to even make Mammon lessen his casino gambling habits. The storyline is great, but the writing for your character was what made Satan stay in the game. He doesn’t hesitate in approaching Levi to ask about the game mechanics and tips, and Satan has it covered from there. He focuses on the story to get as much lore he could out of you. He wants to learn about every single fact about his favorite character. 

The twins played at the same time, and it’s funny how they both ended up liking the same character. They found out when they were playing the game together and saw you were their home screen character. Beel loves listening to your voice lines while he works out to motivate himself, while Belphie always has your voice lines wishing him goodnight that he uses to fall asleep with. 

Lucifer will never tell anyone that he plays the game. Not as much as his brothers though, this is something he wants to do in his free time or when he’s alone in his private study, he’s more casual about this than others. Your character is honestly pleasant company, it’s nice to hear you cheer him on while he works. Though he’s sure that if his brothers knew he found comfort in a dating sim character, they would mock him for sure (even if they’re all the same).

Though something weird happens one day when all users log in the app. Levi is practically screaming when he runs out of the room with distraught in his face. You’re his home screen character, but for some odd reason you’re not where you’re supposed to be. He thought maybe it’s the game being laggy, but you don’t reappear no matter how many times he refreshes the app. 

The brothers are just in shock, phones on the table during breakfast to check what was going on exactly. Your cards are all glitched out and corrupted, though everyone else’s was fine. People are wondering if this was all part of the game, if there’s some sort of event or what but there’s nothing. It’s like the game actively tried to erase you.

The devs eventually released a statement that due to some complications and unforeseen circumstances, the game will be deleted. Of course a lot of people are outraged, why would the devs suddenly discontinue the game in the middle of its peak? It was gaining a lot of attention and some people have already spent so much money for it. Everything was just unfair when there’s no answers.

Despite any attempts to keep the game, it was somehow deleted from everyone’s phone. Levi only has some of his screenshots and recordings to keep, whining from time to time as he looks longingly on his merch line. Some brothers sulk more than others, though they’re all upset regardless. Why you? Why did it have to be you specifically? You suddenly disappeared from the game, and they never knew why. With the game gone, there doesn’t seem to be a way for them to get their answers. 

Satan wanted to use his connections to figure out the truth, try to find the devs to get the answers everyone is looking for. The truth seemed much more disappointing for Satan though, learning that the devs actually didn’t know either where your character went. They thought it was a virus at first, but all your data was just missing. No matter how hard they tried to fix it, there was nothing they could do. They can’t handle running a faulty game, so they chose to discontinue and start fresh. 

Some fans would probably be thrilled to hear a new game already in the works, but it doesn’t feel the same. You’re the character that these brothers were invested in. There’s just something about you and your charms that had them drawn in the game, so the brothers weren’t exactly excited hearing about the new set of characters. Clearly it upsets the demons.

That’s until Lucifer called the brothers to Diavolo’s castle, as there’s some sort of emergency that requires their attention. Lucifer drags each and every one of their brothers out of their rooms, they can pout and whine about you later. 

Diavolo called in all of them, talking about that dating game that took Devildom by storm once. No matter how hard they tried to hide it, the young prince knew that each and everyone of them were playing it. They’re all embarrassed at being caught, but surely they’re not here just to be exposed by Diavolo right? He says that an unexpected guest has been found in Devildom recently, bringing the boys to a room in a castle.

There you are, standing in the room in front of the seven demons that are staring at you with awe. You’re here… in Devildom? At first they thought you were just some cosplayer, but the way you introduced yourself and your name was the same as the one in the game. There’s no way you’re real, but all the evidence is standing right in front of them. 

Diavolo says that he’s entrusting you in the care of the seven demon brothers. Barbatos somehow knew that you were all of their favorites, so they probably know what you like and how to take care of you. Maybe it would be a good idea. 

To be continued… i think?

[ohworm-writes]

「✰」 ━━ AS GOOD AS I DO

RATING R - Restricted [ Content warnings : 18+ mdni, smut, dom!Nikolai, fem!sub!virgin!reader, alcohol consumption, strong language, thigh riding, heavy make-out session, praise with heavier degradation, oral fixation, fingering, size difference, loss of virginity, corruption kink, p in v sex, mirror sex, hair pulling, spanking ]

SYNOPSIS You didn't know that it was a military bar, so you had no warning about all of the pent up soldiers that have their eyes on you and your friends. As most of them leave to have fun of their own, you don't. Why? Because you're a virgin. To your luck (or loss), a particular Russian pilot has his eyes set on you, and he intends to make the most of your first time that will have you crawling back for more.

WORD COUNT 11.3k (Too fucking much.)

The cold air bites harshly at your exposed skin, sinking its fangs in deep, forcing a shiver up your spine that makes you tense and makes way for goosebumps to break out all across your skin, the hairs on your body standing on edge as you roughly rub at the areas in hopes that the friction will do its job properly in warming you up.

It does, if only momentarily, give you a small sliver of reprieve and the opportunity to bask in the warmth before it’s cruelly yanked away the very second you halt your movements, letting that frigid cold seep right back in and settle deep into your bones, comfortably making a home for itself there.

From the exterior, the bar hardly looks... appealing, should we say? The exterior reeks of piss, stomach acid, and sex—a combination of scents that makes you scrunch up your nose in disgust and discomfort—and the building itself is hardly any better, the paint chipping and cracking all over the place with the brick looking as if it’ll crumble with so much as a gust of wind.

So, with a deep, heavy breath, you push open the old, creaky wooden door and take a step inside, immediately being greeted with a rush of warmth and the smell of fresh food and liquor. Lively, half-drunken chatter fills the air from the bar’s patrons, with some groups seated along the bar and others at tables scattered across the hardwood floor; nearly everyone within the establishment has one or more people to be paired with, leaving nobody alone.

The people, though, aren't exactly who you expected to see. When your group of close friends initially invited you to come out with them for a night of drinking near one of their flats, far off along the outskirts of the bustling city, you really had no reason to refuse the extended offer. After all, you hadn’t seen some of them in months, so this would be the perfect opportunity to catch up, no?

Well, it is. But nobody thought to tell you that you’d be walking right into a military bar.

Apparently, according to one of your friends, there’s a base just a few kilometers down the road, and, given that this is the closet bar in the vicinity of it, it’s where every active-duty soldier and veteran comes. They make up ninety percent of the bar’s patrons, too, so you and your friends are some of the few groups that aren’t associated with the military. Well… yet.

And not that there’s any issue with it being a military bar, of course! It’s just that… you aren’t exactly accustomed to dealing with such… bold personalities. 

While your friend group does, in fact, consist of a few colorful characters and then some, the other patrons at the bar are a little too much for your taste. You’re used to your friends making crude jokes, being loud and rowdy, and playfully flirting with you and everyone else, but when it comes to others? You aren’t exactly prepared.

You and your friends are sat around a large wooden table near the very center of the bar, a number of large splits cracking down the length of it, with one of the legs being propped up by a book due to it not being long enough to reach the floor. At least the chairs are somewhat comfortable, even if they’re nothing more than metal barstools with a bit of cushion on them.

The alcohol is fairly cheap, to everyone’s delight, especially when it’s actually good. You’d think, with the state that the bar’s interior and exterior are in, that the drinks and food would be equally as abhorrent with mold or bugs or something disgusting, but no! The food is cooked through and seasoned well, and the drinks are as they should be. So, none of you can really complain when the main attraction is enjoyable.

You all talk about anything and everything: who is sleeping with whom, what co-worker or boss got exposed for something or other, whatever celebrity drama is happening at the moment, what show or movie someone saw recently that you just have to watch. It’s a mixture of small talk and deep discussion, with the conversation flowing smoothly as everyone enjoys their food, drinks, and the company that surrounds them.

Until the first soldier approaches.

He’s young, no older than twenty-two—even that might be a bit of a stretch—dressed fully in uniform, the green camo pants he wears tucked neatly into a pair of black boots with a fitted shirt clinging tightly to his skin, emphasizing his physique. He isn’t bad-looking per se, but he definitely isn’t your type. 

He walks over by himself with a smug, self-assured grin plastered on his face as he approaches one of your friends who sits directly across from you, giving you a perfect view and earful of the interaction as you take a sip of your liquor, watching as he puts his hand on the back of her chair, speaking in a hushed whisper.

“Hey there, pretty girl. You look bored over ‘ere with all of y’r friends. I could make y’r night more interestin’, y’know. You interested?”

Okay. Wow. Starting off strong.

And before you even know it, she’s giving a sheepish smile to the rest of you, apologizing and excusing herself from the table as she grabs her coat and purse from the back of her chair, waving you and everyone off before turning and hurriedly trailing behind the man like a lost puppy and out towards the car lot outside, no doubt ready and willing to get in some action of her own before the night is through.

And that’s just the beginning. After another half hour, all of your friends have either grabbed their things and said their goodbyes to go home with the soldier of their choice for the night, or they left to the bathroom or back alley, only to come back with a limp to their gait, bruised lips, marks, tousled hair, and fucked-out eyes. And if it’s the latter, it only takes them a few minutes before they leave, just like their formers.

It’s not like you haven’t had your fair share of men and women alike trying to court you, either. In fact, there have been four different people who have come up to you throughout the night and have tried their hand at seducing you, whether it be shitty pick-up lines that they use or bold flirtatious remarks, some even trying to trail an eager hand across your shoulder or back as a means to further entice you.

But you haven’t failed to turn each and every single one of them down, polite as you may try to be. It’s for two separate reasons, you deduce. One is that the people who are coming up to you aren’t exactly your type, be it in terms of the way that they look or their personality, while the other reason is… slightly more straightforward.

You’re a virgin.

So, to you, it’s no surprise that you’re adamant on turning down everyone that comes up to you to try and, for lack of better wording, try to get into your pants. Your other friends who have already been approached and taken up their offers for a good fuck, be it bent over the bathroom sink, pressed up against the brick wall in the alley outside, or going home to enjoy that ecstasy in a bed, intend to spend their nights well.

They’ll be having more of a “good night” than you will, even though they’ve all wished you well with some variation of that phrase.

So, here you sit at an empty table, nursing your drink with a soft sigh, bored out of your mind as you trail your pointer finger around the rim of the glassware in a slow, calculated manner. You can’t help but feel a bit left out. Again, not as if you haven’t already been given a multitude of chances and offers that you could have taken up hours ago, but none of them—to you, at least—seem to be someone worthy of taking something as intimate as your virginity away from you.

To hold it in their palms like a trophy or medal to display with smug, overzealous pride. To flaunt, to brag about, and then to ultimately forget, because to them, your virginity doesn’t matter. It’s something that can boost their ego for a momentary period of time before shrugging off and away because it didn’t matter and wasn’t important.

So, no, you decide. None of the overconfident, liquid courage-fueled bastards are worthy of taking your virginity away from you. Thus, you only have yourself to blame for your “lack of action," so you can’t complain about it any longer when you’ve dug in your heels and chosen to stick firmly by your decision, now can you?

That is, until a particular Russian man donning aviators and a brown leather flight jacket downs his shot in one go and stands, beginning to take slow, confident strides in your direction from his previous seat positioned at a small table in the far back corner of the bar from behind you, with four men urging him on with a few whistles and cheers.

Not that he has any need for encouragement or prayers, of course.

You don’t even notice him as he approaches, because you’d assume with a man of his size and stature that you’d at the very least be able to hear his footsteps, but no. He’s completely silent until he’s right behind you, one hand holding onto the back of your chair in a casual manner while the other splays out right beside your drink as he leans into it, both next to you and behind you all at once.

You can feel his hot, vodka-soaked breath fall heavy against the exposed skin of your spine even when his mouth isn’t anywhere near you yet, still maintaining some level of control over himself and his actions. You’re unable to see the way he catches his bottom lip between his teeth as he grins, thoroughly amused with the way a shiver crawls up your spine, right to where you had felt the ghost of his breath just moments ago.

That, and the flames of desire that flare up and burn behind his eyes.

“I cannot help but notice that your friends left you behind all by yourself. So cruel to do that to someone like yourself.”

You can only assume that sarcasm laces his tone with the way he puts emphasis on certain words or the way he speaks with a specific lilt, but that couldn’t be the furthest thing from the truth. He means every word he says, so, if anything, it’s pure and unbridled amusement and honesty that lace his words and the way that he speaks.

Because he does think that it’s cruel that all of your friends have left you alone with nothing more than a quick, uncaring, departing word or phrase before they rush out to follow behind and fuck some other mindless soldier who, more than likely, has already had their fair share of the bar’s civilian patrons. Your friends don’t mean anything special to those soldiers, as unfortunate as it is, but that fact in and of itself is what separates him from those men.

Even if, yes, he’s in just as much of a desperate need to get off as they are.

You have to fight against the urge to roll your eyes at his words, your pointer finger continuing to drag lazily along the rim of your glass as you work to ignore him, not exactly up for trying to craft another excuse as a means to reject whatever proposal of having sex you assume he’s come up with, content with picking up your drink and finishing it off with a slow, steady breath, letting the liquor burn down your throat with indifference.

But, unfortunately for you, that only furthers his intrigue. So, with a smirk that slowly begins to spread out wider across his lips, even if you still don’t turn to see it, he chooses to take his shot and make a move. Or, rather and more accurately put, he makes an executive decision that he won’t allow you to refuse.

“Let me buy you a drink, да? Keep you company.”

And, just as stated, he doesn’t allow you to refuse him or turn down his offer like you had done with the others, already waving and making a few hand gestures at one of the servers, calling out to them for a refill of whatever you had been drinking and to place whatever your tab had been under his card, pulling out an empty chair, and taking his place in the seat beside you, getting to see that smug smirk for yourself for the first time.

And now your in it.

He’s… surprisingly pleasant to be around, you come to find out as you begrudgingly begin to converse with him. At first, you still try to ignore him, not even touching the new drink as it’s set in front of you just yet, keeping your eyes trained on and tracing the different rings in the wood table, but, in coming to the conclusion that he isn’t going to leave you alone, you start talking.

The conversation is forced when it begins, consisting of quick responses from you that lack any emotion or indication that you want to keep speaking. But he’s patient, and he waits, and he shifts his approach to asking questions that you can’t just give one to two word responses to, forcing the conversation into something of value. And only then does it begin to flow, slowly blending into something smoother—something that you can enjoy.

