#is because those tendancies

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

Did you watch that Niall reading fan fic video? Did you watch it to the very end? After he finished reading the fic, he laughed and said "that was some online Tumblr shit right there"...yeah that was dissapoiting to hear. I'm not a writer or have my own Tumblr blog but I took offense to this. To just laugh like that at your own fans, the ones who take the time to write the fics and those who take the time to read them. Not ok.

It is OK to laugh at people anon - it's a very common human reaction to the world. I'm sure you have laughed at a lot of people in your life. Fandom culture also involves a lot of laughing at people. You may not like that Niall laughed at tumblr - but that doesn't make it not OK.

I do think it's actually worth asking the question - what principle could possibly make Niall laughing at fans wrong in a moral sense? (As opposed to a reasonably normal thing to do that people can like and not like as they see fit). If people want to share their answers I'd be really interesting in hearing them. But I am going to take this question perhaps overly seriously (particularly when my basic response to the video is that it's pretty trivial), because I do think it's important to articulate and maintain the difference between 'I don't like this' and 'this is wrong'.

One of my basic beliefs is that saying something is wrong , as opposed to just something you don't like personally, is a pretty big deal. That a moral code is something pretty serious, it's necessary, obviously, but invoking morality just to express preferences has a quite significant history of doing incredible damage.

There are I think two basic strain of answers people might give to justify the idea that there's something wrong in a broad sense with what Niall did. The first is that it's wrong for Niall to laugh at fans, because they support his career in some way. That there is some sort of obligation or boundaries that a musician owes to fans that they don't owe to other people, beyond the contractual obligations of things they agree to do.

I actually think that's a deeply fucked up and controlling worldview that must be actively opposed. You can't buy control over another human being, no matter how much you stream. Most musicians have very complicated thoughts and feelings about fans, because fandom is a weird and complicated relationship. It's up to individual musicians to navigate that however works best for them, including laughing at people.

The other broad justification comes from some sort of analysis of society and one that argues that in some way Niall has power over fans and therefore it's wrong for him to laugh at them. My other anon phrased it as 'punching down'.

I think it' worth spelling out all the power Niall doesn't have over fans, he can't fire people, or evict them, or deprive them of ways of getting their needs met in any other way. He doesn't have any structural power to evaluate people - like teachers do. He can't grant or withhold necessary services from people. He can't deprive people of their liberty or cause people to be deprived of their liberty. He has no special access to violence. I think it's worth explicitly acknowledging the many ways people have real power over other people to put these discussions in context.

When fans suggest that other people have power over them and therefore it's wrong to mock them - they never mean any of these actual power structures that shape people's life. They usually mean something much more amorphous - it's a logic like 'fans are mostly women, therefore any mockery of fans is mockery of women, therefore its wrong'. (I think it's worth noting that a focus on fans as a category of people who should not be mocked, is very different from a formulation that suggested that particular forms of mockery were based in misogynist ideas and spelled out what they were. I would have a lot more time for something that framed this as making fun of women's sexual desire and expression. But I don't think that's how the discussion has been framed).

There is a real tendency within fandom to cast fans as a group of people who are inherently powerless and whom any form of criticism is wrong. This comes alongside a complete denial of the power in numbers and the ways that fans can and do exert power over people through their numbers. It is very tempting to position ourselves (both individually and collectively) as someone who can only ever be harmed, but can't do any harm to others. But it is a temptation that absolutely must be resisted - it is an anathema to solidarity and it is also an anathema to building strong relationships and treating other people as fully human.

One of the reasons I'm personally so resistant of the idea that fans are a group of people who must be protected and can easily be harmed - is because I see such a deep vein of denial within fandom about fans ability to harm. In fact if a family member, someone they're pretend to date, or someone who has interacted with 1D in any form in the world, says that they've been harmed by the number of people who have responded to them and the things that they've said, fandom's response is to treat this as an unreasonable attack of someone who has power over them - even if that's in no way true.

There may be something I'm missing - if anyone has an explanation for an underlying principle why they think it's not OK that Niall did a segment that contained an element of laughing at a culture that was built by fans I'd be interested to hear it.

But in the meantime I'm going to advocate for there being a difference between 'I don't like this' and 'this is not OK'. There are many reasons people might dislike that video of Niall - but that doesn't mean it's not OK.

[biromanticbookbabe]

I hate being obsessive over someone. I feel like I'm heading there and I don't want to be overly clingy either. Ugh. I don't know if it's a bipolar thing, a possible crush thing, a loneliness thing or a combo of all three. My medicine has been working pretty good so far but I'm a little concerned that someone is taking up a little too much room in my headspace. I like this person BUT I do not want to slide back into my weird obsessive loops like I used to when crushing. That's embarassing and unhealthy. Ugh.

[obae-me]

I saw your post about the characters with a traumatized MC and the part about the angels made me start thinking about how they'd handle an MC who has religious trauma (because I thought that was where it was going in your post)

MC avoiding Simeon and Luke because everything related to heaven creeps them out (they're legit scared of angels, god, etc) and feeling way too comfortable living in the devildom and being around demons because they "always knew they were going to end up in hell when they died" because that's what was hammered into their head growing up or something

that would sure change the cast's views on human religion huh?

Yes, absolutely. I can't remember if I mentioned it before or just kept that brainworm tucked safely inside my skull, but I think about this a lot. Namely, because I have SO much religious trauma (yippie!).

I've thought a lot about how the Celestial Realm harbors a lot of the same toxicity that certain organized religions have the tendancy to exhibit here on good ol earth. I mean, we've seen some things in game that suggest that things aren't all rainbows and roses up there. The way that Luke talks early game suggests a lot. And so I'm sure a religiously traumatized MC would have SUCH a hard time around the angels at first. (I actually had my own reservations with the angels when they were first introduced and I even kind of disliked Luke a ton before I eventually took a step back and thought about the fact that he's just a BABY who is just spitting out ideals that were shoved into his head. It's not his fault, and I think his character development is something that the fandom does not address enough. I'm so proud of him!! Having your expectations of the world be broken and then having to relearn everything you thought you knew is actually SO hard.)

MC getting along well or feeling more comfortable with demons because they don't feel like they're being judged or under the watchful eyes of others.

MC talking about "not being as afraid to come back" VERY early on in game and the other characters taking WAY too long to realize they mean come to purgatory after they pass, and the demons themselves don't feel good about knowing that.

MC avoiding certain sins/pleasures/temptations due to the fear that's been embedded in them over it. Even if those things are COMPLETELY normal and harmless to enjoy.

All of the characters being extremely patient and understanding about this sort of thing and very slowly chipping away at certain stigmas they still hold onto, making the human feel safe while they do.

MC avoiding Simeon because of mixed feelings of shame and maybe a bit of resentment and then eventually learning that he's actually such a down to earth and sweet guy and spending more time with him just to learn that he's been in many similar situations is so...so good to think about. Learning that he'll never force certain ideologies onto them, that he doesn't see them as someone who needs to be "saved". A human and an angel sitting together and discussing what being "good" really means. Sharing confessions to each other that they've both held on their backs for such a long time because they've been too ashamed of themselves and confused to heal from it alone. They're not a sinner and a Saint, they're just normal people who make mistakes and want to do good in the world.

I do have many thoughts on this clearly...

[heavenlyhischier]

𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐲 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐬 - 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐧 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

word count: 7.6k (i got very carried away im sorry)

summary: after months of feeling like you've lost quinn, he ends up losing you. will the two of you find your back to each other?

warnings: angst, self-destructive tendancies, drinking, cursing, MINORS DNI - 18+ content below the cut, shower sex, fingering, oral (fem recieving), unprotected sex (use protection guys), teeny bit of a praise kink, brief breath play, please let me know if you see any mistakes. i finished this at 2 am and my vision was a little blurry at that point

note: this is part of my follower celebration! i'm so glad i finally wrote about the future captian of the vancouver canucks please guys im begging you.

Two years ago, you had met Quinn Hughes through a mutual friend, and he’s been a part of your life ever since. In the beginning, the two of you took things slow, wanting to truly get to know each other before getting into a relationship. Quinn wanted to make sure that his intense schedule that involved him being gone for long periods of time wasn’t going to overwhelm you, or make you feel alone. You wanted to make sure that, after all you had gone through, Quinn was going to remain a man of his word and make your relationship work despite the many odds that came with his job. And he did, at first.

For the first year and a half that you were with Quinn, he was texting, calling, facetiming as often as he could when he was gone. If he wasn’t doing something that related to his commitment to the hockey team, he was talking to you in some way. He would send you pictures of the places he would visit with short captions of how he wished you were there with him, and you would always smile at them and tell him that you would be, one day. Though, a few months ago, those texts started to become less frequent, and when you did get them, they sounded forced, almost like they had been rehearsed.

For a while, you tried to reason with yourself. Telling yourself that he was just getting busier, and the stress was getting to him. You tried to understand just how demanding and exhausting his job must be, so you brushed off his deteriorating communication. Instead, you tried to hold onto the hope that when he was finally back home, things were going to go back to normal. Quinn was going to walk back through the door to your shared apartment and hold you until you fell asleep. Then, that stopped happening too.

The first time you realized that Quinn was truly pulling away from you was when he didn’t come straight home after a seven day roadie. He hadn’t even told you that he was close to home yet. You only found out because Natalie had posted a snapchat story of JT holding Owen, and you were immediately dialing your boyfriend's phone number. Your heart sank when it only rang three times before cutting to his bland voicemail message.

You remember spending the rest of that night crying into your pillow, thoughts of what you could have done to make him distance himself from you clouding your brain. You knew that hockey players had an abysmal reputation, but you have never lumped Quinn into that group of men. You’ve always thought the world of him, considering yourself lucky to have the luxury of being loved by him. This had you questioning everything you thought you knew about him. When he came home later that night, he gave you a half-assed apology and explanation followed by a string of kisses that had you melting back into him.

Though even that started to dwindle, and eventually it stopped all together. When Quinn was home in Vancouver, he rarely made the effort to spend time with you, and when he did, it was almost like he wasn’t there. His face would always be buried in his phone, or he’d be playing video games with his friends and you’d simply be sitting next to him on the couch. Quinn had stopped trying to plan dates, and honestly, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d gone on one with him. You could barely remember the last time the two of you had shared a kiss that was more than the obligatory chaste peck on the lips before bed. 

You tried to reassure yourself and ignore the aching in your chest, but the way he put as much distance as he possibly could between the two of you, the less you were able to do that. Eventually, you’d decided that enough was enough, and if it felt like you weren’t in a relationship, then you weren’t going to be in one. No matter how badly it hurt. 

The thought of breaking up with Quinn made you feel like someone was holding your head under water. The panic settling into your chest as you realized that you couldn’t breathe; your lungs burning the longer you went without any air. No matter how hard you tried to break the surface and gasp for air, your head was only shoved deeper and deeper into the water until you realized that the only escape was leaving him. Leaving the man you were still in love with was the only way for you to be able to breathe again. 

When he finally came home that night, he didn’t even notice you sitting at the table, his head shoved in his phone as he walked through the door. “Quinn,” Your quiet voice bounced off the walls of your home. His head snapped up, eyes wide with surprise that you were still awake at this hour, but you continued, “We need to talk.”

