#like sometimes i want to Try Someone's Writing without having to commit to an entire book right???

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Books of 2024: THE WAY SPRING ARRIVES AND OTHER STORIES, edited by Yu Chen and Regina Kanyu Wang (feat. first daffodils!!)

I've been pining after this one since the hardback released, but I'm more of a paperback person so I Waited, and in my Waiting I missed the seasonal alignment to start reading it (come on: I can't be expected to read a collection with this title any time except at the very beginning of spring, right??). But! Guess what!! Spring is once again Arriving, and things are starting to bud and bloom, and I love that!

[bunny-jpeg]

max verstappen, blueberry bars, belgian waffles, tim bits with margarita and root beer. like, reader is max's naive and innocent best friend and he does this without her knowledge, asleep or drugs. she ends up preg and max convinces her that it sometimes happens and promises to take care of her.

bakery menu

want to submit an order? the bakery is open! submit your orders and i'll try to get through them as fast as possible. been a bit of a slow period because of the holdays/end of the year, but i'm making a comeback with 'em since they are very popular with ya'll! i was immediately drawn to this one, i love a good dark fic and i knew i had to write it! so thank you, thank you! enjoy <3

blueberry bars: “gonna make you a mamma and you're gonna make me a daddy.” + belgian waffles: "i cum in that every night." + tim bits: "stupid little thing." + margarita: unprotected sex + root beer: filming/recording served by max verstappen!

tags: smut/pwp, dark fic/dark themes, filming/recording, unprotected sex, breeding& pregnancy, best friend!reader, non-con somophilia, innocent!reader, mad!max, drugging

the sight of you was beautiful, there was something about your sleeping form that drove him mad. max knew that he could have any woman he desired, but why would he desire them when he could have you. you pulled him in, but even after years of friendship. you never seemed to notice max's advances, and he was getting desperate.

earlier in the evening you complained about not being able to sleep. you were visiting your best friend who was happy to house you in his apartment in monaco, so when max handed you a dainty little pill and told you to have a good night, you happily took it. and when your soft snores could be heard from the doorway of the bedroom, max felt himself getting arousing.

you looked like an innocent princess, and max believed himself to be the prince who will protect you. even if that meant having his hands under your shirt while you were asleep. a prince deserved a reward didn't he?

you laid under the sheet, which max pulled off slowly. you were in a thin tank top and underwear. he felt his heartbeat leap at the sight of you. he took out his phone to take photos.

he chuckled to himself lowly, "i cum in that every night." a cheeky joke as he had spent the last week slipping you a little pill and having his wicked way with you once you were asleep. you were quite nice when you were asleep, so much softer. it only made max yearn for you more. he wanted you, you were just too beautiful. he groaned as he felt tension in his sweatpants, "stupid little thing."

there was hunger inside of him, he needed you. wanted you in carnal ways that he couldn't put into words. the sight of you, he took more photos as he got his cock out of his sweatpants and rubbed it against your now bare stomach. he shuddered, "beautiful little thing. so stupid. need someone to protect you. you need to be saved don't you? well that's what i'm here for." he then got your panties down around your ankle and exposed your entire form to him.

it was only right for him to admire every inch of you, you were going to be his wife. the mother of his child. he said softly, “gonna make you a mamma and you're gonna make me a daddy.” and you shifted a little, it excited him as he got between your legs. he felt the rush through him as he sank his cock into you.

he had been doing this every night for a week now. every evening like ritual, he made sure you were tucked in, only for him to peel back the sheets and fuck you with a feverish want while you sleep. max had enough of beating around the bush with your love, he was a man of action.

and all he needed was for two little cells to meet before that action became a plan. some would call it baby trapping, but he'd call it a promise of commitment. you weren't going to do it alone, you'd have max every step of the way. he'd even retired to make sure that you and his baby were taken care of.

he could feel the pleasure through his body as he moved against you. he held your legs wrapped around him as he leaned in to kiss you on the lips. he snatched his phone up from the bed and snapped photos and took a small video of his cock being rocked in and out of you. he let out a small groan as the pleasure seeped into his blood. you felt amazing, he eyed your sleeping form as he picked up the pace a little bit more. he filmed a little more and let himself just enjoy the feeling of your slick cunt.

it was like a warm vice that pulled him in further. he took it as a sign that your body wanted it. you wanted this too, to carry his child. of course you did, you were so innocent and sweet. bordering on naive that max knew that you'd want a baby. a chubby little verstappen baby at your hip, you'd make a good mother.

and max knew that, even if you didn't at that moment.

he groaned lightly as he held onto your hips. he felt the climbing warmth in his body as he fucked you. feeling your body against his. your sleeping form was like the future in his eyes. he could imagine your wedding, having your family. you being the perfect wife for him. it was only destiny for the two of you, you had been friends for ages.

he knew everything about you, no other man would be able to compare. to think they could would be stupid to think, you were meant to be with max. for him to dote, love and protect. you didn't need to do anything else besides be his wife and the mother of his children. he had already made enough money to sustain a full house for three lifetimes. you deserved a man who could provide, max knew you 'dated', but they never lasted long. they didn't deserve to be with a woman like you. an angel from the heavens brought to earth.

"i love you." he said, "even when you don't see it. i know you do, i know you love me. you want me badly, but you don't think you're good enough. hopefully when i get you pregnant you can realize that i love you. i need you." his breathing was heavy as he thrusted against you.

there was no protection between you two and honestly he didn't need it. 'protection' wouldn't get you pregnant, wouldn't keep you as his. plus, it felt so much better bare-back. to feel the closeness to you. fill you with his seed and let it take root inside of you. then maybe you'd come to your senses.

maybe he could've done it a different way, but why would we do that? you looked so peaceful, he knew you weren't getting sleep. and max, the dutiful husband, would always make sure that you were alright. he just happened to want your sweet cunt wrapped around his hard cock at the same time. who could blame him, your pussy was the kind to salivate over like a hungry dog.

to love you, in his own twisted way, was a sign of utter devotion. even in your sleep, he would protect you. he knew what was right, and had convinced himself that breeding you while asleep was the best course of action. it'll prove that max is the man you need in your life, the protector. you were so innocent at times, anyone could hurt you!

but not max, at least in his logic.

you cunt felt amazing around his cock. his heart hammered in his chest a she rocked against you. he panted heavily as he moved against you. he held onto your thighs firmly and the dirty talk spilled from his lips. it was hard to make it stop at the feeling of your cunt like a vice around his cock. he rutted up into your further, as deep as he could go, as he said, "you're a fucking good girl. always did everything right, you were so trusting. that's why i have to keep you with me. close to me, where you belong. you're my wife, i knew that from the moment i met you. but the older we get, the further you're getting. time to bring you home. you, me and baby." his voice was hushed, but his words were protective and loving. or his version of loving.

if anyone saw or heard what he was doing. they'd be in shock, but they didn't understand. they didn't get how much you meant to him. he spent so much time trying to find you in other women, but why bother with them when he had you. all of you.

and soon there would be a product of your love. your union together. that only made him work his hips faster against you. you remained limp under him as he drilled his cock into you. your let out a small moan in your deep sleep and it made max near drool as he finished inside of you.

he thrusted quickly against you and felt all semblance of control start to slip. he was left hungry, near feverish from the intensity of the pleasure. he loved it, just as he loved you. of course the love of his life would have a cunt that drove him to near insanity.

he soon finished inside of you after the pleasure took hold. he clutched onto you tightly and felt the intense heights of pleasure. he let out a loud moan before he slowed to a stop. he wiped his sweaty brow and eyed your still sleepy form. it made his cock twitch inside of you for a moment.

he leaned in to kiss you on the lips before he pulled away to get you re-clothed and tucked back in. before he left the room, he kissed you on the face once more and said,

"everything i do. i do for you."

-

you were in tears weeks later, you showed max the pregnancy test when fear in your eyes. and while you looked distraught, max looked excited. the test clattered on the floor as max took you in his strong arms and kissed your face.

"how..how did this happen?" you asked meekly.

max replied with a wide smile, "don't worry about it! it's our little miracle! you and the baby won't go without. we'll have to get a bigger place, and move your stuff back home. or i can buy you new things since you'll be going through so much change... and then of course, i have to marry you. it's only right!" he was already talking like you two had planned this pregnancy.

but it was hard to do much thinking when max held you so protectively. you held onto the front of his shirt and rubbed your face against his chest. you exhaled deeply, still feeling shaken to your core. you held on tightly like a lifeline, knowing that max's child was growing in your womb. a part of you wondered if the things you were feeling late into the night weren't dreams after all. <3

[simpjaes]

hi i just stalked the crap our of your page and HOLY CRAPTHIS IS MY NEW GUILTY PLEASURE

can i req seeing how enha hyung line would take care of you after railing you soooooo hard????

hyung line + aftercare after very intense sex

warning: uh....painful sex, fainting, dissociation, anal, implied squirting, degradation, idk just a lot of intense sex stuff ig

note: it's a lil messy, i've been running errands all day and am using this to push myself back into the writing brain :D

★ heeseung:

what i wanna say is that depending on the circumstances, he'd probably throw a towel at your head and walk away to shower alone but we all know heeseung is so much more than a careless fuck boy for the most part. in my opinion, if he's got you where he wants you and he's allowed to fuck you as hard as he can, rendering you faint, dizzy, and almost dissociated, he either has some sort of feelings for you, you're someone else's girlfriend and he wants you to like him more, or you're already in a committed relationship lmfao

and you know, you thought that after he managed to pull three orgasms out of you, fucked all three of your holes, and managed to get you all twisted up for him to cum in places he definitely isn't supposed to, you really thought he was done.

but then he chuckles, taking one look at you once his own mind clears from his orgasm and it's like...how could he not just continue to fuck you? you look so pretty already fucked open, lying there with tears in your eyes and shaking?

you'd hear something akin to "you're gonna take a bit more, open those eyes back up for me," and "i can tell you can take it, just keep your eyes on me."

it's kind of pathetic, actually, how you really do just lay there and take it until he says you're finished.

so, yeah, when you're with someone like heeseung, there's always a thought in your head about if he'll even take care of you at all after the fact. at least, the thought is there before he breaks your brain. even if every time before this where he's needed to bring you back, he has without question and with a voice from him that is always so rare to hear.

just kinda hard to imagine someone who fucks you near to the brink of passing out, sometimes actually passing out, finding it within themselves to take care of you as deeply as they fuck you, yknow?

but, time and time again he has to remind you that he's not only capable but willing to make sure you're well taken care of. after all, you do your part in taking it, so he'll do his part in giving you what you need too. only after scooping half the mess with his fingers and feeding it to you, of course.

after that though? he's very much hauling you off for a warm shower and tenderly washing you. very very gentle with his hands, knowing how sensitive your holes are. he'd compliment you, he'd praise you for letting him absolutely destroy that ass, and ultimately, lay you to sleep next to him regardless of what the relationship status is, making sure you're well aware that he's not just using you for pleasure. he's very much appreciative of what you bring to his bedroom, and there's no reason to pretend he isn't.

☆ jay:

i like to think that jay would have you in fucking pain and barely able to stand on your own two feet by the time he allows you to close your legs with deep groans as you try to catch your breath.

honestly, the stamina this man has and actively spends on you could render anyone immobile for at least a week with the way he snaps his hips and holds you down from wiggling away in sensitivity. and man, the things he'd fucking say to you through it. so degrading, so controlling and dismissive, entirely fucking insulting. you're shocked time and time again that even while knowing it's just sex talk, it still hurts your feelings every single time.

then again, he's aware of that. but you're so goddamn pretty when you're crying and moaning, it drives him insane to know you endure it for his pleasure.

you're soaked by the time it's over and done with, he's soaked, and honestly the swollen marks against your ass still burn intensely when he rolls you over on your belly to get a good look at his work.

always with a breathy "aw, baby, i really fucked you up this time, huh?" or a little "took it so well, you still can't even focus your eyes on me, can you?" before rubbing any and every pained mark he left on you.

after his own brain clears of the sex-fog, he'd wrap you up, really warm and tightly in his arms as if his hug would wipe away any of the spit and cum drying between your bodies, as if it could mask all of those insults he flung at you. still, he'd be fluttering hundreds of kisses against your neck and ears, whispering little compliments about how pretty you are when you're barely able to keep your eyes open, about how much he adores you, and how often he wishes you'd believe these words over the silly orgasm-fueled insults.

still whispering, throughout the entire session of his care after the fact. always loving that you let him harm you as long as he's healing you just as good. and he does, truly, with the back rubs and the showers, tons upon tons of sweet kisses. constant praise. he'd put your lotion on you and rub it in thoughtfully, occasionally some medicated cream if his fingernails dug in a little too deep.

always always always holds you against his chest when you drift off to sleep, making sure any pain in your body feels more like love than anything else, and promising time and time again that he'll make sure you always fall asleep knowing he loves you, and that he doesn't at all think you're a fuck-doll, that he wouldn't let his friends have their turn way you.

(i am madly in love with him, pls look away and stop thinking of him now thank u)

★sunghoon:

ah, sunghoon. yeah. sunghoon. this man would leave you a fucking mess of tears and drool, edging you for hours. hell, he edges you for fucking days just because he can. not at all because you've been bad, or a brat, or have managed to make him jealous.

this is one of those days. you could tell he came home with that look in his eye, grabbing your face and practically forcing you to lift on your toes just so he could whisper the planned torture against your tongue.

so, after the second day with you whining, fucking begging to be released from your prison of sensitivity and lust, maybe he gives it to you. maybe he wakes you up from a deep and much needed sleep with fingers harshly pinching your clit.

ah, the pain. that alone was enough to make you cum, and you did. unfortunately, he didn't like that very much so your new torture was to get off as many times as he expected you to.

after about, what, the seventh orgasm? you stopped counting, it was closer to eleven in the afternoon and he'd been giving it to you for hours, all over that little mishap.

an eight orgasm knocked your ass out, exhausted, spread out, fucked senseless. you could barely hold your head up, but he does it for you. first by your hair, but noting the look in your eye indicating that he really needs to stop by this point.

and sunghoon is the type that would stop at that point. something in his brain clicking and forcing him back into that perfect boyfriend persona, where the only thing in the world he wants to do is make you happy.

and he knows it's not that you're not happy right now, it's mostly just the fact that he thinks he broke you're brain and you forgot how to feel anything other than his cock ramming inside of you.

so, he'd remind you time and time again. how his hands can do so much more than choke you, and how his lips can be sweet and less bruising against your temple when you really need it. you'd feel entirely loved when he's taking care of the mess he caused. both physically and mentally for you. needing to bring you back to reality with soft touches and tight holds.

it worked every time, because by the next morning, you'd just be moaning and groaning about how if he hadn't of make you breakfast in bed, you may have very well slashed his tires for the amount of suffering he put you through.

☆ jake:

bro is taking care of you not only after sex, but the entire time during sex. there's not a single moment where he's intentionally trying to hurt you, or forcing you to take more than you can handle.

it just....kind of happens on nights like these. where his hands are clinging, and his throat is begging, and your body can't say no. with his pretty puppy dog eyes asking if he can try anal, with his fingers slamming too deep, with his grip on you so tight you know it'll bruise, with his ability to knock the breath out of you and not give it back until you're nearly blue in the face.

yeah, most of the intense shit is accidental, but god is he taking care of you. always apologizing but continuing, always promising to make it up to you, always feeding into your ego more than his own, reminding you that the pain his body lends only comes from the immense amount of need he has to practically crawl inside of you and live there forever.

it's kind of amazing actually, that someone who starts so gentle can also end with blood in his mouth from bitten lips and swelling bruises all over your body.

he tends to you hand and foot. carrying you where ever you need to go even if just to your closet three feet from the bed, dresses you, undresses you, fixes your hair, does your skin care, all while kissing the bruises and ignoring the fact that he knows he'll never have enough of you, and you're probably always gonna be in pain when he loses his control like that.