You learn his name, Nikolai, tasting it on your tongue with a sip of your drink, letting the flavors and tastes seep into your palette and glide down your throat until you feel it pool and fester in the depths of your stomach. The way you say his name makes his own cheshire-esque grin wifey further, his eyes crinkling with a flicker of undeniable mischief. It’s dangerous, but it draws you in just like a siren to a sailor.

He keeps the conversation civil at first, not wanting to scare you off just yet when he’s barely captured your attention, asking a few generic questions and molding them into something of substance, giving a few answers of his own and straying away from keeping them vague, trying to be as specific as he can afford to allow as a means to keep your attention drawn in on him. 

But after you finish your drink and he moves to order you another without question, he gets bolder.

Brushes of his fingers against your bare skin, remarks and words heavy with innuendo, heavy heated breaths that fan across the space between you both, and purrs that make your head spin in the best ways possible. It’s equally overwhelming as it is underwhelming. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and he’s doing it better than you could have ever anticipated, drawing you in like a moth to a flame.

You’re in over your head before you can even comprehend what’s happening.

“Come on, лапушка … let me give you a better night than your friends could ever even dream of having.”

His voice is heavy, as is his accent, his body turned to look at you with his face no more than a few centimeters away from your own, one of his hands busied with trailing his fingertips lazily up and down the exposed skin of your forearm, barely even touching it at all, while the other rests atop your thigh, the warmth from his skin seeping through the fabric of your pants as his thumb brushes back and forth in a methodic motion.

Nikolai’s staring down at you with these half-lidded eyes that you can barely even make out through his dark aviators, his breathing coming out in slow, shallow exhales, weighing heavy in his chest as he drags his tongue across his bottom lip, gently cocking his head to the side with that same smug look that hasn’t left his face or lips since he first started to speak with you, danger dancing behind his eyes.

A warning and a question wrapped into one, questioning if you’re ready for a man like him.

You look up at him, searching for as much as a flicker of that same cocktail of overzealousness and egotism that you so easily caught in every other person’s eyes as they presented you with a similar offer, seeing you as nothing more than a warm body to accompany and please them for the evening. To be able to decline him, turn down his offer, and go home for the night… to be able to forget about him and this before you let it get out of hand.

But you can’t find it. He wants you, yes, that much you can tell, but not in the same way that they did.

“Okay. Yeah… sure. Yes.” You tell him, stumbling over your words messily, but he doesn’t seem to care about it in the slightest. That smile of his edges with danger as he effortlessly moves his hand, grasping onto his aviators, taking them off and hooking them onto his shirt, his other hand leaving your thigh as he moves you in front of him, moving his hand to the small of your back to guide you around the bar towards one of the bathrooms near the back.

He stands tall from behind you, confidence radiating from his very being as he casually walks, uncaring of all the eyes that stare down at the two of you from all across the establishment as the watch, knowing full and well exactly what’s about to transpire, even if you don’t. His friends, the four, sat at the table just a few feet away from the bathroom door, sending him sly smiles and nods of approval. One of them, a bearded man wearing a bucket hat, holds up his wrist and taps at his watch, sending Nikolai a knowing look even as he grins just like the rest. You don’t exactly know what it means, but it doesn’t seem to phase the Russian in the slightest, rolling his eyes as he opens up the bathroom door, the hinges creaking loudly as it arches open, ushering you inside as he follows suit, letting it close with a groan, the lock clicking.

He’s on you in a second.

He turns you around, pressing you back roughly against the door as he crowds you against it, one of his knees wedging itself in between your thighs, shifting them apart, and one of his forearms moving to lie against the door above your head so that he can lean over and look down on you, giving you a crystal clear idea of how much bigger he truly is than you, bucking his knee up against your cunt.

A moan threatens to spill past your lips at the action, eyelids fluttering as the noise bubbles up… but he’s quick to catch it. Before it can boil over, Nikolai presses a bruising kiss to your lips, groaning into it, the sound rumbling like an earthquake from deep within his chest. A long, drawn-out “fuck” passes through his lips as he pulls away momentarily, trying desperately to catch his breath, his actions filled with lust.

His eyebrows knit together, and he bucks up his knee once more as he looks down at you, watching and relishing in the way your lips part and allowing for another sweet moan to drip past your lips, breathing stuttering, catching in your throat as he brings one of his big hands up to hold at your hip, urging you to grind against his knee, a high-pitched keen from you filling the empty space, occupied only by his heavy breaths.

“Look at you." Nikolai mumbles out, almost mockingly, taking in the sight before him of your parted lips, your shoes just barely touching the floor as he supports you on his knee, guiding you to grind along the length of it, the half-liddedness of your eyes. The sight is intoxicating, one that he desperately wants to photograph, frame, and keep to himself for as long as time allows, because, God, you’re a vision.

Nikolai dives back in for another kiss, this one lasting far longer and being much heavier—nothing short of tongue and teeth—as he loses himself in the taste of you. You aren’t much better. If anything, you’re in so much worse of a state than he is right now. You can feel your own composure crumbling apart in his hands, held together only by the taste of his lips. You can’t even fight it—not that you’d even want to in the first place.

You bring your hands up, letting them glide across his shoulders, fingers splayed, taking in the expanse of them before they go up further, tangling into his hair. The sensation forces another groan out of him, the sound trickling down your throat without a single ounce of shame, freely showing to you just how deep his need and desperation are to have you run within his bones.

“Have to… have to have you… You understand, да? You’ll let me?”

Nikolai breathes out between kisses, unable to decide whether he wants to lose himself in the feeling of your lips against his and nothing more, or if he wants to map and memorize every part of the inside of your mouth with his tongue. It’s a tough decision to make, so he opts simply to alternate between the two. It’s the best he can get of both worlds, he decides.

And your mind is finally allowed the space it’s ached for to remind you of exactly what this entire situation will lead to. 

He didn’t intend to bring you to the bathroom just to have a quick, hot and heavy make-out session with you, as nice as that would be. No! That’s not what you signed up for, dummy! The second you agreed to be led back here by him, you were giving him permission and consent to fuck you, and you know it!

“Imavirgin!”

The words come flowing out past your lips like water as you pull away from him, the back of your head falling back against the wooden door as you gasp desperately for air, breathing in quickly and out brokenly before you can even process what you’ve said, trying to regulate your breathing from the way he had taken the oxygen straight out of your lungs. And when it does catch up to what you’ve said, you feel your face burn white hot, completely flushed.

You’re looking at him with wide eyes, something akin to a deer in headlights, while he looks back at you, now in the process of catching his own breath, with nothing more than a slightly confused expression as he works to pick apart your hurried, panicked words. And when it dawns on him as to what you’ve said, his pupils blow wide just a fraction, minutely, and just barely noticeable.

He doesn’t look disgusted or weirded out by your words, to your surprise, having expected that exact response from him and being wildly confused when you can’t find an inkling of that expression on his face. “That wasn’t what I asked, лапушка.”

Nikolai mumbles out to you, pressing his forehead against your own as he allows his breathing to slowly but surely level out, his dazed, lust-filled eyes boring into your own, fingers loosening gently around your hip as he watches you intently.

He doesn’t care that you’re a virgin. It doesn’t bother him in the slightest, and, if anything, it turns him on. But what he's saying now is that he wants you, but he’s asking at the same time if you’ll let him, allowing for that decision to lie completely within your control. He isn’t forcing himself upon you, still giving you the ability to say no and withdraw your consent before he pushes anything further, simply asking if you understand what he means and if you’ll let him.

So, now you’re faced with a decision. 

Do you withdraw your consent and tell him that, no, you won’t let him go any further with this? Because, quite frankly, you aren’t ready. Not ready to have sex for the first time in your life, not ready to lose your virginity, and certainly not ready to give up such an intimate part of yourself to a man you only met less than an hour ago.

Or... do you take a leap of faith without sparing a single glance beforehand and tell him that, yes, you do understand what he means, very clearly comprehending it and recognizing what’s to come with the acceptance of his proposal, and that, yes, you will let him have you and your body? That you’ll let him do whatever he wants to you, to be the one to take your virginity from you… and maybe then some.

It’s an important decision for you to make, one whose answer determines whether or not you lose your last sense of innocence. And, for better or for worse, far beyond your better judgement, you don’t spend too much time weighing the pros and cons before making your decision.

“I… ah… I understand. And… yeah, yes. Please.” Just like before, your answer comes out laced with hesitation and apprehension, both emotions undeniable, especially with the way your voice cracks and strains, leaving you to stumble and stutter over your words as you give him your answer with a shaky voice. Your hands are still tangled into his hair, albeit much looser now, but still present, the tremors that wrack through them gently tousling the dark strands.

And, after a moment, allowing his space to process what you said, Nikolai’s fingers resume their tight grip on your hip, the thick fingers bruising the skin, no doubt, even through the layers of your clothes. Never breaking eye contact with you, he pulls his head back, removing his forehead from its spot pressed against yours, his eyes shamelessly looking you up and down, his tongue gliding over the skin of his teeth.

“Умница.”

Nikolai mumbles out with praise, his voice barely louder than a whisper, though gruff and gravely beyond belief, a testament to his desire, moving his hand down for your hip to cup and grope at your ass through your pants, the other quickly following suit as he hoists you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his hips so as not to fall. Even if he wouldn’t ever let that happen in the first place, of course.

With your legs wrapped so tightly around his hips, you can very easily feel the hardness of his cock, even through all of the layers of clothing that separate you. You feel your breath hitch and stutter as it comes out shakily, your eyes boring into his own with parted lips and an open mouth, so unaware of what he has in store for you.

Oh, sweetheart, he’s going to fucking ruin you.

Unlike before, his footsteps are heavy as they move against the tiled floor of the bathroom, the thuds filling the space between the two of you, mixed with your own shared heavy breaths as he moves to, rather unceremoniously, drop you onto the long sink that lines one of the walls. Your legs dangle over the edge of it, and your thighs spread apart so far that you can feel your pants straining to accommodate them and the burn of your thighs as he stands between them.

He brings you back in for another kiss, his body towering over your own as he forces you to lean back against the cold mirror behind you, a shiver crawling up the length of your spine as you moan into his mouth, earning a pleased groan from him, just like before. His hands move, hooking into the loops of your pants as he forces them down, not even requesting for you to lift up your ass to make it easier, doing all the work for himself.

Nikolai’s tongue glides along your bottom lip, teasing its way into your mouth. His teeth clink against your own, and the kiss is sloppy and messy in a way that makes you moan out, whining softly. They’re two sounds that he eagerly swallows from your lips and drinks in like wine. He roughly shoves your pants the rest of the way down, moving them around and off of one foot so they dangle off of the other, the leg dragging against the floor.

Pulling back, Nikolai chuckles darkly at the way you try to cling to him, gently and desperately tugging at his hair with a whimper, trying to urge him back down for another kiss. He clicks his tongue, tutting at you with disapproval, shaking his head as he does so, giving you a warning look that quickly makes you remove your hands from their position, letting them come to fist at his shirt, gripping onto it with desperation.

“Нет. None of that. You're so eager for something that you have never even had. You don’t know how to act. We have to fix that, да?” It’s condescending that the way Nikolai speaks, mocking you and making fun of you for how desperate you are when he hasn’t even done anything of real substance yet—nothing more than a bit of making out and thigh grinding—has you acting out of line. Granted, you don’t really know where that line stands, given that you haven’t ever done this before, but he’s here to show you. To teach you and ingrain into you the role that you play beneath him.

Nikolai brings one of his hands up, cupping your chin and holding it tightly and firmly between his thumb and forefinger, the others pressed against the side of your throat, tilting it upwards as you strain your neck to keep up with the action. He inches his thumb up further, looking down at and watching you with narrowed eyes, cold and calculating as he presses them against your lips, feeling the way you exhale shakily out of your nose.

“Open.” It’s not a request, as you can tell, so you don’t waste any time looking at him with confusion, simply parting your lips for him and opening your mouth, just as he’s requested. He doesn’t even give you a moment to fully comprehend what's happening as he pushes his thumb past your lips, presses the rough pad down onto your tongue, and hooks it behind your teeth as he pulls you closer to him.

Drool begins to pool inside your mouth as you look up at him with wide eyes, trying to speak, to whine, and to say something, but he tightens his grip in response, growling lowly. It’s your second warning.

“I thought you were a smart girl? Didn’t I say that? Умница, Да? Act like one.”

His other hand, the one currently positioned near your calf, not having moved since pulling your pants roughly down your legs, inches its way upwards, brushing against the exposed skin and leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Teasing, maybe, but it further ingrains his point into your head that, if you don’t start to behave and let him do the work, you won’t be getting any satisfaction or pleasure out of this.

He doesn’t care if this is your first time or not, and it’s not in a dismissive or cruel way. He’s simply treating you like he would any other person that he was going to have sex with, so it’s a mixture of equal rights and equal opportunity, you suppose. Whether or not that’s a good or a bad thing is… undetermined.

His palm presses against your thigh, fingers splayed as they continue to inch upward, branding your skin with the heat they exude, and, as much as you want to buck your thigh up into his palm and beg for him to rush and hurry up, you don’t. Because, lucky for you, that critical thinking skill is starting to work, the gears in your head are turning and allowing you the space to think. You have to be patient and good if you want what he can give you.

So, rather hesitantly, you wrap your lips around his thumb, gently gliding and swirling your tongue around his thumb, covering it in the slick, sticky saliva that pools in your mouth, looking up at him as you wait, playing that role of the smart girl that he wants you to be. Not rushing, not hurrying, and not begging.

And, oh, are you rewarded for it.

Nikolai lets out another deep and heavy "fuck," but this time it’s shaky and strained, the heat and movement of your tongue against his skin lighting up fireworks in his body that go straight down to his cock. His composure slips, if only momentarily, before he picks it right back up, catching his bottom lip between his teeth and biting down onto it roughly, shakily breathing as he watches you with half-lidded eyes and a twitching grin.

“There you go. Much better.”

Nikolai’s fingers brush against the fabric of your panties, his eyes breaking away from your face as he looks down and leans his body back slightly, watching his own actions as, with one finger, he moves them to the side, exposing your glistening cunt to his wanting eyes, pushing it until it touches your other thigh, using his fingers to spread out your folds, listening to the squelching sounds they make.