“Okay,” He drew out, brows knitting together in confusion as he slipped his phone into his pocket, “What’s this about?”

His eyes darted throughout the apartment, and you watched as his shoulders fell when he realized that stuff was missing from all over. Your stuff. With Quinn avoiding your home like it was, or rather you were, the plague, it gave you enough time to gather everything you’d brought over with you, and temporarily move it into a friend's apartment until you could find your own. Despite the multiple breaks you had to take because you kept breaking down, you managed to do it all in one day.

“I think you know what it’s about,” You chewed at your bottom lip, blinking rapidly to keep yourself from crying.

“Baby, I-,” He tried as he reached over the table to grab your hand, but you quickly cut him off. The chair scraped against the floor as you abruptly stood, shoving his outstretched hand away from you.

“Don’t call me that,” You spat, vision blurring from the tears, “You can’t call me that anymore.”

“What are you trying to say,” He asked, his voice breaking, and that made you angry.

How dare he act like he was hurt when all he’s been doing is hurting you? He put you in this position. He pushed you away, made you feel like he didn’t want you anymore. He did this, and he doesn’t get to act like he’s the one that’s hurting.

“I’m saying that we’re done, Quinn. I’m breaking up with you,” You asserted through the salty streams falling down your cheeks. Though the words tasted bitter as they came out, you felt a slight, very very slight, sense of relief wash over you as you said the words out loud.

Your words hung over his head as you fell into an uncomfortable silence, eyes staying trained on him as you waited for a response. He stood at the table with his palms pressed against the wood, head down as he let out a shaky breath followed by a weak question.

“What do you mean ‘Why’,” You scoffed, shooting daggers into the top of his head, “Quinn, you’ve barely said a full sentence to me in the last week. You don’t talk to me when you’re gone anymore. Hell, half the time I don’t even know you guys are back unless someone posts about it. I just- It just feels like you don’t want this anymore, and that’s okay, but what you’ve been doing isn’t.”

“No,” He breathed out, his voice small and broken as he shook his head, “No, it’s not and I’m sorry. I don’t- Fuck, Y/N, I don’t know what to say right now. I lo-“

“Please don’t,” You interrupted, tearing your gaze away from him as you choked on your own cries, “Please stop, Quinn. I can’t do it anymore. I love you so much, but it’s gotten to a point that the person I fell in love with is gone even though he’s right in front of me.”

A part of you did want him to beg you to stay, to beg you to give him another chance because he will change. He will change as long as it means he got to have you, and he couldn’t live without you. But the more logical part of you was holding the spear, and it was telling you that you were doing the best thing for you. That leaving Quinn, while it’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do, it was the right decision for you.

“I’ve already got all of my stuff moved out,” Your voice cut through the thick silence, “You’re not home much so it made it pretty easy.”

You couldn’t help but throw the jab in there, but it was only to cover the thinly veiled agony that was truly going on in your heart and bleeding into the rest of your body. You didn’t want Quinn to know that saying goodbye to him was like death by a thousand cuts, and so you masked the pain the only way you knew how. With anger.

“I wish you and your team the best in the rest of the season, I really do. But I think it would be better for both of us if we don’t talk after this.”

Not waiting for his response, you made a slight show to toss the key to what was now his apartment onto the table in front of him, the gentle ding of the metal hitting the wood echoing through the empty room, before walking out of the door. You’d barely made it into the elevator by the time your feelings washed over you an aggressive wave that came seemingly out of nowhere and everywhere all at once. You were thankful that the ride down to the bottom was quick and no one else joined you, and that the main lobby was only occupied by the security guard who’s more than likely seen his fair share of crying women.

That night, you went to your friend's apartment and broke down into a mess of screams, tears, and pain. She held you as you cried, held your hair as you threw up, held your hand through the shower curtain because you didn’t want to be alone. She stood by you in your most desperate time of need, and she made it her own personal goal to maim the hockey player should she ever see him again.

Quinn didn’t text or call you, but you knew that he wasn’t doing the greatest for the first few weeks after your breakup. Petey and Brock had both called to check on you once they had figured out what had their teammate in the state he was in. They asked how you were doing, and not-so-subtly mentioned that Quinn wasn’t any better off than you were. Though, they quickly learned to not mention him unless they wanted to listen to you call them obscene words before ending the call and ignoring them for a few days. You knew their intentions were good, but you didn’t want to hear about how “awful” Quinn was.

If he had acted like he cared about you half as much as his friends were telling you he did, maybe you would have made the effort to ask about him. If he loved you half as much as they said he did, but he didn’t. And he’s made that clear to you. Of course you know you told him that you thought it best if the two of you didn’t talk anymore, but you had secretly hoped he wouldn’t listen. That he would be calling you and texting you, begging you to come back. Telling you how in love he was with you, but it was complete and utter radio silence.

Eventually, you were able to pick yourself back up enough to find your own apartment. Leila had insisted that you staying with her was never going to be a problem, but you knew you couldn’t stay there forever. You needed to try and move on from him, even though you weren’t quite ready to let go of him yet. You needed to try and find yourself again, and you couldn’t do that sleeping in the guest bed of your best friend and her boyfriend's apartment.

Leila’s worried eyes were practically carved into your skull at this point, but you didn’t blame her. She’s had to pick you up, physically and emotionally, more times than she had anticipated when you initially turned up at her door with puffy cheeks and bloodshot eyes. Though she should have realized how deeply hurt you were the fourth time she held you after you had woken up thinking that your breakup was a nightmare, only to realize that it was reality that haunted your dreams.

No matter how hard you tried to forget about Quinn Hughes, the city you lived in was as riddled with memories and reminders of what once was. He was on every street you walked, in every store window you passed by. He was everywhere, and it made you feel like there was a shard of glass piercing your heart, unrelenting and unmoving. You wanted nothing more than to forget about the man who had torn your heart in two, and you were willing to do anything to do that.

The bar air that clung to your body was sticky with alcohol and sweat, but you didn’t seem to mind as you moved your hips to the beat of whatever terrible remix they were playing. The unnamed man behind you had his hands planted firmly on your waist, but you didn’t pay him any mind as you let yourself dance. The alcohol swimming through your veins aiding your ability to forget about all of the hurt you had yet to heal from.

For the last three months, you often found yourself in some sort of bar or club to drink your pain away. It was cliche, but you hadn’t stumbled upon any other outlet that allowed you to forget about the constant ache in your chest. Leila had tried to guide you towards less self-destructive ways of healing, but you didn’t listen to her. This way was guaranteed to ease your heartbreak, at least for the night and that was all you needed.

“I’m Wren,” The man yelled into your ear, an off-putting smirk slapped on his less than desirable features.

Your mouth dropped open, the blood pounding in your ears covering the music entirely. It was too close. His name was too similar, and it made the one thing you were trying to forget flood itself into your head. Images of Quinn and memories of the way his voice sounded pushed their way to the forefront mind, and suddenly you couldn’t breathe.

Without another word, you pushed the man away from you and scrambled towards the exit of the bar. Your vision turned bleary and clouded, from the tears or the alcohol, you weren’t sure. Ignoring the worried calls from strangers you shoved past, you rushed out into the crisp Vancouver air.

You stumbled over into the mostly empty alleyway, clutching at your chest as your back came in contact with the brick wall. You were aware of the many lingering eyes on you, but the feeling that was consuming you made their attention appear miniscule and irrelevant. All you could think about was Quinn and how he never even fought to be with you. How he gave you up so easily.

Leila’s boyfriend had seen you run out of the bar, and immediately darted towards the bathroom so he could grab her. With the help of a few random women, he was able to get her attention much faster, and she was rushing out of the bar and leaving him to close their tab. Leila heard you before she saw you, and that alone made her chest burn for you.

“Honey,” She delicately approached you, her voice calm and collected, “What happened?”

The words were on the tip of your tongue, but nothing was coming out but strangled breaths and mangled cries. Despite having seen you in this position more times than she could count, it broke Leila’s heart all the same. She maneuvered your body so that she could pull you into her lap, ignoring the fact that she was sitting on the ground in a dirty alley. She began rubbing soothing circles on your back and instructed you to try and follow her breathing pattern.

Once you were able to catch your breath, you let out an almost incoherent, “Why didn’t he come back?”

Leila was able to calm you down enough to get you back to your apartment nearly an hour later. She kept insisting that you just come home with her, but you already felt guilty enough for intruding so much on her personal life. You knew she didn’t mind, but you did, so you managed to convince her that you would be okay by yourself, and that you would call her if you needed her. Though, she wasn’t the person you ended up calling.

“You have reached the voicemail box of Quinn Hughes. Please leave a message after the tone.”

“I hate you, Quinn,” You started, your voice already raspy from the moments prior, “I hate you so much for making me believe that you ever loved me back the way that I loved you. I thought we were forever, you know. That’s what you told me. That we would get married and have our own family, but we saw how that turned out. It was never going to be me, was it?

“I just wished you would have had the balls to tell me that you fell out of love with me, if you ever did in the first place, or found someone else or whatever the fuck happened. It would have made it a hell of a lot easier knowing that I, or you, did something to make you not stop loving me. It’s just- The worst fucking part about all of this is, is that I’m still so in love with you that it physically hurts me to be without you, but that doesn’t matter does it?

“Fuck. I don’t even know why I’m doing this. I guess I'm just trying to give myself closure so that I can really move on from you. I don’t know that I’ll ever stop loving you, but I’m going to try.”

Hanging up the phone, you threw it onto your couch and let out a gut wrenching sob that ripped through the stillness of your apartment. You fell to your knees and let everything you had been bottling up for the last three months bleed out of you. The world spun around you, your lungs burning as you gasped for air. Your fingers grasped at anything they could possibly wrap themselves around in an attempt to keep yourself steady.

You felt as if you were back to square one, and you hated that all it took was some man having a name that too closely resembled his. It was stupid, you thought, blatantly pathetic how easily you were thrown back into the fire you had done your best to crawl out of. You had almost healed all of the cuts Quinn’s treatment of you had left in your heart, but now they were gaping open once again.

Minutes passed by, or maybe hours you weren’t sure, and you had fallen into a limp ball on the floor of your living room. You had no energy to move from the spot as silent tears escaped their previous confinement. You stared lifelessly at the ceiling above you, mind too tired to fight off the dangerous thoughts floating about inside your head. It was only when sleep finally graced you that you were able to escape the pain of what-ifs.

The following morning, you were rudely awoken by someone aggressively and relentlessly knocking on your door. The sound ricocheted across the nearly empty walls of your apartment, and worsened the already excruciating pounding in your head. Pushing your tired body off the floor, you let out a quiet groan as nausea rippled from your core.

You passed by a mirror that Leila insisted you hang, and you outwardly cringed at your appearance. Your face swollen from last night's breakdown, and your makeup was smudged all across your face. Needless to say, your unwarranted guest was not going to get a presentable version of you.

Not bothering to check the peephole, you pulled the door open and time froze all around you. Quinn stood there with his hands in his pockets, head covered by the hood of his blue Canucks hoodie. His face was decorated with overgrown facial hair and deep set bags had found places underneath his eyes. Truly, he looked awful, but the sight of him in front of you made the already growing ball of nausea burst.