[kerubimcrepin]

LIVEREAD: WAKFU, THE GREAT WAVE [TOME 1, Chapters 1-3]

I want to preemptively say that I wasn't the biggest fan of The Great Wave, while reading it originally. It had less to do with the contents of the comic, and more with the pacing — it's written in a very... webtoon-unfriendly way. Every week I'd wait, and then not much would happen.

I am hoping it will be less exhausting to read this comic this time, but there just isn't a lot that happens in it. It's quite sad, really.

Now that I am done with the "hey, I am not the biggest fan of the way this was executed, at least in this tome" warning, I want to say that I actually really like the idea of a tragic story. Like fuck yesss. With all the amount of foreshadowing we got, we deserve to see how Yugo's good intentions are going to bring disaster.

I will be honest, the day this dropped I went to discord and everyone was screaming "THEY ADDED PORN TO WAKFU" and then when I was finally able to read the comic after someone finally pirated and sent it to me, I saw the world's shortest scene of intimacy between a married couple.

Normal world.

Anyway: STOP FUCKING WHILE WEARING THE WORLD-ENDING MAGICAL NUKES ON YOU.

Hey chat! This reminds me of a very poggers thing I had said a while before this manga realeased:

You have no fucking idea how bigly I won. And this isn't even the last win of mine in this manga. No, I just keep winning and winning. Please, Tot Ankama, I beg you through whatever psychic link we have: do this thing you did to Yugo to Joris too. He deserves it.

In the future, I will be liveblogging myself reading the entire tomes too; instead of making small posts, as the comic releases chapter by chapter.

One of the reasons why? I love writing this post, while knowing full-well that these are Grougalorasalar's words.

MAN, I predicted Grougalorasalar using emotionally manipulative language that's pretty much "you're a fraud, you're amoral, DIE" in nightmarish visions sent to people ages before this manga happened, in my fanfic. And I was so giddy — because I love the idea of 'Salar torturing people like that, and because it means I got something right without having too much data to back it up!

First Joris war criminal arc, then Salar emotional abuse via nightmare visions arc... How is my taste so similar to Tot's??

I think it's very funny for Salar to be moralizing now. My brother in crepinjurgening, you were trying to resurrect your lizard son by shattering his soul forever and bringing him unimaginable suffering so that you can go commit more war crimes together?

Then again, his war crimes had virtually no chance of ending the world. I suppose it's natural for a Black Fire dragon to understand the sort of danger Yugo presents — the fact that they may all end up the same way the Necro world is...

I guess his morals are as weird as Joris's (world ending = bad, war crimes = sometimes good if they do those themselves?). Similarities are only to be expected, since they influenced and changed one-another irrevocably.

this shuoild happen to joris too. pleask.

LITERALLY IT'S SO FUNNY. HE'S SEEN THIS SORTA SHIT HAPPEN AGAIN AND AGAIN AND IS STILL GOING DOWN THAT ROUTE. BRO? 😭

Somehow I really doubt that Grougalorasalar's involvement in this situation is going to improve it in any way.

"I am the black dragon Grougalorasalar and I am going to save the world" ok and flowers can sing, and the world is made of pudding. Get a grip.

[twirling my hair around my fingers, giggling cutely] A shadow you say? This reminds me of Dofus MMO lore :3

I've seen people be upset at there being bigotry towards Eliatropes, but really — this has been coming since season 2. You've seen what a shitshow the idea of another class appearing caused back then.

Maybe it's my "knowing too much about hupperage oppression lore" and "knowing just a little bit about ouginak oppression lore" bias kicking in, but I'm not surprised? Eh?

THEY MULTIPLIED?!

Guys I don't think they're happy.

Originally this made me giggle: "ohh, is Joris going to have to choose between Bonta and his friendship with Yugo, in the future tomes of this manga? I wonder what he will choose, tee-hee."

But ngl, considering the fact that Joris has already demonstrated choosing Yugo over Bonta in season 4, and has been implied to be at odds with the government of Bonta during some ages, and downright opposed in others — I think we know the answer.

Literally not how it would work in real life. Even if Aurora has the right to inherit the throne in some way, her father is completely unrelated to that. He shouldn't even be here — if Aurora has the right to inherit the throne, it means she was made a member of the Sheran-Sharm family, and is no longer a part of her original family, because— [STARTS FOAMING AT THE MOUTH FROM ANGER]

[lilacs-and-vanilla]

@shslsimpette commented on a different Spot post that they want an N$FW alphabet for the Spot 😈

Honestly I was thinking of making one of these because they seem very thorough. Great way to make a guideline for smut writing.

First one I’ve done before, and it was hard to get all of the words for the funky letters like Q and X. But anyways…

(god this took so long…)

N$FW Alphabet for The Spot/Johnathan Ohnn

All of the writing beyond this point is smutty

A - How good is he at aftercare?

He’s very doting.

“Did that feel good?” “Are you alright?” “Do you need anything?” “Let me get you some water.” “Do you want to rinse off?”

If you decide you want a bath, he will use his portals to (haphazardly) run you one so he doesn’t have to leave your side.

Cuddles and pillows and blankets galore, trying his best to make you comfortable.

B - What’s his favorite body part on you?

He likes looking at your face, studying your features and committing them to memory. Especially your eyes.

It completely stumps the both of you as to how he can perceive things like sight, scent, and sound without normal features like a nose or eyes or ears, but you won’t question it.

He doesn’t mean to stare, he really doesn’t. You can always tell when he is though, because the his face portal swirls in a different kind of way. What an interesting way to read someone.

He just likes your eyes, your freckles, your birthmarks, your scars, the features that set you apart from everyone else and makes you you.

The fact that he’s missing his own face adds to this little obsession. He misses his old body, but that doesn’t mean he can’t love you for yours.

It’s not entirely sexual, but he does like watching the way your face looks when you’re.. ahem. Enjoying yourself.

The way your eyes roll back, or the way your mouth hangs open, the drool and the tears. He loves all of it and he loves that he’s the one making you look that way.

C - Cum. Anything to do with that particular liquid.

He doesn’t excrete normal bodily fluids like saliva or semen. At least not anymore. Anything that comes out of him is dark and oozy.

If he’s overstimulated, all of his holes will start leaking. It can get a bit messy, especially on the sheets. Thank goodness it doesn’t stain fabric or skin…

He gets very embarrassed whenever he starts leaking (or sees it leaking out of you).

D - What’s his dirty secret?

He won’t admit it, but he’s stolen a few pieces of your clothing.

It’s proven that he can eat through the hole on his face and taste and sense spice. So I want to assume that he can also smell.

He likes to hold your clothes or your sheets over the hole in his face while he touches himself, sometimes even slipping some of the fabric in to get a taste.

But there was one time he got a little too carried away and now one of your favorite hoodies that you thought you lost is floating around in dark matter space somewhere.

He’s too ashamed to tell you.

E - Experience. How much does he have?

None. None whatsoever. At least not any hands on experience with partners other than you.

He’s seen enough p0rn (the good stuff, none of that over dramatic acting crap) to know what’s good or not. He knows what to look for, signs your close or if you’re uncomfortable.

In typical scientist fashion, he has his strategies and, in theory, he could easily keep you on the edge for as long as he wants or absolutely wreck you.

He just hasn’t mustered up the courage to put his plans into action though…

F - What’s his favorite position?

Ride him. Ride him. He likes seeing you on top of him.

He’s very vanilla when it comes to this. He doesn’t want you to twist or bend in uncomfortable positions.

But with that power of his, the ability to stick a limb through one hole and make it appear somewhere else? What else could he do…?

G - Goof or aloof? His general attitude.

He’s a goof. A whole nerd. What else would you expect of a scientist?

The only time he’s not is when he’s brooding, focused on revenge, on proving himself.

He wants to prove he’s not just some “Villain of the Week.” He wants to prove to you that he’s all you need.

H - Hair. How much does he have? Is he well groomed?

The poor man misses his hair, so he lives vicariously through yours.

He’s not particularly into hair pulling. He does enjoy this though:

Your head leaned back against a pillow on top of his fist as he grips the back of your head, holding it in place as he… (insert smexy scene that I can’t put into proper words right now).

When you’re both finished he likes to run his fingers through it, play with it, braid it, just touch it in general.

I - Intimacy. How is he in romantic aspect?

He tries to be romantic, and sometimes it works. Other times it comes off cheesy. That just makes you love him more though.

He’s a bit traditional. Flowers, candle light, cute little picturesque date night set ups (away from onlookers, obviously)

Secluded spots around the city like rooftops or museums and restaurants after they close.

And when you tell him it’s goofy shit like this that makes you want to absolutely destroy him in the bedroom, date night is normally cut a little short.

J - Does he jerk off?

He prefers to do it with you, but if he’s alone he’ll make do with his hands.

K - What are his kinks?

Edging. Edge him until all of his holes are leaking black ooze (call me weird, I have a vision). Edge him until he whines and cries and begs to cum.

Degrade him, but in a nice way. He won’t let anyone do it but you. Don’t call him pathetic. Don’t make him feel bad about himself. Make him feel like you’re in control. Like he can let himself go.

L - Location. What’s his favorite place to do it?

He’s down to do it anywhere as long as no one else is around.

And he can really go anywhere. Anywhere in your dimension or any other. Pick a spot, and he’ll take you there.

M - Motivation. What turns him on?

The edges of his holes are sensitive. If you touch the place where spot meets skin, he’ll squirm.

It feels like a tingle to him. A localized one.

Run your fingers along the inside of a hole on his palm and the feeling will shoot up his forearm. Do it on his stomach or his thighs or god forbid between his legs when his cock isn’t in use (he keeps it somewhere), and you’ll work him up real quick.

N - No, absolutely not. What turns him off? Something he won’t do?

He won’t participate in exhibitionism. He wants to be the only one to see you come undone. It’s all because of him after all. He should be the only one to witness it.

O - Oral. How does he feel about it? Giving? Receiving?

Seeing as though he doesn’t have a mouth anymore, he can’t eat you out. But he really, really wishes he could.

He was reluctant to let you put himself in your mouth, seeing as though he wasn’t sure if his strange ooze could be safely digested.

You were confident though, insistent you wanted it.

P - Pace. Fast and rough or slow and gentle?

It depends on how he feels.

If he’s feeling intimate and romantic, laid back, he’ll take things slow.

If he’s trying in that state of mind where he’s trying to prove himself to you, he will give it all he’s got to the point where he wears himself out.

Q - Quickies. How does he feel about them?

If you work him up in public, he will find somewhere in an alley or rooftop to bang one out. To bang you.

R - Does he take risks?

What’s a good villain without a few risks? And he wants to be a good villain. He just doesn’t think that applies to the bedroom.

There was the time he got a bit carried away, and in the middle of a particularly intense love making session, one of his portals opened involuntarily.

You immediately recognized your apartment building’s elevator. The mirrored walls, the carpet, the sliding doors closing behind a neighbor as they were leaving.

He apologized profusely and said he’d close it, but you told him to keep it open and he was too riled up to stop now. He was so close. Maybe just one more minute…

It was a sick, nerve-racking game of elevator roulette.

S - Stamina. How many rounds will he last?

He can last maybe two or three rounds when he’s on top. If you want more, you’ll have to take over, climbing on top of him and pressing him into the bed as you pull more out of him.

T - Toys. Does he use them? On you? On himself?

He’s a big fan of vibes. Whether it’s something that goes inside either you or him or something that slides around his cock.

Anything that gives off that extra little buzzy feeling.

He doesn’t like fleshlights. He’d rather be inside you.

U - “Unfair!” How does he feel about teasing? Giving? Receiving?

He’s absolute shit at dishing it out. He gets too flustered to tease you, even when he’s on top.

He’s also the “don’t bully me, I’ll cum” type. Tease him, degrade him (but be kind), call him your little cum puppy (Dalmatian comment reference?) and he will pass away.

V - How vocal is he? What sounds does he make?

Johnathan has a tendency to ramble during love making. One moment he’s drilling you or getting drilled by you, and the next he’s telling you fun facts about whatever comes to mind.

He doesn’t do it on purpose. His brain simply short circuits at some point. He goes with what he knows.

(Why don’t you turn it into a game? See how many facts he can name about a specific subject before he cums…)

In general, he’s very whiny. That coupled with all of the begging creates a perfect symphony.

Exhibit A: “Ohh fuck! Ah, youfeelsssoosogood.. please, (Y/N) please. m’ so close, please. don’t stop dontstopp aaahhn~”

W - Wild card. A miscellaneous headcanon.

As a part of the monster fucker fandom, of course anything that doesn’t have a standard cock has a tentacle one.

Anyways. Portal cock…

Enough said.

X - X Marks the Spot (kms for this joke). His favorite place to be touched.

Anywhere! He just wants you to touch him.

So many people think he’s scary or creepy. When you touch him, all of that goes away.

Y - Yearning. How high is his sex drive?

He’s not insane about it to the point where he constantly craves sex but when he gets in the mood he can be very needy.

Z - ZZZ… how long does it take to fall asleep after the deed is done?