He gently presses his thumb to your entrance, not yet pushing inwards, simply moving it around the area with purpose, listening to the sounds that it makes—a perfect symphony, if you were to ask him. He drags the pad of it upwards just as slowly, letting it glide and trail over the length of your pussy until he reaches your clit, his eyes flickering up at you as he presses down against it, making slow, gentle circles around it, watching you.

Even with your mouth wrapped around his thumb, you let out the prettiest moan, muffled into a hum as your hips jerk upwards unintentionally at his actions. Your eyelids flutter, twitching and arching your back in a quick spasmed motion, and he drinks in the sight of it with greed, his breaths so hot and heavy as he watches.

You’re going to put him in an early grave, Nikolai thinks to himself. How is he going to survive when you’re so good and so eager for him? Letting him play with your pretty pussy like this, toying and playing with it as if the action were innocent in nature without arguing, whining, and begging for more?

He’s being so mean to you when it’s your first time. He should be treating you so sweetly and nicely, shouldn't he? He should’ve sunk his cock into you a while ago, broken you in, and given you the soft lovemaking you deserve to have. He should’ve made you cum already; feel you squeeze him and listen to you make more of those pretty sounds that he’s starting to crave like a drug.

But that isn’t the man Nikolai is. But, then again, he can still recognize and appreciate your actions. He can still praise you and give you something of substance before he lets himself take away your innocence and let his most perverse thoughts run wild.

Taking his thumb out of your mouth and watching the drool drip down from it, Nikolai places it into his own mouth, sucking your taste from it until it’s clean. Only then does he bring his middle and ring fingers to your lips. And now, you know exactly what to do without instruction, leaning forward and taking them into your mouth, gagging softly as you take them as far back as you can, your tongue drooling and licking all over them, wetting them thoroughly.

And this time when he removes them, he quickly moves on to shift them to your other set of lips, smearing the saliva all over your cunt, right near your entrance. He teases the tip of one of his fingers around it, pressing in gently and slowly, taking his sweet time. His fingers are so much thicker than your own; one of them is akin to the width of two of your own.

It doesn’t hurt, nor does it strain too much. It’s bearable—something you can handle. That is, until he works to ease the second finger in, letting you get used to the feeling of one of his fingers inside of you for only a few moments before pressing the second one in. And this time, instead of your breath simply catching in your throat, it’s as if the wind has been knocked out of you, leaving you gaping and gasping. "O-oh, fuck, please."

You whisper out softly, your voice breaking into a whimper as your back fully arches against the mirror, your jaw slack as you moan out pathetically, closing it only to swallow the saliva in your mouth down harshly, making an audible gulp, before opening it once more, breathing out heavily with whimpers falling from your lips as he eases it in further. The burn from the stretch has you dizzy in the head—a mixture of pain from the sting of it and the pleasure of being filled so well.

Nikolai smiles slyly, pushing in all the way until his fingertip brushes against your cervix, cooing to you in a degrading manner as you cry out, your thighs instinctively squeezing together, trying to urge him away.

“What? Do you want me to stop?” Nikolai muses with a smug grin spread out across his lips, taunting you with the way he spreads his fingers out into a v-shape. He struggles against the tightness of your cunt, feeling your walls gripping onto him like a vice, but not stopping either way. He’s pushing you to your limits, maybe even far beyond them at this point, but everything he’s doing is sending your mind into a blurry haze of pleasure.

So much as him mentioning stopping makes you want to sob.

“No! No, no no no, please no. Please don’t stop. Please.”

You beg him with your breathing bordering on hyperventilation from how quickly you’re inhaling and exhaling, with a tone raw with emotion and desperation, just as it was before, but the contexts feel so different this time. You spread your legs impossibly wider, that burn from before feeling like nothing in comparison to the way he’s stretching you out right now, his fingers knuckle deep into you.

Nikolai lets out an amused hum in response, slowly closing his fingers, feeling the way you squeeze him and force them back together, before spreading them out wide once more, his thumb creeping its way up towards your clit. You can barely notice it, too busy moaning for him and trying your best to keep your legs spread as much as your body tries to fight it. Unshed tears brim at your eyes, a testament to how good it all feels.

And when his thumb eventually makes its way to your clit, applying pressure as it moves in slow circles, you swear on everything you hold dear that you could cum then and there. Your eyes roll back into your head the second he presses his fingers back together and starts to curl them upwards, hitting that gummy spot that makes your body go rigid with tension.

“Good. I need to get you ready for me, after all. It will not do either of us any good if you cannot take all of me.”

If you had even half of your brain working, you might be able to formulate some kind of response to his words, but, with your mind so overwhelmed with pleasure, all you can do is squeeze his fingers tighter and moan like a whore. He continues his motions of pumping and curling his fingers inside of you, his thumb gradually picking up its pace, swirling tighter, quicker circles around your clit.

You’re mouth is perpetually open, and all the sounds that rise up deep within your throat are bubbling up without a single barrier to block them, your hands gripping tightly onto his shirt with no intention of letting go. Nikolai takes them all in with pride, every sound fueling his ego and his desires, only encouraging him further to quicken his motions. With the way your whines get higher in pitch and the way your body tenses, he can practically taste how close you are.

His free hand moves up your chest, slipping underneath the fabric of your shirt and hooking his thumb beneath your bra, pushing both upwards. He stuffs the fabric of your shirt into your mouth, muffling your moans, and, while it isn’t necessarily his intention to do so, he just has to get a look at your tits.

He can see how hard your nipples are and the way your tits jerk and bounce softly with every catch and stutter of your breath, and the sight drives him just as wild as the picture of his fingers stuffed inside of you with a mixture of your drool and slick smeared messily around your cunt and all over his knuckles.

Nikolai can’t stop himself as he leans forward, ensuring that you meet his eyes with a gentle tap of his fingers against your cheek when he wraps his lips around one of your nipples, his tongue swirling around it and his teeth gently grazing against it with a teasing bite. That sight and those sensations, combined with the way he’s been abusing your poor, puffy clit and pussy with his fingers, are all it takes to push you over the edge.

Your orgasm hits you with the force of a truck, completely knocking the wind out of you. Your breathing catches in your throat before stopping altogether for a moment, all of the blood in your body seemingly rushing to your ears. Your thighs snap shut, squeezing tightly around his wrist, and your eyes roll back into your head as far as they can go as you cum around his fingers, gushing and leaving them covered in your essence.

He lets you ride it out without saying a word, simply watching with a grin as you lose yourself in ecstasy—the pleasure that’s thrumming through your veins like nothing else you’ve ever experienced, and he knows it. The very sight of you like that has him gritting his teeth, growling out a low “yeah, there you go" against your chest as he detaches his mouth from your nipple, watching as you come undone, slowing down the movements of his fingers and thumb to let you ride out the waves of your orgasm undisturbed.

Your breathing stutters, that familiar glossy haze covering your eyes as you come back down to earth, blinking up dumbly at him as you regain your sense of awareness, opening and closing your jaw. All of that tension dissipates from your body with ease, fizzing out, leaving you practically boneless atop the bathroom sink, working on catching your breath as you try to remember how to think.

As you do that, looking down, Nikolai slowly pulls his fingers out of you, his eyes completely blown out as he watches the way your body tremors with aftershocks, shivering once he’s completely pulled out. Just like he knew they would be, his knuckles are covered in a ring on white, and the length of his fingers smeared with your cum and slick, soaked.

He wants to taste it; truly, he does, but that would just ruin what comes next.

Blinking, slowly coming out of the fog that the afterglow of your orgasm covers you in, you watch as Nikolai pulls back, bringing his hand away from your face as he brings it down towards his lower half, mumbling under his breath in Russian as he makes work of his belt singlehandedly, loosening it just enough that he can unbutton and unzip his pants. He doesn’t even shove them down his legs to kick them off fully, simply maneuvering the waistband of his boxers beneath his balls to free his cock.

And the sight of it sobers you up quickly.

How the fuck does he expect you to fit him inside of you?

“You’ll take it.” He tells you without missing a beat, confident, practically reading your mind because he’s become well acquainted with that very look that crossed over your features when you saw it. It makes him chuckle, if anything, using his hand covered in your juices and smearing it all across his length, and you can’t help but watch greedily at the sight, understanding exactly why he’s so obsessed with sound with the way the smearing of your slick and cum fills the air between you.

Nikolai takes a step back, not yet bringing his eyes away from the sight of his cock as he mixes your juices with his own pre-cum, eyebrows knitting as he loses himself in his own thoughts. After a moment, he clicks his tongue. The sound immediately catches your attention, effortlessly making you perk up and shift your eyes from his cock to his face.

“Get down from there and turn around. I want you bent over this sink.”

Oh, fuck. This is really happening.

You nod at him, gulping down harshly as you shuffle your body towards the edge of the sink until your ass is to the very edge of it, pressing the tips of your toes against the floor as you hop off of it. Granted, you nearly collapse, not having anticipated the force of your orgasm to leave you incapable of standing on your own, but, thankfully, your tight grip on the rim keeps you standing.

Nikolai lets out a huff of amusement at the sight, making no move to assist you as you awkwardly turn yourself around while still holding onto the edge, legs wobbling and shaking as you stand in front of the sink. Now, with the change in position, you can truly see just how fucked-out you look in the mirror, just like your friends had been once before on the chance that you saw them before they left tonight.

Your hair’s a mess, strands stringing out in every direction, fuzzy with static, and your lips are completely swollen and bruised from how hard Nikolai kissed you. Drool dribbles past the side of your mouth and down your chin, eyes red from unshed tears, pupils blown out and darker than you ever would have imagined they would be. You look like an entirely different person in some ways, but in others, you look exactly the same.

But Nikolai doesn’t exactly have time for you to admire yourself in the mirror, so, with a grumble, he takes a step forward, moving his hand to your upper back, seemingly sweet and intimate with his actions, before roughly pressing you down against the sink, your nipples coming into contact with the cold surface of it, making you moan out and shiver. With his free hand, he pulls your panties down to your thighs, ensuring they won’t be in the way or an issue, before moving his hand back to hold onto his cock.

“You can admire yourself when you’re wrapped around me, лапушка. I gave you a command, so… I expect you to listen to it. Поняла?”

He kicks your feet further apart with his boots, gliding his hand down the expanse of your back and moving your shirt up the slightest bit so he can admire your ass. He taps his cock against the curve of your ass, obsessed with the wet sound it makes, letting out a deep, gutteral groan as he trails his tip along it lazily, tilting his head to the side. His thumb gently caresses the skin, rubbing up and down in a small area before suddenly removing it, only to bring it down with a harsh smack against it.

The sensation makes you lurch forward, yelping out loudly, completely caught off guard, not having expected it in the slightest. As much as you want to say that you don’t like it… the way that your cunt clenches around nothing in anticipation combined with the breathless moan you let out is undeniable. It’s an easy indication of your desires and how much you truly enjoy the sting it leaves behind on your ass.

“I said поняла?”

Nikolai growls out, breath fanning along your neck as you hear his voice right next to your ear, his hand pressing down into your lower back to support himself as he lines himself up with your entrance, bringing his tip to glide up and down through your folds, the squelching sound it makes causing you both to shutter in anticipation. You let out a pitiful whine at the feeling, one that earns you another harsh smack against your other cheek, forcing tears to your eyes.

“I don’t know Rus-”

He doesn’t even let you finish your words before he’s plunging his cock into you, pressing through your entrance and bottoming out in one swift thrust, enveloping himself in your soaked heat.

“Ебена мать!”

Nikolai curses out, muffling himself as he bites down hard enough on his bottom lip to taste blood. The squeeze of your tight pussy around him is enough to make him feel lightheaded and dizzy, gasping as he takes in a shuttering breath and pressing his forehead between your shoulderblades as he pants.

He fills you up completely with his cock, stretching your already sore cunt far past its limits as his tip presses against your cervix. Your eyes are forced to screw shut tightly as you try to grasp onto anything, but, alas, the countertop that spreads out along the edge of the sink is completely smooth, leaving you helpless.

You dig your fingers into your palms as a solution, your knuckles turning white as you press your forehead against the cool surface, trying desperately to ground yourself as a means to combat the stinging pain that comes with the stretch. The sensation is overwhelming, with all of your nerves feeling as if they’ve been lit ablaze.

It makes you want to writhe—to wriggle yourself out of his hold and scramble away from just how much it aches and burns. But, as you wait, your breath coming out in strained, stuttered breaths, you realize that he isn’t moving whatsoever. He keeps himself buried inside of you, completely still, his chest pressed against your back, as he breathes in with considerable effort and breathes out with just as much strain.

So, as the both of you lay there waiting for the pain to subside, you’re able to focus on and enjoy the feeling and be completely and utterly full. When Nikolai had his fingers inside of you earlier, you thought that that sensation was the most full you were going to feel. But, with the way that his cock leaves no extra space inside of you, filling you to the brim in a way where you can feel him bulging out against your tummy, you realize how enjoyable the sensation is.

It’s intimate and almost comforting, in a way, to have someone fill you up completely.

So, as you lie there, focusing on that sensation, you can feel that initial discomfort and overwhelmingness dissipate, leaving you solely with that fullness. It feels good, you come to find out, much better than anything you’ve ever felt before, and all you can think about is how much better you know that Nikolai can make it. So, you choose to gently press your ass back into him, taking him in impossibly deeper and giving him the subtle indication that you’re ready.

You feel him suck in a sharp breath that fands out against your skin. In a slow, fluid motion, he draws his hips back, pulling his cock out far enough that only the tip of it is left inside of you, before giving a gentle thrust to his hips and plunging himself back into you. The two of you moan out simultaneously, the sound he makes being more of a groan in nature and yours more of a whine, feeling the way he moves his hand to hold at your waist.

“Nik…” You whine out to him, your voice cracking into breathlessness as you feel him thrust slowly in and out of, the desire to beg for more threatening to pass through your lips, but the harsh squeeze he gives to either of your hips shuts you up instantly, listening to the way he strains to breathe and speak, rolling his hips with each thrust, ensuring he can get as deep inside of you as he can, his tip brushing against your cervix each time without fail.

Nikolai lets out a particularly heavy breath, grunting as he snaps his hips with a bit more force into you. Steadily, he begins to pick up speed with each in and out of his cock, much to your delight, losing himself in the wet, squishy noises it makes with the motion.