Quinn watched as your eyes simultaneously widened and hardened with an undetectable emotion, but he’s sure he could guess what it was. When he had woken up that morning, the last thing he’d expected to see was a missed call from you, let alone a voicemail. He’d listened to it a dozen times before calling Petey, asking him what he should do.

After a lecture that closely resembled the one he had already gotten from his teammate months prior that was followed by words of encouragement, he set off to your apartment. He only knew your address because Brock had accidentally let it slip when they passed by it one night. Truthfully, Quinn was expecting you to not answer the door or to slam it shut in his face when you saw him. That he was prepared for, but what he did not prepare himself for was you darting to the bathroom.

He stood in the hallway, conflicting emotions battling with each other as the sound of you retching reached his ears. He wanted to follow after you and comfort you like he’d done many times before, but he also didn’t want to make you even more uncomfortable than you undoubtedly were already. He opted to step inside and wait for you in the living room, preparing himself for whatever you were going to throw at him.

You were heaving into the toilet, panic running through every nerve in your body as you tried to focus on breathing rather than throwing up. The last person you had expected to show up at your door was here now, and you left him standing in the hallway. A million thoughts ran through your mind as you flushed the toilet, pushing yourself up off the floor for the second time in the last fifteen minutes.

Why was Quinn here? How was he here? You never gave him your address. Though a brief reminder that Brock knew where you lived was enough to answer that question for you, but nothing you could come up with answered why. You remember leaving him a voicemail in your drunken meltdown, but you couldn’t wrap your head around just what had gotten him to seek you out.

You stared at yourself in the mirror for far too long, and you wondered if Quinn was still here. You’d heard the door shut, but you couldn’t figure out if the footsteps that followed were inside your apartment or in the hallway. After quickly brushing your teeth and convincing yourself that he had left, you stepped back into the living room and were proven wrong. He had settled into the spot on the couch that he chose every time if he could; closest to the kitchen. His leg was anxiously bouncing up and down, and he was biting at his fingernails. 

“What are you doing here,” You called out, nails digging into the palm of your hand as a way to keep yourself grounded.

The sound of your voice had Quinn’s head turning on a swivel before he was standing and taking a few steps towards you, but he stopped when you stepped backwards. He swallowed thickly, knowing that he was already treading through very dangerous waters by showing up at your apartment unannounced, and he didn’t want to do anything to further worsen that.

He instantly registered the tortured look in your eyes because it was the same one he’s been sporting since you left. Quinn knows he’s to blame for the downfall of your relationship. He should have fought harder. He should have fought, period, but he had his own reason for letting you go.

“You called me last night,” He started.

“I was drunk,” You firmly stated, heart beating loudly in your chest, “It didn’t mean anything.” You were lying, and he knew that, too. Quinn could always tell when you were lying.

“It meant something to me,” He rushed out, “Hearing your voice- Hearing you say that you thought I never loved you ripped me to pieces. I know I don’t deserve it, but can you please listen to my explanation? I know it won’t repair the damage I’ve done, but please. I was too scared before, but I’m not now.”

He rasped your name out like it was something sacred, like it held the entire world within its syllables. His eyes were glassy and filled with unshed tears as they bore into your own. He could tell that your heart and brain were at war with each other by the way you kept taking sharp breaths, and your eyes kept flitting away from him. 

“I don’t know, Quinn. I’m trying to move on, and hearing you out will only undo all of the work I’ve put into doing that,” You tried, turning away from him but still staying in the living room.

“I know, baby,” The nickname tumbled out before he could stop it, sending a jab to your chest, “I know, but please. I will leave you alone after, if that’s what you really want. I’ll do whatever you want.”

You weighed your options in your head before letting out a hesitant, “Okay. I’ll listen, but if I want you to leave after, you’ll go?”

Your heart had won this battle, but you’re relying on your brain to save it later if need be. The sound of his approaching footsteps made the breath catch in your throat, but the feeling of his hand sliding into your own sent a jolt of electricity through your entire body. Your head snapped to his own, your eyes full of anxiety and familiarity.

He gently pulled you over to the couch, dropping your hand so that you could sit as far away from as you wanted. The air was crawling with nerves from both parties, but the lack of anger radiating off of you brought him some sort of comfort as he gathered his thoughts. Though, in your defense, you could never be angry at Quinn, no matter how badly he hurt you.

“I know that no apology can fix the hurt I’ve caused you, but I am sorry. I am so sorry for pulling away from you instead of talking to you. I never fell out of love with you, ever. Not then, and not now. Do you want to know the best thing that’s ever happened to me? It isn't hockey. It isn’t money. It’s you, and that terrified me. I was so scared that I was going to screw everything up.”

You opened your mouth to interrupt him, but he cast you a stern glare and shook his head before continuing, “I never let that bother me until I overheard you talking to Leila about marriage and children, and I got scared. I started questioning if I was good enough for you. If I was even good for you. I’m gone so much with the team, and I’ve already missed so many of your accomplishments because I was on the road.

“I started thinking about us having kids. How many appointments would I miss? What if I missed the birth? What if I missed the baby’s first steps? I couldn’t imagine putting you through all of that by yourself, so I started pulling away. Was it a good idea? Absolutely not, but it made sense to me. I thought I was going to save you from heartbreak in the future, but all I did was cause it now instead.

“I didn’t call after you left because I thought I did the right thing. I thought I was doing what was best for you, but then I heard your voice this morning and I knew I had to fix it, if you’d let me. I couldn’t let you think that I never loved you, because I do. I love you so much, and I will do anything to prove that to you, should you give me the chance.”

You sat there in silence, digesting the words that had just been said to you as you let out quiet sobs. For nearly the last year, you had believed that Quinn didn’t love you, and now he was saying the exact opposite. He was begging for another chance, and that was what you had wanted, right? It still was, but the damage that was done wasn’t going to be easily fixable. You would have to start back at the beginning, and you’re not sure if Quinn was willing to do that.

“Baby,” He whispered, your silence lighting his skin on fire with nerves, “I don’t know what’s going through your head, but I want you to know that I meant what I said. I will do whatever it takes to fix this mess I created. Anything.”

The gears were turning in your head, trying to conjure any sort of coherent thought to tell him that you wanted this, but you were scared. You’d put so much faith and trust into Quinn, and he tore all of that down out of fear. What if he did that again?

“I want to,” You whispered, “I do, but what if you do it again? I can’t go through it all over, Quinn. I felt like I was going to die without you, and I can’t go through losing you all over again if you get scared.”

You felt his weight lift off the sofa, and before you realized what was going on, he was wedging himself in between your legs in front of you. He cupped both of your cheeks in his hands so you were looking at him, and you swear you blacked out for a second. Just because Quinn had hurt you, doesn’t mean the effect he had on you went away.

“You won’t lose me ever again, okay? My heart belongs to you. My heart beats for you. I promise to love you for the rest of my life, even if you don’t love me for the rest of yours.”

His hands were still on your cheeks as you gulped down the lump in your throat, his pleading eyes darting all across your face. Lucky for you, your heart and your brain had linked together as you let out an almost silent, “Kiss me, please.”

And he did. Quinn’s lips were on yours in an instant, hands dropping down so he could pull you into his chest. The kiss was full of desperation and months of lost time as the two of you clung to each other. He was holding your hips so tightly that you’re fairly certain they were going to bruise, but you didn’t mind. You were pulling him into you just as desperately, afraid that he was somehow going to disappear from right in front of you.

He briefly pulled away so that he could sit on the couch, pulling you into his lap not long after. He quickly reattached his lips to yours, and he kissed you with so much fervor that it had your head spinning. You could feel some of your sadness melting away, being replaced by passion and desire for the man underneath you. Almost as if a switch had flipped within you. You shifted your hips on his lap, and a throaty moan escaped his swollen lips as he slightly threw his head back.

“Be careful with that,” He let out a breathy laugh, “You know what that does to me.”

There was a teasing glint in your eye as you spoke, “I know.”

“Fuck me,” He groaned, subtly moving your hips against him.

“If you insist,” You drew out, leaning down to ghost your lips over his neck.

He threw his head back against the couch and screwed his eyes shut as your warm breath fanned across his neck. Your eyes flicked up to his face, and you couldn’t help but let a mischievous smirk form before dragging your tongue across the expanse of his neck. He let out a string of profanities as you latched your mouth onto the spot you knew would send him spiraling, but you quickly pulled away and hopped off of him.

“I need to take a shower,” You announced, a teasing tone to your voice, “I’m still gross from the bar.”

Quinn’s eyes snapped open, watching as you began to walk away. Only when he heard you ask if you were going to join did he jump off the couch and scramble after you. He shed his clothes as he followed you to the bathroom, leaving a trail of fabric in his wake. By the time he had reached your bathroom, you’d already turned the shower on and rid yourself of your own clothes.

“I do not deserve you,” He mumbled as his eyes raked over your naked body. 

He’d already memorized every dip and curve of you, but he always treated it as if he was seeing all of you for the first time. Your body captivated him in all of the best ways, and it left Quinn breathless every time you graced him with it. He considered it a privilege to be able to bear witness to the Goddess of a woman in front of him, and he worshiped it like it was.

Despite all that has happened between the two of you, you still felt comfortable enough to share this part of you with Quinn. Unlike the guys who had seen you naked before, none of them treated it the way he did. He never made you feel insecure, and he always made every other part of you feel just as loved as your body. He admired your character, and even your flaws, all the same.

“You gonna stand there or are you going to join me,” You teased as you stepped into the shower. 

The water enveloped you like a welcomed hug, and you let out a sigh of relief as the stickiness from last night was washed away. You were facing towards the shower, eyes closed and head tilted back. You heard the curtain rings slide against the rod before you felt Quinn’s chest pressed against your back. You wiggled against his hardened length, and he took your teasing as a green light.

His fingers trailed up along your hip, across your waist before dancing over your breast. He made a point to slightly lift his touch so he just barely grazed your nipple, and you let out a whine when he did. His hand briefly paused when he reached your collarbone as if he was going to change his mind, but he carefully wrapped his fingers around your neck and leaned down to brush his lips against your ear.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” He whispered before dipping his head down and attaching his lips to your neck.

While one hand tilted your neck to give him better access, his free hand trailed down your stomach and towards your center. The knot in your stomach grew the closer he got, but he was taking his time with you. Relishing in the moment he never thought he would have again.

“Quinn,” You whimpered, “Please.”

“Please what, baby? I need you to use your words for me,” He briefly broke his contact with your neck.

“I need you to touch me, please,” You were begging him, needing him to give you the release that no other man has before.

“Good girl.”

He slid one finger into you, an almost pornagraphic moan echoing off the tiles of your bathroom. You threw your head back against his shoulder, gripping at the slick shower wall for any sort of support before your knees buckled from under you. He carefully moved his digit inside of you, stretching your walls so he could add another.

“Jesus, baby. You’re so tight,” He groaned into your ear.

“‘S because no one’s touched me- Oh fuck,” You cried out as he inserted another finger, “No one’s touched me since the last time you did.”