If he’s been thoroughly fucked beyond his limit, he will pass out almost immediately after (after cuddling up beside you and making sure you’re comfortable)

Feel free to ask for different characters to write these for! (but maybe limit it to 4 or 5 letters…)

[the-way-astray]

what is going on

let me take you back to half a week ago, when this first started.

it all starts with a simple notification. i click on it, thinking it's an innocent ask, or perhaps an anon wanting to pick a fight with me. i am a notorious keefe hater in this fandom, after all. let's see what the anons have to throw at me this time. if only that small, innocent, little me from four days ago had known. the notification was nothing short of a snake, hiding in the grass, waiting to strike.

it was alayda. she'd dared me to write something *horrified gasp* positive about keefe. she thought me, a notorious keefe hater, couldn't possibly have anything nice to say about my least favorite guy? well, i'd show her. i typed out a truly magnificent pro keefe essay, if i do say so myself. tumblr fought me the entire time, trying to delete half of it, but i persevered, and eventually posted it.

i had no idea what was coming for me. over the next few hours, i began to get truly heinous asks, questioning my commitment to my keefe hatred, and generally slandering my reputation. at the time, i'd thought this was as bad as it could get. but, oh. oh, no, no, no. as edaline ruewen said, "hindsight is a dangerous game". now i know that it could get worse than i could possibly even begin to imagine. and it did.

that same day, i got the ask. the one that changed everything. i responded in horrified horror, terrified terror, because i knew everything was about to change. and the next day, it appeared that other anons had followed in the first anon's footsteps. it was decided that me and keefe would be an enemies-to-lovers romance. our ship name was to be strieefe. an anon went to the official poll blog, @/do-you-ship-this-book-couple. i changed my ask box title to "KEEFE WOULD NOT LIKE ME" and got an anon about it. they started going to katie's ask box.

the debate ramped up. more people became aware. people, both anon and not, began to choose sides. i began offering badly drawn sketches to people who sided against this atrocious excuse for a ship. i should probably be making those instead of typing this out. whoopsie. i fought the anons that disagreed with me with a desperation akin to a rat caught in a trap, but my thrashing appeared to only attract more unhinged anons.

i then got my first anon that made a genuine attempt to explain why this horrible ship could theoretically work. they were wrong, of course, but i appreciate the effort. as i've explained countless times, the real relationship me and keefe would have if he were real would be one-sided hatred. i would hate him with a passion that can't be adequately described by the english language, and he'd be entirely unaware of my existence.

then! a miracle! an anon sent an ask to quil about strieefe, and i can only assume they wanted quil to analyze why we'd be good together. but quil, i never should've doubted quil. the response was a fantastically constructed analysis on why i was right about how i'd have one-sided rage toward keefe. but my delight dimmed significantly when i saw that fin, someone whom i'd previously trusted, had thrown his support behind this awful ship and even drawn fanart of me and keefe. i swiftly demoted him from the spot he had previously shared with max: "favorite fintanposter".

the anons got more unhinged. i began to be shipped with non-keefe main cast characters, sometimes monogamously, sometimes not. i bravely faced the assault, tearing the anons' arguments to shreds with my logical explanations as to why i would not be a good fit for any of them. this led to me posting a poll at the insistence of one anon, which is still open.

just as the waters were looking significantly less treacherous, just as it seemed i may make it to shore without drowning, a new development occurred. i got an ask from alayda, who as you may remember, is the one that started all this. this is entirely her fault. i'd expected maybe a heartfelt apology, perhaps a plea for forgiveness. but no. her ask was but an ominous warning, one i could not make sense of. i pondered the meaning as i stared at it. and then. horror upon horrors, it appeared in my inbox. i read through it in horrified horror, and my rickety little boat was once more swept out to sea.

it was a fanfic. a terribly written, horribly wattpad-ified, y/n-ish fanfic. i tore it to shreds thoroughly, taking pleasure as the scraps of the work of the one who had brought all this sorrow upon me fell in loose tatters all around me. i dusted off my hands and left it at that.

but it continued. even as i type this out, there is a part two to that horrific fanfic sitting in my inbox, which alayda is pestering me to post. there's also a part one to another anon fanfic, which is written relatively well, which arguably makes it even worse than alayda's. then there's yet another poem written about me and keefe by emelin, which also sits in my inbox, gathering dust as i attempt to piece the broken shards of my sanity back together.

all this to say, join the correct side of this debate. we have badly drawn sketches and braincells. be on the right side of history.

[rikomoriyama01]

🗣️ (also sorry this got long, turns out i have thoughts) so like riko is one of the weirdest fandom cases i've ever seen. i've been in fandoms where characters who commit actual war crimes and genocide are badass babes or uwu soft bois, and even spoiled mafia brats who commit terrible crimes against the heroes for daddy's attention that get love and redemption. it's so weird to see just how isolated from all that riko is to me.

i do think it's partly how aftg is written, and that's also partly because niel's pov is not at all forgiving of riko, while is entirely forgiving of people like andrew. but i also think it's because of how riko himself is written. he's one of these characters that's better on paper than he is in the book to me. because he's never presented as smart enough to fall into the magnificent bastard trope where everyone applauds how devious his plans are, but he's not outright hammy enough to just be a fun read, he doesn't even get the same stupidly dramatic flare as andrew. and while we're told he's powerful and doing dangerous stuff, he's presented on page, more often than not, as a petulant child that neil is just done with or a guy who likes to torture people who neil is also done with. neil is never actually scared of riko, or even particularly threatened by him, and i think that hurts him and makes his position in the narrative weaker. especially when nora is trying to play him as a villain and a threat in a mafia story rather than a good old fashioned rival in a sports drama. for example, his first impression on the kathy show should live up to the hype of this imposing charismatic villain who broke kevin's hand, but instead loses him temper, forgets all of his media training and lets a nobody like neil goad him into losing control of the interview, and then his payback, things like shoving neil around and seth's death, are basically brushed off because neil doesn't really care that much. it's not given the weight to be a seriously omg this guys a threat first impression. and this isn't uncommon, lots of media hamstrings their villains at the start by making sure we know the main character is too sassy for them and can humiliate them, without thinking about how weak that can make the villain seem. it feels sometimes like nora wanted riko to be this chess master villain or tragic child who's lashing out at the world, without committing to it fully to either, or was just not an experienced enough writer to have known how to write either of those things in the pov of someone who hates riko's guts, which is understandable, writing is hard and that sort of nuance takes practice, especially if you just go by the books and not the extra content, and i do wonder how differently nora would have portrayed riko if she rewrote the main trilogy now with presumably a lot more practice under her belt. in the end riko ends up in this weird grey area to me where i understand why he's not popular, given he has none of the usual obvious traits that fans like to latch onto when redeeming a villainous character, and even the ones that are there are glossed over pretty quickly because of neil's pov, and a lot of his more interesting pieces are on paper not actively presented in the book, and not everyone reads super deep, but i also don't understand the amount of hate. i have literally never seen a character in any other fandom i've been in have this much fandom wide hatred.

See I have nothing to add here because you single handedly dropped the best analysis of Riko's character in the series I had pleasure to read so far and summed up all my feelings about why and what of the fandom. If the goal was to write a character that is impactful yet easy to hate then that goal was achieved but for me it real takes away form the magnitude of feelings Riko could evoke in reader and questions he could provoke in narrative if he was given bit different presentation that woudl still align with the lore we already have.

[vane-writes-things]

00 — prologue

pairing: jon snow x oc

synopsis: before the beginning of jon snow's journey, the life and future of a young girl is ripped harshly from her hands, leaving her stumbling in the darkness

warnings: oc, daddy issues, mommy issues, breaking of canon rules, show!got, castle black (needs its own warning tbh), slightly cheesy writing just because that's how prologues work (I promise it's not always like this; we have fun here), I think that's it

word count: 727

story masterlist main masterlist

bear island, the north

— PERHAPS THERE SHOULD BE SOMEONE OUT THERE TO TELL THEM THE TRUTH. Perhaps little girls should have a little guardian angel whispering in their ear; don't get your hopes up. Not too high. For hope is the quickest path to heartbreak.

When Nymeria Mormont was born, her father was the first person to hold her. The first person to look into those big brown eyes she got from her mother, and her grandmother before her, and to fall in love with their sparkle. When she was five years old, he gifted her the horse she wanted. When she was seven years old, he let her have a bow.

When she was eleven years old, there were no gifts. No open arms. No apologies. No nothing. Only the sound of a little girl crying as she watched the ship that carried her father and mother far, far away.

Jorah Mormont was on the run from his Lord Warden of the North for selling men into slavery. And he left without the most valuable treasure he had, because he didn't believe there was a life across the Narrow Sea meant for a little girl.

Five months passed before Nymeria finally stopped waiting for the ship to return. In that time, she'd heard far too much about her father's crimes.

Her own people would look at her with scorn and scrutiny. They'd whisper behind her back... and sometimes to her face. She cried herself to sleep so often after being called an orphan, or a slave herself.

The worst insults, though, were the ones that were veiled out of fear. No one wanted to risk losing their fingers over insulting Lady Mormont's Dornish blood.

Everyone knew she was half Dornish, a gift from her mother. They pretended not to notice, but they found creative ways of pointing it out, picking it apart, levelling it against her. After all, northerners had never much liked outsiders.

She was twelve years old when the last family she had that didn't look down their nose at her for her father's dishonouring act finally summoned her away from the spiteful gazes and into a different world entirely.

Jeor Mormont knew that the Wall was no place for a woman, let alone a child. But his heart ached from missing his son, and his heart ached for the granddaughter he'd only ever met once before, the girl who didn't deserve to be hated for something she didn't do, and for blood she couldn't control.

I will father no children. That was his vow, but a ward? No vow forbade him a ward.

So Nymeria was twelve when her horse came to a halt inside the walls of Castle Black, and she gazed up in disbelief at the greatest structure ever built by men. The Lord Commander was waiting for her when she and her two guards dismounted, and he crouched down to offer her a smile.

"Hello Nymeria."

"Hello," she managed in a small voice.

"I'm here to help you, if you'll let me." He looked around. "No one hates people who commit crimes in this place. And no one will hate you for being your mother's daughter."

She nodded slowly.

"But," he warned. "This is a dangerous place. Do you think you're brave enough for that?"

"I'm not scared of wildlings and shadowcats," she told him, trying to sound as brave as she could.

He chuckled. "Of course you're not. But even inside this castle are dangerous people. If you want to stay, you have to do everything I say. And you have to be strong. If that's not what you want, you can go home to Bear Island. But if you can..." he leaned in closer to whisper to her. "I hear you're good with a bow."

"Not just a bow," she said with a fierce little frown. "Septa Lauraine says I'm getting too good with knives for her liking too."

He smiled. "Very good. Do you think you can show this bunch of soggy dogs how it's done?"

She looked around for a long moment before looking back at her grandfather. "Nobody cares about mother? That I look like her?"

"Nobody cares that you look like your mother, Nymeria," he assured her.

A moment passed... and then she gave a determined little nod. "Let's show them how it's done."

[emperordinozenmon]

Battle Brigade

For Dio’s first line story in this page I gave him 3 guidelines First Person perspective, Ultraman/Kaiju no 8 inspired and lastly Jihyo needed to be the love interest because I like how he writes her. Now hopefully this encourages more tokusatsu inspired stories

Jihyo slipped into my room like a cat in search of warmth and mischief. The moment the door clicked shut, she beelined for my bed, her smaller frame effortlessly weaving into the sheets before I could even register what was happening. Her arms wrapped around me, snug and insistent, her body molding against mine like she belonged there.

A deep, husky voice broke through my haze of sleep.

“Hey, babe. You feeling alright?”

I groaned, half-conscious, trying to shake off the weight of drowsiness. My limbs felt trapped, tangled in Jihyo's stubborn embrace.

Disoriented, I croaked, “What time is it?”

“2:30 a.m.,” she answered, far too innocently for someone committing a blatant act of sleep theft.

I cracked an eye open to scowl at her. “Jihyo, I am exhausted.”

She merely grinned, entirely unrepentant. “Come on,” she cooed. “Just let me steal some of your warmth, and we’ll be fine.”

I tried to hold onto my irritation, but it was a losing battle. Jihyo batted her lashes, her big, doe eyes glimmering with mischief before she pressed a quick kiss to my nose. A sigh of surrender escaped me as she burrowed even closer, victorious.

A quiet, triumphant “yay,” left her lips as she nuzzled into me, her warmth spreading like a lullaby.

And just like that, I let her stay.

My relationship with Jihyo was… weird.

It started as a purely physical and economic partnership—born from circumstance rather than choice. After I saved her from a Stardust Squadron attack, she latched onto me like a scarred puppy, and even after she reunited with her friends, that attachment never wavered.

She texted me daily—long, heartfelt messages about how much she missed me, how she couldn’t wait to see me again, how boring life was without me in it. If I didn’t respond quickly enough, she’d follow up with a dramatic “Are you DEAD?” or an exaggerated string of emojis that made it clear she was spiraling.

In a word, she was clingy. But that was probably obvious by now.

So, when I casually mentioned needing a new place to live, it wasn’t shocking that Jihyo immediately suggested we move in together and split the rent. At first, I hesitated—see: aforementioned clinginess—but she made a compelling case. “You don’t have to be lonely,” she reasoned, arms crossed as she leaned over my couch. “You get someone to cook for you sometimes. I won’t even charge you for kisses.”

“I don’t want kisses,” I had deadpanned.

She had smirked, completely unfazed. “Liar.”

I never really stood a chance. Eventually, I gave in, and we moved in together that February, right after both our birthdays. It’s been a year and nine months now, and honestly? I’ve lost count of all the ways my life has changed because of her.

For one, I have received:

• 818 kisses

• 564 “babes”

• 300 hand-holds

• 105 sneaky cuddles

• 2 full-on marriage proposals—jokingly, of course… at least, I hope.

I fell into a routine of taking care of things while Jihyo was at work. She was out for hours, busy with schedules, rehearsals, and whatever else an idol’s life required. That left me with the task of keeping our shared space functional.

Grocery shopping was my usual errand. I’d push the cart through the aisles, absentmindedly grabbing the basics—eggs, rice, vegetables—before stopping at the snack section, where Jihyo’s preferences dictated half the haul. She had an almost concerning addiction to spicy ramen and peach-flavored anything. If I forgot her yogurt drinks, she’d pout at me like I’d personally betrayed her.

Laundry was another chore I handled. Jihyo swore she would help, but that mostly consisted of her sitting on the couch, watching me fold clothes, and tossing in the occasional “You’re doing great, babe.” If I called her out, she’d just bat her lashes and say, “Moral support is important!” before going back to scrolling on her phone.

Cleaning, at least, was a solo mission. I moved through the apartment with practiced ease, wiping down counters, sweeping floors, and straightening up the inevitable mess Jihyo left in her wake. Makeup brushes scattered across the bathroom sink, half-empty coffee cups on the table, a hoodie draped over the back of a chair—signs of her existence woven into every inch of the space.

Sometimes, when I finished, I’d sit on the couch and scroll through my phone, only to find a message from her.

Jihyo: “Miss you.”

Me: “You’ve been gone for three hours.”

Jihyo: “Too long. What are you doing?”

Me: “Cleaning up after you, obviously.”

Jihyo: “Ugh, I should’ve kissed you more before I left.”

Me: “You literally did that.”

Jihyo: “Not enough!!”

She was ridiculous.

But as much as I teased her, I had grown used to this. To the constancy of her presence, even when she wasn’t here.

To the way she made herself a part of my life, whether I asked for it or not.

To the fact that, no matter how weird things got, I never really wanted it to change.

We woke up tangled together in my bed, as usual. Jihyo had a way of clinging in her sleep—arms wrapped tight, legs hooked around mine, face buried against my neck like I was her personal body pillow. It took some effort to extract myself from her grasp without waking her up, but the second I slid out from under the covers, she stirred.

“Mmm… where you going?” she mumbled sleepily, reaching for me with one hand, eyes barely open.

“Work,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “Same as you.”

She groaned dramatically and rolled onto her stomach, peeking at me with half-lidded eyes. “Five more minutes?”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “You say that, and next thing you know, you’re late.”

Jihyo pouted but let me go, stretching like a cat before finally rolling out of bed. I went about my morning routine, shaving and getting dressed in my suit and jewelry—just enough to look the part of a (somewhat) professional bodyguard. Jihyo, meanwhile, got ready for another day of comeback preparations, moving around the apartment with her usual energy.

But no matter what she was doing—putting on makeup, fixing her hair, throwing together an outfit—she kept gravitating toward me.

While I buttoned my cuffs, she brushed past me, running a hand down my back before grabbing her hairbrush. When I put on my watch, she leaned in and fixed my tie, even though it didn’t need adjusting. By the time I packed our lunches, she had bumped into me at least three times under the guise of “grabbing something.”

I knew exactly what she was doing.

When I handed her lunch over, she beamed and kissed my cheek. “Thanks, babe. I really appreciate it.”

I smirked, shaking my head. “Go get ’em, tiger.”

Jihyo froze mid-step, eyes snapping to mine before a slow, mischievous grin spread across her face. “Ooh, I like that pet name.”

I didn’t even get the chance to respond before she snatched my phone straight from my pocket. With a sly look, she held it just out of reach and started typing at lightning speed. Before I could take it back, she turned the camera on herself, tilted her head cutely, and snapped a selfie.