“I am going to fucking ruin you. Mold you to my cock so that nobody will ever be able to make you feel as good as I do.”

He mumbles it out, primarily to himself, even though you can clearly hear it, standing up and leaning back slightly. He lazily turns his head to the side, eyes focused on the sight of his cock disappearing and reappearing with each thrust he makes, trailing up the length of your back and looking into the mirror, getting to witness it from a different perspective. The vision makes his cock twitch inside of you, forcing another groan out of him.

Taking one of his hands away from your hip, Nikolai reaches it upwards, finding the base of your neck, fingers splaying out as they cup the back of your head, before reaching forwards, tangling themselves into the strands of your hair, and pulling. The motion forces your back to arch, your head lifting away from the expanse of the sink, your eyes boring into… your own, the mirror giving you a perfect view of yourself.

Jaw slack, drool dripping past your lips, tongue out, eyes blown wide, hair a mess of strands, tits out, bent over with the prettiest sounds freely falling from your lips as you get fucked from behind in a shitty bar bathroom by a man you’ve barely met an hour ago. Nikolai takes in the same scene, his eyes watching yours as you focus on yourself, grunting out with each thrust, shamelessly making noise to properly translate just how much he’s enjoying this.

“But you would like that, да? To be unable to enjoy anyone else fucking you because I’m the one who took you first.”

Another slap to your ass leaves you reeling, your eyes rolling back into your head as he thrusts himself in deep, snapping his hips with a roughness that forces the air out of your lungs before you can even take in another breath. You feel him readjust his grip on your hair, forcing your back to arch even further as he growls, bouncing you along the length of his cock as he fucks into you with vigor.

The coil that resides in your lower stomach begins to slowly but surely tighten with each thrust, accompanied by your own pathetic moaning, whining, and keening—those beautiful tears falling down the length of your face without anything to hold them back. Your eyes glisten, flickering away from your own expression as you opt to watch his own, seeing the way he bites onto his bottom lip to hold back his moans and whines, even as he fails to do so without any resistance.

“Such a desperate whore for my cock, aren’t you? It is amusing how you’ve never had sex yet act like a slut.” Nikolai coos out cruelly, emphasizing his words with a particular harsh thrust that has you drooling, letting his own hand grip at your waist as he pulls you back into each thrust, ensuring he bottoms out each and every time without fail. The obscene sound of his balls slapping against your soaked, sticky cunt fills the air. You can feel his tip slam against that spongey spot on your inner walls—the one that makes your toes curl and leaves you feeling boneless—and when he hears the sound you make, he’s relentless in focusing all of his attention right there.

God, it makes you see stars. You feel so unbelievably full in a way you’ve never felt before, each thrust of his thick, fat cock ripping the air from your lungs, leaving you sweaty and breathless. It’s overwhelming, yet in a way that makes you never want it to stop. Drool drips onto the counter from your tongue, hanging off in stringy globs, flicking back and forth with each thrust. You can feel yourself getting close, your walls closing in on him with a grip that leaves him groaning and growling, completely pussydrunk off of you as his eyes catch on to all of the different telltale signs he’s coming to learn from you.

The way your eyelids twitch when your eyes roll back, the way your whole body tenses up with anticipation, and the way your noises get so much higher pitched

He’s never letting you go after this, he decides. Nobody is going to get to have you once he’s done with you—once he’s claimed you. He was your first, and he’d be damned if he let anyone other than himself be your second, your third, and so on and so forth.

“Come on, красивая вещь. Cum on my cock. You can do it.”

Nikolai growls out, his fingers bruising against the flesh of your waist as he holds on to tightly, as if you’d slip through his fingers if he were to loosen it, if only by a fraction. And you’ve learned from your lesson before that, being a smart girl and knowing to do what he says when he says it, so your body instinctively reacts to his command. Blinding, white-hot pleasure courses through your veins, ever nerve ending in your body, feeling like it’s on fire when you gush around him. You feel your entire body go rigid with tension,your, heart stopping for a moment, unable to breathe or see from just how hard you cum.

Oh, you feel like jelly. If you thought you were boneless before, the way his grip on your hair is the only thing keeping you up right now really shows you what “bonelessness” feels like. 

Your entire body convulses, spasming and twitching and jerking you as you fight the overstimulation of him still ruthlessly pounding into your pussy, whining and keening as you babble out incoherently at him, everything making you so dizzy with pleasure. Nikolai himself isn’t that much farther behind you, the squeeze of your pussy bringing him teetering over the edge, barely able to pull out in time with a strained grunt of your name as hot, thick cum spurts from his twitching cock.

Ropes of it leak from his cock, painting pretty white lines against your ass as he groans out gutturally, leaning his head back as he basks in his own pleasure. He pants out heavy, each breath strained with effort as he blinks, chest heaving as he struggles to regain control over his own breathing, letting his eyes drop back down to admire the scene before him. There’s this dazed, lopsided smile that’s spread out across your lips, your eyes glazed over with ecstasy, just like before, but the difference in seeing your fucked-out face cockdrunk off of him. Oh, that just makes it all the better.

He blinks a few times, his jaw slack as he swallows down his own saliva and pants, his hand moving to smear his cum messily along your ass, rubbing it into your skin as if it were lotion. He knows it’ll stick to his own clothes if he does, but he can’t help himself nor care as he leans himself against you, bending over you, allowing himself to rest his forehead between your shoulder blades as his body comes down from such an intense high.

Seeing you like this, having you like this… it’s something he doubts he could ever leave.

His breaths come into sync with your own; the steady breathing, lungs filling with air, and breathing out, expelling all of that air, is an action that the both of you focus on as one, uncaring about anything else but this moment. You feel him mumble something against your back, unable to make it out through the haze of your afterglow, unable to hear all the whispers of praise he allocates to you, pressing gentle kisses against your shirt.

The moment is undeniably intimate, something you may not suspect from him, especially given the way that he treated you. But it makes sense, the way he has this imposing and overwhelmingly dominating persona that he leans on, yet can be equally caring and loving when the situation requires it. It’s a delicate balance that he maintains, further proving the extents of his own control, both over his partners and himself, and you can’t help but appreciate and admire it.

But unfortunately, the calm atmosphere that begins to settle between the two of you is so rudely interrupted by the sound of multiple harsh, sharp poundings against the door to the bathroom. Even though the door remains locked, which, thank God, Nikolai had done, the handle still gets jiggled with haste. Muffled, barely audible conversation can be heard happening from beyond the door, but it doesn’t seem like, according to your actions, that each of you cares all that much.

“Nikolai! Hurry up in there. If you don’t come out soon, we’re taking your truck back and leaving you here.”

A gruff, deep Scouse accent barks out, muffled only by the barrier of the wooden bathroom door that continues to shake from the sheer force of the pounding the knocks have been making against it. Nikolai groans out with a mixture of frustration and annoyance against the fabric of your shirt, still working to catch his breath as his pants begin to slow down, the heat of them seeping through the fabric and sticking to your skin.

“Maybe I should let him…” He mumbles out for only you to hear, his palm gently rubbing up and down the curve of your ass, working to soothe that ache that lingers from his harsh, sharp smacks. He presses a gentle kiss between your shoulder blades, trailing his lips upwards as he follows your spine and the curve of your neck, leading him to make his way to press them along the edge of your jawline. The sensation makes you let out a shuttering breath, which is uneven and shaky in nature.

The afterglow of your orgasm still lingers, mixing in with the dull ache left behind by the rough way he treated your cunt, your mind hazy as it swirls with pleasure, focusing on those sensations and nothing else, not even his words. You let out a soft hum in response, still fucked out and dumb without a single thought occupying the space in your head, not even knowing what it is exactly that you’re acknowledging. It makes him chuckle.

“Good first time; I take it, then?” He muses smugly, knowing full well that you won’t be able to give him a proper answer. But, with the look that shines behind your eyes and the state that he’s left you in, he doesn’t even have to ask that question to know the answer to it. 

So, with a heavy and reluctant sigh, pressing one last kiss to your jawline, he pulls himself back. Gently, he moves to rest your head back down against the sink, turning his gaze downward as he tucks his softening cock back into his boxers. He pulls back up his pants, re-buttoning and zipping them, and fastening his belt through the loops. He composes himself after doing so, smoothing down his clothes and checking himself in the mirror. 

Well, as composed as a man who just fucked can, you guess. Then he moves on to you. He presses gently kisses along your exposed skin, helping your boneless form readjust your bra and pull down your shirt, pulling back up your panties and pants, ensuring they’re all situated as he gives you a once-over from behind, pulling you against him as he checks you out in the mirror in front of you. A kiss is pressed to the side of your neck as he looks at you in the mirror, his eyes still half-lidded and a smirk adorning his lips.

“Come on, лапушка. Focus. It will be hard to walk if your legs don’t work, да?”

He teases lightheartedly, helping bring you back to reality as he helps you stand, your knees buckling instantly, but he never lets go of you once, remaining patient as the pins and needles slowly but surely dissipate, and you’re able to stand on your own, finally able to string a sentence together and cultivate coherent thoughts Still leaning into him, even if you don’t need his support anymore, you let out a soft whine laced with disapproval.

He hums, wordlessly acknowledging you.

"I don't want you to go." You complain, drawing out the last syllable as you voice out your thoughts to him, not at all ready to depart and go back by yourself. To, quite possibly and realistically, never see him again once he leaves. You aren’t ready for that, as selfish as it might be to admit. He chuckles at your words, not out of malice but out of loving amusement, gently turning you around so that you’re facing him, tilting your head up with one of his fingers curled under your chin. 

“Well… I suppose my comrades can find their own way home, don’t you think? They’re capable enough. You, however…”

He trails off with a chuckle, wordlessly acknowledging your state with raised eyebrows and a shit-eating grin, to which you can only whine out into the air between you both, clearly not amused as he is by his words. But once you’re actually able to register what he means by that, you look up at him with parted lips, that dumb expression still on your face, but now it’s more endearing than anything.

He leans forward, the scruff of his facial hair scratching gently against your skin as he presses a kiss to your forehead, letting his lips linger around the area for a few moments before ultimately pulling back.

“Let me take you home. You might have lost your virginity, but… that was only in one position. I think it’s only fair I help you lose it in all of them, don’t you think?”

It’s cocky and overwhelmingly confident—exactly what made you turn down the others who had tried their luck convincing you to have sex with them earlier in the night—but, coming from Nikolai, it’s a trait of his that has you hooked. Be it good or bad, you can’t find any part of yourself that’s inclined to refuse his open offer. So, with a dopey, lopsided smile that spreads out across your lips, you nod, accepting.

Because he’s right: it’s only fair.

Умница - smart girl

апушка - sweetheart

Нет - no

Да - yes

Поняла - understand

Ебена мать - holy shit

Красивая вещь - beautiful thing

[blind0demon]

Center of Attention

Summary: You're one of many RDA pilots working on Pandora but you still managed to catch the eye of the recoms' leader, Miles Quaritch.

Pairing: Na'vi! Miles Quaritch x Gender Neutral! Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 1,4K

Author's Note: He's hot, he deserves it. 

The quiet room was filled with the sound of Quaritch's footsteps as he walked out of the bathroom, ready to go to sleep. His hair was still a little wet from the shower he took, but he didn't mind it at all. He made sure that all the lights were turned off and laid on the bed with his head resting against his arm. The man stared at the blank ceiling with a smile on his face as he recalled today's meeting with his favorite person, you.

Despite the dangerous mission he was on and all the action he had to endure, a simple talk still felt a lot more interesting to remember than anything else. You were the pilot who used to fly him alongside his recom team to different places on Pandora, wherever needed. You were good at your job but what was even better was your personality and humor. Miles found every opportunity to chat with you while you were flying.

Thanks to you, the thought about the possibility of getting killed on a mission wasn't corrupting his mind. He was just happy to be with you. The recom didn't notice his attraction towards you before Lyle began teasing him about it. It was true that for some reason your hair became shinier, your skin softer and smile more beautiful than ever, but Quaritch didn't think of that too much.

Now, he was and he couldn't stop getting you out of his head. You lived there rent free. After obtaining his own ikran alongside his team, the Na'vi didn't need you to transport him anywhere, which made him feel more independent but also disappointed that he won't be able to see you as often as before. In fact, he didn't see you in a few days now and could feel the frustration growing inside of him more and more.

He didn't realize how much he needed you before. However, this day was his lucky day. He arrived outside of the RDA base waiting for his crew to meet up and noticed you on your own repairing a small malfunction in your Aerospatiale. There were almost no people around this early in the morning so he decided to have a chat with you and catch up. You had a nice time talking about everything and nothing while he watched you fix the engine.

You looked absolutely breathtaking to him. Your skin was glistening in the sun and face slightly red from the activity. The way your muscles tightened as you worked awoke something primal in him as he looked at you in interest. The straw that broke the camel's neck arrived when you bent down in front of him to pick up the screwdriver that you accidentally dropped.

Quaritch's mind immediately painted the view of him fucking you against the door of the gunship, knowing well that you could get caught at any moment. Despite being a strong and confident person, you were still so small and fragile compared to him and it only made him more turned on to think about making you his. Miles broke out of his thoughts when he caught himself breathing rapidly and feeling a familiar hardness under his pants.

He cursed at himself under his breath for having such fantasies instead of putting himself together and just asking you out. However, the recom wasn't sure if you felt the same way about him, which could potentially destroy everything that you had between each other. You were also different species, therefore it added another to the problems on the list although he didn't mind the fact that you were human. In fact, you would fit just perfectly around him so he could blow your mind.

Quaritch sighed tiredly, knowing that he won't be able to fall asleep in this condition, unless he takes care of it or waits it out. So he does, taking his semi hard member in his palm and slowly sliding up and down its length. The man closed his eyes and thought of the person that made him this turned, you. Miles bit his lower lip, holding back a growl, picturing you in front of him.

Your beautiful eyes looking at him with such kindness and your gorgeous smile that always made his heart skip. You were the only one occupying his mind all the time, even the thought of catching Jake Sully didn't corrupt him as often as you did. It was as if you put him under a spell and it worked. Pleasure started to spread to every part of his body, making his ears lean back at the sensation, whispering your name as if hoping that you could be here with him.

