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hwaightme · 1 year

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Motivate me

THIS IS 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI FOR CAPTAIN'S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut) (masterlist)

📝 pairing: postgrad!hongjoong x afab!undergrad!reader 📝 genre: smut, fluff if you squint, psychology 📝 summary: every week, you met with your tutor, Kim Hongjoong. And every week, you told yourself to let go of your fantasies. But what if just a dive into self-determination was all what was needed to stop the hour from running out? 📝 wordcount: 10.2k 📝 warnings/tags: MINORS DNI, language, teasing, references to psychology studies, mention of losing one's mind, fantasising, day dreaming, university setting, lecture hall, mention of tests, hj fluctuating between hard and soft dom, tutor hj, lmk if anything! 📝 taglist: @doom-fics @layzfeelit @acciocriativity @izuijin @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 📝 a/n: Good time of day~ sometimes one wonders if Freud would be a fanfic writer, sometimes one is just in the mode of 'head empty only Hongjoong'. Thank you so much for your love and support, biggest hugs

📝 nsfw tags: fingering, overstimulation (a bit), edging, sub!reader, dom!hj, a tid-bit of pain play - smacking/slapping/stepping on someone, exhibitionism(???), public sex, protected sex, a lot of petnames (sweetheart, pet, baby girl), sir, slave, degradation, humiliation, pet/master and slave/master dynamic

The ticking of a clock from a bygone era, clinging onto the wall by a rusty nail, a sword of Damocles over head of any professor to use the blackboards above which it was hanging. The distant shouts and laughter of students outside the lecture hall, enthusiastically recounting their weekend plans even though it was still the middle of the week– every attempt to erase the gruelling hours of study. The soft golden sunrays, not caring for the half-closed venetian blinds over the windows occupying nearly the entire side of the room, sneaking into the room and dancing over your skin as you cupped your head in your hand and leaned onto the desk.

You were here again, waiting to get your fix; a habit you could not quit. There was no real purpose for you to be meeting with Kim Hongjoong, revising the same material over and over until you could recount it in your sleep. You were doing well enough in your studies now, had other plans, other interests, and yet all the roads still led you right back to the psychology department building. Its carved mahogany pillars, antique tomes overfilling the grand shelves in the main library, the intricate plaster design in the myriad of maze-like, marble tile corridors. Your feet moved on their own accord, leading you to the same hall, again and again, hoping for some miracle.

The way you and Hongjoong had met could not be any more standard and uninspiring. It was the middle of the fall semester. You were an undergraduate student having trouble with a particular module, he was a postgraduate student conducting research with your professor as his supervisor, you asked for help, were appointed to Hongjoong as a tutee… and the rest was history. Truth be told, you had been terrified of having him help you study initially – from the few students who he had agreed to work with in the past, you had heard that he was strict, demanding, impatient and near despotic. He had a reputation of a judgemental man who counted down the seconds until he could free himself of the vermin that were his juniors.

How you wanted to laugh at this severe prejudice now! After the initial session where you two had established ground rules and expectations, and you had the bright idea of preparing a concise collection of syllabus requirements together with known assessment timings, it was as though someone had flipped a switch inside the young man. Hongjoong had perked up at your interest and had gotten rid of his cold demeanour once you had managed to remain proactive and engaged all throughout his ramblings – no easy feat when discussing human development and cognition.

And now, with two terms having passed by and the end of your academic journey approaching, you were still meeting. Hongjoong seemed to have an innate talent for thinking of something new to discuss with you – just so another session could take place. You strongly doubted that what was happening between you could still be considered a mere tutorship, however; While the core of your conversations remained locked in the realm of psychology and human behaviour analysis, the subtle nuances and implied deviations of meaning had taken on an entirely different palette.

The distance between you was continuously being tested, with a fleeting caress here, a playful touch there, but never anything beyond that. Even though you, supposedly, were training to be masters of understanding the human psyche, you were struggling, or perhaps more accurately, afraid to decipher each other’s intentions, instead leaving it to wishful thinking and irretrievable opportunities lost. Your heart remained in the paradise of the hours spent with Hongjoong but hoped that time could freeze. The clock on the wall was showing five minutes past five – quite unlike him to be late.

Part of you wondered if it was because, finally, Hongjoong began to grow tired of these sessions, of you. Perhaps those students were right after all, and you had merely been seeing what you wanted to see, falling into the trap of confirmation bias. But that hypothesis had no anecdotal evidence to support it – he was an ‘exact’ man, arriving and leaving on the dot regardless of any circumstances. Aside from staying over time once last term, resulting in him physically stiffening around you and being jittery for the next few meetings. You took it as anxiety or need for order, projecting what you had covered in class onto him.