Quinn knew he shouldn’t be as turned on by that as he was, but he couldn’t help it. Knowing that you didn’t let another man have you the way that he did only made him harder, and he didn’t think that was possible.

You were writhing against him as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, your moans filling his ears like they were his favorite song. He moved his thumb to press against your clit, and it was then that Quinn had to use his own strength to keep you standing. He worked his fingers against you, and he’s gotten you to the finish line enough times to know that you were already just about there, so he didn’t stop.

“Oh my god,” You cried out as his thumb rubbed circles and his fingers curled inside of you, “I’m almost the-Fuck.”

“I know, pretty girl. I know,” He murmured, keeping his pace steady.

Your legs are shaking and your vision becomes spotty as the knot inside you comes undone. He captures your lips with his own as you come all over his fingers, kissing you with the same amount of passion he’d had before everything happened. He was still supporting you with the hand that was previously on your neck, but you slowly regained the strength to support yourself as you came down from your high.

“You okay,” He asked, turning you around so that the water was no longer hitting your front.

“More than okay,” You gave him a sloppy smile, still slightly dazed from your orgasm.

“Good, because that was only the beginning,” He smirked, switching places with you so he could back you into the corner of your shower.

You watched as he turned and shifted the shower head so that it was spraying against the two of you as much. You pulled your brows together in confusion as you questioned him, “What about you?”

“What about me,” He feigned confusion as he slowly fell to his knees.

“You know what,” You quietly spoke, eyes wide in anticipation as his hands gripped your thighs.

“I’m getting all I need, baby. Don’t worry,” He glanced up at you, eyes sparkling with pleasure.

His fingers trailed against your thighs that were wet with a mix of water and your own juices. Goosebumps rose in wake of his touch, sending a shiver throughout your entire body. You kept glancing down at him with your lip pulled between your teeth, your heart still rapidly beating from your orgasm only minutes ago.

Quinn spread your legs with his hands before placing feathered kisses on the inside of your thighs, eliciting a few breathless moans from you. He stopped when he got against your aching core, his breath hitting it as he spared you one more glance.

With a swift movement, he was lifting your leg over his shoulder and then he was diving into you like it was his last meal. His facial hair was tickling your inner thighs, but all it did was add to the sensation flowing through your body. His hands were gripping at your legs to not only keep you steady, but to give him something to hold on to.

He was devouring you in a way that made it seem like he was enjoying it more than you were, but you highly doubted that to be true. His tongue worked against as he led you to yet another orgasm, mouth sucking and swirling in all of the right places. You tugged on his hair as you felt the familiar fire burning in your stomach, your head hitting against the tile wall.

Your second orgasm ripped through your body, rendering you temporarily blind yet again. He carefully placed your leg back beneath you, placing open mouth kisses against your stomach as he stood leaving behind a mixture of his saliva and your cum against your skin. He attacked your lips with his own in a dizzying kiss, his hands cupping and squeezing at your breasts.

“I’ve missed you so much,” He mumbled against your lips as he placed his forehead on yours.

“I missed you too. So much, Quinn,” Your eyes became misty with tears, but you tried to push them back.

“I’m not trying to ruin the moment or anything, but thank you for giving me a second chance. I definitely don’t deserve one, but I will keep my promise and do whatever it takes to win you back.”

You pressed a gentle, chaste kiss to his lips before saying, “Well, you can start by properly fucking me.”

The softness in Quinn’s eyes darkened to something full of desire and lust, but he still managed to keep the look of pure admiration and love. His hands found purchase on your hips, pulling you into his chest and meeting your lips with a hungry kiss. You could feel him pressed against your thigh, and it made the already wet pool between your legs worsen.

“Need you to hold on to me baby. Wanna look at you,” He instructed as he pulled away, gesturing for you to wrap your arms around his neck, “Good girl.”

Quinn rubbed himself between your folds, teasing your entrance and watching your face twist in desire and want. Slowly, he pushed himself inside of you and let out a mangled moan as your walls clenched around him. He paused and let you readjust to his size, doing his best to remain still and not roughly jerk his hips back.

“Move,” You whimpered, bucking your hips forward for any sort of friction, “Please move.”

With your pleading, Quinn was pulling himself nearly all the way out and slamming back in at a pace he knew you both liked. His thrusts were hard and deep, filling you in just the right way to leave you gasping for more. He grabbed one of your legs and hooked it on his hips to allow himself a better angle, and you swear you blacked out for a second. You were grateful for the strength he has from hockey or you’re certain you’d both be on the floor by now.

Your loud moans mixed with his own, surely filling the entirety of your apartment with the sound. A part of you hoped your neighbors couldn't hear, but a bigger part of you didn’t care. You finally had him back, and the both of you were making up for lost time. His hips snapped against your own as he brought his free hand back up to your neck, squeezing at the sides with the pressure he knew wouldn't hurt you.

You were clenching around him, sending him into a fit of blinding, white hot ecstasy. No matter times Quinn had imagined you when he fucked his own hand, it was absolutely nothing compared the real thing. Watching as your eyes screwed shut and his name fell from your lips in desperate whines was a sight he would never get tired of.

“Oh my god, Quinn,” You shakily cried out, your eyes rolling backwards and the top of your head hitting against the shower wall as he thrusted into you, “Jesus, fuck.”

“Such a pretty girl,” He praised as his hand dove between your bodies, his fingers coming to rub at the bundle of nerves, “You look so pretty wrapped around me, you know that? Fuck, you feel so good.”

You were gripping at his back as he split you open, your vision coming in and out as he rubbed at your overstimulated clit and repeatedly slammed into you. Your name was tumbling from his lips in grunts, only tightening the coil in your stomach as his forehead dropped to your shoulder. You could feel the heat swirling inside you as he rammed himself into you, and you knew you weren’t going to last much longer.

“Quinn, I’m going to- I’m gonna,” You stuttered as he worked himself deeper, harder.

“I know, baby. Let go,” He whispered your name like it was holy and just, “Come all over my cock, pretty girl.”

His words sent you flying over the edge, your third orgasm of the night sending you into a fit of unmistakable pleasure. Waves of contractions washed over your body as Quinn fucked you through your orgasm, his own crashing over him not too far after. His thrusts became sloppy and slow as he came inside of you, his head burying itself into the crook of your neck as he let out stifled moans against the skin.

You’re not sure how long you clung to each other with him still inside you, sounds of your heavy breathing replacing the previous moans that were probably still echoing somewhere in your apartment. However, what felt like hours but was probably not even five minutes later, Quinn pulled himself out of you, guiding your still shaking leg back down and keeping your body upright.

“Time to get cleaned up, yeah,” He teased, his thumb and forefinger coming up to grab your chin.

“Good thing we’re already in the shower,” You bantered back, eyelids slowly drooping courteous of the man in front of you. 

You lazily pulled Quinn back into your hold, meeting his lips for yet another searing kiss. Yet this time, there was no desperation. There was no hunger. There was only love, and hope. Hope that, despite the damage that has been caused, the two of you will return to the best version of yourselves and let yourselves be happy without worry or fear.

again, please let me know if you see any mistakes. and let me know what you think! xoxox

[kilarthmac]

Let's talk about Caelum.

I'm gonna preface this with saying that everyone is entitled to their opinions, and if once you're done reading this you decide you don't want to follow me or you want to block me, that's completely up to you. I'm not trying to change your opinion or attack anyone who has a different one than mine, I just wanted to put my two cents out there.

I also wanted to say that whatever your opinion on the matter is, it's yours and yours alone, and you should respect the opinions of other people even if they don't match up. I personally do not sexualize Caelum, but I do think he is an adult with childlike characteristics, and those two statements are not mutually exclusive. He can be an adult, but he also doesnt have to be put in adult situations.

It's okay to have strong feelings one way or the other about this topic, but it is not okay to harass people or go on a witch hunt for those with the opposite opinion to give them shit about what they think. If you disagree with someone and do not want to see their stuff on your timeline, just block them or scroll away. You alone are responsible for your own dash, you cannot make other people responsible for what you see on your timeline.

All that being said, I do not like how the fandom treats Caelum and Empathy Daemons in general.

My stance on the matter is that Empathy Daemons as a whole are adults, but because of how E'Laetum created them, they tend to have childlike characteristics. Those who say that Empathy Daemons are ALL children blatantly ignore the fact that Regulus is an Empathy Daemon as well, and that he has been shown to have adult tendancies (his BA, getting possessive over his charge, etc) while also maintaining his childlike characteristics (telling his charge a bedtime story to sleep, having a very one dimensional view of himself and his charge, etc). This is where I have a problem whenever I see people try to say that all Empathy Daemons are children. Regulus is clearly an adult. There is no "reading between the lines" about this.

Caelum is also an Empathy Daemon, but he is a very different character than Regulus. He is a lot more childlike compared to Regulus. He gets his words mixed up, he likes sweets, he likes hugs, etc. But in his most recent video (Your Bakadere Empathy Daemon Friend Visits You), even he says that he almost went down a path similar to Regulus' until Delphinus stepped in and assigned him to Freelancer, and that stopped him from falling (timestamps from 2:40 - 3:18, and 8:45 in that video). It may be uncomfortable for some people to think of Caelum as going down the same path that Regulus did, but this video clearly shows that he had the potential to. Caelum and Regulus are not as different as one may think.

Erik has also said himself that D(a)emons step out of the Elision Well as adults and they do not age. Of course they don't know everything so they still have to learn, but that's not the same as being a child. On top of the most recent Redacted 101 video, take this screenshot from Wonderworld (previously Redacted Records, when Erik was still in the server) from 2020, where Erik talks about how D(a)emons coalesce.

He even mentions how in earlier Caelum videos he didn't know what he wanted the d(a)emon life cycle to be yet, and that's why he had Caelum state that he was a "kid daemon" at one point.

Not to mention the fact that in the official timeline, it shows that Caelum coalesced in 1999, and is even older than Damien.

At the end of the day, Caelum is a fictional character. Whatever someone ends up deciding to make of him is their choice, this is a fandom after all. If it really bothers you to see what certain people make, block them and move on. DO NOT berate them for their headcanons or fanart or whatever else. People are allowed to have their own headcanons, make their own fics, and draw their own fanart. This is a fandom space, and people are allowed their creative liberties.

Anyways, that has been my two cents. Feel free to voice your opinions in the comments if u want to, but please please be respectful and don't attack anyone.

TLDR; I don't sexualize Caelum but I do think he and all Empathy Daemons are adults (ex: Regulus), everyone should respect everyone else's opinions and just block what they don't want to see on their timelines, and the fandom needs to chill out lol

[mixtape-racha]

stupid for you | han jisung

you really shouldn't feed into your boyfriends perv-like tendancies, but how can you help it when he's just so pretty begging for you to touch him? // 18+, minors dni

words: 1.15k // warnings: fem!reader, established relationship, use of pet names, jisung and reader refer to himself as sir, jisung and reader refer to reader as mommy, light perv!jisung, somnophilia, switch!jisung, switch!reader, use of mommy, use of sir, cum talk, reader calls jisung dumb and disgusting (lovingly), slapping (once)

“please, pretty baby, please please– i’ll beg all night if you want–”

jisung is such a whiny shit when he desperately wants something. which, with how obsessed he is with your body, is more often than you’d think. and god knows he looks good doing it.

which is why you’re in your current predicament - you straddling his bare waist, his hands pinned in place above his head, his hips jutting up into you as you glare at him.