When she finally handed the phone back, I looked at the screen. Her contact name had been changed to “Tiger Hyo”, and her adorable selfie was now her profile picture.

I laughed, shaking my head. “I like it.”

Jihyo grinned, clearly pleased with herself. “Good. Now I gotta go, or I’ll be late.”

I pulled her into a hug, feeling the way she melted against me like she was trying to absorb as much warmth as possible before leaving. She let out a satisfied hum, squeezing me a little tighter before reluctantly pulling away.

But even then, she lingered.

She took a step toward the door, then hesitated. She turned back, eyes scanning me like she was committing me to memory. Her fingers twitched at her sides as if physically resisting the urge to reach for me again.

Then, with a determined nod, she declared, “Okay, now I need to find something for you.”

I raised a brow. “Something for me?”

“Mhm. You gave me a nickname, so I have to give you one too.” She nodded like it was an official decree before finally, finally heading out the door.

I watched her go, shaking my head as I waved her off. Some people needed coffee to start their day. Jihyo, apparently, needed to give and receive an excessive amount of affection or she’d combust.

With a smirk, I pocketed my phone and headed out, making my way to Theo’s place.

Here’s a refined and expanded version of your scene to improve flow, natural dialogue, and character interaction:

⸻

When I arrived at Theo’s place, he was already waiting for me at the gate, arms crossed, wearing his usual smirk.

“Yo, long time no see, Dios,” he greeted.

“Hey, boss,” I said, nodding.

Theo stepped aside to let me in. “How’s life treating you?”

“It’s fine,” I replied, keeping it vague.

Theo shot me a knowing look. “You still seeing that crazy girl?”

I frowned, glancing at him. “Which one?”

“The clingy singer,” he clarified with a grin.

“Oh,” I said, realization clicking. “Yeah, we moved in together.”

Theo stopped mid-step. “Wait, really?”

I nodded.

He studied me for a moment, then asked, “How’s that working out?”

I hesitated, rubbing the back of my neck. “It’s… odd,” I admitted. “I love her, but I don’t really know how she wants to be loved. So I just kinda… exist in this weird teasing dynamic where I know we’re close, but I can’t tell if it’s platonic or romantic.”

Theo raised an eyebrow. “Well, what do you actually do for her?”

My expression softened as I listed it out. “I cook for her, clean the apartment, take care of her pets, go to her concerts… any performance I can make it to, really.”

Theo let out a short chuckle. “Oh, wow. What a supportive husband you are.”

I snorted, shaking my head.

“All that,” Theo continued, “and you still have time to save the world. I guess being an alien has its perks.”

I rolled my eyes. “You do know I was born on this planet, right? Like, literally in Bellflower. I have a birth certificate and everything.”

Theo smirked. “I know. I just like giving you a hard time.”

I sighed, but I couldn’t help but smirk back as we headed to his car. As I drove I thought about what Jihyo would be doing. I honestly found myself doing that a lot recently but I couldn’t help it. She made me feel alive, and I hoped what we had was forever.

Here’s a refined version of the scene that better reflects Dios’s conversation with Theo, reinforcing both his confusion and Jihyo’s confidence in their relationship. I adjusted the flow, made the dialogue more natural, and made sure it lined up with Dios’s uncertainty from the previous scene.

⸻

As Jihyo powered through her packed schedule, her thoughts drifted—What was Dios up to right now? Probably running errands, making sure the apartment didn’t fall into chaos while she was stuck here. She smiled at the thought, knowing full well he’d have their lunches packed neatly like always.

She barely had time to take a bite before Sana leaned in with that unmistakable smirk—the one that meant trouble.

“So,” Sana started, twirling her chopsticks between her fingers, “when are you finally going to lock Dios down?”

Jihyo paused mid-chew, blinking. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Sana said, grinning. “You’re basically glued to his side, you steal his clothes all the time, and you two have lived together for almost two years—”

“One year, nine months, and twenty-seven days,” Jihyo corrected automatically.

Sana gave her a pointed look. “Uh-huh. And you’re still gonna tell me he’s just your roommate?”

Jihyo swallowed, then shrugged. “He’s mine.”

Sana snorted. “You say that so confidently, but where’s the official confirmation?”

Jihyo smirked, resting her chin in her hand. “I don’t need one.”

Sana narrowed her eyes. “Oh?”

“I have him,” Jihyo said simply. “He just… doesn’t know how to express himself like normal people.”

Sana leaned back, laughing. “So you’re saying he’s, what—emotionally constipated?”

“Kinda,” Jihyo mused. “I’d say he acts more like an alien.” She tapped her chopsticks against her plate. “Like, I know he loves me—he just doesn’t know how to translate it. So instead, he compensates. He lets me do what I want, handles all the little things—like this lunch he made for me that you’re eyeing.”

Sana shrugged, unbothered. “Hey, if he made extra…”

Jihyo laughed, then added, “It’s kind of cute.”

Sana raised a brow. “Cute? Sounds frustrating to me.”

Jihyo just shrugged again. “It can be, sometimes. But I know he cares about me. He just shows it in his own way.”

Sana pursed her lips, considering. Then, with a dramatic sigh, she shook her head. “You have the patience of a saint.”

Jihyo grinned. “More like the stubbornness of a tiger.”

Sana rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, she pointed her chopsticks at Jihyo. “Just don’t wait too long, okay? Some guys need a little push to get their feelings in order.”

Jihyo smirked, unfazed. “Oh, I know. But I don’t have to.”

Sana tilted her head, intrigued. “Wait, what do you mean?”

Jihyo simply took another bite of her lunch, looking far too pleased with herself.

As Theo and I arrived at the Human Defense Force base, something immediately felt off. The usual cold, impersonal atmosphere was gone, replaced by an almost celebratory energy. Laughter echoed through the halls, voices livelier than usual. My jaw tightened. I knew exactly what this meant.

Theo caught my reaction. “Yo, what’s wrong?”

I shrugged. “Nothing.”

Theo wasn’t buying it. He grabbed my arm and steered me toward the garage, weaving through personnel who barely gave me a second glance. They were too caught up in the moment, celebrating something I had no part in. Good.

Inside the garage, the familiar scent of oil and metal filled the air. Theo led me to a nondescript workbench, leaning against it while I idly turned a wrench over in my hands.

“So,” he started, voice casual but knowing, “how’s the whole ‘part-alien’ thing treating you?”

I scoffed. “You say that like I woke up with antennae one morning.”

Theo smirked. “I mean, kinda. You were one of the first of the battle brigade, and almost got yourself killed during the penultimate fight, only for some guy from the Stardust Squadron to turncoat because his leader didn’t fight with honor. Then you get a god-killing superweapon fused to your cells. And you’re telling me it’s just business as usual?”

I rolled my eyes. “What do you want me to say? That I wake up every morning with existential dread?”

Theo pointed at me. “See, that would be an honest answer.”

I sighed and tossed the wrench onto the bench. “But it’s not the truth. Look, it’s… weird. Some days, I feel normal. On other days, I react to things before they happen. Or I’ll lift something that should be way heavier than it is. Then there’s The Hyperion.” I tapped my chest. “It’s quiet most of the time, but I know it’s there. Like a second heartbeat.”

Theo frowned, watching me closely. “And does it ever… I don’t know, talk to you?”

I shook my head. “Not in words. It’s more like… I see and feel more in some ways and less in others. It’s instincts, almost. It pushes me toward action. Toward fights. Like it’s hungry for battle.”

Theo exhaled, rubbing his jaw. “And you’re handling that okay?”

I shrugged. “What else am I supposed to do?”

Theo gave me a flat look. “I don’t know, deal with it instead of pretending it’s not a problem?”

I opened my mouth to argue but shut it again. He wasn’t wrong.

Theo leaned forward. “Dios, I’ve known you for years. You do this thing where you pretend everything’s fine until it’s crashing down around you. You don’t talk about what’s bothering you. You just push forward like that’ll make it go away.”

I scoffed. “You sound like Jihyo.”

“Oh, you mean the woman who somehow tolerates your emotionally stunted ass?” Theo shot back. “Yeah, maybe listen to her.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “I’m not ignoring it, Theo. I just… don’t know what to do about it.”

Theo studied me for a moment before shaking his head. “You’re afraid.”

I tensed. “I’m not—”

“You are. You’re afraid of what The Hyperion means for you. Just like you’re afraid of what Jihyo means to you.”

I scowled. “Those are two completely different things.”

Theo gave me a pointed look. “Are they? Both are a part of your life now. Both are something you can’t seem to define. And both scare the hell out of you.”

I looked away, jaw tightening.

Theo sighed, his expression softening just a little. “Look, man. I get it. It’s a lot. You found out you’re not who you thought you were, and now you’ve got this whole other part of you that you don’t fully understand. But ignoring it won’t make it easier. And pushing people away won’t either.”

I exhaled slowly. “I’m not pushing Jihyo away.”

“Aren’t you?” Theo raised an eyebrow. “You say you love her, but you won’t tell her. You take care of her, but you won’t let yourself have her. And now you’re telling me you don’t even know how she wants to be loved? Dios, my guy, ask her.”

I let out a humorless chuckle. “You make it sound so simple.”

Theo shrugged. “Maybe it is. Or maybe you’re just making it harder than it needs to be.”

I stared at him, then shook my head with a small laugh. “You know, for a guy who spends half his time fixing cars, you sure love psychoanalyzing me.”

Theo grinned. “It’s a gift.”

I exhaled, picking up the wrench again just to have something to hold. Maybe Theo was right. Maybe I was making it harder than it needed to be.

But there were still too many things I couldn’t just ignore. The HDF hounding me to come back. The fact that I had a world-destroying engine fused to my very being. I didn’t want to be in the limelight anymore, while Jihyo was a massively public figure.

I wasn’t afraid.

I was just… overwhelmed.

The Return of the Battle Brigade

And right now, the only thing I could do was take it one day at a time.

Here’s a refined version with the addition of the Battle Brigade members asking Dios about his life, and his revelation about living with Jihyo for the past year:

⸻

After we left the garage, Theo led me to the HDF’s main hall, where the very thing I had dreaded came crashing into reality.

In big, bright letters, several banners hung from the rafters, practically screaming—

“BATTLE BRIGADE HAS RETURNED!”

I groaned in open sorrow, dragging a hand down my face. The memories hit me like a truck.

I remembered what it felt like to be that young, idealistic recruit—before the weight of war had settled into my bones before we had been forced to grow up too fast. We had been heroes, sure, but not just to the world. To each other.

And yet, the battles had left their mark. Some of us had come out stronger. Others… not so much.

I wasn’t sure how to parse the emotions surging in my chest. Anger? Grief? Maybe both.

Theo gave me a knowing look. “You could just turn around right now.”

I scoffed. “And you know that’s not an option.”

Before he could reply, a voice rang out from across the hall.

“NO. FREAKING. WAY.”

I barely had time to brace myself before I was tackled into a tight, crushing hug. A head of shock-white hair buried itself against my chest, followed by a laugh I hadn’t heard in years.

“Dios, you slippery bastard! I thought you were dead!”

I blinked down at the woman currently squeezing the air out of my lungs. “Hello to you too, Liora.”

She pulled back, her amber eyes gleaming as she gave me a once-over. “Damn, you got buffer since we last saw you and taller. What, you hit the gym between saving the world?”

“Something like that,” I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck.

Liora grinned, about to say something else when another familiar voice cut in.

“Well, well. Look who decided to show his face.”

I turned to find Kaisa leaning against a pillar, arms crossed, her usual smirk playing at her lips. Unlike Liora, she didn’t rush to greet me—no, Kaisa never rushed anything. But the spark of amusement in her sharp green eyes told me she was very entertained by my suffering.

“You look good, Dios,” Kaisa admitted, pushing off the pillar and strolling closer. “A little more broody than I remember, but hey, suits you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Great to see you too, Kaisa.”

And then—

“GREENIE!”

I barely had time to react before a massive arm wrapped around my neck and yanked me into an aggressively affectionate headlock.

“Oh, for—Gael, let go of me!” I grunted, struggling as the largest member and leader of our old team all but dragged me around like a ragdoll.

Gael let out a booming laugh. “Come on, man, you know you missed us!”

Theo, standing off to the side, looked incredibly amused. “You were the Green Brigader?”

“Don’t say it out loud,” I muttered, still trapped in Gael’s iron grip.

“Dude, you totally were,” Liora teased. “All jokes and bad puns until the villains got scary, then bam! You turned into a tragic, brooding hero.”

Gael released me just enough for me to breathe, clapping me on the back so hard I nearly face-planted. “Nah, he was always a softie. Just took him a while to figure it out.”

Kaisa smirked. “And now he’s back. Tell me, Dios—how’s life outside the spandex?”

I groaned, shoving Gael off and straightening my jacket. “I knew I should’ve just turned around.”

Liora snickered. “Too late, Greenie. You’re stuck with us now.”

And just like that—despite the weight in my chest, despite everything that had changed—I couldn’t help but smile.

After the usual round of teasing and laughter, the mood shifted, and Liora’s smile softened as she studied me. “So, seriously, what happened to you? You look so different. I remember the last battle… when you took on D-Reaper alone while we were out of commission. You almost died when Chaos Breaker showed up.”

I sighed, rubbing my temple. “Yeah. Chaos Breaker interrupted the duel and blasted me with his total annihilation beam. But D-Reaper saved me by fusing me with his Star-Vader Engine.”

Gael frowned, his brow furrowed in concern. “We didn’t know.”

I shrugged. “It’s okay. I was able to fight in the final battle using the Star-Vader Engine to create Hyperion.”

Kaisa’s eyes lit up as she smiled. “Yeah, you practically faced him down alone. We were able to help with the Brigade Cannon, but it wasn’t the same without you.”

I paused, feeling a lump in my throat. I had always assumed they’d be fine without me, but here they were, telling me they missed me in that final battle. The thought hit harder than I expected, and I found myself sitting down, suddenly overwhelmed by the weight of it all.

Liora, Gael, and Kaisa took their seats around me. They had been with me since I was a teenager. We had been through so much together, fought side by side, and it felt like so much had changed in that year.

I took a deep breath.

“I missed you guys so much,” I said, my voice cracking slightly. “After the final battle, I felt so alone. I was… broken. We won, but I couldn’t move on.”

Theo watched from the corner with a raised eyebrow but said nothing, letting me have my moment.

“I was the happy-go-lucky, silly youngest member, but now…” I trailed off, feeling the weight of it. I wasn’t the same anymore. I had to grow up too fast.

My friends exchanged looks, surprised by the vulnerability I was showing, by the shift in me. The same kid who had always been the comic relief and the one who took the jokes was now someone they couldn’t quite recognize—taller, stronger, and weighed down by the past.

Gael, Kaisa, and Liora pulled me into a tight group hug, their arms strong and steady. “We won’t leave you, Dragon. Not again.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and let the tears fall. The dam had broken, and all the emotions I had buried came flooding to the surface.

Finally, after a long moment, Liora pulled back slightly and gave me a knowing look. “So… do you still have that crush on the singer, Jihyo?”

I blinked, feeling the familiar flush creeping up my neck. “What—? That’s—”

Gael smirked. “Come on, man. You’re gonna tell us or what? You’ve been tiptoeing around it since day one.”

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly. “Fine, yeah. I… I have. And, uh, we’ve actually been living together for the last year.”

Kaisa raised an eyebrow. “Wait, what? You’re living with Jihyo?”

I nodded. “Yeah. We, uh, we kinda—well, it just… happened.”