The man in question was gazing at you through the window in the door, having spent the last few minutes trying to collect his thoughts. After having spent the last two terms in torturous denial, he could not find strength in himself to hold back anymore. And that started with this damn hour. It was like a shackle, constraining the two of you to a particular routine and forcing you to remain going round and round in circles. Hongjoong figured that you probably even struggled to ideate meeting him outside of these bounds, remembering the barely audible gasp and widened eyes when you accidentally bumped into him a couple of weeks ago. It probably had meant nothing to you, but to him it turned into a time bomb mechanism. He needed to do something, and fast, before the chances to act ran out entirely.

But look who was talking - at first opportunity he would jolt out of his seat and guide you to the door. He did not dare entertain the thought of going any further, for he knew, if he did so, there would be no going back. Such a move – out of line, and out of the allocated time, had served as the beginning of his highly unprofessional interest in you. That additional half an hour, last term in mid-December, poring over a textbook, one that he was not even able to read in the blur of his emotion and acute sensitivity towards your warmth, nearly right against his cheek, those thirty minutes had spelled his personal disaster.

Hongjoong had never expected to be anything but indifferent towards you. In the grand scheme of things, you could have been just a passing figure. But life had other plans and led him right into the trap that you had not realised you set. First, you came to be who he thought of when he worked - he grew accustomed to filtering papers and studies through a lens of what you could find interesting and relevant, inadvertently leading him to making double the efforts - for the both of you. Next, you transformed into his daydream, consuming his rest and innocuous musings - on multiple occasions he had caught himself contemplating what your preferences were between this or that, or whether you went to see the play you had told him about last week... He thought it would stop at that, alas, the control you had over his mind could not be contained. From day to night, you haunted him, your tasteful attire mentally exterminated by the unbridled desire that consumed him, from early echoes in-situ to hurricanes that left him shuddering in the privacy of his sin. Hongjoong was driving himself insane with you, and he was exhausted of not knowing whether you felt the same way about him.

There were signs, of course, hell, even the pretty little skirt and thigh high boots you chose to wear today were screaming at him and leaving him breathless. But this was all elements of uncertainty, at least until he was to make it the one goal to carry out his series of experiments and prove to both of you that you had long passed the stage of wanting. To one another, you had transformed into an unavoidable need.

It was another three minutes until he finally deemed it appropriate to press down on the door handle, and make his presence known. He expected the same reaction from you as always - a flutter of the eyelashes as you raised your head, how you studied him as though you were committing him to memory, and those soft, plump lips forming a coy smile in greeting. These traditionally insignificant gestures made Hongjoong go into overdrive and fantasise a totally different agenda for the tutorial. Maybe you knew what you were doing, maybe you didn't. But either way, he desperately wanted to become the only one to control those expressions, that inner world you only revealed to him in teasing snippets. Hongjoong simply wanted to own it.

“Did you read the papers I recommended?” It was something of a ritual at this point: he asked a question, you answered, then silence overtaking and lasting from the first exchange to the moment he sat right beside you in the same row, and then you began sharing musings on whatever topic of the week was.

Your head snapped up as soon as you heard the familiar dulcet tone. Finally, Hongjoong had decided to make an appearance, you had feigned ignorance of his lingering form, allowing him to loiter in the corridors while you took in the blissful ambiance of the quiet lecture hall, and considered possible reasons behind his silly actions. So, in a split second, you decided, if he was to be starting the session in an odd manner, it was only your duty to continue.

“Why were you late, Doctor Kim?” you asked, coquettish, emphasising the title that Hongjoong was in the process of trying to attain. He attempted to convince you on a number of occasions that you had no grounds to call him that, but the suppressed look of pride that graced his features, even if just due to the sense of superiority, made your little joke worth it.

The question made Hongjoong freeze in place, right at the entrance to your row. His grip on the leather briefcase he carried almost everywhere tightened, and he readjusted his glasses as a way to distract and calm himself. Evidently, you were onto him, seeing as you decided to veer off-script too. Had you been watching without him realising? With all his might he fought his darkening expression and stalked towards you without saying a single word in return. As he flipped the cushioned seat down and set the case on the elongated table attached to the next line of chairs, you unabashedly continued to follow his every move with your eyes.