“you can beg as much as you want, sung, but its not happening. you really think you deserve to fuck me after what you pulled earlier?”

he was really pulling out all the stops, jutting his lower lip out and putting on his prettiest puppy eyes. you think you can see tears welling up too. fuck.

“but angel, i couldn’t help it! you know i’d never be bad on purpose.”

“jisung, all you know is being bad. those were brand new underwear, and you know that because you were there when i got them. but still, something in your silly little brain thought it’d be a good idea to use them to get yourself off, huh?”

your grip on his wrists tightened, and you couldn’t help the way your cunt clenched when he whimpered and shook his head frantically.

“no, mommy please, i’m–”

“i swear to god if you say sorry one more time i’m going to stuff that big mouth, got it? I don’t wanna hear another noise from you. we both know you wanted to get caught, or you wouldn’t have paraded yourself around while my panties sat here covered in your cum, would they? honestly, pup, you’re dumb and disgusting, but you’re not that stupid.”

jisung’s eyes glazed over and his cock twitched behind you at your words, and you knew deep down you couldn’t keep it up much longer. he was just too cute.

your next words sparked a world of excitement behind his eyes, and he drooled as you kissed him harshly - all teeth and spit.

“mommy’s gonna suck you dry now, baby. but if you move, or make any noise, you’re not cumming for the next week.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“fuck baby, stay still. you feel so good like that.”

you whined, sleep falling away from you fast and not understanding why your body felt like it was rocking, as if you were on a boat.

“sungie, wha–?”

oh. that’s what the rocking was. jisung’s cock was rutting gently between your thighs, and he’d somehow manhandled your sleep-shorts and panties so they were sitting by your knees.

“sung, what’s goin’ on?” you mumbled, voice croaky from sleep and lack of use.

he grunted, hips still rocking, stomach bumping your ass from the position you were in.

“jus’ looked so good there, doll. whinin’ in your sleep for me. almost like you love the way i perv on you. makes you almost as disgusting as me, huh?”

his words threw you, with the sleepiness still washing over you, your head going fuzzy.

“no. m’good girl. jus’ wanna make sungie feel good.” your brow furrowed as his hips sped up.

“so good just laying there for me ready to use. sleeping in such revealing clothes. makes it so easy for me, angel face.”

“wanna touch, sung. please~”

his groans grew louder, hot breath fanning all over your neck from where he lay behind you.

“god, yeah, baby. come touch, make your sungie feel good.”

what he wasn’t expected was for you to crawl under the duvet and wrap your warm lips around his cockhead. in fact, he could’ve came on the spot just from the way you huffed a breath of warm air through your nose, the sensation hitting his pubic bone with glee.

he threw the duvet off the bed, eyes fixed on the way you kitten-licked the tip, eyes still glazed over with tiredness. even in the dead of night, especially in the dead of night, you’d still feed into his fantasies like they were just as much your own. 

god, you were perfect.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“all laid out so pretty for me, huh? good thing the guys have left now, wouldn’t want them seeing you be such a slut, would we?”

you wanted to slap the smug look off of your boyfriend’s face, not even attempting to cover your naked body. it was all his fault anyway. the guys had all come over for a movie and games night - meaning there were seven other men in your living room - and your boyfriend thought it would be funny to rile you up under your blanket on the couch by rubbing your clit through your panties, hand delicately stuffed under your jogging bottoms.

he got you so close to an orgasm more times than you could count, then ripped his hand away, tuning into a conversation instead - ignoring all your attempts to drag him into the bathroom for a quickie to subdue the pull in your abdomen.

so, of course you pretended to have a migraine and stayed hidden in your bedroom instead, making yourself cum multiple times knowing it would piss him off more that he didn’t get to see the way your face twisted with pleasure each time. what else were you supposed to do?

“what’s the matter, baby? cat got your tongue?”

“fuck off.” you mumbled, eyes glued to the bedsheets from your position on your knees waiting for him.

“wanna repeat that, angel? and think carefully before you answer that.”

you couldn't bring yourself to look up, knowing the flash of anger that would be on his face. he hated it when you got an attitude with him. maybe thats why you enjoyed it so much.

“you’re so annoying, jisung. i almost think you want the guys to watch you fuck me at this point.”

slap. 

oh. 

slapping was a new thing in the bedroom with you and jisung, but you couldn’t deny the way you positively dripped at the burn on your cheek.

a fizz of anger waved over jisung’s face, and he gripped your chin, squishing your cheeks so your mouth opened.

“you really like winding me up, huh? you don’t get to talk about other men when you’re sitting here all pretty like that.”

god, he was absolutely throbbing in his pants, and it was so obvious where you were almost eye level with his cock. Drooling, you reached out for his waistband, looking up at him with a silent beg for permission.

“m’sorry, sir. jus’ wanna have you inside me, please!”

the way you were trembling under his touch, the tears in your eyes and drool dripping from you chin. the way you were rubbing your thighs together, jisung could almost guarantee there was a wet patch on the duvet underneath you now.

“you just wanna be stuffed with sir’s cock, huh baby? go so dumb, so fucking cockdrunk like always, yeah? well, i can’t deny you that now, can i?”

[ch3rie-pop]

SCP Y/N because I can’t stop thinking about them.

or Dr. Starling if you wanna be formal

I have a tendancy to switch between making them baby-faced cartoony and anime chinned male

I know what you’re all actually here for, le oiseau bitch, WELL HERE HE IS SO NOW GO AWAY!/j/j/j

Making a human face claim for 049 cuz I got curious. I tried drawing him with his hood on and now he just looks like a nun. Nice 😏

do something with that fanfic writers-

ANYWHO!

Kondraki is a vibe, I should really read some more tales about the dude and figure out how the FOUNDATION’S FRICKEN TAGS SYSTEM WORKS

It’s Clef, but I stuck to the references the site provides and I forgor his third eye or whatever because who needs three eyes? Does he have a third eyebrow to go with said eye? Too much anatomy man I’m out/j

Can we talk about how filthy that water is when 049 takes a bath? Decades worth of bird grease, ANCIENT DISEASES, debris, dirt, grime, soil, and sweat is probably lurking in those robes man.

Lovingly, 049 is disgusting.

I want to clean his putrid ass with dawn dish soap and a pressure washer.

[ilovelovewithallmyheart]

Hiii i lovee your ficsss and i especially love the red string of fate workkk you should definatelyyy make that a seriesss

Thank you anon!!!

I shall deliver🫡

First part of the red string series here

(this is a gojo satoru fanfic btw)

Tag: @sapphireandange

-Quick overview-

In this world where the mythical red string that connects you to your soulmate exists, the type of string indicates what your relationship will be like.

Y/n's string is perfect and smooth, indicating that her relationship with her soulmate will be perfect.

Unfortunately for Y/n that luck doesn't extend very far because her soulmate keeps trying to sever the bond (which causes pain to both parties) and Y/n is currently unemployed. But have no fear! In this chapter, she gets recruited for the job as a manager at Jujutsu Tech.

Fingers crossed her new boss isn't an egotistical prick whose red string is connected to hers!!!😍😍😍

**

“Jesus Gojo. This would be your…twenty sixth manager this year?” Shoko picked up the records from the table, eyes widened with incredulity. Gojo shrugged, clearly taking it as a compliment. “I’ve scared off all of them.” Pride was laced in his words. “It says here that your seventeenth manager didn’t even last a day - what do you do to your managers?” Nanami looked over Shoko’s shoulders, then back at Gojo disapprovingly.

“Nothing. My presence is too great for their puny little weakling brains.” He crossed his arms, and Nanami understood why those managers all left. Gojo was, for lack of a better word, an absolute prick to anyone who was weaker than him so…he was a prick to everyone.

“I’m supposed to be meeting my new manager today actually.” Gojo grinned like a hunter meeting prey. “What was your bet again?” Gojo said as an afterthought. Nanami thought bets were pointless, but nontheless he still raised a bet. “I bet $50 that your new manager won’t last a week.” 

Shoko chuckled. “You’re too kind Nanami. I bet $100 that they won’t last a day.”

**

Okay Y/n. This is it, you thought.

The only thing seperating you and your future boss were the tatami doors in front of you. You thought you were having a conniption.

He’s NOT going to be as bad as you think he’s going to be, you reasoned. Brains just have a tendancy for expecting the worst.

Right?

With that optimistic though in your head, you slid the doors to the side and stepped in.

Your boss was sitting face first on the table, completely motionless. HIs hair was white - you’ve never seen anyone with that kind of hair before.

God, his stillness was offputting. It was almost like he was-

DEAD? Terror seized your gut and sirens immediately began to shriek in your head.

You were panicing, freaking out, and you had absolutely no idea what to do. If you were the main character of a shounen anime, perhaps you would’ve checked the body, or done something heroic. But you, Y/n, were a failed jujutsu sorceror. 

So naturally you reached for the tatami doors to get out-

Someone grabbed your wrist.

You turned around, surprised there was someone else in the room.

“AHHHHHHHHH!!!” 

You supposedly ‘dead’ boss was standing, completely alive and well, somehow crossing the room in literal milliseconds. “Where do you think you’re going?” His voice was deep and rough. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, turning his back to you to look out the windows overlooking Jujutsu Tech. He stretched, his yawn obnoxiously loud.

“To the…bathroom!” You wanted to melt into a puddle in the ground and evaporate. “You’re my new manager. But I call the shots around here.” He said, broad back still facing you. You nodded, then realised he couldn’t see you nodding. “Yes. Okay.” 

“First rule as your boss: you’re not allowed to go to the bathroom when you’re on duty.” 

…what.

You blanched. 

How the hell were you supposed to do your business?

You bit your tongue. Remember Y/n...you’ll get paid. Your first paycheck. Come on….you urged yourself not to run out of the room.

“Okay.”

“Second rule. You’re not allowed to raise your voice above 60 decibels. Your scream nearly made me go deaf.”

You seriously didn’t know how you could tell how loud your voice was at all times, but you forced yourself to picture the feeling of the smooth, paper envelope. How the envelope slightly bulged in the middle, due to the money inside. You imagined yourself peeling it open and taking out the money- 

“Third rule. I expect you to answer me whenever I tell you something.” His voice was already disapproving, and he turned around to coldly asses you, his blue eyes sharper than knives-

He stopped dead.

For some reasons, without even initiating the red string vision, it flickered to life. 

Huh? You thought. You glanced down at your ring finger. 

Why is the vision on…? You wondered as you followed the thick red string further, and further…

Until it tied in a neat bow on your boss’ ring finger.