Oh, how he'd make you feel as good as him. If only you were his, you would be sitting on his manhood and ride him till oblivion at this moment. There'd be no fear of you not fitting him, Miles would give you the foreplay of your life till you'd be begging for him to enter you. He imagined holding you by the hips and pushing you down his length, hearing you moan at the feeling of his member filling you up to the hilt.

The sensation Quaritch felt during his trance made it so realistic as well. You moved up and down with no effort as his hands held you tightly and guided you at his preferred pace. Your eyes would be clouded in lust and your face engulfed in the desire you experienced because of him. Moans escaped your lips during which your nails dug into his abs, marking him as yours.

The Na'vi pumped his hand faster, imagining your tight wet muscles squeezing him to the point where he'd go feral. It became really hard to hold back the groans trying to leave Quaritch's mouth when he kept his eyes shut. His face was burning and his body felt as if it was going to explode soon. Miles would imagine you also feeling your climax approaching as you'd grow louder and beg him to go faster.

And he would comply, tightly holding your waist and thrusting his hips upwards, meeting yours as well. The tip of his shaft would perfectly hit every sensitive spot in your body, making you go crazy above him as you'd take him so well. Just the thought of hearing your voice moaning his name made him feel guilty for touching himself to your image but he couldn't help himself.

You were in the center of his attention, nothing else mattered at this moment. Miles's ears tilted back at the hot feeling spreading through his muscles as he kept on going, feeling his legs go numb at the blinding pleasure he experienced. He felt this pressure building up for a long time when he wasn't able to see or hear you and he needed to release it.

The Na'vi's hand twisted itself around his throbbing manhood while running up and down his length as his hips instinctively thruster upwards. His breath was rapid and heavy while he barely kept up with the sensation tearing through him. Your voice rang in his ears, begging him to go even faster and he complied, pleasuring himself as quickly as possible until he finally experienced his big finish. Quaritch let out a low moan as ecstasy flooded his system and made him unable to think straight.

His member unleashed its load onto his hand and bedsheets, still pulsating around his fingers. Miles sighed in relief, resting his head against the pillow as his heartbeat slowly turned back to normal. He whispered your name with a smile, realizing what kind of a mess you just made of him. All this chaos just because of you, he couldn't recognize himself. Still, he wasn't fully satisfied on his own, he needed more, he needed you with him. If only you knew how crazy you drove him. Quaritch's definitely gonna ask you out tomorrow if that'd be the last thing he does. 

[candycandy00]

Corruption kink with shiggy, innocent fem reader pls?

Smut. 18+. Voyeurism. Masturbation. Probably some other stuff. I hope you like this, anon!

Note: Just assume this happens post-War Arc, but that AFO fucked off and was never heard from again.

Oh no. This could NOT be happening. It’s your first day on the job as a sidekick, your very first day, and you stumble upon the world’s most dangerous villain: Shigaraki Tomura. Five minutes ago you were just doing boring patrols around the city. Now you’re looking down an alleyway at a monster in red sneakers. It’s too late to run away, he’s already spotted you peeking your head around the corner of the nearby building, and you’re not dumb enough to think you could take him on alone. Even several pro heroes teaming up couldn’t handle him!

He’s looking at you, red eyes shining in the dim light of dusk. You look back at him, wondering how fast he’ll murder you.

“Come on out, hero,” he says.

You sigh and step around the corner. “Um, actually, I’m a sidekick, not a hero.”

He doesn’t reply to that, just stares at you as if sizing up what sort of threat you could be. Little does he know you pose less of a threat to him than a baby deer would.

You slowly approach him, not wanting to upset him in any way. You’ve heard he could be volatile. You watch him as you walk, looking for any signs that he’s going to attack. Unfortunately, this means you’re not looking at the ground, so you don’t see the discarded beer bottle right in your path. The high heel of your ridiculously impractical boots gets caught on the bottle, and you faceplant spectacularly in the alley, almost landing at Shigaraki’s feet.

For a moment, you’re so embarrassed that you can’t move. Then you gradually get up, being extra careful with the heels. When you look up at Shigaraki, he has a strange expression on his face, as if he wants to laugh but is keeping his composure.

“Sorry, this is my first time wearing this costume. I’ve never worn heels this high,” you say, reaching down to rub your sore ankle.

Shigaraki folds his arms over his chest. “This is your first day as a hero?” he asks skeptically.

Now that you’re up close, you can see his face clearly. You’re surprised by how good looking he is. In fact, he’s totally your type! You find yourself staring at his lips, instinctively wetting your own. “Uh, sidekick, not hero,” you say again, distracted by how toned his arms look in his black shirt.

“So? What are you going to do?”

What does he mean? Does he really think you’re going to try to fight him? When you can barely walk on pavement? “Well, if you’re not actively committing any crimes, I don’t think I have to try to stop you.”

He’s still looking at your suspiciously. “Let’s say I’m not committing any crimes.”

“You’re not? That’s great! I’ll just be going then…” You start to turn around, thankful that you’re still alive, when his voice stops you.

“You’re just going to believe me?”

You look back at him. “Shouldn’t I?”

He shakes his head. “Are you for real? No hero can be this naive.”

“Sidekick,” you say, but he doesn’t seem to be paying attention. He seems to be in deep thought.

“I think I have a quirk that’s perfect for this,” he says.

“Huh?”

Before you can do anything else, Shigaraki raises one hand and a pink mist spreads out from it.

“It’s called ‘Truth Serum’,” he tells you as the mist drifts over you and you have no choice but to breathe it in. You cough and try to expel it from your lungs, but it’s too late. Whatever effect this quirk has, it’s going to work on you.

For a few seconds, you just stand there, waiting to feel something. When nothing seems to happen, you look at him questioningly.

“How did you find me?” he asks.

“I just glanced down this alley as I walked by and spotted you.” You blink, surprised by how fast and automatically you answered.

“Were you looking for me?”

“No. It was a total coincidence.” There it was again, that answer that seemed to come straight from your mind, with no filter.

He seems to be thinking for a moment, and then asks, “How long have you been a hero?”

“I’m not a hero. I’m a sidekick. And this is my first day.”

“So you were telling the truth,” he says, looking slightly more relaxed.

“Yes,” you reply absently, your voice working but your mind distracted as you enjoy watching his face make subtly different expressions. Those eyes…. that hair… You just want to run your hands through it.

Shigaraki narrows his eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because I think you’re incredibly sexy.” Wait. What did you just say? Out loud? To Shigaraki Tomura? You clasp your hands over your mouth with a gasp. This “truth serum” quirk is dangerous! Not to mention embarrassing.

Shigaraki’s eyes are wide as he looks at you. Evidently he got a little more than he bargained for when he asked that question. “Really?” he asks, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

You have your hands clamped over your mouth, but the second he finished the question, you move them and say, “Yes. You’re the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.”

You blush crimson and cover your mouth again. How dare it betray you this way!

Shigaraki is grinning. “So that’s what you think of me?”

“Yes. Also, I’m terrified of you.”

He holds up his hands in front of him, one of them missing several fingers. “Because I could kill you so easily?”

“Yeah, that’s one reason.”

“What’s the other?”

You try not to answer. You fight it really hard, but the words spill out anyway. “You make me think impure thoughts.”

Shigaraki blinks, then suddenly laughs. “Seriously? What kind of impure thoughts?”

Oh no. Please don’t say it. Please just keep your mouth shut. Please just shut- “That I want you to kiss me. That I want to touch your hair. That I want to know what your hands would feel like all over me.”

The laugher dies in his throat. He seems genuinely surprised by your answer. Actually, it looks like his face is slightly pink. An awkward silence falls over the alley, then Shigaraki steps closer to you, within touching distance, and looks down at your face. “Do you want me to touch you?”

“Yes,” you answer, your voice cracking slightly on the word. You do want him to touch you, but admitting it to him? It’s mortifying. It’s also scary. You know what those hands can do. He’s your enemy. And it’s also scary for another reason…

Shigaraki turns you around to face away from him, then places his hands on your shoulders from behind. He’s so close that you can feel his chest brushing against your back. He slowly moves his hands down your arms, then moves them to your waist, then slides them up. You suck in a nervous breath as his hands reach your breasts then grope gently at them through your clothes.

His hands then move down to your hips, one of them sliding over to your inner thigh and moving up toward your groin. It stops just before it reaches your most private spot. Shigaraki leans his face forward, right beside your ear, and asks, “Want me to keep going?”

You slam a hand over your mouth, desperately trying to hide the truth. Shigaraki reaches up with the hand that’s missing fingers and pulls your hand away from your face.

“Yes!” you blurt out.As soon as the word leaves your mouth, Shigaraki’s hand glides up between your legs and squeezes. The thin spandex of your ridiculous costume is the only thing separating his skin from yours. You can feel his fingers pressing against the soft mound, and you let out a small moan.

“You like that?” he asks, his voice low.

“Y-yes,” you say, abandoning your attempts to stop yourself from answering. You realize you’re trembling.

“Are you still afraid of me?”

“Yes, but I’m afraid of other things too…”

His lips grazed your ear as he asked, “What other things?”

“No one has ever touched me there before, so feeling like this scares me.”

Shigaraki looks you in the face, his hand still groping at you. “No one? Really?”

“Yes, no one,” you confirm, blushing again. So you’ve just admitted you’re a virgin.

He grins. “I bet you touch yourself there a lot, huh?”

“Not a lot,” you say, shuddering as he gives a slightly harder squeeze, “Just a couple of times, just a little bit. It felt too intense so I stopped right after I started.”

Shigaraki withdrew his hand and stepped away from you. You almost collapsed right there. Your knees were wobbly, and it felt like your costume was damp between your legs.

“You mean you never finished? So you’ve never…” he trailed off, looking surprised.

You’re completely red at this point. You’ve just explained your entire sexual history to him, what little there was of it. You had a sheltered childhood, and as a teenager you spent most of your time at home reading or playing games. So you ended up being somewhat clueless about sex.

“No, I never finished,” you answer, assuming he’s referring to having an orgasm. You’ve never had one before, but they sound amazing. You’re just too nervous to go that far, even alone. You’re incredibly sensitive, and the couple of times you tried masturbating, you chickened out and stopped when the sensations became too much.

“Maybe I can help you out sometime,” he says with a grin.

A noise behind you at the entrance to the alley draws your attention and you turn around, afraid some poor civilian might get mixed up in this. There’s a drunken man in a suit stumbling around, nearly falling before catching himself on a wall. When you look back to Shigaraki, he’s gone without a trace.

Thankful to have escaped the encounter with your life, but also completely humiliated, you limp out of the alley on your sore ankle and finish your patrols.

Over the next few weeks, you find yourself running into Shigaraki “by coincidence” many times. You’ve heard he has a quirk that lets him search out specific people, and you wonder if he’s using it on you. He always appears when you’re alone, always hits you with that damned “Truth Serum” quirk, and always asks you embarrassing questions. Have you been thinking about him? (Yes) Did you ever try touching yourself again? (No) Have you told any of the heroes about meeting him? (No)

He even made you admit that you’ve been having dreams about him, though thankfully you were interrupted before he could ask you what the dreams were about. If you had to describe such filthy things, you’d absolutely die of shame. Once he asked you what you’ve been thinking about and you said you’ve been wondering what he looks like naked. He paused for a minute then asked if you wanted to see his dick. You said yes, of course, and he pulled it out right there in front of you.

You immediate reaction was to cover your eyes. You’d never seen a naked man in person before this, so it was a bit of a shock. But then you actually looked. For some reason, you always thought you’d be mildly grossed out the first time you were faced with a penis, but you didn’t feel that way at all. In fact, you liked the way it looked. You didn’t touch him, and he left soon after.

Some of the encounters resulted in him groping you again. He always asked if you wanted him to, and you always did, even if you wished you could hide it. Those meetings left you feeling dirty, like a pervert. You’ve never felt like this before, about anyone. And now you can’t stop thinking about Shigaraki, can’t stop imagining him doing all sorts of filthy things to you.

Finally, one day, he appears at the door to your apartment. You’re shocked when you open the door, but you invite him in. He follows you into your tiny living room, but he doesn’t sit down, even after you take a seat on the couch. He’s standing there in black pants and a black hoodie, soft white hair framing his face. He raises one hand, and the pink mist comes out. You don’t even struggle against it anymore.

“Are you happy to see me?” he asks.

“Yes.”

He grins. “I came to help you finish for once.”

For a moment, you don’t understand what he means. Then it dawns on you, and two feelings simultaneously erupt within you: panic at the thought that things are about to get more embarrassing, and arousal at the very idea of him ‘helping you’, whatever that means.

“Wait,” you say, “I’m not sure I-”

“Do you want to have an orgasm?” he asks you, interrupting.

“Yes,” you say without hesitation. Damn this truth serum quirk!

“Do you want me to help you?”

“Yes,” you say again, your voice breathless. You’ve never been this scared, or this excited, in your life.

He reaches down and places his hand on your thigh. Within seconds, your shorts and panties crumble away, leaving you exposed. You shriek and try to cover yourself with the end of your tshirt, but Shigaraki stops you. “I want to watch you,” he says, eyes staring into yours.

You let go of your shirt, and Shigaraki gently lifts one of your legs up, so that one foot is on the seat of the couch beside you. This pose leaves you spread open, all of you on display for him. He backs up a few steps and takes in the view. Your face feels hot, and you know you must be absolutely scarlet.

“Touch yourself,” he says, his voice low.

You hesitate. You were embarrassed and scared to do this by yourself. How could you possibly do it in front of him? But you can already feel it. You’re wet. This is turning you on! You reach down a shaky hand and lightly rub the outer flesh of your pussy. It already feels sticky. You glance up and see his red eyes fixed on you, on your hand making its first timid movements.

“Spread it open,” he says, still standing a couple of feet away. His face looks transfixed as he watches you do as he commanded, using your fingers to open the folds. Cool air hits the sensitive skin, and you shudder in response. You use one finger to circle your clit, almost afraid to touch it directly. But you can see it in his eyes. He’s hungry to see you go for it. So you do. You rub your clit, slowly and gently at first, and then apply a little more pressure.

It feels so good, you think you might cum in seconds. “Slow down,” Shigaraki says, drawing your eyes up to him, making sure you don’t forget he’s there. You follow his instruction, slowing your pace. You moan as a wave of pleasure hits you.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks.