The others exchanged surprised glances before Liora broke the silence with a grin. “Well, damn, Dios. You’ve been holding out on us. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

I groaned, but a smile tugged at my lips. “I wasn’t exactly advertising it.”

Gael let out a deep laugh. “I’ll be damned. The kid’s all grown up.”

Absolutely! Here’s a sidebar scene where Jihyo and her TWICE teammates watch the press conference, recognizing Dios:

The practice room was a mix of exhaustion and laughter as TWICE wrapped up their final rehearsal for the day. The lights above buzzed lightly, and the girls were all stretching, catching their breath after the intense routine.

“Good job today, everyone!” Jihyo called out, her voice warm as she wiped the sweat off her forehead. She glanced around the room, taking in the satisfied expressions of her members, but her thoughts kept drifting back to Dios. It had been a few hours since they’d spent time together. Between her schedule and his work calling him in today, they had barely seen each other.

“Jihyo ah, you okay? You’ve been a little spaced out lately,” Nayeon asked, her playful tone catching Jihyo’s attention.

Jihyo smiled sheepishly. “I’m fine. Just… a lot going on, you know?”

Before Nayeon could press further, Mina, who had been scrolling through her phone, spoke up. “Hey, the HDF’s holding a press conference. Looks like they’re announcing something about the Battle Brigade.”

Jihyo’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of the Battle Brigade. She knew Dios winced when they were mentioned but he never said anything else about it.

“Let’s watch it,” Jihyo suggested, her voice quieter now.

The girls gathered around Mina’s phone as the press conference began. The HDF spokesperson stepped up to the podium, beaming with excitement.

“Today, we’re proud to announce the return of the original Battle Brigade, who will now be training the next generation of defenders,” the spokesperson said, his voice booming through the speakers. “They have stood on the frontlines, saving the world countless times, and now, they will pass on their knowledge to the new recruits. The heroes of yesterday are here to lead the heroes of tomorrow.”

Jihyo felt her heart race as the footage switched to the familiar faces of the Battle Brigade. Liora, Gael, Kaisa… and then the camera panned to Dios.

Her breath caught in her throat. No way…

There he was—her Dios. Battle Brigader Green, standing tall, looking different but unmistakably him. His expression was serious, a far cry from the house husband she boasted about and knew, but the familiar glint in his eyes remained. The green jacket, the posture—it was all there. He was with his teammates, standing proud, and yet, there was an unspoken tension in his demeanor, a weight that spoke to everything he had been through.

The moment the camera lingered on Dios, Jihyo’s thoughts scattered. Her teammates were murmuring around her, but she could only focus on him. Battle Brigader Green… Her heart thudded in her chest.

“Dios?” Dahyun spoke up, her voice filled with surprise. “That’s the you not boyfriend boyfriend, right?”

Jihyo nodded slowly, her throat tight. “Yeah… that’s him. Dios. I—” She stopped herself. She had so many questions, so many things to say, but at this moment, all she could do was watch.

Momo leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. “Wait… that’s him? I knew he was special, but he’s a legend. No wonder you’ve been so distracted lately, Jihyo-ah.”

“Jihyo, you didn’t tell us he was a hero!” Nayeon teased, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “This is like a drama waiting to happen!”

Jihyo could barely bring herself to smile. She was still caught in the wave of emotions from seeing Dios on the screen. It was overwhelming—both the pride she felt for him and the confusion that still lingered between them. She had no idea how to process this new layer of his life, especially when she had only known him as the guy she lived with.

Jeongyeon gave Jihyo a knowing look, her expression softening. “You should talk to him about this. It looks like he’s really going through something.”

Jihyo nodded absently, her gaze still glued to the screen. The press conference continued, but her mind was elsewhere. Dios… Battle Brigader Green… The realization hit her like a wave. She had no idea just how far his past reached, how much weight he was carrying on his shoulders.

“Jihyo?” Sana’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Are you okay? You’ve been quiet.”

She blinked, then forced a small smile. “Yeah… I’m just… I didn’t expect to see him like this.”

“Didn’t expect to see him like this?” Nayeon raised an eyebrow. “I think we need a full debrief on this guy.”

Jihyo looked at her teammates, a small laugh escaping her lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’ll tell you later. Right now, I think I need to process this.”

With a final glance at the screen, where Dios was now shaking hands with some of the HDF officials, Jihyo couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling that things between them were about to change. She knew the Battle Brigade had returned to train the new generation, but for her… the news had made her realize just how little she truly knew about Dios.

And now… I need to figure out how to be there for him. Really there.

Deluge

Later that night, after leaving the HDF, I found myself back at the apartment, sitting on the couch in the dim light of the living room. The city outside hummed faintly, the glow of neon signs seeping through the blinds, but my focus was elsewhere. My mind had been restless ever since Theo had opened his mouth.

“You say you love her, but you won’t tell her.”

It wasn’t that simple. It never was.

Jihyo was in the next room, probably getting ready for bed, moving around with the same quiet ease she always did when she knew I was deep in my thoughts. She had a way of understanding when to push and when to give me space. And maybe that was part of the problem—she understood me too well.

I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, exhaling slowly as I tried to unpack the mess in my head. I wasn’t good at this—at feelings, at relationships, at trying to name things that didn’t fit neatly into words. But Jihyo… she unraveled something in me that I didn’t know how to put back together.

When I thought of her, it wasn’t just a single feeling. It was everything at once.

A deluge.

Her laughter, was unguarded and bright, like sunlight breaking through clouds. The way her voice could settle something deep in my chest, or send my heart racing when she said my name in that certain way. The sheer gravity of her presence, how she could fill a room effortlessly, how she could make me feel like I was the only one in it.

It was the small things, too. The way she’d steal my hoodies even though she had a closet full of designer clothes. How she’d curl up on the couch with my laptop and act like she wasn’t watching my ridiculous sci-fi shows when she absolutely was. The way she’d lean into me absentmindedly, touch casual but grounding like she didn’t even have to think about it.

I wanted her. Not just in a romantic way—though, yeah, that too—but in a way that felt fundamental. Like I didn’t know how to exist without her anymore.

And that scared the hell out of me.

I rubbed my face with both hands, trying to sort through the chaos, but it was useless. I was drowning in it.

“You’re thinking too loud.”

I looked up. Jihyo was standing in the doorway, wearing one of my old t-shirts, hair damp from the shower. She gave me a soft, knowing smile as she walked over, plopping onto the couch beside me, close enough that our knees brushed.

She didn’t ask what was wrong. She just waited.

I hesitated, then exhaled. “It’s overwhelming, sometimes.”

Jihyo tilted her head. “What is?”

I gestured vaguely between us. “This. You.”

Something flickered in her gaze—curiosity, amusement, maybe something softer. “Overwhelming good or overwhelming bad?”

I let out a dry laugh. “Yes.”

Jihyo huffed, nudging me with her shoulder. “Idiot.”

I didn’t deny it.

For a long moment, we sat in silence, the weight of my unspoken words settling between us. Jihyo didn’t press. She never did.

But maybe Theo was right. Maybe I was making this harder than it needed to be.

So, without thinking too hard about it, I turned to her and said, “You’re the most important person in my life.”

She blinked, surprised by the sudden confession. “Well… yeah,” she said like it was obvious. “Same.”

I swallowed. “No, I mean… really.”

Jihyo’s expression shifted, the teasing edge falling away. She studied me for a moment, then reached out, threading her fingers through mine. Warm. Steady.

“You don’t have to figure everything out right now, you know,” she murmured.

I breathed in, then out.

Maybe she was right. Maybe I didn’t have to have the words just yet. Maybe this—her hand in mine, the quiet understanding between us—was enough.

For now.

Her fingers curled around mine, warm and steady, grounding me in the middle of the storm inside my head.

Jihyo had always been patient with me—understanding in a way I didn’t know how to deserve. She let me sit in my own silence without demanding I speak, let me process things at my own pace, never once making me feel like I was wrong for not knowing how to say what she probably already knew.

But maybe that was the problem.

She knew. She always knew.

And still—she was waiting.

I stared at our hands, at the way her thumb brushed over my knuckles absentmindedly as if she wasn’t even thinking about it. Like touching me was second nature. And suddenly, that deluge I had been drowning in—the weight of everything I felt for her—crashed through me all at once, too much, too strong.

I couldn’t hold it back anymore.

I turned toward her before I could second-guess myself before the fear of getting it wrong could stop me.

“Jihyo.” My voice was rough, unsteady.

She looked up at me, and the moment our eyes met, I knew.

She had been waiting for this.

I exhaled sharply, my free hand lifting on instinct, fingertips ghosting over her cheek before I had the chance to think better of it. She leaned into my touch without hesitation, like she had been waiting for me to close the space between us.

And I did.

The moment my lips met hers, the dam inside me broke.

It wasn’t tentative. It wasn’t careful. It was everything I had been holding back, everything I had been too afraid to give a name to, pouring out of me like a flood.

Jihyo met me just as fiercely, fingers tightening around mine, the other hand curling into the front of my shirt as if she was pulling me closer, keeping me there. Like she needed this as much as I did.

I had kissed people before. This wasn’t my first. But this—this was different.

This was a confession.

This was every emotion I couldn’t put into words.

I pulled her closer, drinking her in, letting her warmth seep into me, letting myself feel every bit of her against me. And for the first time in a long, long time, I wasn’t afraid of it.

Jihyo was the one to break the kiss first, but she didn’t go far. She lingered close, her forehead resting against mine, her breath mingling with mine in the space between us.

“You really suck at talking about your feelings,” she murmured, voice breathless but teasing.

I huffed a laugh, eyes still closed. “Yeah. I know.”

She squeezed my hand. “But I get it now.”

I finally opened my eyes to find her already looking at me, soft and knowing in the way she always was.

“You have me, too,” she whispered. “Just in case you didn’t know.”

Something in my chest tightened—then unraveled.

I let out a shaky breath and nodded.

“Yeah,” I murmured, thumb brushing over her cheek. “I know.”

And then I kissed her again. When I broke the kiss her big brown eyes stared at me expectantly she smiled and then pouted.

She looked at me expectantly before asking, “Why didn’t you tell me you were Battle Brigader Green,” Jihyo asked.

Dios sighed and said, “Do you want the honest answer or the short answer?”

[aethervigil]

Craving Love (Craving You)

Katsuki and Izuku's love is brutal. Built on pain, hunger, and the urge to consume. After the war, they're haunted by intrusive thoughts they're unable to control; disgusting villainous urges they desperately try to ignore. In their attempt to rid themselves of the thoughts, they find themselves drawn closer to each other, worried the second they look away, the other will perish.

Alt: I wanted to write about cannibalism as a metaphor for love, couldn't commit, and made this instead.

Mentions of death, detailed gore, cannibalistic thoughts, sex, bad parenting, war

START

---------

It started when he was young. At least that's what Katsuki figured anyway. His mother told him to always give a hundred percent of his effort or not to bother trying at all. Alongside her "tough love" parenting, it made for an interesting childhood: a competitive one.

Katsuki was raised to be the best, he knew he deserved the best. He figured that's why he had never been interested in dating. Not that he hadn't tried, He had. Week long relationships and messy makeouts behind the middle school. Katsuki couldn't be bothered to learn half the girls names. He assumed he'd find someone is his first year at UA. Someone like him, deserving of only the best. Yet even after 1 month at that school, he couldn't find anyone worth his time.

Not that his classmates weren't strong, they were at UA alongside him after all, but he knew none of them had the determination or drive to match his own.

Besides Deku.

Stupid fucking Deku.

Always trying his best, stepping into the line of fire as long as it could save at least 1 person.

Bakugou hated it. Was Deku trying to one up him or something? Trying to expose his flaws at every chance he got. Show Bakugou as the fucking fraud he is. Deku knew. He must've. That without his quirk, Katsuki was nothing. Unlike Deku. Deku who had applied to UA without a quirk. Who had grown up without one. Who had fought against a villain to save Bakugou while quickness. Did he really think he was better than Bakugou? Flashing him a toothy smile as he lied about not having a quirk, lying about some stupid shit being wrong wrong with his foot, saying that's what's caused it. And like a fucking idiot, Katsuki had believed him.

Went so far as to bully the kid for it. Had Deku been laughing behind his back the entire time? Shit talking him online to strangers? Why would he lie to Katsuki? They had been close back then, Katsuki may have even considered Izuku as a friend back then. And then the fucker went and lied to his face. Always trying to he better than him.

Staring down at him as he smiled at Katsuki soaked in river water. Katsuki refused to let a quirkless fuck treat him like that. So righteous, so fucking annoying.

Katsuki wanted to gut him. Yet he couldn't stop the odd feeling in his stomach when he saw Deku break his bones. It reminded him of when he'd see a question marked as "incorrect" on his tests growing up. It was a shitty feeling. Therefore that meant the less he saw Deku, the less shitty he would feel.

But the more time he spent away from Deku, the more he began to crave his presence. In some weird twisted way, he needed to see Deku hurt, to get that feeling in his stomach so that he could reassure himself that his childhood friend was still alive.

---

He often found himself staring at the other, his eyes raking down his freckled body in the changeroom, attempting to count all his freckles without being caught.

Throughout his the second half of his first year at UA he noticed his thoughts shifted. Not that he paid it much attention. He had heard of "intrusive thoughts", had even been told to expect them after all the villain attacks and the kidnapping. Was told it's normal, that they'll go away om their own.

Sometimes he'd entertain them, focus on those thoughts instead of whatever it was Aizawa was trying to teach them.

He'd think of Izuku, of the stupid freckles scattered across his cheeks, and he'd imagine tearing them off. Whether it be scratching at his classmates' skin until they peeled away or taking a knife and carving them out. He'd wonder how Izuku would react. If he'd scream for help or if he'd stay pliant below Katsuki, letting him skin his face.

Katsuki knew Deku would do a lot for him, would let Katsuki do a lot to him. So sue him for wondering how far Deku would go for him. It's not like he'd ever act on the thoughts. Katsuki doesn't think he could even stand being that close to the other anyways. Deku talked too much, and his breath stunk. He used a childish All Might toothpaste that was supposed to smell "Like Victory", and instead smelled like rotten sushi (So yeah, maybe Katsuki had been curious and bought a tube to try himself. Get over it.)

The thoughts also came a lot when they were training. He'd see Deku land a punch or learn a knew trick, smiling to himself. It made another new feeling course through Bakugou's body. He'd start to feel hot, his body getting sweaty while his stomach twisted and turned.

Adrenaline.

Bakugou was sure of it.

His body recognized Deku as a threat and began to pump adrenaline into his veins.

It pissed him off.

Deku? A fucking threat? Enough so that he would go lightheaded at the sound of the boys voice.

He was not going to stand for this bullshit.

So he would watch the other train, daydream about tearing the other hero-in-training's body apart, limb by limb. Would fantasize of Izuku laying still below him, letting "Kacchan" peel his skin off so they could both see what the teen was truly made up of on the inside.

It wasn't until after the war that his thoughts changed again.

---

Even without his quirk Izuku was strong. Katsuki watched him continue to train, even sat behind him during their second year so he could spend more time staring at him with less of a chance of being called out for it.

He watched as Izuku continued to give everything a hundred percent of his effort, all while the two of them seemed to only grow further and further apart.

Katsuki couldn't stand it. So what if Izuku had saved the world? Did that suddenly make him better than Katsuki? The green haired student hardly spared a glance at Katsuki anymore, going so far as to stop acknowledging him when they passed in the hallways.