[rodolfoparras]

maybe its the gender disohoria maybe its my bottom tendancies but all i can think about is dom price and a sub ftm doing anal and calling it "gender affirming sex"

Price whos usually soft and gentle with you in bed because he just wants to make sure that you’re okay and that he isn’t making you uncomfortable in any way

But there are days where that softness and gentleness turns ugly in your head and rather than talking to him about it, you try and force his hand, skipping any sort of foreplay and coaxing him to go harder and deeper until all those ugly thoughts are gone from your head

And don’t get it wrong price can be rough if that’s what you want, if you rather have a rough kiss he’ll be all tongue and teeth till you can taste blood at the back of your mouth and if you want him to rip the clothes off of your body he’ll happily ruin whatever favorite shirt you got laying around

However what he won’t let you do is rush the prep, fearing you’ll hurt yourself in the process, and he makes that clear tone firm as ever when he says it, his grip on your hips practically bruising whenever you try and buck your hips.

But you’re relentless huffing and puffing at his every word, and squirming around in hopes of getting what you want

Eventually price has enough and pulls you flush against his body,a firm hand on your stomach while the other keeps a vice like grip on your throat “you try and do that again, and I’ll leave you right here, am I making myself clear little boy?”

“Yes sir,”

[starlightshadowsworld]

Bsd except Atsushi is an orange tiger and not a white one. And somehow because of that he has orange cat tendancies.

Just an absolute destructive menace without a thought behind those eyes.

Atsushi jumps off a building and doesn't land on his feet, but on his face and somehow he's completly fine.

Just the clingiest guy in history, latches into members of the Agency (And Akutugawa) and won't let go.

He will scream if he doesn't get attention.

[roses-dreams-andthorns]

Can i request the Mafia fish with Introvert!reader who’s rarely interact with people and they found out that they’re reader’s muse for painting art bcus all reader can think about is them HSSBSJA

I CRAVE FLUFF TO SLEEP PEACEFULLY

Mafia fish it is!! hehehe

GN! Reader

Floyd

He's quite scary to you, since he's so extroverted, and he's so engergetic, while you're just a silent, no energy person. He likes to sqeeze you quite often, so often you've begun to recognize his footsteps. Though he may be scary, you can't seem to get him off your mind, so... you make him your little guinea pig. He gets to sqeeze you? You get to use him as an art guinea pig, fair is fair, after all. Of course, you weren't gonna announce to him that he's your art guinea pig, who knows what he'd do to you...

"Whatcha drawing shrimpy-chan?" He suddenly said from behind you. He had entered your art room without you noticing, and now you've got yourself in a sticky situation, looking at him with a half shocked, half terrified look on your face. He laughs at you.

"Awww shrimpy! don't be scared! I just wanna see! Is that me?" he asks, you turn away and slowly nod, and he sqeezes you as if it were his last day on earth.

"Awwww! Shrimpy!!! You drew meeeee!" he laughs, you cough from how he's sqeezing you, and he puts you down.

You stay silent for a moment, before silently speaking, "W-well... you get to sqeeze me all the time, so.... its only fair if I get to use you as my art guinea pig in exchange..." He laughs.

"Hahahaha! Shrimpy is so funny!" he smiles with his sharp teeth, "Can I watch you draw??" He asks, you nod slowly, making him jump slightly in happiness, "yaaaay!"

Jade

Like Floyd, he's also scary to you, he's not the type of person you'd wanna get in the bad side of, though most of the time you avoid him, you do see him in the halls once in a while, and when you do, he gives you a smile that looks nice, but probably has some sinister plan underneath that has you involved. even though you've only seen him those few times, and how scary he is, you can't seem to get him out of your head, so you tend to draw him often, very regular, gentlemanly poses, nothing strange.

"an exquisite painting of me you've done, darling." you hear his voice linger behind you, making you jump, with a slight "eep!" escaping your mouth, he chuckles softly

"No need to be afraid... I quite like it." he says, smiling. you silently ask "Really?" he chuckles again.

"but of course, never had I seen someone as talented in art as you... This is because I was on your mind, yes?" he asked, dang... he caught you red handed.

Azul

Ah, yes, Azul Ashengrotto. Despite his powerful reputation as the owner of Monstro Lounge and dormleader of Octavinelle, you find him quite pretty, you two have some of the same classes together, and sometimes you can't help but secretly stare at him, you sometimes have a tendancy to draw him in your sketchbooks, in fact, 50% of your most recent sketchbook is filled with drawings of him, little notes on the drawings like "Pretty..." or "He's very cool..."

Though you haven't interacted often, he seems knows you quite well, which scares you, because, well... What if he finds your sketchbook? What will he say about all the drawings of him that are there? Would he think you're creepy? It's something you panic about almost everyday.

Your favorite place to draw is in the bontanical garden, because its just so pretty there... you sigh, as even when Azul isn't in seeing distance, you still can't seem to get him out of your head, his eyes, glasses, face, hair, personality... its all stuck in there like it was superglued in there, so you draw him. You don't draw anything strange, of course, you only draw him normally, sometimes doing full body, sometimes doing bust-up drawings... and you even draw little chibis too.

"How cute..." you hear a familiar voice behind you, causing you to jump, immediately holding your sketchbook in your arms and turning to see the person behind you. and of course... It was none other than the person you were just drawing, Azul Ashemgrotto. You enter a state of panic, 'what's he gonna say??? What do I do????'

He laughs lightly, "No need to panic, I don't bite." he says, "I simply came to admire your art, the drawings you do of me are always quite amazing."

And that didn't help calm down your panic, you ushered a small "Y-you saw them?" with a stuttered, quite and soft voice, clearly shaking.

He smiles, "Yes, I did, but I really like your drawings, I'm... actually flattered you think I'm so pretty..." he says, his face turning a bit red from blush, and his voice going softer, as you your eyes, as you stop panicing, you ask him softly "so you... don't find it weird...?"

"Of course not... It... actually makes me quite happy... But please don't tell Floyd and Jade or anyone I said that! They'd tease me mercilessly..." he said as he sighed, you chuckle a bit.

"Hehehe... I won't... And... I'm... glad you like my drawings..." you say quietly with a smile.

[reallyromealone]

Moving in

Dad Aizawa x baby reader

Shota sighed as he wrapped his son in a sling, (name) snoozing away happily as his tiny little hands clung to his dad's sweater and little feet dangling. With a sigh Aizawa made his way to the newly built dorms at UA, their stuff having been sent the night before so all that was left was them going there "let's get this over with..." Aizawa grumbled and the father son duo went off to their new living space for the year.

When they walked in it was still early maybe five am and little (name) was still out like a light as they went to the teachers dorm and Aizawa carefully set up his play pen so later when he got his shit ready (name) would have a place to sleep.

By time students arrived (name) was awake, stretching his little arms as Aizawa turned him to face forward because boy howdy did (name) get excited for new people "Aizawa sir, whose this?!" Mina asked excitedly as little (name) just looked at the incoming students curiously as he sucked on his pacifier. Aizawa sighed before looking at the students "this is my son (name)" he said bluntly and let his son hold his finger "how old is he?" Ochaco asked as she cooed over the babe who did not care for these people, far more interested in his hands hands.

"He's eight months old"

The students were facinated by the tiny baby but eventually Aizawa shooed them off to get them to go unpack "I will be unpacking myself, my room is down the hall to the right" Aizawa explained to the kids "I will put up a door sign if (name) is sleeping" he said holding up a door handle sign that said "sleeping baby" in simple bold words and the students nodded.

"We will uphold that sign!" Iida said seriously and chopped his hand and Aizawa just nodded before wandering off to his room...well rooms.

Teachers had more space than students especially if they have family, Aizawa getting two bedroom and a bathroom along with a small sitting room.

Just enough space for the two Aizawas.

Setting (name) into his play pen and grabbing a few toys for his son to play with, he began unpacking. Setting up his bed and setting up (name)s crib were the first things on his list before moving onto everything else.

(Name) just watched his dad go back and forth, perfectly amused with the company of his dad.

In his play pen were a few soft dolls of his dad's friends and co-workers and his all time favorite a handmade plush of his papa made by uncle Hisashi when he was born.

Aizawa had to bring it everywhere lest he be met with a sobbing baby.

The only fridges on the dorms were in the common area so Aizawa sighed before restrapping his son to his chest and lugging his babes formula and other infant food supplies to the common areas kitchen and began setting it up "you need help Mr. Aizawa?" Jiro asked softly, noticing her teacher had his hands full, Aizawa turned to look at her with an empassive expression before nodding "go to my room and grab his high chair if you can" he said calmly as he tried to keep his son from grabbing all his little baby snacks he loved so much "you can have some when the chair comes out" Aizawa said soft yet sternly to his son who looked up at him curiously.

" Here you are Mr Aizawa" Jiro said holding the high chair "thank you, this is an inconvenience but could you hold (name) while I set it up? He has a tendancy to want to 'help'" Aizawa asked the teen who awkwardly nodded and took the babe who was very facinated with her ear jacks and the teen played around with him, waving them infront of his face and watched the babe try to grab them.

When Aizawa set up the high chair he grabbed some bananas and chopped them up before taking (name) and putting him in and the two watched little (name) go to town on those bananas "he really likes bananas huh?"

"Oh he's a monster with bananas" Aizawa said with a slight laugh "if you need anything sir don't be afraid to ask me! I'm willing to watch him" it was very sweet seeing Jiro wanting to be helpful "focus on school but if it's an emergency I will come to you" Aizawa said patting her head "and you will be compensated accordingly when you do"

Jiro went back to her room to finish unpacking as Aizawa watched his son eat away "this is our new home bud, get used to it" Aizawa said fondly and little (name) wasn't even listening.

[americas1suiteheart]

Sick Days

[Lemon and Tangerine x GN! Reader (Platonic) ]

[Summary; You've worked with the twins for years now, and whilst they are sharp and get things done rather well, they do have a tendancy to constantly get eachother, including you, sick.]

[Notes; Sorry I haven't been very active. I promise I'll get to those asks soon but this popped into my head and I just really needed to write a full fic.]

[Warnings; Some cursing and mentions of taking over the counter medicine.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

"Achoo!"

"Bloody fuckin'-hell mate, cover your fuckin' mouth when you sneeze," Tangerine scoffs.

The three of you have been sick since your last mission in Bolivia, you're assuming that one of the twins got coughed on or something, because as always--they were the first to get ill.

And just as always, you were the ones to take care of them at first until you finally got ill.

The first week was horrible.

Tangerine's constant bitching and moaning about how he wanted to be back on missions but still complaining about how he felt like shit, that his nose and body hurt, how his throat was sore, and how terrible of a headache he had. Then he would be upset that Lemon was sitting down bundled up on the couch watching Thomas and Friends and how he wouldn't let Tangerine watch his West Ham game on the television.

Lemon wasn't as bad as Tangerine when it came to getting sick though. Lemon only complained once or twice, every now and then but it wasn't constant. Lemon would only ask if you could bring him a pot of tea if you weren't too busy and maybe some blankets. He was content and hell, he'd even admit happy that he didn't have to go on missions for a few weeks.

And then you got sick.

So now its just been constant sneezing, coughing, sniffling, and groaning. The amount of tissues and tea the three of you have been going through is insane, and you're still the one doing medicine runs.

"Piss off mate, I'll do whatever the fuck I want," Lemon says after blowing his nose.

"If either one of you bicker and babble to eachother again I will personally shoot the both of you in the face," You groan.

You hear a grumble and mutter from Tangerine but don't bother with him because it'll only worsen your already terrible migraine.