Hongjoong’s look was what could be described as a simple elegance. Dressed from head to toe in black, each article of clothing fit immaculately, and highlighted his toned form in just the right places. The thin cashmere turtleneck, together with what you could only assume to be a tailormade blazer, perfectly accentuated his torso, and guided the vision from his delicate hands to his neck, and finally, to his bespectacled face. Effortlessly styled onyx locks made him appear every bit a gentleman, while the studded earrings hinted at a subliminal rebelliousness. His remarkable sense of taste, along with the way in which he could steal all your attention, were timeless truths.

Only once he was settled, his tablet set aside and stylus in one hand, knee almost brushing against yours as he turned a little ways towards you, did he recall what you had said, wondering whether he should let you keep calling him that, as a pleasant formality. In spite of the appeal that the notion had, Hongjoong chose to not entertain the thought any further, and instead let his discreet glances trail down your body, landing on the edge of the mini skirt where it had ridden up, only a little, but enough to give space for creative thought.

“I had some… business to attend to.” He could not think of anything better, but did not want the quiet to last any longer than it had already been. You were polite enough to not keep this particular conversation going, humming in return as you brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

As you did so, Hongjoong caught the scent of your perfume, his favourite, which left him intoxicated. The floral notes with deliciously sweet undertones dealt permanent damage and taught him to search for you whenever there would be as much as a hint of anything similar. He bit the inside of his cheek as he watched you uncross and slide one leg over the other again. He was at his limit with you, this weekly hour having become a test in its own right.

Now that he was so close, the hall shrunk to a tiny suffocating chamber, where it was only you and him, and the setting sun lazily dragging across the sky outside. You had a tendency to forget just how quickly time could pass when with Hongjoong and were cursing the almost fifteen minutes that had already disappeared. It was easy to form an image in your mind of him showing up later and later, until he would appear one minute before the end, and then not at all. Perhaps, you needed to start getting over your private teacher, but that was definitely difficult to start when you could sense his scrutiny – his special focus on your thighs did not go unnoticed, a win in your outfit selection books. His overwhelmingly tantalising presence. His hand suddenly tapping your shoulder, not remaining there for as long as you would like.

“So, about that reading?” Hongjoong tilted his head, and smiled softly, though his eyes held something unreadable.

“Of course.” Your voice had inadvertently dropped to a whisper, making the young man’s wandering observations cease immediately, snapping right back to you. After a short pause, he cleared his throat, and forced himself to steer back to the standard collection of lines you had abided by for long enough.

“Then let’s get started?” he wished the phrase would come out less as a question, but for today, or well, tonight in particular, he felt the need to ask for affirmation; subconsciously, he was testing the waters. “Explain to me, what is self-determination theory, and who are some prominent figures that helped develop it?”

You smoothed the pages of the notebook laid open right before you.

"The macro theory of self-determination, which has first been actively developed and brought to our modern understanding by Ryan and Deci, explores and evaluates the outcomes of actions related to human agency. This theory proposes three basic psychological needs, namely autonomy, competence, and relatedness, and introduces a relationship between the satisfaction of said needs, intrinsic motivation, and the regulation of extrinsic motivation.”

You kept your voice as steady as you could, reciting the passages you had highlighted while reviewing the material. Hongjoong was listening intently, nodding along to every phrase, humming in approval as you halted. His stylus remained hovering above the tablet, not touching it a single time. Before, he would litter page after page with critiques, ranging from semantics and your choice of phrasing to the way in which you would reference relevant works. The list of adjustments had been endless, but instead of deterring you, like it had done for your peers, it ignited a foreign motivation. You wanted to prove that you were better. That, give you one piece of advice, you would move ten steps forward and soar. This drive had been your saving grace as it helped you forget prior failure. Prevented unnecessary worry. Along with the fervent wish to impress your tutor came the consistency and dedication to the subject necessary for you to pass with flying colours. In a way, Hongjoong had made you. Crafted who you needed to be in the span of a few weeks. And permanently etched himself into your psyche.

The blank state of the page was a testament to just how intertwined you were, tied together so tight you could barely breathe. You would not be surprised if you moved in synchronicity, and your hearts beat at the same rhythm. All the usual words had already been spoken, leaving behind an electrifying atmosphere that needed a new, symbiotic approach. A fresh start. An unspoken agreement seemed to pass between you and Hongjoong, as with one final spin of the pen-like accessory, he returned it to the built in holder in the casing, and clicked the tablet locked. You paid unnecessarily close attention to the darkening of the screen, until you realised that the man beside you was doing the exact same, and you accidentally locked eyes in the reflection. The fraying edge of your notebook’s cover was suddenly beyond interesting, and you darted to fixate on the miniature tears. You demonstratively picked at the faux leather binding to expose a tiny portion of the cardboard underneath, and waited for Hongjoong to continue. He was yet to comment, but took it upon himself to stop the nervous motion by placing his hand over yours, and lightly shaking his head.