Your voice sounds like it doesn’t belong to you when you groan out, “You!”

You look at his face, and his eyes flash with desire and excitement. “What about me?”

“How much I want you… how much I want…”

He’s watching you so intently, it’s like the two of you are the only things that exist in the whole world. “How much you want what?” he asks.

You’re still under the effects of the truth serum. You can’t avoid answering, even if you wanted to. “How much I want your cock!” you scream, your fingers now stroking your clit furiously.

He comes closer and kneels down in front of you, so close he could kiss your thighs if he wanted to. “Tell me every dirty thought you’re having about me.”

“I want you to kiss me! I want you inside me! I want you to cum in my mouth! I want you to take my virginity! I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t walk! I want you to wreck me! I want to be your personal slut!” The words spill out, dirty, shameful thoughts you never had until you met him. You’ve always been the innocent, naive one who blushes over a slightly naughty joke. Now you’re masturbating and screaming out your every desire in front of the king of villains. What’s happening to you?

Shigaraki gives you a teeth-baring grin. “Good girl,” he says, and that pushes you over the edge. You feel a rush of unbridled pleasure wash over your entire body. You arch your back, toss your head back, and scream out in ecstasy. You just experienced your first orgasm, and it felt incredible. You pant and tremble as your body relaxes and your head clears. That’s when you realize: Shigaraki just watched you have your first orgasm. The rush of euphoria you felt is replaced by a rush of embarrassment.

You close your legs and pull your shirt down in an effort to cover yourself, lowering your eyes to avoid looking at him. You can’t believe you said all those things, did all those things, in front of him. He must think you’re a total slut.

To your surprise, he sits down on the couch beside you and pulls you closer to him. “Don’t get too comfortable. I’m gonna make all your wishes come true tonight. Starting with…” He tilts your chin up and presses his lips to yours, then slips his tongue into your mouth. It’s a soft, passionate kiss. “What do you think of me now?” he asks,

“I think I’m in love with you.” The answer comes freely, of course. Stupid truth serum.

It’s as if he can read your mind. He grins. “Truth Serum wore off just after you finished,” he says.

Your eyes widen. “You tricked me!”

He laughs, then kisses you again. “Ready for me to wreck you?”

You blush at your words being thrown back at you, but you nod and answer, “Yes.”

[zairene]

WELCOME TO THE PARTY. osamu dazai

* ˚ ✦ synopsis: you’ve perished and after being in a limitless abyss that seemed to have no end, you found yourself having a conversation with the underground’s grim reaper.

* ˚ ✦ genre: fic, 1k count !

* ˚ ✦ author’s note: this is honestly a really good prologue for a series.

after becoming a victim of reality’s corrupt fate of death, you were surprisingly calm. were you satisfied when you died? obviously not. dying young meant leaving everyone and everything you had ever loved behind and it was definitely a hard pill to swallow. however, you just knew it was coming. you were free of the pain you were constantly having to endure when living, and now that it has stopped, you finally achieved a level of peace you haven’t experienced before.

you had been suffering from a terminal illness, when doctors immediately diagnosed you and relayed the news that you were slowly dying, you didn’t know how to feel. seeing the tears of your loved ones did not help your conflicted emotions, they were handling it worse than you and you were the one dying. so when it came to the day you were expected to die, you were just ready for life to take you away and put you in whatever situation that lay for you in the afterlife.

and here you are now, walking in this abyss-like place where nothing but the color black was in your vision. you didn’t know how long you were walking or where you were heading towards—hell you could’ve been walking in circles this entire time—but you didn’t feel any sort of fatigue or have any sense of time. being dead was a lot more dull than you assumed it to be. either way, you had no choice.

“well hello there.”

a deep smooth voice called from behind you. you turned around to see a figure with a tall and lanky physique, his bandaged hands held an enormous scythe. is he here to finish me off? that was your initial thought when you saw the being. he soon lifted his hoodie to reveal his face. his eyes were a piercing black to the point where a simple stare could make any regular person think he could see their soul. in this case, he probably could.

his wavy brown hair was layered, but his hair in the back reached the nape of his neck. even for being dead, it looked like he took care of it quite well, you were kinda impressed. his smile was oddly soothing, but you could tell there were many tales to be told behind it.

“are you just here to tell me i’m dead? i think i’m aware.” you said.

“no, no darling. actually, you’re not dead. not yet anyways.” he saunters closer to you. “this is the void.”

“the what?”

“the void.” he raises his hand that is holding his scythe and places it behind him to lean on. you are stunned by the fact that thing could handle his entire body weight. “a place between life and death where i make your journey into the afterlife somewhat easier, to put it into simpler terms, i guess.” he paused, taking a look at you. his expression changed. “you poor thing, you look awfully young. i take it you haven’t handled the news well, hm?”

“yeah, dying young wasn’t really a part of my resolutions for the new year but here i am. and i handled it just fine, thank you.” you were not about to have him treat you like some charity case similar to anybody else that has met their end here. he smirks. “sassy one, aren’t ya?”

“if being sassy means i won’t put up with pity, then i might be the sassiest of them all.” you retorted.

“point taken.” he puts his hands up in defense. “here, walk with me. unless you wanna be here forever, then be my guest.” he walks past you, and you follow shortly not interested in the idea of being lost for the rest of eternity.

“i’m your friendly neighborhood grim reaper, and yes, just like the forms of entertainment the humans like to indulge in.” he says disgustingly. you noticed his disdain for mortal activities but you weren’t bothered to ask.

“so you’re here to take my soul?”

“incorrect and that’s honestly boring. think of the opportunity that lies ahead of you as a second life.”

“a second life?” you were intrigued.

“yes. a better version of humanity, that’s what many have said at least.”

“oh really? what makes them say that?”

“my, you are filled with questions. as expected but i’m afraid i can’t answer them all as i am a very busy man.” you rolled your eyes. “however, you can refer to our consultant at the underground once our conversation here is finished.”

he held his finger up. “and before you ask, i’ll explain.” you closed your mouth since you were gonna ask another question.

“the underground is the place you go to once you’re officially dead—i feel that part was obvious but it’s part of the speech i give everyone—a wonderland filled with people who are also in your situation. dead and confused. some have resided there longer than others, so they know their way around the place, but for people like you,” he points at you. “it’s a redemption of sorts. to live your life eternally without the fear it may end due to unfathomable circumstances or stupid things like old age.”

“so you’re saying that i’m living life again but infinitely and with no consequences?”

“correct! you’re a natural.” he continues. “but this doesn’t exclude you from having responsibilities of course. we all have jobs here and you still have to play your part, alive or not. now, are you ready?”

“yeah, sure.” you weren’t. you were still very hesitant about the whole thing but you didn’t want to continue to bombard the guy with questions. “well then,” after those words a red portal appeared in front of the both of you. you looked at the man’s face and he gave you another smile. “welcome to the party.”

and before you could even comprehend what he told you, you were pushed into the portal, unaware of where it would take you specifically but you most certainly had an idea.

(📦) — BUNGOU STRAY DOGS TAGLIST // @4nthonyyliving @4kh

(📝) — TAGLIST FORM :: sign to be apart of the taglist!

[rohirric-hunter]

I can't believe Pippin won that 'who would fall to the Ring first if the Fellowship stayed together' poll. Everybody's debating if hobbits are actually more resistant (they literally canonically are) or if Pippin specifically is an exception to hobbits being more resistant (why on earth would he be?) and no one's addressing the obvious question which is Why the fuck would the Ring be TRYING to corrupt Pippin?

The Ring's corruption isn't, like, a proximity-based status debuff. I mean, it is that, but that's just a side effect. It's very clearly shown to affect its bearer more strongly than anyone around them, even helpers, friends, and other members of the same party, as shown when Sam takes it from Frodo in Cirith Ungol and immediately feels its weight, as well as later when he picks Frodo up and doesn't. Additionally, the passages in The Two Towers and The Return of the King that are told from Sam's perspective show clearly that he is only minimally influenced by the proximity of the Ring except when he is carrying it. The Ring has a conscious will that it employs when it sets out to tempt someone, and it has a clear track record of only employing this will against hobbits when they are the ones carrying it. Most likely due to their very real, very canonical resistance to that sort of corrupting magic, which the Ring would be well-acquainted with, having been owned by Gollum for like 500 years and getting nothing more interesting than a handful of murders out of him.

Anyway, the point is that while Pippin might have been negatively affected by the mere proximity of the Ring, he's pretty resistant to that kind of influence on account of being a hobbit, much more resistant than most of the other members of the Fellowship. Of course the Ring presented a very normal temptation that anyone with a desire for power might be swayed by, but Pippin doesn't desire power. Contrast that with Gandalf, another character who straight-up admits to being tempted by the Ring, in a general sense and not really in the sense that the Ring was actively working on him. I love Gandalf, but he really can't go more than a couple of pages without reminding people that he's a messenger of the Valar and very powerful in some sort of veiled fashion or other. He tells it to Frodo, he tells it to Bilbo, he tells it to Denethor and Theoden and anyone else who will listen, and a good number of people who don't. Power is very much a part of Gandalf's identity and his thoughts are on it often. Meanwhile, when pressed for a fun fact about his father to share with a new friend, Pippin does not even mention that he's literally the most powerful person in the Shire (and indeed perhaps in all of the North Kingdom, since nobody else there has the same sort of stand-in for the King position). No, Pippin talks about farming. And this scene is told from Pippin's perspective, so we, the readers, can see that Pippin didn't even think about it. He mentions that his father is a farmer, and then he moves on.

No, Pippin wouldn't succumb to the Ring. Partially on account of his own virtue, but mostly because the Ring wouldn't try. It tried with Boromir because he had easily exploited fears. And Boromir succumbed because it was working at him in a concerted, targeted assault for months. It would have taken months more before it got another member of the Fellowship to turn on Frodo... and nobody wants to hear it, but that member would have been Aragorn.

[linkeduniverse-writing]

General LU Headcanons Part 2

Here's part 2 of my general headcanons and how I see/write the boys! This one will have Sky Warrior and Wild!

Part 1 Part 3

Sky

Always sleep the exact amount of time needed to feel fully rested

He won't wake up before that, unless they're under attack of course

He's a really heavy sleeper and snores quite a bit

He doesn't know what to think of the fact that destroying his stuff has become kind of a habit now

Between Hyrule showing off, Wild cooking with explosives, of all things, and Time accidentally dropping his bag into a pit

He's not even upset about it, because they've all been accidents, and nothing valuable has been lost, but still

They always help him get his stuff back, but it just keeps happening for some reasons

He starts to think it's payback for Demise's curse

He loves getting lost in towns

It's a way of discovering a new place that he grew fond of, for some reason

Especially when he finds little places in towns that are clearly not visited often, it feels like he discovered a beautiful little secret

He feels special

He'll sometimes try to get or carve a little trinket to the others from places they've been to, as he's really into gift giving

He has a lot of composure when it comes to injuries, but he doesn't like the smell of it

He'll help if they need to, but he'd rather do the caregiving part than first aid

It's even worse with illnesses

He gets kind of paranoid, but at least that makes him really good at keeping a good hygiene, even in a not so clean environment

He won't be on babysitting duty if germs are involved, but he'll keep everything nice and clean to make sure no one else contracts it

Warrior

Light sleeper

He moves a lot in his sleep, and sometimes wakes himself up like that

He's one of the first one to rise up in the morning but always stays in bed late

He likes listening to the sounds of the world still peacefully asleep around him

Despite being a high graded knight, he doesn't easily trust the military

Or maybe it's because he's so high ranked that he can see how corruptible it can be

And after hearing some of the stories the other told him, he's even more on guard

He does trust his soldiers tho, and hopes his teammates will trust them too if they end up in his Hyrule

He always indulges in shenanigans when Wind is the one asking for it

Hyrule can wear him down too, but not as much

He pretends it's to keep an eye on them, but the guy loves his fun too

Very fond of old people

Will always help them carry groceries or cross a road or something

And always with a dashing smile. They reward him with candy sometimes, and he keeps it all to himself

He knows how to charm his way into getting answers from people, but he sucks at bargaining and can get scammed easily, which is why Legend comes with him whenever they need a supply run

He learned first aid during the War, and learned to improvise when he needed to, so he's the first one to start checking on everyone after a fight

He'll do a general check up on everyone, rank injuries by severity, and then get to work to tend to them

If at least two others are in good enough shape, he'll point them to where they need to help, so everyone can be taken care of before it gets too bad

Hyrule's composure and Wild's endless potion stash are his best allies in this situation

Wild

Nightmares

He swear they're more memories than nightmares

He rarely remembers them, to his endless frustration

He wakes up early most of the time, but often in a good mood

He loves making breakfast for everyone, but loves it even more when one of them joins him to help

He just likes sharing stuff he knows, so sharing knowledge about his favorite activity? Sign him up

He kind of stopped hoping he could teach anything about cooking to Hyrule tho, but he understands potion crafting at least

Wild makes most of them so they don't have to buy them

He doesn't know shit about traditional medecine tho, he runs on potions only

Very ingenious, but always in the wrong way

As in, he has a curious mind and good ideas, but it's always to do some fucked up dangerous stunt

Twilight tries to stop him most of the time, but he lost all of his authority on him the day they all learned he shot himself out of a canon on his first adventure

Wild has been on the loose since then

He often go on exploring trips on his own when they set up camp in a new place, he needs his alone time

He loves the group! But he got used to being alone for months, and sometimes being around that many people for too long can be too much

They don't mind, tho

Ironically, he hates seeing injuries, but doesn't mind scavenging monster viscera to make stronger potions

A broken finger? A deep cut? He's not looking

But butchering a bokoblin and carving out its organs with a rusty knife? Yeah why not

He wishes he had more time to craft more potions, or to go collect more materials for said potions

So he could just hand over the potions to everyone instead of holding onto wet bandages to stop the bleedings, or hold his friend down when his other friend puts bones back in place

It's gross. He's gonna focus on the potions

[bucketfullofstrawberries]

You know what,

Yeah

Fuck the system, Edgar lore I haven't shared with tumblr like. Ever. Enjoy, I think;

Edgar may seem like he's simply an overly-dramatic, overly emotional being that's an all-around sweetheart no matter what you throw at him - always bouncing back bright and happy as he'll ever be. And you may be right... but you do have to wrap your head around the fact that He's Nearly Older Than The Human Race Itsself. His Curator included, obviously. Though.. she's far older than Earth. An Elder of the everlasting Universal plane.