You walk to the kitchen, grabbing your favourite mug along with some clove and ginger tea, popping the teabag in and pouring the hot water you had just boiled over it into the mug.

"You did it wrong," Tangerine says, a look of annoyance on his face.

"I'm really not in the mood for your bullshit Tan. If you want it done right then you make it yourself you prick," You bite back, proceeding to the living area.

You walk to the couch Lemon was sitting on, one of his legs taking up the whole couch.

Once he looks away from the television and sees you, he removes his leg and opens up the blankets he was under, inviting you to sit with him in his cozy spot, to which you gladly accept.

You sit comfortably next to Lemon, handing him your mug so he can set it down on the tissue covered side table. I'll have to clean that up later, you thought to yourself.

"Feeling any better, y/n?" Lemon asks.

"Sort of. I've still got a god awful headache and my nose is still runny, but its better than I was a couple days ago so the medicine is working at least. How about you?"

"I'm still stuffy but its beginning to slow down now, I'm glad this bloody thing is starting to bug off already," Lemon replies.

"It's my turn on the telly, let me watch th- Achoo! Fuckin' hell!" Tangerine says, a twinge of annoyance in his voice as he complains like a child.

You and Lemon look at eachother, sighing and deciding to let Tangerine watch his game so he stops whining.

"Fine, but only if you promise to stop bitching, okay?" You say, handing Tangerine the television remote and scooting closer to Lemon to make room for him to sit with you two.

"Hey Tan, who's playing West Ham?" Lemon asks, voice still slightly hoarse.

"Man City today, tomorrow its Brentford. Why?" Tangerine responds, eyes glued to the television as he switches it to the correct channel.

Lemon looks at you with a look on his face, then back at Tangerine.

"No reason in particular,"

Manchester City just so happened to be your favourite team. The last time Man City was against West Ham, Man City won. You also happened to be watching the game with the twins that day, and let's just say that Tangerine was not happy that his team had lost and you were happy over it.

It'd been a few years since that game, but you have a feeling that Tangerine would end up being worse than the last time if Man City won again.

Sure, you like it when your team wins, but as of right now you would much prefer it if West Ham won so that way Tangerine doesn't act like a complete bellend. He's easier to anger and agitate now that he's ill.

You all sat on the couch watching the game. Cheers erupted from Tangerine and Lemon whenever West Ham got the ball or made a goal, then a groan of annoyance from Tangerine whenever Man City got the ball or made a goal.

So far it was a 3 - 3 tie with just 3 minutes left of the game, and Tangerine was getting more and more agitated every time Man City took the ball from West Ham.

Once again, Man City taking the ball, then the referee calling over a player and showing them a red card, giving West Ham a free kick for the players offense.

West Ham has the ball now, a free kick. There are 2 minutes left in the game and if they make this shot then the chances of them winning the game are high.

"Bowen takes a free kick, OH MY WORD! A DIRECT FREE KICK GIVING WEST HAM 4 POINTS TOTAL! WHAT A GOAL!"

Cheers and a few coughs come from both Lemon and Tangerine, smiles on their faces. Regardless of their heights, facial hair, voices, jobs even, they still act like children sometimes in both good and bad ways and it makes you smile.

Those last few minutes pass and the game ends, a 4 - 3 score with West Ham beating Manchester City, more cheers erupt from the twins, dopey smiles plastered onto their faces.

Tangerine gets up from the couch to go do something for a minute, leaving you and Lemon sitting on the couch together.

"That was a good game eh? Man City is pretty good too, I'm surprised we even won," Lemon says to you, covering himself back up with the blanket he was sharing with you.

"Great game really! I'm a little bummed though I will admit, but honestly one loss is better than Tan being a prick the entire day," You roll your eyes.

You get up from your cozy spot on the couch and head to the kitchen island, which had a plethora of medicines, syrups, a humidifier, and assortments of teas.

Cough syrup, Tylenol tablets, throat soothing sleepytime tea, chamomile tea, lemon scented vapor rub, allergy syrup, and a new, unopened three pack of tissue boxes.

You groan at the thought of having to drink the terrible tasting allergy and cough syrup again.

"Lem! Tan! Have you guys taken your medicines yet?" You call out to the twins, seeing as Tangerine had just returned to the living area.

Groans emit from the both of them as you give a light chuckle.

The two walk to you, tangerine grabbing the three cups for the syrups, all of your names on one of them to designate which belonged to who.

You pour the cough syrup into your cup at the 120 ml line, holding your nose as you down it to try and get rid of some of the taste, then doing the same with allergy medicine. You open the bottle of Tylenol, grabbing two of the tablets and popping them into your mouth.

You take a gulp of water from your glass then wipe your mouth.

"I'm gonna go into my room and nap, take one of these tissue boxes with you," You say, opening the pack and grabbing a box of tissues for yourself to have.

You walk to your room, opening the door and placing the tissues onto your bedside table, taking one out and blowing your nose, then tossing it into your small trashcan.

You lay in your bed, covering yourself with your blankets and sinking into your mattress.

God I hope I feel better soon.

You fall into a slumber, happy to be resting after nothing but bickering and loud cheers all day.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Sorry this took a little longer, I wasn't really planning to post it two days ago but tumblr freaked out and did it anyway even though it still wasn't finished, but it is now! I'm trying to post these fics more often and hopefully be more consistent about it. Requests are still currently closed and I'll try to get to the ones that were sent months ago.

[author-ssi]

Music & Sex ~MYG

➜Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader ➜Genre: Smut, (Slight) Fluff, One-shot Warnings: vulgar language (Yoongi cursing), oral sex;fem receiving (Yoongi’s tongue technology), fingering, hand job, vaginal sex (protected and kinda rough) [18+ MDNI] ➜Word Count: 2.6k ➜Summary: A rebellious Min Yoongi keeping the company of a docile girl seemingly appears a bit odd. However, there are certain things that connect the two and those are music and sex.

“Min Yoongi, get out of my class!”, the professor’s agitated yell echoes throughout the classroom and all the students are left to watch a fuming Yoongi storm out, slamming the door behind him. “Fucking asshole”, he growls marching up to his locker and starting to take out his things. “I swear that was the last straw! I’m going to drop out!”, he mutters frustratingly slipping his guitar’s strap over his shoulder and shoving his laptop along with his music equipment in his bag. “Fuck those shitty professors! Acting like they care whether I become successful or not, while all they do is promote their own favourites. What a shitshow! As if fake support and perfect grades will get me to my dream. I don’t need anyone’s help. I’m going to get there on my own!”, he determinedly grumbles to himsef slamming his locker shut. “Yoongi-ssi”, her gentle voice is immediately recognised by him and he halts his movements turning around to face her.

Y/N; one of his classmates, a quiet and mellow girl who Yoongi has developed a soft spot for.  “Sweetheart, I’ve told you before to stop adressing me so formally”, he chastises her with a small smile and a tender gaze, his frustration slowly dissipating. She mumbles a timid apology with a slight bow of her head before raising her eyes to meet his. “You shouldn’t drop out”, she tells him attentively, taking a step towards him. “You heard that huh?”, he half-smirks leaning his body against the lockers as he takes out his pack of cigarettes, not missing the frown that instantly takes over her features. He’s aware of her disapproval of him smoking but he can’t force himself to quit it; it helps him cool off whenever he’s upset. Having placed the cigarette between his lips, he glances over at her while he lights it, chuckling at her reaction. “You’re cute when you pout”, he teases enjoying the red tint on her cheeks that only he seems to be able to evoke.

One might wonder why he hasn’t already made a move on her. The reason behind that is because he doesn’t feel like he deserves her; he’s a rebel and she’s a sweetheart. He can’t trust his unstable self around her, sooner or later his reckless actions would hurt her. “After you left, professor Han announced to us that a showcase is going to be held at the end of the month where every student has to participate-”, his nonchalant groan interjects her making her memontarily pause before continuing unbothered by his evident expression of disdain. “He also mentioned that representatives from certain music companies will be present, on the look-out for new recruits”, she finishes her sentence knowing full well that by the end of it, she’s got his attention back. And she was right... Yoongi’s eyes gleam conspiratorily as the cogs in his brain start turning full-speed, brainstorming tons of ideas before ultimately settling on one, “Let’s do a performance together”.

Despite his rebellious tendancies, slacking off has never been a part of Yoongi’s vocabulary so the moment Y/N agrees to their collaboration, he has thrown himself right into work; coming up with a series of melodies and beats while trying to put together the best song he’s ever produced. After all, he has a knack for constantly surpassing his previous works and outdoing himself. “This is amazing Yoongi!”, and of course, the sight of Y/N’s impressed face when she listens to the final result is a bonus. A proud smirk appears on his face pushing aside his usually humble self; a behaviour brought out solely by her expression of admiration towards him. “Glad you like it. Can I trust you to have the lyrics figured out by the end of the weekend?”, he asks reverting back to his professional self. “It’s Friday... I’ll have them done by tomorrow night! You can count on me, Yoongi”, she grins widely at him, determination flashing over her clear eyes. He smiles satisfied with her work ethic, gathering his equipment from around the studio of their university where they had arranged to meet up. “Alright then! So... Want to go grab a drink or something?”, he suggests casually and when she shoots him a quizzical look, he reveals to her his habit of rewarding himself after finishing a project by indulging in the calming sensation of alcohol. Giggling at that, Y/N agrees in a heartbeat.

----

“How can you still look so pure? Naked and writhing under me”. He tried to resist. Really, he tried. How had an innocent offer for a drink led to this? “Yoongi please”. When did things go off track? Was it when the conversation somehow ended up heading to their past sex experiences? Was it when she revealed how much she craved to be eaten out since her fingers were not good enough for her anymore? Was that his breaking point? His eyes had darkened as he processed her drunken confession and without wasting another moment, he rushed her out of the bar they had been lounging at - the one he’d always opted for since it’s the closest to his apartment. Thanking the heavens for this convenience, Yoongi led the girl only two blocks down the street gently pulling her along by the grip his long, slender fingers had on her wrist. It wasn’t until he reached his doorstep that the reality of what he was rushing her into dawned on him and guilt started to consume him. He became so eager that he didn’t even glimpse at her the entire time. If he did, he could have at least gathered from her body language or expressions whether she was as eager to do this as him. He mentally facepalms himself for almost taking advantage of her innocence like that and proceeds to loosen his grip on her turning around to voice his apology. “Are we not gonna go in?”, her voice laced with anticipation reaches his ears before he’s able to complete neither of his intented actions; his fingers remaining encircled around her wrist, his apology dying in his throat. What he turned to face was the sight of her clear, impatient eyes gazing up at him, her cheeks flashed and her thighs tightly pressed together. Yeah... That was his breaking point.