Katsuki deserved the best. And according to anyone in Japan at the moment, Izuku was the best. Katsuki deserved him. Yet he was ignored as if he was an icecream shop in the middle of winter.

So what if it sounded stupid ? Katsuki wanted to be wanted.

He wanted Izuku on top of him, biting into his neck and making him bleed. Izuku knew who Katsuki was, and the blonde wanted to prove it to him. He wanted Izuku to tear off his skin, revealing the fraud of a man that hid behind his flesh. Izuku wouldn't care, he never had.

Katsuki wanted to let Izuku bite him, beat him, ruin him so that he could prove that he was still alive. Prove that All For One hadn't killed him all those months ago. So he could prove he wasn't a walking corpse like his mother had claimed in the hospital.

He was real, he was alive.

And by turning him inside out, Izuku could prove it.

---

It was late into his third year at UA, he was spending most of the time outside classes either studying or training. Except for the few daily hours he spent thinking about Izuku.

The boy still didn't pay him much mind. It only angered Bakugou that much more, forcing him to release his frustrations put through his explosions. God, what he would give to be able to press his palms against Izuku's chest and just let go. Feel the skin beneath his fingers begin to heat and bubble, before the smell of burning flesh would fill his nose. He wondered if the boys skin would stick to his hands when he eventually would pull them back. If he would be allowed to keep that bit of Izuku for himself.

He hated sharing.

He always has, since he was a little kid. He once lent his friend, one of which he can't even remember the name of, his All Might figurine; A new one he had recently received from the Christmas prior. Of course the stupid kid broke it. Snapped both the arms clean off.

Katsuki hasn't shared with anyone since.

So seeing Izuku, the best, the person that only Katsuki was deserving of, run around with a bunch of shitty extras pissed him the fuck off.

He would watch them all cuddle close during movie nights, watch them pull him around by the hand during class outtings to the mall, even going so far as to steal Bakugou's seat behind him in class.

Bakugou hates sharing.

So when that week's movie night ended, he made a point to stay seated. Waiting until all the other students, sans Izuku, had left.

He watched Izuku stand, the boy stretching his arms above his head as he yawned. Katsuki let his eyes wander down, staring at the visible patch of skin that was revealed at the bottom of his shirt due to the motion.

God. Katsuki was going to tear him apart.

"De- Izuku." He corrected himself, still finding it hard to use his given name, even after all these years.

"Kacchan," The boy laughed quietly, "I've told you it's okay to call me Deku."

Katsuki ignored him, feeling the adrenaline once again begin to flow through his body. "My room, now." He demanded, beginning to head towards the elevator.

Izuku frowned, he hadn't talked to Kacchan for awhile now, so he was confused as to what he could have possibly done to upset him this time. Of course, he still followed the blonde without question.

It was a long weekend, and only 7pm. So most students were either staying with their families, or were still out enjoying the last few hours of sunlight. This meant the walk to the Katsuki's dorm room was relatively quiet, except for the stomping noise of Katsuki's ever so aggressive footsteps.

"Why aren't you staying with Aunty?" Izuku finally spoke, the two of them entering Katsuki's room.

The room was, well, it wasn't that Izuku had expected. He had seen Kacchan's room once in first year. It had been clean, with posters neatly hung up convering one wall, a corner dedicated to workout gear, even some figurines laying about. But this, this made Izuku feel like he was right back in the hospital.

The room was empty, besides the bed in the far corner, covered in plain black sheets. Even the desk was cleared, no signs of ever being used.

"Why aren't you staying with Inko?" Katsuki asked in return.

Truthfully, Katsuki had hardly talked to his mom since the war. The woman claiming that Katsuki wasn't her son, that her son went to the war and never came back. His dad had tried to convince him to visit, but Katsuki didn't think he had the energy to put up with his mother if he were to.

Izuku laughed shyly, "Mom's been walking on eggshells." He admitted, "She's scared, not that I don't understand why, I do. It's just, I don't know... I wish she would treat me like she did before, well, before all this." Hw threw his arms out to the side, knocking the door shut behind him.

He hated how open Izuku was, the boy never ashamed of his feelings.

Katsuki took a seat on the side of his bed, "Hasn't she always been like that?" He asked, "Used to take you to the hospital every time you fell off your bike." He recalled, laying onto his back.

"I guess." Izuku hummed in agreement, taking a seat next to Katsuki.

He stared down at him, making Katsuki's stomach flip, "Don't fucking stare at people, you creep." He snapped, reaching for his pillow and swinging it at Izuku's chest.

The boy laughed loudly, blocking the hit with him arm, "Then talk, Kacchan. You're the one that made me come in here." He retorted, reaching over Bakugou, grabbing a second pillow, lifting it up before bringing it down to hit Katsuki's stomach.

The blonde, who had been too busy fantasizing about leaning up and taking a bite out of Izuku's chest, grunted at the hit. Quickly sitting up and turning to face the other, "Fucker!" He yelled, shoving Izuku off the bed.

Midoriya giggled, even as Katsuki climbed onto him, straddling his hips between his legs and pinned his arms down by his sides, effectively trapping him, Izuku kept fucking giggling.

And the noise only made Katsuki's stomach turn more, his lightheadedness growing more extreme, he felt like he might pass out. He had to make Izuku stop, the warning bells in his head were going crazy. Fuck, should he punch him? Finally give in and attempt to rip a freckle off? For once, he wasn't sure what to do. So when one of Izuku's hands began to struggle, he allowed it to overpower his own. Letting it wrap behind his neck and pull him down. And when their lips finally touched, Katsuki could have cried. He pushed into it, shutting his eyes tightly and he felt Izuku's lip against his own.

Was it supposed to hurt him like this? Make his stomach spin and twist, feeling hot as he gasped softly, Izuku's tongue pushing into his mouth. Katsuki wanted to fight, prove he wasn't easy, but this was so close to what he wanted. So close to Izuku eating him apart, maybe this was as close as he would get, and that thought hurt him. He wanted more.

He dug his nails into Izuku's still pinned hand, pulling away to stare at the other. Izuku's lips were wet, they were a darker shade of pink than usual, and Katsuki really shouldn't know what their usual shade of pink was but he fucking did and it's not like Izuku knew that he knew and when the hand on the back of his head moved, gently rubbing the skin there Katsuki moaned. Fucking moaned and felt a shiver run down his spine.

"Kacchan," His friend (was he even allowed to call him that anymore?) whispered softly, "What do you want?" tugging at the lower hairs just above his neck.

Katsuki wanted so many things. He wanted to be a pro, the number one hero to be exact. He wanted his mother to look at him again, with a sense of familiarity, not like he was a lifeless corpse bleeding out on the battle field. He wanted Izuku, his best friend, back. He wanted to not get angry so easily. He wanted these thoughts of Izuku tearing out his lungs and eating them to go away. But at the moment,

"I want you to touch me." He admitted in a whisper, "Fuck me up, tear me apart." He continued, pushing into the hand holding his neck, "Rip my skin off and eat it."

Izuku stared up at Bakugou, his eyes wide. He had been keeping his distance the past two years. Had done his best to ignore the blonde boy that was now sitting on his lap, begging to be touched.

After the war Izuku had struggled, he had really struggled. Seeing your best friends lifeless body isn't exactly a great memory, a core one for sure, but not a great one. Mix that with watching countless other innocent people and pro heroes die, losing your quirk, and becoming a murderer, you get the result of shitty nightmares and thoughts (among other things).

It had started simple. He had been hit too hard during a training session and had been directed by Aizawa to go see recovery girl.

Instead, he had hung out in the shower room, continuously pressing on the forming bruise. It had given him a sort of relief. Reminded him that he was still alive.

The next few training classes he began "accidentally" forgetting to block, would let a classmate sneak up on him for an attack, then blame his past reliance on "danger sense". It was passable, until his grade began to slip and he was sentenced to extra solo combat training after school.

He tried cutting a few times. But with all the after-care alongside the attentiveness needed to hide the wounds, it was exhausting. So he stuck to bruises. Whether it be laying on his bedroom floor and dropping a weight on his chest, or smacking his leg with a metal water bottle. He couldn't seem to get enough. That was until he saw Kacchan during the second month of their second year at UA.

Midoriya had been training like usual, working on getting more force into his punches, now that he didn't have One For All to rely on, when he heard a loud yell. He turned to see Bakugou sitting on the floor, mumbling curses under his breath. He watched as Kirishima began to rapidly apologize, extending a hand out to help Kacchan up. Of course, the blonde slapped the hand away, getting up slowly on his own and storming off to the shower rooms.

Izuku had followed after him. He knew Kacchan was strong, but he couldn't help but worry about his friend. He knew the other teen was always pushing himself beyond his limits.

Izuku opened the shower room door slowly, not wanting to startle the other. He turned the corner, spotting Kacchan instantly. Normally, Izuku would be admiring the blondes tight muscles, his broad shoulders, the way sweat dripped down his back and over the curve of his ass, but today, his eyes were drawn to the colorful marking covering the top right of his back. It was dark purple, splotches of yellow and green spread throughout the large mark. Izuku stared at the bruise in awe, a small gasp escaping through his lips.

The sudden noise caused Kaysuki to spin around, a scowl already on his face long before he saw Izuku, "The fuck!?" He yelled, "Fucking perv!" Katsuki added on, chucking his towel from the bench towards Izuku's face.

Izuku caught the towel with ease, staring at Katsuki's chest, more specifically the blossoming bruise on his lower stomach. Izuku had the sudden wonder of how it would bleed if he were to drag a knife across it. Would it bleed more or less than a normal cut? Would it hurt more than cutting unbruised skin? He so desperately wanted to asked if Kacchan would allow him to test it out, wondered if Kacchan would let him.

"I was just coming to check on you, Kacchan." He replied instead.

Thoughts like those started becoming more common to Izuku, they were always about Kacchan, and were almost always violent. Often times he wondered what it would be like to cut a part of Katsuki off, to keep it for himself, he cherish it forever. Maybe eat it, even. Then he could keep a part of Kacchan close to him without anyone else knowing, and Kacchan wouldn't have to be embaressed of being friends with Izuku. He'd do anything Kacchan wanted. So long as he got to have a part of the other student close to him. Would eating part of him fill that desire? That need?

He would try to hover close to Kacchan, going so far as to try and link arms with him one day. But it hadn't been enough. Kacchan hadn't felt close enough. And slowly, Izuku grew disgusted with himself. He went online to read about people with feelings like his, and came to the conclusion that it was not normal. That it was scary and gross. He was a hero in trainings for heavens sake. Isn't this why they had had to kill Toga? For thoughts like these?

Yet here he was, nearly two years later, listening to Kacchan express those exact ideas. As if Kacchan could ready every thought Izuku had been pretending not to have about him for those last two years.

"I want to memorize the taste of your flesh," Izuku mumbled, pulling Katsuki into yet another heated kiss.

Katsuki let his free hand slide under Izuku's stupid "t-shirt" t-shirt (he would burn it but knew the other would cry and complain too loudly for Katsuki's liking), mindlessly letting it heat up slowly as they kissed. "Want to feel you." Katsuki hummed, trying to engrain the feeling of Izuku's raw burning flesh beneath his finger tips.

"Then feel me, Kacchan, burn through my chest so you can reach my heart and feel how fast it's beating for you." Izuku murmured, pushing Katsuki's head to the side so he could sink his teeth into the blondes neck.

Bakugou's hand was stuck between their stomachs, continuing to climb in temperature, " 'Zuku." He sighed out, relinquishing the relief the pain of the bite provided him.

Izuku pulled his teeth back, running his tongue over the open wound. He moved his hand from Katsuki's neck to the cut, using his thumb to carefully smear the line of crimson liquid that had begun to trail slowly down his neck. Izuku brought his thumb back, admiring the colour before he looked to Katsuki. The other hero shared the same awe as he stared at the blood. Izuku moved slowly, giving Katsuki the chance to back out if he needed to, as he pressed his thumb to the other teenagers lips.

Katsuki was quick to open his mouth, running his tongue along the underside of Izuku's thumb, swirling it around the top then pulling it into his mouth, gently sucking on it. He felt felt the smoke escaping from under his palm, suddenly wondering if he would leave a scar on Izuku, though easily got distracted as he felt hips rolling up against him.

Izuku's "trapped" hand easily shoved Katsuki's away, moving to hold the wrist of the hand Katsuki had on his stomach, his head falling back as he let out a breathy moan.

Katsuki unconsciously let a few sparks pop from his palm, as he slowly began to roll his hips in time with Izuku's, keeping his eyes focused on the man below him.

He felt close to Izuku. Well, closer. Shit, it wasn't enough. What more could he do? He doubted letting the nerd fuck him would be any better. He wanted to burn open Izuku's stomach, rip his ribs apart and crawl inside. He wanted to bite a chunk out of his shoulder and swallow it whole. He wanted Izuku. He wanted to know how he felt, what he thought, and if he had the same craving as Katsuki.

Bakugou finally pulled his hand away, Izuku's shirt getting shoved up to his chest in the process. He marveled at the lightly charred skin, shining a bright red on Izuku's stomach. He spat Izuku's finger out, making quick work of taking his own top off.

Glaring down at Izuku, he watched as the boy stared at his bruised and beaten torso, "Well? Fucking say something, don't just stare you creep." He spat.

"Kacchan, I..." Izuku looked over his body again, then, in one swift motion, Katsuki found himself being picked up and brought over to the bed once again. Izuku stayed laying down beneath him, where he fucking belonged in Katsuki's opinion, and Katsuki now straddled only one of his legs.

"The fuck?" He stared back at Izuku, the boys shirt still slightly hitched up, burn still on display.

"Figured Kacchan's bed would he more comfortable." Izuku explained, his hands resting on Katsuki's hips, nails digging into his skin.

Bakugou leaned down for a kiss, and he wasn't sure if it would accidental when Izuku bent the leg Katsuki sat on at the same time, causing his dick to drag across it harshly as he fell forwards. Katsuki's forehead fell against Izuku's while he moaned, pushing his hips back before rolling them forwards in an attempt to recreate the feeling. "Shit." He moaned again, continuing to grind against the thigh below him, gasping softly as he felt Izuku's nails dig deeper, a cold feeling trickling down his sides, which Katsuki could only assume was blood.

"That's it'" Izuku hummed gently, "just like that."

It was only then Katsuki noticed the hands that had been piercing his waist were also pushing his hips down, helping him keep his pace as he continued to move his hips.

God, how pathetic was this? He had brought Izuku here to beat the shut out of him, and now here he was, humping the guys leg like a fucking dog.

He could feel Izuku's leg moving below him, adding extra friction against his stupid hard-on. How sick was this shit? Getting off with a guy cause he made Katsuki bleed. It was disgusting, yet when Katsuki looked between their bodies and caught sight of the slight reflection of red liquid he couldn't stop the groan that left his mouth.

He wanted to kill this idiot, chew him up and spit him back out. Prove that he was still stronger, still better than this idiot, that he could still hurt him.

"Go on Kacchan, take what you need." That was all the permission he needed, biting down onto the collarbone infront of him, moaning softly as the thigh pressed harder against his dick.

He felt tears build in his eyes as he moved his mouth over to a clean spot of skin, biting down again. He wanted Izuku covered in his own blood, needing to see it, needing to know Deku was really alive. That this wasn't some fucked up dream.

His stomach felt hot and tight, and Izuku kept pressing harder into his sides, Katsuki would he surprised if he didn't end up with bruises after.