The innocent gesture, gone as fast as it had happened, did the opposite of soothing you – instead of the ticking of the clock, you were listening to the adrenaline-fuelled heartbeat, a staccato resonating in the eardrums. All you were hoping for was that you were not prudish enough to let blush coat your cheeks from a mere few seconds of contact. But your yearning was slowly becoming more and more of a problem, now that his leg was pressed against yours. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

Hongjoong remained outwardly unperturbed, though the same could not be said for his inner world – that slight reaction from you, one that he was able to detect only because he was searching for it, was enough to set him ablaze and reeling. He needed to slow down if he wanted this to go according to plan. The now continuous touch was enough for the time being - discreet enough to not be outwardly suspicious, but if his investigation and desires were to align, a respectable next step.

“Good. Very good, now let’s take that apart, shall we?” he praised, and leaned on the table with his elbow, facing you. You were curious about what exactly did he actually want to take apart. “You mentioned human agency. Care to elaborate on what that means?”

An instinctive reach for your notes – a desperate cry for support from your brain that was currently going haywire, was cut short by a soft reprimand from your not quite tutor, not quite something more. He encouraged you to be a bit more patient, stating as a matter of factly that this was something you should be able to recollect without assistance. Maybe if you were being assessed by anyone else, just not him. Hongjoong was visually ravaging you, more and more of you, with each passing minute, and you were afraid that soon enough, you would lose control. You wanted to allow yourself to melt under his gaze, to sink into his momentary touches and feel more than just the enticing heat emanating from his body.

Back and forth, the two of you exchanged one fact after another, not once veering off into any other territory except self-development theory. However, within it, your communication had transformed into something a lot less bland for your excited tastes. In a brazen manner, Hongjoong navigated you through a myriad of themes, maintaining a level of seductive ambiguity that was sufficient to keep you guessing and riled up.

It was an odd stroke of luck, how you had been assigned to the one teaching assistant and postgraduate student who was your favourite eye candy during the lectures. He had agreed to attend only a few in the very beginning of the series, since he much preferred to follow his own rhythm, but had stolen your focus at once. Following a disastrous mock test, it was only common practice for your department to assign you to a senior buddy – even if they initially protested and explicitly, in your presence, rejected the deal. Had that been hurtful? Only a little, dissipating in a blink, especially since it led you to where you were now. With forty-five minutes having past, breathing shallowing out into haphazard gulps, and conversation deeply dedicated to extrinsic and intrinsic motivation.

Hongjoong currently had one arm resting on the back of your chair, almost embracing you, and the other gliding with a pen over your notebook, sketching out the diagram of the self-determination continuum from memory. While he was concentrating, you were indulging in the closeness, no longer as engaged in what he was explaining – you had shutdown some time ago, choosing to admit your fervid attraction towards him, at least to yourself. It was comical how you still could hum in agreement at all the right times, nod, or tilt your head. A couple of times you had even mustered a pout, which had made Hongjoong noticeably still.

“…Y/N.” he roughly called you out of your daydream, eyebrow raised. He was obviously unamused, but you could see something contradictory between his actions and the picture painted in his dark orbs. You could almost believe that he had been waiting for a slip up like this, an opportunity to scold you, to really teach you a lesson. “You know I don’t like it when you misbehave and do not listen.”

He could have used passive terms, different pronouns, phrased the comment differently, but no. This was Hongjoong we were talking about. The Hongjoong with his eyes glazed over, resisting the impulse to pounce on you then and there, hanging on by a thread of professional theory. There was not much other proof that he required from you, as you were obvious enough. It did give him a level of satisfaction to know just how severely he could affect you, however, his charms turned out to be a double-edged sword. The more responsive you became, the more intensely his desire resonated.

“But I was…” you trailed off, arguing just for the sake of it.

“Then repeat what I just said.”

“Uhm, that the motivation is regulated by means of punishment on one side,” you slowed your speech, raising one hand to point at the left side of the unfinished diagram with a perfectly manicured nail, “and inherent satisfaction on the other.” Your tone exposed your goal of making the explanation into a euphemism and made Hongjoong bite his lower lip. You were catching up to him in your guesswork, weren’t you?