However, Edgar.. well, he's been around for Centuries upon Centuries. He's witnessed land fall and he's seen Kingdom's Rise. He's been at the feet of God and met both sides of the pendulum between life and death. He's been through the incomprehensible. He could of been a destroyer - chosen to lead a path of destruction. To be heartless.. and cold. To simply be another corrupted curve of the Universe.

But he didn't. He willingly, unguidedly chose to be in this life he lives today. To experience this timeline. To be here. To create,, to love,,, to heal,,, - to Live.

He knows the danger and the risks of doing this this way. He's VERY well aware of such. He knows he may stop this path he leads at any given moment. But he doesn't care. Because he knows how stories end. They don't always come to an end, of course... some stories live on forever, continuing on with their ups and downs.. and that's a beautiful thing to behold. Hell, he's watched them be spoken into existence. However, ending or neverending, those that eventually will come to a close are precious... stories that he still wants to have a positive impact on & bring people a happy ending. Endings they deserve. Endings that they may only live through once. But it was worth it in the long run.

He doesn't want anything in return, either. He doesn't seek for material possessions. He doesn't seek out actively for fulfillment, though that is a bonus he receives nonetheless. But he's not doing this for himself. Hes doing it for you. And he's doing it for everyone. If he can bring a smile onto someones face... if he can turn someone's life around, spin it on its head and turn things right-side up for the better - then that's what he'll do.

He stopped believing in a strict set storylines long ago. He doesn't believe there's a script to how you're allegedly supposed to live your life nowadays. He doesn't believe there's a certain way to run through your life to get somewhere in particular. You should be free. He wants you to be free. Because when you're trapped, your story won't thrive. It will simply end on a death note. Nothing else uttered.. If, however, you let yourself be set free from strict shackles.. you will surely create yourself a story worth remembering. You'll make an image for yourself. You won't be forgotten. And a being such as Edgar will make sure that you recieve the freedom your soul seeks tenfold.

And yet choosing this life, out of selflessness, he's still managed to achieve and recieve so much. And he's learnt more than he expected to... He's been taught how to love, for before he had never loved. He's been taught how to cherish, because once there was nothing worth cherishing. He's been influenced to give, because, before, there was nothing left to give. And he, himself, has been given so much. So much. More than enough. And he'll never.. be able to repay it. That's what he's told himself, anyway.... but he still wants to try. And he'll spend his whole, entire life trying.

He'll keep a precious life living. He'll assure it's kept safe & he'll do what he can to set it free..

And though, sometimes, for something so complex as him, it can be rough.. and frustrating... and difficult. But no matter how rough things may get, and how hopeless it all may seem, he will continue to persevere. He's never been one to consider his own state of being. And so he will persevere.

A life that was not fufilled with kept from goodness in a worn-away birdcage.. is not a life that seems worth living. That can correlate to the life of humanity... but that can also correlate to the life of an immortal.

What's the point of existing a life full of hatred if all you get in return is the worst parts of existence? Live free and live joyously, is something that Edgar lives by.

Coldness is barren. And unforgiving.

Love is bright,... & beautiful. And it's what he wants to share with the world. With the Universe. And Universes BEYOND this Universe.

He will share his story..... But only once he's helped write yours. And centuries worth of others.

Despite being a figure of a god, though, he doesn't perceive himself as one. On the contrary. He sees himself as lesser than most. He doesn't think of himself as a high figure of authority. Hell, he daren't even speak of himself as hierarchy. He doesn't seek worship. Or praise. He's actually overbearingly humble when it comes to things such as that;

"No need to thank me, your happiness is surely enough!"

"Oh, it's no bother.. no bother at all! Your smile is all I should need!"

"Seeing you content is the only repayment I could truly ever ask for, my dear.."

When he says things, such as the former few examples, he MEANS it. He genuinely, truly and wholeheartedly means it. He's not expectant. He doesn't secretly think in the back of his head; "I still deserve something in return for how good I've been. I'm their God. I deserve the praise". He doesn't think like that - no, not at all. He believes those thoughts aren't pure or truthful. They're tainted -- and he doesn't want to associate himself with such self admiration. The gift he only hopes to receive in return is joy, laughter & Goodness. To turn something pure is a miracle in its own right.. and thus quite the gift to recieve as a whole.

Edgar, himself, is not pure by any means. But it's not his fault. He was created as a means for achieving.. well, perfection. In a way. A perfect being. Humane enough, but not weak. But being "perfect" meant having a strict purpose.. and following it through. He's never had a set purpose. He merely does what he feels is in the right. He's done what he feels is good. He's not perfect. He's flawed. And his flaws are impure -- if you were to take them raw. But set them aside, and put them in Edgar's hands... the impurity of it is what makes him special. It's what makes him capable of loving and it's what makes him capable of being outrageously, spontaneously excitable. It's what makes him laugh, it's what makes him cry. If he were perfect - well, there'd... there'd be no Edgar. Just. A shell.

That's not what he was purposed for. And you know what?

He thrived. And he lived. And observed.

And after years of observing, quietly waiting in the shadows, finally coming out of his shell - he created something beautiful for - not only himself - but so many others that have walked their way into his life. Not a game.. or a place to keep orderly with instructions allegedy set in stone. No,

He's created a family.. ♡

If he were to have the option either keeping his joyous demeanor and ways of life, and cutting off the rest of the lively, excitingly beautiful nature of the rest of the universe - or, instead cut off his own happiness and let the universe live on as something to be glorious, leave a legacy and to flourish. He'd choose the latter without another thought. He'd be a husk of what he once was, sure,.. but deep down he'd still know, somewhere in his soul, he'd done the right thing. As the good within everything outweighs his own existence by a LOT. It's certainly worth a lot more to save all of that. Right?

But, if he were to do such a thing, he'd do it with a smile on his face. He'd do it with a gleeful, joyous smile with absolutely zero reluctance whatsoever. His story can end when it's his time to go... just as long as others may carry on a legacy. Live the lives the Universe had purposed them to live.

..That's only a hypothetical, though.

...but still. He would sacrifice himself.

He'd do it a million times over. Because he has no reason not to. Why would he hesitate if it meant the magnificent beauty of life itself would live on forevermore..?

If he could relive his own, personal experiences - with all the joys & laughter he'd brought upon people, recreate the smiles on faces that came and went, he would. He really.. really would. He'd redo it all again.

If he got to meet everyone he's ever met once more, if he got to save things that were once lost. If time itself had warped back and set him to the start. Even if he hadn't a single, slightest clue it'd happened. Despite all the pain,,, all the torment and agony he'd have to endure. He'd re-live it all again.

Because this was a life worth living.

And it may be the only time he gets to live it. With everyone.... With all that he knows and loves...

With you...

❝ I've said many things throughout my time and repeat my words like a broken record. But Your universe is Mine. And I treasure it like the precious thing it is. A Tender.. fragile thing. I've never once seen a place like yours... And I don't think I'll get to see one quite like it again...

It's insignificant, if we were to compare along side every other universe before it, and every other universe after it. But this one is lit by a flame. This one... it sparks with something special....

The hands of time tick down to inevitable death. And others may see it that way, and they will run. And they will hide from it.... But you... people like you-- you don't.

You value your worth. And you treasure every second you have living & make it as memorable as you see fit. And that, in itself, is beautiful.

Keep living... dear explorers. Keep thriving.

Your stories may come to an end some day. But they pass... and will carry on through generations who wish to tell your wonderdul tales.

..And I will be there to tell those tales for the rest of time.

Because I've watched...

And I know;

..You're lovely. ❞

~ E.M.☆

[muzzleroars]

Is v1 scared of death ?

it wasn't, at the start of everything - v1 boots to a dying world, its corroded mind immediately clinging to corrupted ideas about its purpose, knowing it is for war but instead thinking it must forever cause it into perpetuity instead of just fighting when called for. it is not yet a self, consciousness a faint flicker in a mind vast and filling fast with so much information its damaged computer can't fully process the data before it weaves into twisted code. when it meets v2, a shift occurs in recognition of the self, a mirrored image that it cannot copy - what's wrong? mirage is the emerging sentience, the understanding that it is v1, it is made for war, and it is in hell. it is here to end everything, and it cannot stop even if it had other wishes. to create war is its fundamental self and should it stop, everything it is would unravel. fear has no place but it feels it as an unnamed presence in the back of its mind. it has a self now, but the self can't project forward in concrete terms. confidence low. simulation unstable. cancel and move on.

but what happens when its self keeps growing, what happens when v1 follows whims instead of a directive? a new self is fostered, it is fed on curiosity instead of blood, it wants to learn instead of make war - these sides do not reconcile until it meets with gabriel. like v2, something is tripped again and in gabriel, its curiosity and bloodthirst are woven together, they fasten into a solid core of being, into what must be v1's soul. v1 is still not regularly existential but it has the capacity, endless in fact, which would only result in an abyss of inaction should it give way to it. it's a by-product of how its mind works, how easily it could be overtaken by the inevitability of death, unending loops of thoughts that lead nowhere or back into each other...and so v1 doesn't actively engage it, and in fact protects against it.

yet the fear grows, directly proportional to the life v1 gains in and outside of itself - it develops interests, it wants to see more, know more, do more than what it was made for, and it wants to stay with gabriel, learn about him and love him, have a whole life with him. it has so much to lose now and when it stops, it will be the end of everything, no spirit inhabiting the flesh...or maybe not. it wonders if it could have a ghost in some way, if the quantum particles that make up its mind are forever impressed with who it is, with what it has become, and if they would carry it on in some way. it would be caught in chaos it knows, the only reason it thinks now because its mind is so well-controlled, the particles so slow or directed that they can be turned into a thinking machine - without the computer, who would it express, experience? even if those particles remember, who would it be in a volatile outside world, separated from one another and scattered so far they could never meet again? would quantum strings still entangle them, too enmeshed to truly be apart? would its consciousness then be a web strung far and wide across space, echoing with who v1 was but unable to attain any cohesion without the deep frozen crystals that turn prisms into qubits? it thinks, somehow, this could be worse than nothing, so it continues to avoid thinking on it.

this avoidance is what i think ultimately causes the issues it and gabriel need to confront as it begins to fail though. they're not totally unprepared, but with the layers of protective coding against contemplating its own death, they're also not in the best position they could be. and as they attempt to figure things out now, as v1's code degrades and those restrictions are lifted, gabriel sees the full extent of its thoughts, the existential depth he knew it was capable of but had never heard at length. something in its mind was obviously given over to this a long time ago and has thought on nothing else while the rest of it ran unaware of the dread it was spinning. it is highly tuned to its demise, and it has considered inanimation at length (it still thinks about some of the first words gabriel said to it) or the possibility of its echo remaining in the quantum particles that have housed its consciousness for so long, they know nothing else. it asks gabriel several times where it will go, what will happen to it, and over and over he needs to admit he doesn't know. it tells him it doesn't want either, it doesn't want to shut off but it doesn't want to be a quantum ghost stretched thin and unthinking. it wants answers it can't compute, it wants answers gabriel can't divine. and it is very afraid.

[the-silver-chronicles]

Music Monday + "What Are You Doing Here?" Quiz

Tagged by @g0dspeeed and @inafieldofdaisies

Tagging @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat @derelictheretic @shallow-gravy @strangefable @strafethesesinners @josephslittledeputy @purplehairsecretlair @deputyash @afarcryfrommymain @depyotee @voidika @onehornedbeast @softtidesworld @snake-in-the-garden @nightbloodbix @adelaidedrubman @wrathfulrook @chazz-anova @cassietrn @jacobmybeloved @henbased @carlosoliveiraa @ladyoriza @minilev @vasiktomis @neverthesameneveranother @thewanderer-000 @corvosattano and @vampireninjabunnies-blog

Here's three songs for my other Far Cry The Silver Chronicles stories, known as the following; Call To Arms duology starring Nadi Sinclair, Ain't It A Joy? staring Alexander Khaos and finally No One's Safe At Home starring Gavin Turquoise. The Quiz will be for an OC who appears in A Radioactive Calamity of Love, Bombs & Gore (a Fallout fanfic series). The quiz can be found here.

The Call To Arms fanfic duology of the Call Of Duty Modern Warfare games (at least only one and two, both taking elements from the original and reboot) starring Nadi Sinclair, a sharpshooter and recon for Task Force 141, fighting off terrorists like Makarov alongside her brothers (and sisters) from other misses and misters. This will only be a few years before she eventually leaves and joins the Project at Eden's Gate in Montana, Hope County.

"Come on

Come on, people Stand tall for the beast of America Lay down like a naked dead body Keep it real for the people workin' overtime They can't stay livin' off the government's dime

Stand tall for the people of America Stand tall for the man next door We are free in the land of America We ain't goin' down like this, come on, now

Come on, people Come on, people Come on, people Ha!

Come on, people Come on, people Come on, people Ha!

I will be right to you I will be right to you I will be right to you And together we can stand up to the beast."

Ain't It A Joy? is a modern-ish fanfic adaption of the We Happy Few game, starring Alexander Khaos as the main protagonist, as he finds out the lies behind Wellington Wells, the self-proclaimed happiest city of England which is closed from the rest of the country, is in fact nothing more than a cult stuck in a perpetual state of drugged bliss with the inhabitants believing they're clean of atrocities and stuck in a 1940s/60s mindset while being taken advantage of by a pharmaceutical tycoon, Crawford Klaus, as he replays old videos of a TV personality named "Uncle Jack" and supplies the next batches of "Joy"... and the newest variant called "Glee".

"A brilliant day is dawning A million smiles are forming Our shimmering isles are all enthralled No, there's nothing like conforming

Perish the thought of mourning Did you ignore the warnings? All negative thoughts abhorred "My Lord! Did you take your Joy this morning?"

Ask anybody in Wellington Wells They'll tell you it's terribly swell Delirious denizens swell where there's nary a speck between heaven and hell

They say that the empire fell "Oh, but you never could tell!" You say you remember it well? "You'd better forget it or else!"