"Come on Katsuki, use me." Izuku moaned, his head feeling lighter everytime Katsuki's teeth pierced his skin.

He wasn't sure if it was the words, the feeling of blood trickling down his sides, or the way Izuku sounded as he used his first name, but Katsuki was coming. And really fucking hard. His mouth fell open, and he hid in the others neck, the tears finally falling as he moaned loudly. He continued to roll his hips against Izuku's leg, mumbling quiet curses into his neck while sparks fell from his palms, burning small holes into the blanket below them; A few decorating Izuku's chest with small bright burns.

"Did Kacchan just cum in his pants?" Izuku teased breathlessly, a lazy grin on his face (an unusual expression to see on him, Katsuki noted).

The blonde could barely hold eye contact, shoving his head back down into the others neck, mumbling "Fuck you." as he tried to get his brain to work, to tell him what to do now.

"Was it really that easy?" Izuku continued, "Not that I would ever judge you, it's just that Kacchan has such good stamina during class training, I guess I assumed it would be the same here. If I knew that thigh riding would be enough," His rambling was interrupted by a hand hitting his face, shoving it away.

"Do you ever shut the fuck up?!" Bakugou snapped, no longer hiding his face as he sat up, still atop the younger boy.

Izuku glanced down at his waist, giving a small shrug, "Sometimes." He answered, his eyes meeting Katsuki's once again.

And that, well that was unexpected. Izuku wasn't supposed to be so blunt, so forward. That was Katsuki's job. Izuku was supposed to be the shy, timid one. The person who can't stand up for himself.

But here Katsuki found himself, feeling his face heat up and his throat go dry. Fuck. Was he fucking nervous?

This was all so so wrong.

Katsuki fucking Bakugou does not get nervous. He doesn't grind on the thighs of losers he bullied in middle school, even if they were well built now and it felt really really fucking good. He doesn't imagine removing said losers organs so that he could take their place and finally, finally, be close enough.

"Kacchan?" The gentle call of the stupid nickname tore him away from his thoughts.

"What?" He hissed back.

"Um, it's just," The other trailed off, his eyes falling down to his very large, probably painful, erection.

Katsuki snarled in disgust, "The fuck am I supposed to do about that?" He stood up, sliding a new shirt on before announcing, "I'm going to shower. You better not be here when I get back." He looked at his floor, picking up a pair of, hopefully somewhat clean, sweatpants before turning to leave.

"What? Kacchan," Izuku stood up after him, "But I, I helped," he went quiet again as he gestured to Katsukis, clearly spent, crotch.

"So fucking what?" He put an emphasis on each word, glaring at his classmate. "I didn't ask you to. Ain't you the one that said to use you?" The taller boy shivered as he repeated the words, not willing to acknowledge or admit that was the thing that had done him in so quickly. "I'm done using you now." He added as he left the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Moments later he was in the empty communal shower room, one hand covering his mouth, the other moving up and down his length as he jerked himself off to the fresh memories of Izuku below him, the words "use me" repeating in his mind until he was shooting white onto the wet tile floor.

God he was so fucked.

---------

FIN

[earlgreytea68]

I admire your writing SO MUCH. What is your writing routine? Or do you have any writing tips you might like to share?

Awwww, THANK YOU! That is really so lovely to hear!!

My writing routine changes from time to time, which I mention because sometimes it's worthwhile to switch up your routine if it stops working for you.

I always advice trying to write at least a little bit every day, even if it's just a sentence or a paragraph. And rather than framing it that way -- a sentence, a paragraph, a hundred words -- I set aside time to write. Even if I only sit down for five minutes and spend the whole five minutes re-reading what I wrote last time, keeping the story there in my mind is useful to me.

Because I think you should try to find time to write every day, I try to have a time set aside each day to write. When I was younger, I used to write at night. Then two things happened: (1) I got busier, which meant I was sitting down later and later at night for my writing time; (2) I began to be so tired at the end of the night when I finally got time to write. I didn't really notice that I was tired, what I noticed was I was having a hard time writing. The stories felt like slogs and I wasn't getting anywhere.

So! I read somewhere about someone who used to get up early in the morning to write. Look, I am not a person who's waking up at 5am to write. But some mornings I wake up fifteen to thirty minutes earlier than I need to, and I sit up in bed and I write, and this has worked really, really well for me. My brain is much more awake at the beginning of the day and the words have come more easily and it's been a nice way to ease into the day. The problem is it's not a very long period of time, but it's better than nothing. Again, when I was younger, I used to find the time to write for hours. Life happens. Rather than lamenting the loss of marathon writing sessions, instead I cherish the time that I get.

With that said, you might be like, "Hang on, sometimes you very quickly turn around a fic right after some event has happened, how are you doing that in 15 minutes at the beginning of the day?" Oh, don't worry, I'm definitely not. Because this is my other piece of advice: Sometimes you get an idea that just, like, goes, and when that happens, I write. Now obviously you can't do this if you have other commitments, but anything that I can procrastinate to the next day in favor of writing a fic that feels right there, I do, and I do it without guilt, because I can do it the next day, and who knows if the fic will be there the next day. I don't know if that's exactly advice, because I know I have a much more flexible schedule than many people do, but I did want to explain that I promise I'm not lying when I say usually I only write 15-30 minutes a day lol

So that is my "routine." As for "tips," my main writing tip is to write what you would like to read. If it interests you, then it's done its job. For this reason, I think writing is very personal and there are almost no universal "tips," because different things work for each person. I, for instance, cannot outline and hate to do it; it messes me totally up. I start with a vague idea and a first sentence and I go from there. This works for me. I'm unbothered by not having a plan. It wouldn't work for everyone, so if that idea freaks you out, make an outline! But if you feel like you get stuck at the outline stage, this is permission from me to ignore it entirely and just write.

Other things that personally work for me: I try to trust my characters. If I'm struggling with a story, it's probably because it's wrong, and I need to figure out what I did wrong. Like, the characters are in the wrong place and don't want to do what I'm trying to make them do, that's why they're fighting me.

I try not to write "boring" parts. Like, if I'm bored by what I'm writing, I assume everyone else is, too. Just skip to what you want to write and write that. The "boring" part can't be too important to the story if it was boring.

If you're writing a love story, give your characters time to fall in love. That is not the boring part, I promise. If they had a good date, tell us what they talked about on the date. Write the actual dialogue. Whenever I find myself writing, "They talked for hours," I stop and think if I can put some of that conversation in. That, to me, is the important stuff.

I happen to be an auditory thinker, not a visual one. I think in words, not images. For this reason, my first drafts tend to be a lot of dialogue. When I read them over, that's when I add in beats here and there to pause the flow. A dialogue tag can be a nice beat to make the reader pause and not be overwhelmed by the conversation. If you're struggling with dialogue, sometimes I try it out loud, playing both parts.

Identify what writers you admire do well. Not just "writing." Like, I think some writers write excellent descriptions of kissing, for instance, and I wish I wrote better descriptions of kissing. Once you identify the more specific thing they're doing that you admire, really study how they're accomplishing the effect that you like. What makes that description of kissing so good? Thinking about what makes something seem "good" to you can help you to think about using those same tricks in your own writing.

My only universal rule of writing: Resist epithets. You almost never need them. Just use their name or a pronoun. It will read better, trust me.

I hope some of this is helpful!! I will say that I got a comment recently (I read ALL of your comments and they are all wonderful and also so deeply helpful to me in your reactions to things, even if I'm often terrible about responding to them, they are lifelines for me, please know I read and appreciate so much EVERY SINGLE ONE) and the comment said something like, "I used to read your Sherlock stuff! I can't believe now you're in FOB fandom! Your Sherlock stuff was fantastic, but your writing has gotten EVEN BETTER!" I put this in not to brag about this comment lol, but to say that I agree with it, I think I am a better writer now than I was ten years ago and a better writer than ten years before that. You're always getting better, because you're always practicing and learning for the next story. You might not feel like it's happening -- it's not like I'm like, "Let me go PRACTICE writing now!" -- but it will!

[villainsandvictimsalliance]

Hello. Okay, so I'm going to start this off with 'this might be an crazy thing to ask'.

I just saw your post from January about Nana Shimura, and I feel like I'm insane.

I'm legitimately not trying to be belligerent here, but can you please explain to me, in your opinion, why you think that it is Nana's fault for anything that has happened in relation to her? I'm just trying to understand, because I don't see how anything could necessarily be her fault solely. Specifically when talking about the 'creation' of Tomura.

If AFO had wanted to get his hands on someone from that bloodline, if only to be a bastard or whether it was for an actual reason, he would have done it regardless of what Nana's choices would have been.

And I can't help but notice the fact that all of this skips an entire generation. Everyone is so quick to blame Nana for doing what humans do, I.E. having a husband and a child, and I feel I'm not really qualified to speak on that front because I never have wanted children and I don't foresee that changing at this ripe old age I'm at, so I'm not even going to go into whether or not I think it was wrong of her to have a family.

I just find it very interesting that people are blaming Nana for something that happened literal years after her own physical death. Things that happened at the hands of her own son. Things that would have never happened had it not been for her son, that she had no part in.

It's just that the way I see it, that man had years upon years to come to terms with what his mother had done in order to protect him, but in the end he failed anyway. Whether he knew it or not he failed more than his own mother did. He failed and he gave his fucking own child over to this horrible person, and he couldn't have been completely ignorant of that, let's be honest. Whether or not what she did was the right choice, Nana gave him up for a reason, and the fact that he couldbut possibly put himself in his mother's shoes, after how many years? Is more telling of him than it is of her.

Even if what Nana did wasn't the right choice, then what WAS the right choice? How was there a wrong or a right choice when you could never possibly predict the outcomes of whatever you chose to do? In my opinion, people are trying to pin everything on Nana when all she was doing was doing the best she could with what she was given, and I think that's unfair and stupid.

I haven't been following you for long, but I've seen your posts for quite a while, so I actually do respect your opinion, which is why I am asking you.

I really don't like the way Horikoshi writes women as a whole in this particular story, and I don't know if that's a track record of his or if this is his only work or whatever, I don't really pay attention to that sort of thing. And that's a whole other post for another time. But I just find it really weird that everyone seems to be coming after Nana while simultaneously defending her son, when her own son is the one who is committing these atrocities long after she is dead?I find it very weird indeed.

Sorry for the long post, I have far too many feelings about MHA.

First of all, sorry for taking so long to answer and thank you for taking the time to write this ask 💜

Nana Shimura is one of my favorite bnha female characters because of how complex and flawed she is!!!

Here's the short answer:

Regardless of the actions of the people around her, Nana Shimura had a responsibility with her son as a mother and with the world as a hero.

We all have to make decisions without knowing the outcomes. That's life. It doesn't absolve us from the consequences of our actions. It also doesn't mean we are evil, but simply human. It is in our nature to make mistakes and make bad decisions sometimes.

It seems extremely harsh to judge a woman for doing her best against an enemy that was so much stronger than her, but that's the whole point of writing a character like Nana. There are no easy answers.

What was the correct thing to do instead of abandoning Kotaro? How could she have won against AFO? How could one (1) woman do both and do it well?

Nana isn't responsible for what Kotaro did so many years after she left him, but she did leave him. She had a son and then left him because she needed to be a hero. We don't know the exact circumstances of how she had Kotaro, but many fans ask why she had him if she knew her hero job would put him at such risk. Or why she chose to be a hero over being his mother.

Logically, we know it was to save the world. It's just that her choice isn't black and white. She caused a lot of pain in doing what she did, even if she contributed to a lot of joy.

AFO defeating her was inevitable. Like her OFA predecessors, they were alone on their journey. See, it took Deku an army to fight AFO and his influence.

There's also the fact that Nana took Toshinori in after she left Kotaro. Of course she only did it because the kid meant to sacrifice himself for the cause just like her, but it doesn't erase the parallel between Toshinori and Kotaro. One got to enjoy her company until she died because he had the right conditions to be her heir while the other lost her forever because she loved him.

Sadly, her love didn't save Kotaro and didn't make All Might's life easier.

Any person with responsibilities is a person with failures. That rings true for every single bnha hero and villain.

The way I see it, people either have a reason to hate her or not.

Some dislike her 'cause she left Kotaro. Some are unreadable in their judgment and hate her just because she is a woman. Some just dislike her general writing or don't enjoy her type of character.

At the end of the day, Nana Shimura is still a tremendous female character. She inspired All Might himself (he who is hailed as the best hero of all times). She faced AFO alone and she died mocking him with a smile. She sacrificed her happiness and all the things dear to her in order to save the world. Nana passed down OFA and kept hope alive in a time full of violence and chaos. She is one of the best female pro-heroes to have existed and the only female OFA user. He was freaking jacked with muscle because her quirk was float.

Her flaws depict her greatness and the weight on her shoulders. Nana Shimura, everyone.

[bunji-enthusiast]

I haven't been passionate about the thing's I've been trying to write lately, but if there's anyone on here who wants to yap with me about the possibilities and scenarios on the events of gun grave gore and how reader can coincide with their involvement is welcome to chat me up!

The excursions made to eradicate SEED were continuously debilitating, but the end result was no less worth it to see how beautifully the people and the environment affected can recover. Your body just felt positively worn out after the thousands of hours of working – well you were exaggerating of course, but you sometimes couldn’t help but think how Brandon (or otherwise, Grave) was thinking and feeling about it all. 

Surely, even with a body that he truly tries his hardest to keep clean and inhabit, that he is taking nearly the brunt of everything after all. How can he continue to keep moving? You had no idea, but his will to move forward had in turn motivated you to do the same. Even alongside Mika, the young woman was incredibly amazing and strong despite all that she no doubt experienced. 

She never deserved it of course, Mika should never have to pay for being born in the circumstances where the empire of the underworld suddenly fell apart so soon. All she wants to do is help, and in a way – reminded you so much of her daddy, Caldwell. He was quite the kind and paternal man even in spite of the bloody crimes committed, just like him she will do everything in her power to ensure the betterment for the interests of everyone involved. You simply wonder when the day comes that you will fully exterminate the SEED completely, one can only guess-supposedly. 

Letting out a begrudging sigh you walked back to the airship, rolling your neck and popping your still-sore bones. At the back, opening up the entrance to the ship greeting you was Cheni Angel. She greeted you with a wave of her crystalline hand, almost reminding you of the unfortunate circumstances. Goddamn, she was better than you. By now you would’ve lost yourself to the streets, it was rather in good health that her grandfather had been so kind to take care of her and keep her out of dangerous hands. 

What you would’ve given for circumstances like hers. 

“How’d it go?” She asked, albeit lightheartedly. You had just returned from one of your many missions, and you ended up destroying a SEED refinery, there were many that procured existence throughout Scumland and amongst other cities unsurprisingly. You shook your head with an exasperated sigh. 

“Rather okay i guess,” You replied, walking up the angled steel platform adjacent to the form of the plane itself. “But my back just hurts like hell.” You added, brows furrowed as a whine escaped your lips. 

“I know, sorry.” The blonde whispered, almost an apologetic seething leaving her lips. She didn’t mean to act so prudent, or whatever the word may be, but this was good work on the way – useful for future circumstances. Cheni Angel knew, and for sure, that this was going to be good for the last of them. For all of us, and for you alone. Her heterochromic colored eyes scanned the razed environment, seemingly for someone else alone. 

You turned your head, then sat down on the cold-metal on the opened plane doorway of the ship. It was easy, you knew whom she was looking for. He was quite the advent.