You yearned for Hongjoong to act before you did something indecent. So, you eagerly played along. If he wanted you to be a little more needy, you were more than happy to oblige and act clueless. Anything for this hour to become an eternity.

You felt a hand being placed on your exposed thigh, between your skirt and boot, then slowly, tentatively, it moved up, closer and closer to the checkered fabric. Fingers flittered across your skin and made it under the material, stopping only right at the sensation of having found the concealed lace. As his other hand let go of the pen to cup your chin and direct you to meet his darkened, sultry gaze, you let out a soft gasp, and shifted your hips just a little, to highlight to yourself that he could have you right where he wanted, and you were ready to beg for it.

“Not quite. But of course, this is something you want to focus on, you…” he hesitated to continue the sentence, choosing to prolong the silence, and keep you frozen in place.

“You… what?” you tried to coax the inevitable change out of him. This limbo could not be left to remain between you.

“…need…” he forced out, fighting himself. Holding back. You felt the pressure on your jaw weaken, so you took to nudging his thumb out of position, making it graze your lips.

“Need?” you repeated after him and waited for a continuation. After a second, ten, thirty, you realised that Hongjoong was peeking at the omnipresent timekeeper above the blackboards.

It was the hour. It had not even crossed your mind, since normally it would be the duty of an obnoxiously loud alarm on Hongjoong’s phone to alert you. But today, it was dead silent. He was so unlike the tutor you had interacted with before, but so like the man who you wanted to belong to. You tuned into the ticking and the heat building up inside you. Leaning in closer, with the tension between your bodies having reached unprecedented heights, you fluttered your eyelashes a few times, formed a cute smile and made a simple request that you knew would be the trigger:

“Please, Joongie, can you help me revise?” the nickname made his cognition fuzzy, so he remained conflicted and held back.

“Shit, Y/N. You are making things really hard for me, you know that?” he breathed out, turning to peer at you through half-lidded eyes. In flash of confidence after being humoured by the phrase you reached out to put a hand on Hongjoong’s chest, tracing a line with a finger, all the way down until you reached the waistband of his trousers, and toyed with the golden buckle of what had to be a rather pricey belt.

“Oh yes, I do. Much like you know that I am in dire need of motivation.” enveloped in an uncontainable lust, Hongjoong let go of your chin, positioning his hand right on the back of your head, fingers snaking themselves through your hair, and pulled you in until you were a mere couple of centimetres away.

“Are you sure, pet?” his exhale was hot on your skin, and you tilted yourself into him, impatient with this back and forth.

“You sure ask a lot of questions, Joongie-”

Any further retorts were cut off by Hongjoong taking off his glasses and closing the space between you and crashing his lips with yours. You barely had time to react as he gave your hair a slight tug to angle you for a deeper kiss. There was no longer any pressure against your thigh, as instead, his arm had slinked around your waist, and was urging you to slide even closer. Without much resistance you let yourself be guided, twisting yourself and letting the seat which you had occupied return to its folded state before lifting a leg and moving to straddle the handsome brunette.

Though you now had a certain advantage, with Hongjoong having to tilt his head up a little, it did nothing to change just how quickly you unravelled at his touch. It felt like a hallucination, finally getting a taste of what you had been craving for too long. But, despite the fact that you were here, revelling in this united intimacy, it was not enough. A greed had awoken within you alongside the building unrefined high, provoking you to give into the animalistic hunger and quit pretending. Remnants of your usual elegance evaporated as the temperature rose, leaving the real, primal you. The tantalising possibility of having the numerous scenarios occupying the inner conscious erased your ability to form any coherent thoughts. You wanted to be capable of only one thing now, and that was devoting yourself to the man whose saliva was sending you into a frenzy. The man who was physically under you, but you constantly struggled to reach. The man who had you wrapped around his finger.

"Hongjoong..." you sighed into the kiss, earning a hum from your seducer.

Masterfully, without breaking away from the electrifying contact, he began to unbutton your silk blouse, only stopping once to admire you, whispering a string of praises. Each one cemented itself within you, as though it was novel, unheard of. It was reminiscent of a scientific discovery, like those words had no significance to you before he carefully selected them in your address. It wasn't long before your top was shrugged off, and found a home under Hongjoong's seat, having you remain only in your bra. You had ensured that every Wednesday, you were to dress your best at every layer, if not for exposure, then at least for confidence. And now it paid off, as your target audience slid his hands with the attentiveness of an examiner across from your abdomen to your chest, halting at the solar plexus.