Nose brushing against the skin of her inner thigh, Yoongi resumes his previous actions ignoring defiantly the begging whimpers of the innocent girl whose legs are wide open for him. “You’re so loud”, he sighs with a low chuckle as he finally stops his trail of wet kisses on her thighs. “Alright, if you need it so much... I’ll give it to you”, he smirks as his index finger creeps over to the part of her that seems to be calling out to him; glistening with her arousal, clenching over nothing. Yoongi only but presses his finger against her clit, slightly rubbing on it and that’s all it takes for him to hear the sweetest moan fall past her lips. “Is that it? That’s what you were whining about? Hm... You’re easier to please than I thought”, he mocks her moving his finger down her slit before he brings it - now coated with her arousal - over to his mouth. He doesn’t break eye contact, his intense gaze remaining on her as his finger leaves his mouth with an intentional ‘pop’. Y/N knows he is only teasing her. She knows Min Yoongi isn’t stupid. He had known what she craved for him to do the moment she was left lying naked under him, her legs parting as she bared herself to him. So, she whines his name again looking at him with furrowed eyebrows and pouty lips. "You're cute when you pout", a smirking Yoongi mumbles knowing she's had enough of his teasing by now. And so, his smirk disappears into her dripping and pulsating core as he starts to ravish her; wet lips pressing down fervently, skillfull mouth moving eagerly as if it belongs to a man who has been starved for days. “Now sing for me, your moans are the sweetest music”, he whispers with his warm tongue flicking her clit which causes her body to jolt and his request to be fulfilled. A string of moans fall past her open lips and her small fingers tangle themselves in his hair tugging them firmly in search of a way to channel the immense pleasure surging through her body.

Yoongi’s senses are overwhelmed by her voice, scent and taste and his resolve to go easy on her is easily broken. His slender fingers grip her thighs pushing her knees to her chest as he plunges his tongue in and out of her more forcefully. He feels her legs start to tremble as she continues to moan and mumble incoherently about how good it feels. This only adds to his fervour; two fingers take his tongue's place inside her slit and his tongue moves over to suck on her clit. That does it for Y/N. Her head drops back on the bed and her back arches against it as she reaches a toe-curling orgasm. Yoongi removes his fingers but not his tongue, simply slowing its movement instead, in order to prolong her pleasure. Y/N rides out her high humming in satisfaction before giving his hair another slight tug to let him know she's done.

A dazed smile appears on her lips when Yoongi lifts his head and locks eyes with her. "Good girl. Such a good girl for me", he praises her with a half-smile, half-smirk squeezing her thighs softly. His sturdy body then moves up to press against her own bringing them face to face. She simply stares at him too breathless to voice her own thoughts. Even more so when he kisses her deeply letting her taste herself on his tongue as he swipes it over her own. Y/N moans in his mouth, desperately wanting to reciprocate the pleasure she just experienced. Getting more daring, she sucks on his tongue lowering her hands towards his clothed erection. Yoongi won't deny that he's been feeling his cock straining in his jeans all while eating her out. When he notices her getting more daring, he pulls away from the kiss and casts his gaze down to the sight of her nimble fingers fumbling with his zipper. "Too eager, aren't we now, sweetheart?", Yoongi teases her slightly biting onto his lip while he waits for her next move. "I want to pleasure you too, Yoongi", Y/N states confidently, her words all the more fuelling his lust for her.

His hand joins hers to remove his jeans and he hastily kicks them off along with his briefs. Hardly does his erection make its appearance before Y/N's hands are touching it, feeling his hard cock up and down eagerly. Yoongi groans from the pleasure he's suddenly receiving, burying his face in her neck and sloppily sucking on it while he lets her do what she wants with him. A small whimper is all Y/N allows herself to release, her mind now set on only pleasuring him. Her thumb swipes across the tip of his cock smearing his arousal all over the head, before she resumes to vertically stroking his cock. "Ff-fuck Y/N, keep going", Yoongi grumbles under his ragged breath, his hands gripping the sheets on its side of her body as he hovers over her. She glances up at him with a satisfied smile, only now noticing how straining his position appears to be. Using her other hand, Y/N grasps Yoongi's shoulder firmly, pushing him to the side and making him lie down on his back. Her other hand keeps working on his cock, as she moves to straddle his legs, "Much better", she comments earning a simple nod from Yoongi as he lets out a deep breath, visibly relaxed and now more open to the pleasure he's receiving. Y/N slightly tightens her grip around his slim girth and moves her hand more swiftly on his long length. Shivers travel through her entire body, almost making her halt her movements, when she hears him let out a low moan. "Dammit Y/N", Yoongi hisses with his jaw clenched, abruptly lifting his torso and grabbing the girl by her hips. His lips find hers in a fervent kiss whilst she continues to stroke his cock.

"Y/N, I need you to answer me something...", a panting Yoongi murmurs against her lips placing his hand on top of her own to halt her actions. "Are we going to go all the way or...?", he trails off looking her straight in the eyes with a serious expression. Y/N glances down at his cock, erect in her hold between them, raising Yoongi’s doubts of whether she actually wants to do this with him or not. He deems his concerns as justified when he sees her lift herself off of his lap, drawing away from him. A deep frown settles on his lips in disappointment until he realises that she's settling herself beside him; lying down on her back and opening her legs for him. Once again, Yoongi erases all of his inhibitions - hastily taking out a condom from the drawer of his bedside table and eagerly moving to place himself between her legs after having put it on. "Are you sure about this, sweetheart?", he asks for her permission once again, gently cupping the outer side of her thighs. "Yes, I'm sure Yoongi. I want this, so don't hold back", she answers him urging him to go on with a roll of her hips towards his awaiting cock. That's the last consent Yoongi is going to take tonight...

Keeping one of his hands on her thigh, he uses the other to guide his cock to where she needs him most, entering her with a slow push. A whine slips past her now parted lips, drawing his attention. Yoongi focuses his gaze on her, drinking in the sight of her beautiful face twisted in pleasure, before moving his hips until his whole cock is buried deep inside her. He watches as she squirms and whimpers under him, wrapping her legs around him and pulling his body close. Her soft skin is burning hot against his with each one of his languid moves and her breathless moans sound melodic to his ears. As his rhythm accelerates, the sound of the raw contact between their bare flesh acts like the bass line to a song, providing him all the more satisfaction. His ears pick up on the moment her breath becomes more shallow, immediately knowing that she's close to coming undone. So, Yoongi leans in to Y/N’s ear urging her in a whisper, "Cum around me, sweetheart". It's like he flipped a switch in her because in that exact moment, he feels her walls tightening around his cock as she cums, granting him his own orgasm as well.

Normally, if this was just a hook-up, Yoongi would already be lying on his back and lighting up a cigar while watching the random chick put her clothes back on to depart. With Y/N it's different, though. After disposing of the condom, when Yoongi lies on his back, he doesn’t reach for his pack of cigars - instead, he reaches for her; pulling her body close to him as he hugs her waist. Closing his eyes, he relishes in the rhythm of her trying to steady her breath and the tuneful, satisfied hum that follows after she snuggles up to his side.

It is then that Yoongi realises that having sex with her feels the same as making music. And damn, he fully enjoys doing both.

[queen-of-meows]

I just wrote a long rant about one particular wank in one particular fandom, but you know what ? It's not what I am mad about so I deleted it and I'm gonna rant about what's really on my mind.

Certain fandom spaces are extremely anti-fantasy in general. Anything that doesn't fit the narrow borders of realism is dismissed as "wierd" or "gross" and allegories are always treated with suspiscion because they are not a 1:1 representation of real life situation. And this is a problem in lots of big fandoms.

As an amateur fantasy writer, this tendancy is worrying me a lot because I am aware it is rotting my brain. I've noticed I am becoming more hesitant to write things as simple as relationships between humans and humanoid aliens, I am worrying about acceptable age gaps between characters who are millenia old, I am thinking of cancelling whole plot lines because I worry about the ethics of time travel (no matter the symbolic importance of those stories).

And it's not even the fear of being called out, I mostly write for one obscure sci-fi novel from 1997 and it's a miracle I gathered 4 readers at all. It is more insidious than that. I am becoming my own anti.

So yeah, I am worried to see how online fandom spaces are killing us inside (I can't be the only one). As human beings, we need stories to go through life and process things that are too big for us. Even when we sleep our brain weaves those stories, isn't that the proof creating fantasies is an inherent part of our humanity ?

Of course I am not saying that in fiction anything goes. We should be mindful of tropes with bigoted origins, and be critical of our dominant culture. But sometimes our brains need to make things bigger than life and it's what overzealous fandom culture is killing right now. I'm sure you all have a few exemples in mind in your own fandoms.

[doodlegirl1998]

Look, I'm sorry, but Class 1-A had no excuse going after Izuku the way they did in the Dark Deku arc.

They knew Shigaraki held Izuku hostage at the mall. They knew (I think?) that Shigaraki directly targeted him during the war. They knew from the letter that the man who took control of Japan 100+ years ago was directly targeting him. So for them to act all surprised and upset that he ran off without telling them is just mind-blowing to me.

Then they let BAKUGOU take the lead in their little rescue mission and DO NOTHING as he bullies Izuku yet again. They see how physically and mentally beaten down Izuku is and don't respect that. If anything, Izuku should have called them out on this and ran off again.

Overall, this arc had so much potential in exploring Izuku's mentality (low to non-existent self esteem, self sacrificing tendancies, Imposter Syndrome regarding his spot at UA), but as always, it wound up being a fucking bust. Only All Might and the OFA users were actually worried about the ramifications of Izuku putting this burden on himself.

Hi @nutzgunray-lvt 👋,

The Dark Deku arc was one of THE BIGGEST personal let downs for me. After so long of feeling Meh about MHA at the beginning this arc (stupidly in retrospect) got my hopes up.

Was AFO going to be an actual threat again? Was he going to go after AM? Inko? Uraraka? (I actually thought Hori was building up to have AFO kill AM with how AM was shown caring for Izu this arc.)

Are we finally going to see more Izuku POV on everything? And shift focus back to him on what he thought of certain key events? I.e Hawks's actions surrounding Twices death, Dabi's reveal, Midnight's death (since this is the first person Izu knew to properly die could this have driven home stronger that more people he knew could easily die.)

Then instead of any of that we got Class 1A vs Izu shoehorned in as a shit finale and Bakugou leading the charge against him.

Anyone with a braincell should see this was a bad idea.

Anyone who cares for Izu should see that beating him down instead of approaching the situation with empathy is a bad idea.

Are we meant to believe Todoroki, Uraraka, Tsuyu or Iida are Ok with this? If they are... Am I meant to still believe they're Izuku's friends? Why are they not pushing back against Bkg's b.s? WTH Hori?!

In this situation, Izuku had every right to go completely apeshit on every member of Class 1A since this essentially mirrors Aldera - with Bakugou leading the charge AGAIN!

In fact I wish he did because Bakugou looked like he was having a swell time! Maybe that would have wiped the shit eating grin off Bakugou's face. Look at those grins and taunts, clearly reliving the glory days at Aldera, how I wanted Izuku to deck this bastard.

Right until his b.s Apology where he pulled out the manipulative fake remorse (without explaining the situation) and topped it off with "this won't change anything between us." With Izuku stood like a literal prop to listening to this silently, for the sole purpose of making Bakubitch look good, until he faints.

Woooooow.

Hori just hates Izuku doesn't he? What a way to fuck up an arc that actually should have focused on the MC for once. Instead of giving Izu any kind of focus or... Anything Hori brings him right back to Bakugou, his lifelong bully and abuser.

I hate this.