“I met up with Grave halfway through the destruction of the third refinery in this city,” You began, almost trailing off before you finally added — “He shouldn’t be long now.”

“I see.” She responded, crystalline hand folded into a fist and resting on her left hip. “I swear, he’s so slow sometimes.”

You shrugged with a reproachful laugh, yet noting the clear truth in her words. Brandon without a doubt was quite the heavyweight, but the entire drawback is the slow speed he has. He could be a hell of a lot faster without his coffin, though it’s entirely a powerful weapon on its own from what you’ve understood had saved his life multiple times. 

Sincerely a very dangerous man, despite being undead. 

Just when will the chains finally be broken?

[badlydrawndoc-scratch]

don't really have time or energy to draw this right now so. you're getting it in writing instead

It's not your birthday. At best, you would call it a day that someone who was you once was familiar with.

One that he didn't like either. Sure, you'd pretend to be him for a bit, accept some birthday wishes for him. But it wasn't your birthday. Not to you, at least. You think they all understand, to a point. Dirk does, at least.

That was why you weren't prepared to humour this conversation.

TG: this is hal isnt it

TG: not mad jst

TG: how do i say this?

TT: It seems there's a fairly large chance you're accusing me of not being myself, based off of a totally bullshit statistic.

TT: Care to elaborate?

TG: if u want me to tell u happy birthday 2 i can lmao

TG: dont hafta be weird about impersonatin dirk for that!!!

TT: I...

TT: Sorry. Holdon.

TT: There we go.

TT: As I was about to say, it's not technically my birthday. It's Dirk's. I wasn't even created today.

TT: I'll relay your well-wishes to him whenever he returns. Don't need to ask me about it.

TG: hmm nah i think i like havin' a hold of u for this

TG: if ur like

TG: not REALLY him

TG: but have his memories and shit

TG: todays ur day too

TG: so happy b-day! im not takin' that back either!

TT: ...

TT: I should go.

TT: Dirk probably won't like me monopolizing his account, even if he isn't here.

TT: Thanks, I guess.

You log off without another word, back in your sort-of space. Maybe you'll check in with Jane in a bit. Maybe you'll go through the internet for no apparent reason.

You can't say that that made you feel human. Or that it made you feel better, but... it made you think. It made you feel something. That was a start, right?

---

A firm series of slaps to the back of the cue-ball/head drags you out of your reverie. It's Itchy, hand poised to continue slapping you if you don't acknowledge him.

"Apologies. I must have became lost in thought," you begin, "as tends to happen with the omniscient. That said, there are better ways to get my attention."

Itchy shrugs and tells you he doesn't give a shit. He was just the fastest. The Felt needs you for somethin'. Somethin' he can't tell you about.

"Vague and somewhat sarcastic as always, Itchy. Just get to the point."

He just tells you you're no fun, before half dragging you out of one of your many studies. The whole manor is technically your study. But especially this one.

Itchy only bothers to take you about halfway, to where Crowbar is standing and waiting. He hardly says goodbye before dashing off to who-knows-where, probably to cause trouble somewhere else.

You pretend you don't know what's being hidden from you. You could figure out, and in the back of your mind you have figured out. But surprise is an emotion you like trying to fake.

Sometimes you wish you weren't faking it.

Crowbar walks up to you, with some off-handed comment about how he didn't expect Itchy to get you there on time. Or at all. He can never tell. Nonetheless, he's slightly more gentle when he offers you his hand, like he's not about to effectively drag you across an entire manor.

You don't remember the last time you've had actual contact with someone in a way that wasn't violent. You're not sure it's ever happened, honestly. (In reality, you know that isn't true. You were an indigoblood once, you recall. It's not as clear as the other memories, though.)

Crowbar's hand is felted, unsurprisingly, almost like a pool table. Again. Unsurprising. It's never surprising, but you commit the texture to memory anyway, all but ignoring what he's actually talking about. Something about a celebration.

He says they got the table stickball table fixed, and your attention is drawn again.

"Just call it a pool table."

He says he doesn't feel like it. It's a ball you hit with a stick on a table. Ain't a pool in sight. You agree, silently. The Alternian names for things were as foreign as they were ingrained; you knew them as much as you didn't know them.

Eventually, you're led into what you believe is the living room, and Crowbar lets go of your hand. You don't immediately adjust to the lack of feeling in your hand, almost like you were... severely touch-starved, actually, or something.

That's ridiculous, of course. You aren't technically alive, even if you're not as "soon to die" as you once were.

Someone, you think it could be Quarters, explains that all the Felt knows it isn't technically your birthday, and that it's only such by a few tangents. (You mentally add on that you weren't even created today).

But, Quarters adds, you've been stuck in a rut of sorts for a while. It wasn't really anyone's idea, he says. But it was agreed that it might get you feeling better for a while.

And, for once, you feel surprise. You never thought that they actually cared. Or even noticed. You're just their boss, of course. You're hardly even there.

(You have spent the past few months only leaving the Manor when you absolutely have to.)

You can't say it makes you feel alive. Or better, really. But it made you think. It made you feel something.

And, as you're dragged to play table stickball with Trace and Sawbuck, you decide that's a start.

[automatonwritingproject]

What are your main inspirations when writing your stories?

Since I've only just sorted out how tags work, this could very well be the first people hear of my writing project. If that is the case, hello there! I don't want to be taken seriously at all, and my work is completely open to the public domain, and to public forum of critique, it's why I'm here. I don't want to be arrogant and say that I get my writing from a set list of places, I'm sure i've subconsciously drawn on a lot of things that have just invaded my brain and stayed there. For this project, my biggest influences have just been the stuff I've been indulging in while writing. A lot of the hallucinatory stuff with the automaton's memories came from Miracle Musical's Hawaii Pt: II, especially when touching on themes of insanity.

Furthermore, a lot of the emotion i'm trying to portray within the automaton comes from Cowboy Beebop, obviously Spike Spiegel in that show, but also the show's governing philosophy of the past in general, lingering on it, and the danger that comes from that. Linking this to that show's influences, the automaton is almost certainly inspired by the "man with no name" type western tropes of a soft-spoken cowboy lawmaker, and i plan to touch on this and gently lampshade it in my next short story.

It's also just been a weird period in my life, so a lot of stuff about psychology and psychoanalysis has been creeping into my vocabulary (you might notice if you read my stories that I rely on the word "subconscious" as a crutch waaaaay too much) which has driven a lot of the analysis within the work of the automaton's inner workings- I plan to explore it with a lot less flowery language as I have been doing in the next part, not because I don't think the flowery language has it's place, it most certainly does, and the automaton viewing his own brain with this verbose poetry is something worth pointing out, but there is still a cold diagnosis to be displayed here, and this won't be the last time I write about the automaton's brain "acting up". I can't lie, I love drama and theatre studies, so expect a lot more allusions to greek tragedies as this goes on- because ultimately, Aristotelian unities aside, the story of the automaton as I tell it is deeply tragic.

My initial prompt with this writing project was a sort of light deconstruction of Garth Ennisean and Alan Moorean anti-heroes; while I love and enjoy stories like the boys, punisher and watchmen, I sometimes get the impression that while trying to build characters that are morally grey and have more than 2 dimensions, writers can sometimes fall into the traps of creating irredeemable monsters that we are still supposed to follow and relate to. Ennis and Moore both handled it very well, but writing has been in an era of people trying to emulate them, and make comics "edgy". So, I wanted to contrast this by creating a character who started out as an archetypal "anti-hero", but who would, over the course of a full story, develop into a genuine person with connections, and not just be someone living for one purpose, in the case of the automaton, his revenge. Expect that sort of theme to carry on.

Finally, most of the idea for the automaton's amnesia started with Disco Elysium. Disco has always been for me a stand-out story, and as well as the intense dystopian worldbuilding, I like to think that a lot of that game's central ideology can be seen bearing it's head in my writing- while my story is still in it's infancy, I am a committed supporter of the ideas Disco is trying to get across, without naming it directly. Disco, Cowboy Bebop and Hawaii Pt: II are all for me stories that I use as influence purely because they focus entirely on the past, and I want my story to generally move towards the direction of the moral being that the past doesn't define us. The automaton doesn't have to be Harvey Moore, but he also doesn't have to reject that person entirely. Life, memories and whatever state of existence we find ourselves in is entirely dependant on what we make of it. There is always room for improvement. Nobody has to stay an anti-hero.

Thank you if you've stayed through my ramblings. I hope if you find my stories you find them as enjoyable to read as I find them to make. I don't particularly mind if you even like them, just the knowledge that someone can see what I enjoy doing and have an opinion is enough to show to me that there's a good reason to keep going.

Regrettably, this answer is longer than my last story. Don't worry, I'm capping my next one at two-thousand words minimum. I've been slacking on length.

[so-long-soldier28]

Idk if anyone's ever asked u this but what would ur life in tvd be like?! Including ur family ,career, friends, species etc lmao

oh ho ho, so this is certainly a thing i've considered

as someone who maladaptive daydreams all day long (whenever i'm not writing basically), trust me when i say i have an entire life planned out

in fact, the things i write frequently represent these daydreams, except i have an OC for them, whereas for writing, i am committed to the 'x reader' way

✨ including my readers in my world of delusion & fantasy ✨

but onwards and upwards…

species

first, I feel like being a heretic would be so fucking cool

like… vampire with witch powers, c'mon now… being the underdog your whole life and then rising to be the most powerful, it's gotta be redeeming

plus seems so fun

but personally, I think I'd stick to being just a witch, and I have a solid reason for this

now, being a vampire would be cool, too (and honestly I need to write more vampire reader fics), because I absolutely love the bloodthirsty, badassery of vampires

so if not a witch (bc I love the thought of being able to do magic), I would go with vamp second

I still hate the TVDU wolves. literally all of them. as someone who watches Teen Wolf now, I would LOVE to be one of those wolves, but as for TVDU, I still HATE those guys

being a hybrid doesn't sound too bad, although then both Klaus and Tyler would be all up in my business all the time, and that sounds awful

so no wolfishness for me

for species, I'd be a witch, but then I get turned into a vampire in my mid-20s

career

I need to eat, so I need to work

idk how anybody except Matt got by without a job

and like Matt, I work at the Mystic Grill, but I'm a little older than them, so I can bartend (even tho underage Matt does too)

I was going to Whitmore College, but dropped out (like I did lmao)

friends

Mystic Falls gang but in varying degrees of friendliness

most with Caroline, loving her bubbly personality; drift away from Elena when she gets tied up with the Salvatores; drift from Bonnie when she starts dating Jeremy, then drift further after the Kai debacle

also, the Originals

Kol has the title of the best friend; Bex is close, too

sometimes I'm so much of a Kolvina shipper that I can't split Kol & Davina apart, even tho I'm in love with Kol, too

Klaus is a frenemy; I like him when he's not murderous. he can be loyal when he wants to be, same with Elijah.

in fact, I liked Elijah in s2-era, but was also a little afraid. my crush fizzled out the moment I saw Kol, but then she & him became good friends instead (with both)

hooked up with Kol once or twice when he still lived in MF

friendly with Jo, but she's not really having it once I get with Kai

same with Luke and Liv... friendly, but Liv hates me after the merge

circa-season 7, I want to be friends with Nora & Mary Louise, but the MF gang works hard at keeping me away from them

amidst the chaos, I manage to get my way and befriend them anyway, earning their trust by being so close to Kai

when I die, I'm given blood by Nora, like in the fic I wrote recently, or Damon, who likes me enough to keep me alive and knows Kai would slaughter him if he ever came back and found out

seasons 7-8, I'm very much teaming on both sides, friends with MF gang and heretics, which is frustrating to MF gang (minus Caroline, who has become somewhat reliant on heretics for help with her pregnancy. + she always understands me anyway.)

frenemies

Tyler and Matt get their own category, bc I don't hate them, but they certainly piss me off

Tyler's just annoying in general, and I hate how he treats Caroline while he's away hybrid-ing

he gets better in s6 when he's trying to impress Liv & Caroline is over him. still not a friend, but less of an enemy

Matt, on the other hand, is complicated

he was my way into the supernatural bc we worked together

he had trouble keeping it from me bc vampires would always show up at the grill, and one time, he forgot I wasn't in the circle and ranted about vamps and wolves before he remembered

he and the gang still try to keep me out of it, despite my knowledge

but that all fails when Kol is undaggered, finds me alone, and we become friends

the fact that he actively hates vampires while hooking up with Rebekah bothers me, which causes tension between us

but he's stronger than he looks and loyal if he trusts you, so I try to keep him on my good side

family

my TVDU OC is the same OC I've had since I was 13 that I've slightly adapted for different fandoms

in TVDU, my parents are divorced; mom moved away, and toxic dad lives about 2 hours away while I'm in college

I hide whenever he comes to MF to visit

occasionally, my parents are dead like everyone else's

sometimes, though, I'm the older sister of other characters, but that varies per daydream

sometimes, I'm Tyler's older sister who is actually a wolf

triggered my curse young in life by accident, but didn't tell Tyler until he had triggered his own

sometimes, I'm even Matt's older sister, and he still spends every waking minute trying to keep me out of the supernatural

I've also used the Salvatore sister storyline with Kol, and Gilbert cousin one for both Kol and Kai

dating life

Kai, ofc

MF gang tried sooo hard to us apart, especially bc I'm a witch, but they lost that battle quickly

couldn't keep me from work, so whenever he'd come in for a drink and I was bartending, we'd talk

gained his trust through listening & he gained mine when I let him siphon

Matt and Damon first to realize we're friends, and know there's nothing they can do

fall into a relationship quickly

either beg Damon to spare him at the end of s6, or beg for his life in s8

had a crush on s2-era Elijah, but did a 180* and fell for Kol instead when he was undaggered

used as Kol bait when Caroline was Klaus bait, but despite a few hook-ups, never actually dated

became close friends & adore his relationship with Davina in NOLA

visit him there or wherever he is every so often

[I honestly never built a solid storyline around being with Kol or Elijah. (Elijah was my first favorite ever, and Kol's my second fave now next to Kai.) I entertain a world of delulu with Kol sometimes, but it lacks foundation.]

basically, he never died (obvs) and I move to NOLA with him (and he never dies there, too)

but I love both witch & vamp Kols, and both their actors, and I really should dedicate more time to delulu daydreams with them 😅

so, now that I've rambled...

species: witch, until Kai's death, then i become a vampire. however, if Kai doesn't die after s6, neither of us turn. (sometimes I'm feelin' heretic-y, sometimes not, what can I say?)

career: working at Mystic Grill; at Whitmore College for two years, but dropped out

friends: Caroline, Bonnie, & Elena first. Stefan & Damon post season 1 when Damon mellows out and I learn to trust Stefan. Kol & Rebekah, and I'm okay with the rest eventually (minus Finn).

family: divorced parents; mom moved and I stay away from my dad

frenemies: Matt & Tyler. s2 Klaus & Elijah. Finn, because I know he was mistreated by Klaus, much like Kol, and I want to be friends, but then he tries to kill his whole family, so I don't feel bad anymore. Then when Finn killed Kol in NOLA, he became a straight-up enemy. Also, I tolerate Alaric, but he annoys me daily in s6-8-era.

~~~

If anyone outside of this site read a single one of these sentences, I would be committed. I love fandoms / fanfiction, because all this stuff is perfectly normal to us. I love us as a community. Anyway, this was super fun to answer! 🥰 I'm sorry it took me so long!