Hongjoong leaned back to appreciate how worked up you already were, on the verge of mewling like a kitten for him to give you more. Before you could say anything, he manoeuvred to unclasp the article. The suddenness of the motion made your teeth click together, but instead of deterring you only added fuel to the fire in your core. Now having full access to your breasts, he did not hesitate to cup them in his hands, unrestrained, and proceeded to knead them, paying special attention to your aroused nipples with a few methodical flicks and teasing pinches. You were putty in his hands, fading into moans muted by Hongjoong’s tongue grazing your canines, exploring you.

His hands traced the contours of your body, gliding down to your hips and pulling the skirt further up until it was a flimsy accessory that left nothing to the imagination. Roughly grabbing your ass, he moved up towards you as you grinded once, twice, until you were on the growing bulge underneath his trousers. As soon as you were flush against him, you own movement growing sloppier by the second, he tilted his head back just a little and hissed by your cheek:

“So fucking selfish, baby girl. Demanding all this attention from me.” He moved to plant a kiss on your earlobe, nipping at the cartilage. You let out a shaky breath, returning the sensation by peppering a series of kisses across the side of his face, stopping right at the corner of his plump lips.

“You’re making me feel so good, Joong-” your hunger was not subsiding as you tried to capture his mouth with yours, only to be rejected by a harsh comment:

“That’s Sir to you, pet.”

“I knew you liked it when I-”

“One more word out of that pretty mouth of yours and I am not going to be so nice.” Hongjoong warned you, sternly, a hint of aggression behind his words. This made you wonder how he would be if completely enraged. Perhaps you would find out someday, but this time around, you wanted to try your best to be a good girl for him.

“Anything to help me learn my lesson…” you paused to glance into Hongjoong’s eyes, as wild as yours, “…Sir.”

“Little troublemaker trying to be the teacher’s pet?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Then tell me, what’s intrinsic motivation again?” he smirked as he kissed your jawline and breathed right against the side of your neck, making you whine. He took great pleasure in seeing how your head rolled back as he found a particularly sensitive region, and after giving it a quick introductory peck, began to hungrily devour, sucking and nipping at the skin until it grew a new shade of pink.

“Mpfh- this-” you gasped as he moved to treat another area with the same affection, peppering kisses across your collar bone and jugular.

“Well, isn’t that just lovely. So desperate to be satisfied that you are willing to do anything. Well tell me, what do you need to do to get what you need?”

“Anything?” a sharp slap resounded when his palm made contact with your ass, accompanied by a yelp from you. You had to steady yourself by grabbing onto Hongjoong’s shoulders, and refrain from shaking.

“Try harder, baby girl. As if I’d give you the answer just like that.”

“Make you… feel so good…”

“Lacking in originality, but I’ll give it to you. Well done, you’re catching on. Never disregard the extrinsic, Y/N. We all want motivation.” He dropped his voice low, mocking your earlier words, and planted one more kiss right on your collarbone, taking a couple of seconds to commit his artwork on your skin to memory.

You felt him adjust his positioning, and wrap his arms around your thighs, somehow managing to move you even closer to him. It was impossible to ignore your own arousal, as well as his that you could feel through your own panties, while in one effort, he carefully rose from his seat and planted you in front of him, right on the table. The desks were probably the newest addition to the lecture hall, having been completed out of a sturdy fibreboard. But that also meant that they barely registered any changes in temperature and shocked you with their coolness against your exposed flesh. When Hongjoong set you down on, he reached for the soaked material of your panties, tugging on the waistband a couple of times.

“But I like to lead by example, pet. I want to show you how I want you, and how you should want me.”

You were about to give a feeble response, but it got caught inside your throat along with a gasp for air, as you were overwhelmed by the feeling of Hongjoong’s fingers going under the fabric, along your sensitive folds and deep into your pussy. Taking it slow, he let his fingers glide right back out, now coated with your nectar, and he took to massaging your blooming clit, rubbing the region unhurriedly, only to move right down between the lips once more, and up again.

You desperately needed him inside you, and attempted to encourage this by bucking your hips just a bit towards him, but to no avail, as with his free hand he grasped your hip roughly, and tugged you back to the table. Once he decided that you were ready, Hongjoong easily slid his nimble digits inside, up to his knuckles, and commenced their ecstasy-inducing pumping at a steady pace, albeit slow for your preferences. But you knew better than to complain when your desires were still progressively being fulfilled.