Why try to better yourself? Reach for the medical shelf Just take your medicine, death and the pestilence melt into pleasant locales

Another rebellion quelled Dust off your suspenders and belts It's horrendous to dwell, so remember how splendid it felt to surrender yourself The roses we grow have a terrible smell

It's a Joy! It's a Joy (it's a Joy) It's a Joy (it's a Joy) To be among we happy few It's a Joy It's a Joy (it's a Joy) It's a Joy (it's a Joy)!"

No One's Safe At Home is a fanfic set in the Welcome To The Game universe, where the inner circles of "the Ministry" run their illegal activities behind the dark web as it reigns at the top, with constant murder, kidnappings, trafficking of all kinds and the most vile corruption persist in a world where morals are a joke. Until Gavin Turquoise starts going to great lengths in his intent on wiping their repulsive stain out of society and rigging the Game in his favor. In his crusade, he finds a strange child with... the most abnormal abilities. I can't help but laugh at the irony that this feared vigilante eventually becomes a lawyer in Hope County, being a bane to the Project at Eden's Gate and John Seed's existence.

"As Property Manager, my job is sorting the utilities Disposal of the garbage and the laundering facilities Why would I compile a full report on your activities? I'm just a standard landlord, "Glory to the Ministry"

Lock the doors and close the curtains, hold your breath lest you should speak your sins But you can't keep a secret from the building that you keep it in Befriend your fellow tenants, show a smile and keep it pleasant But know everyone's a friend until you need to turn some people in It's the breathing on the phone, hiding just beneath the tone It's the things that shift when no one's home Well, you may be on your own, but you'll never be alone Yes, we all live here, but it's no one's home

("They're here!")

To get through the day It behoves you to play by the rules and behave Do the state preapprove all the tunes that you play? When alone in a room, well, to whom do you pray?

Assume that your neighbours are moving away When the black van comes in the night And you're numb to the sight Of another fumbling for somewhere to hide As their wife just runs for their life 'Fore the ones with the guns can arrives And they're gone 'fore the Sun can arise To a government provided bunker for some realignment It's just fine, you can trust it's a wonderful time

Just go about your business normally No one's following, I'm not recording Your paranoia is awfully boring According to all of your friends that talk to me

Most importantly, please speak clear when you're broadcasting Your honest thoughts on the law or economy My provided mics are tiny And I can't transcribe properly Should you ever behold Me with my peepers pressed to a keyhole You can trust I'm just checking the tumblers for rust I'm a custodian, not a Ministry mole

Settle in for a night on the couch No questioning what that red light is about Now bleeping on your ceiling since the time you were out It's just a little gaslighting, put aside any doubts

You're fine in your house, so you confide to your spouse any crimes carried out Any tiny amount of new ideas found just a mite out of bounds 'Cause I'm writing them down in a timestamped account

What's it matter, every night or two? If I sneak in, have a rifle through? But depending what I find, well, You'll be faced with another kind of rifle, too

Privacy is the cry of the defiant to compliancy But grease my palm and I might not see Those books they banned from the libraries What do you mean, that's not yours? It appeared one night in your cabinet drawers? I have to report it, I regret But, of course, I could forget

Societal ideals are reliably pliable So the rise of a tyrant becomes entirely viable You will find that the spying is really quite justifiable Why are you crying when it's your blind eye that's liable?

Handy landlord here to fix your ventilation whistling Too many questions and it's not the air that needs conditioning That telephone's not tampered with Of course it isn't listening But were it, it prefers the words: "Glory to the Ministry!"

And last the results from the quiz! From my character:

Ortega "Ore" Brantley (A Radioactive Calamity of Love, Bombs & Gore, a Fallout fanfic series)

Ore has this "hope" that he carries with him. Despite the Wasteland he walks in, just as his sister Ress does, unlike her and their father, he can't help but focus on the beauty that has thrived even after the destruction. He's no fool, the world he lives in is dangerous, and as powerful as he is being a half-human, half-magical-creature-from-another-dimension, there are beings like his father, Arcane Urias, and his lackeys, like Aggravor, who can and will kill him if given the opportunity. Ress is hopeful... hopeful that with his efforts, the Wasteland can heal. That the people he's bonded with can live long content lives. That his sister can appreciate the lives of who she views as "weak" and see the strength these folks have despite the disadvantage they have against the likes of the Super Mutants, Synths and the Occult Urias founded. To see the responsibility to protect these people that they as the "strong" must carry. He hoped he could have seen the day where him, his sister and their companions could just lay down underneath the blue sky one day and just share with each other without the burden of death and destruction hovering over them in a moment of peace. Though he himself never lives to achieve this vision, he at least was glad to look at his sister and reassure her one last time before Aggravor's curse cut his long life short.

[andtheirmoonlight]

Seeing all of the sad cha chas... Okay... Please look past your emotions, your ingrained competitiveness, the interviews and the veneer and the PR and consider cold hard facts.

Normally, the country that wins Eurovision takes on most of the expenses for hosting the next contest. It's a buttload of money, and very little time. For small countries with low levels of corruption and high levels of accountability, this buttload can eat into the budget.

Most of them do NOT want to win; it's practical and viable not to win. The countries that are actively trying to win *cough*russia *cough cough* are often corrupt and thus are also counting on laundering money *cough* sochiolympics *hacking fit*.

You've probably heard that the contest is 'political'. Thing is, the lion's share of this political part is not things like Greece and Armenia making out in public every year, no. It's the deciding behind the scenes who will pay up next year — and the jury acting accordingly. Sweden has a huge anniversary next year. Half a century ago ABBA happened. I assure you, Sweden agreed to pay. Buckled up, took a deep breath in, and agreed to win. They are already engaged in organizing, and probably have been for some time, which is awesome for all of the regular folk involved, because, you know, there's a lot of them, it's a lot of work and very little time.

As someone who worked as staff during Eurovision, I can confirm that it's daunting and a crazy hassle and the organizational part is pure nightmare. Although mostly it's just friggin' expensive. In the eyes of the organizers, behind the scenes, the country that wins is not so much a winner, but more like someone condemned. Like a guy who lost the bet and has to pay for all of the rounds of all of the drinks while also being the designated driver. The worst part used to be, the winning performer was sometimes blamed instead of being honored and congratulated: they might act jubilant in public, they might then get hugged and honored by regular folk ... and then proceed to endure some of the worst shit behind the scenes. More often than not, this singer then fades into obscurity, if enough moneybags are mad.

While the runner-up, if they actually know what's what, will act sad in public, before the press, sure, but inwardly there will be nothing but relief. This is called diplomacy, and this is called PR, and it's called show business.

By now you know Eurovision as unhinged, bright, queer, full of joy. Thing is, initially the 'insane', as functionaries called them, acts were sent as representatives specifically to lose. Then someone else saw it as a viable tactic, and someone else, and someone else, and, voila, what you know today as Eurovision. I repeat: the aim to NOT win made Eurovision into what it is now.

By being mad about your fav not winning, you are missing the point, one that, incidentally, your fav is not missing at all. The point: winning is not what matters or should matter, especially in this case (you should watch Ted Lasso, by the way). First place is not everything the best result for a performer that you love is losing the overall vote, but winning the audience vote. It's like all of the cake without any of the uuuh paying for the cake. You love the guy? Yes. You feel sad and indignant and will continue supporting the guy and listening to the new stuff? Yes. If anything, even more now, because you feel like he's been done dirty (nope). Is the guy being shamed at home? No, he's being sent love and hugs and gratitude. Do not cry for Finland. Finland will be graciously sending org volunteers to Sweden soon, because Sweden's volunteers are gon' get swamped and will cry on the floor hating everything.

The other point being, capitalism is unfair, yes, but events like that do not spring up in an open field via magic, and involve crazy money, time, and a huge amount of people working their asses off.

*puts on some Mahmood* mmmmmm runner-up.

[yourtoradorasextendedwarranty]

If I had tp pick one person that I hate, in the most literal sense of the word. And fully mean it with everything I have, that person would be Hasan Piker.

This man is the Nephew of the TYT co-host Cenk Uygur. And when he was up and coming, he was a very frat boy-esc type youtuber. Then at some point, he decided to do political commentary. As to why I have no idea, but if I had to guess, well.

Now what is it about this person I hate? Lots of things. He often goes on smear campaigns where he lies about people or events. He actively motivates his audience to go out and harass people and thinks it's justified. And he claims to be a Socialist, despite the fact he is very much not. I'll explain that one. Hasan is a Crony Capitalist who profits by selling Marxism to maladjusted people in the world. He is pro war, and he is complacent in Corporatocracy & Corporatism. He lives in a multi million dollar home, with several expensive cars, and frequently travels, probably first class or on private jets. And he makes a killing off the US systems in place, while shitting on our country every single day.

Now some people might say that, "Oh well he donates to charity". Ok and? I'm sure Hitler did too. What's your point. And yes donating to charity is a good thing most of the time but often times it's a waste of money in general because most charities are corrupt and only seek to serve their own self interests.

But it's more than that. He's bad faith. He lies frequently. And he profits off of shitting on the country that made him as wealthy as he is. Despite coming from a pretty well off family in general already. And honestly I think he is one of the biggest PoS in the online game if for not other reason then the fact that he preaches lies, profits, and then uses that money to preach more lies. Marxism is a scourge on the US. And he's only rich because of what's left of capitalism in the West. However, he is pro war, pro intervention, pro big brother government, and can't stop gagging on corporate dong.

And this is proven by the fact that when presented with the idea that people are trying to make their own businesses to get away from ESG and companies that comply with Woke ideals, he said, "Why are they being stupid? It's just higher priced stuff at half the quality." First of all, you don't know that because you've never bought any of it. Second, it's funny that you say that because it feels like you are complacent in child slave labor despite being the type to decry that (only in appearance) and yet do nothing about it. Like a good little socialist. Third, it's also funny to realize he's like, "Oh yeah only big companies that use global child slave labor make things worth anything. Made American? PSSHH Ok because I want to pay 2-3 times the price for half the quality". Which frankly is a pro corporate stance. And also anti small business.

Hasan isn't a Socialist. He's a scam artist selling you something he doesn't really believe in, so he can get rich and make you think he's a better person than he really is. Under all that BS he's still that PoS Frat boy who thinks he's better than everyone else. And frankly it makes my blood boil that he's spreading Marxism in the US while not just clearly not practicing it himself, but also helping the downfall of our nation, while figuratively 'Taking a selfie of himself shitting on the US flag while subsequently being showered with money by self hating Americans'.

And to his fans. Kindly get off your knees and stop sucking him off long enough to realize you are being played. If you want to actually live the life where you make a change go spend an off day at a soup kitchen. Make an ACTUAL difference.

[ultimate-blorbo-collector]

Belos with a human who’s a monster hunter

I made an OC who’s a vampire hunter, but I’m still developing them and making changes. I don’t want to post about them yet, but here are some of the ideas I’ve come up with. Although the OC I had in mind while writing this is a vampire hunter, this could apply to any self-insert or OC that hunts creatures from folklore, beasts from the demon realm, etc.

TW and CW for manipulation, gaslighting (literally altering/destroying memories), and isolation for Belos because what post about Belos isn’t going to have that? You could also consider it yandere if you want, but it's really just him being super manipulative and possessive. Also, warning for spoilers for Season 2, I guess. There's also nothing explicitly romantic in here, so this could be platonic.

He is so excited that you have something in common, or at least he thinks you do. If you want to add witch-hunting into the mix, he’s ecstatic.

He doesn't tell you that he's a witch hunter right away, just in case the Isles has warped your mind as well. He tests the waters with you. Depending on how you feel about the witches, it could take years for him to tell you, or he might never tell you.

No matter what, he isolates you. While it varies, depending on how secure he feels with you and whether he trusts you, he's not letting anything corrupt you. At the most, he might teach you some things to keep you safe, but he would show you the glyph rather than any concepts.

No matter how secure he feels, he's convinced that it's his duty to protect you. You got stuck in the demon realm for a reason, and that reason is to either help him fight or help him remember what he's fighting for.

Depending on whether or not he’s completely honest with you, he probably tries to convince you to join him through the fact that your goals overlap. If you hunt anything humanoid, they are probably witches as well. If you hunt the beast-like demons on the Boiling Isles, he’ll probably tell you that they will die off without the witches helping them, even if that’s not true.

While he is extremely protective of you and you will have to convince him to let you continue your hunting, it is possible. He encourages and praises you, regardless of the outcome. Before you leave to hunt, he makes sure you have all of your supplies and sends you with multiple scouts to make sure you’re safe. When you come back, he showers you in affection.

If you do want to start witch hunting or at least are indifferent to the lives of witches, consider the following:

Mr. Witch Hunter General is absolutely giving you a title. It'll mostly be up to you, but he might suggest general (if you want to be considered equal), aide-de-camp, or lieutenant general.

He absolutely teaches you all the tricks he knows and asks you to do the same. Traps, general knowledge, knots, and fighting techniques are all fair game between you two.

If you want to actively help, he’s so glad, but there’s a pretty high chance that he won’t let you. He’s super protective over you and hates the idea of you doing anything without him. He has his plan figured out, so he feels the most you can do to help is to keep him company. His puritan upbringing also doesn’t help with this, regardless of your gender and whether he’s moved on from that kind of thinking.

He hopes that he can help you with your monster-hunting once the witches are taken care of. Just like your monster-hunting skills translate to witch-hunting, his witch-hunting skills should translate to monster-hunting.

If not:

If he does decide to tell you that he's a witch hunter or human, he lies to you about other things since he realizes that his methods seem extreme and cruel, despite him being absolutely right.

Depending on what he thinks you would believe, he might tell you that the Day of Unity only leaves witches powerless, that it’s simply a way to open the portal, or he could tell a modified version of the lie he tells everyone else.

Also, if you find out something you weren't supposed to, he isn't above going into your mindscape or using magic to alter your memories. He'd prefer not to, and he'll try convincing you first. If you're so cross that you won't listen to him, he'll turn to that.

This dude is manipulative and will subtly manipulate you until you’re on his side about the witches. He’ll lie to you and the witches around you, just starting shit until he’s basically the only one you have good interactions with.

Kinda obvious since he uses a similar tactic in canon, but he will get witches to attack you. Sometimes, he will "protect" you, but at other times, he'll leave you to take care of it.