“Look at you, pretty girl, so fucking wet for me already,” he picked up his speed, enjoying how rapidly that forced a lewd moan out of you and caused you to lean forward, seeking stability in Hongjoong’s body. With your foreheads pressed together, and your breaths becoming shakier, he continued to taunt you, “See how willing you are to bow to me?”

“Yes, shit, please, just don’t stop-”

“Enthusiastic, are we? Well, remember this for how I will quiz you later by seeing how you treat me. I want you to imprint this in your mind. Every damn second. How well your tight cunt takes to me, how you crumble beneath me.”

“Yes Sir-ah!”

He curled his fingers and stepped closer towards you, his body turned a little off to the side. The pulsing of his still-clothed erection against your leg, as well as the stimulation he was giving to your sex was making you see stars. You had dreamt of this for so long and were not holding back in letting Hongjoong know of your pleasure by the pants and hushed yelps that escaped your open mouth. Music to his ears.

“You’re such a slut for this, so fucked out from just my fingers. I bet you have thought about this before, haven’t you, Y/N?”

“Oh fuck yes, Sir, yes I have, I…” you could not finish your sentence as he began to pump at an even faster rate than before. The knot that had formed in your stomach since the beginning of the ‘tutorial’ you had together, which turned out to be prolonged intellectual foreplay, was now growing unbelievably stronger, and stronger, coiling light a metal spring.

“I’ll let you in on a secret – I have wanted to see you like this, squirming underneath me, for just as long.”

Though his words were an unabashed expression of salaciousness, you could read a genuine affection in his eyes. You could almost guarantee that there was a life, perhaps even a love beyond this common indulgence in carnality. At least you wanted to believe that that was the case, even though your focus was also fully lust-riddled, and your high was fast-approaching.

“Every time you would follow me with your eyes as I excited the room, or how you would shamelessly flirt with me though I did not give anything back… you really are so needy. Practically begging to worship me, huh?”

“Y-yes…” your speech was faltering, and you locked your hands behind Hongjoong’s neck, unable to stabilise yourself alone any longer. Your climax was imminent.

“Dreaming of when you could have all of me to yourself… so fucking dedicated. Do you think you deserve a reward?”

“You… decide… Sir…” you choked out, resting your head against the crook of his neck, inhaling his inebriating scent.

“Such a good girl, that’s right. I do decide. And because you are being so obedient, I am treating you this well. How does that make you feel?” He teased, purposefully employing the overused phrase. It made you recall where you were exactly, and just what you were doing, the shame spurring you on.

“Thank you, sir- ah!”

“Grateful, is that right?” voice husky, he confirmed.

“Yes… mmh, fuck yes please-”

You were drawing a blank – if before you were at least able to state a few words in an order that made sense, now you were approaching the edge of complete ruin and could no longer contain yourself. An intense warmth was spreading all through your lower half, shooting outwards to every neuron in your body, down to your toes, contracted in pleasure, and all the way to your dishevelled locks. Only a couple of seconds ago did shame flash before you, accusing you for whoring yourself out so impatiently and desperately inside a university classroom, but Hongjoong had a talent for making you forget. If he kept at it, you would even forget your own name. He was pumping faster and faster, his arm muscles tightening along with your grip on his blazer, crumpling the material. It was only a matter of seconds, your breathing shallowed, moans grew breathier – if you were a gun, then Hongjoong was about to pull the trigger. You shut your eyes on instinct, expecting the rolling waves of a climax to hit you, but-

Your ‘small death’ never arrived. With a whine you sent a confused glare in Hongjoong’s direction, searching for an answer, any sign from him. This was not fair. You needed his attention back this instant, how dare he cut this euphoria? Why was he so intent on driving you to the verge of insanity? You did not have a single chance to complain, nor to initiate payback, as Hongjoong groaned and picked you up, manhandling you to the ground. Astonished, you stayed compliant.

The carpeted floor did not bring much comfort, the artificial fibre digging into your bare back, and the whiff of an amalgamation of industrial cleaner and something similar to puddle water made you scowl. A look to the side revealed a pencil, evidently forgotten by a student from one of the classes earlier that day, but was still better than facing Hongjoong's unreadable expression as he hovered above you. He appeared to be listening out for something, a suspicion confirmed when you were about to speak, and he pressed a hot finger against your lips, making you state yourself while simultaneously silencing you.

“Not. A. Single. Sound. You hear me?”

You merely nodded, unsure of how else to respond. Not when Hongjoong appeared so frustrated. Only once he rose up, pushing himself up using the table did you manage to pick apart the sound of conversation from outside of the hall. There appeared to be a group of students passing by, taking their sweet time. In an efficient manner, he took out a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping his fingers. From your angle, though you could not exactly tell, but it appeared that the ghost of a smirk was dancing on his features. It did not take much deduction to figure out that he was enjoying the humiliating state you were in, your own horniness trapping you in a need to follow his orders.

As if to emphasize this, he picked the seat right above you to plant himself in, effectively masking you from view and leaving you quite literally at his feet. You noticed that Hongjoong had returned to his regular demeanour, calm and collected, unlocking his tablet for full effect, and behaving as though you were not there at all. As one final alteration to the scene, he tossed your belongings into your bag which was now right by your head and began to take some abstract notes. It was at that moment that you heard the foreign conversation get louder, and in a couple of seconds, the door being clicked open to reveal some unfamiliar faces.

After spotting Hongjoong seated in the very centre of the second row, looking very authoritative, aura occupying the entire room, they cowered back into the corridor, with just one of them remaining to prop the door open and call out to him.

“Sorry, is there something happening in this room?”

“Oh, sure is.” he uttered, pretending as though his focus on some incredibly important task was broken, and he was doing the group a favour by entertaining their pesky inquiries.

The attitude carried across effectively, as the student lowered his head sheepishly, but not enough to prevent them from raising their arm to motion towards the back of the hall and ask one final time:

“So, it’s fully booked? We can’t sit… like… up there?”

“Booked. And I am afraid you cannot.”

Waiting through this exchange was becoming unbearable, and each second was equivalent to an eternity amidst your arousal. Careful to not disturb the man above you, nor the items strewn across the floor, you gingerly moved your legs closer together, and inched your hand to your sensitive bud, seeking for more stimulation and what you deemed to be a well-deserved release. You did not realise just how sensitive you were, for as soon as you grazed the area, you practically let out a whimper, the only thing stopping you was you slamming a palm over your mouth on instinct. Trying to emulate Hongjoong’s motions, mind replaying the scenes from only a few minutes ago, you were easing yourself into self-gratification, abdominal muscles tightening. But this build-up did not last long either, as through your blurred vision, you noticed Hongjoong glowering at you, eyes turned daggers. Not long after, a new pressure found itself on the back of your hand and on your pelvis in the form of his lacquered moccasin. It was a raw, hateful move that degraded you to nothing but an object to be stepped on, but something about the forcefulness and intent made you desire for the charming, devious man to do it again.

“If you check out the department library there is normally some space. You aren’t in psychology, right?” he turned his attention back to the student across the room, ignoring your existence aside from a nudge for you to remove your hand from your still-dripping pussy, which you, albeit with hesitation, did.

“You are right, we do history, but our building’s packed so we ventured out.”

“Ah, then let me point you in the right direction.” He began to rise, making a show out of the inconvenience their intrusion was causing, exaggerating his body language; before he could fully stand up straight, however, the student stopped him and apologised profusely, settling for a couple of verbal pointers. You were astounded by Hongjoong’s ability to swiftly manipulate the environment and the people around him – equal parts dangerous and impeccably professional. He could make a home in anyone’s psyche, especially yours.

Once the disturbance had disappeared from the vicinity of the hall, Hongjoong rose from his seat and made his way swiftly to the door, slamming it shut; you remained still, mind hazy from the brush with almost being caught in your lecherous performance. You recognised the clicks that followed as him locking it, and a rustling as him rolling down the blind for the miniature built in window. There was no way you were going to be disturbed now. The world narrowed in, no longer escaping the boundaries of antiquity harboured in the theatre. Even the clock, still carrying out its duties, no longer held the same overbearing meaning.

“At any point in time, did I say that you could touch yourself without my permission? Or are you so filthy that you want to gather a crowd?” his question hung in the air, as he, seething, returned to the row. Raising your head slightly, you could now see just how turned on he was, with his erection almost threatening to burst out of his trousers, and a hint of discomfort on his face as he continued to storm down to you, stopping when his feet hit your boots. It was incredible how much restraint he had shown up until this point, but the temporary loss of control, and your light naughtiness was the final straw.

“Get the fuck over here.”

He roughly grabbed you by your wrist and dragged you to the front of the hall. He looked positively livid, but simultaneously, there was a burning desire within him to just have his way with you. The longer he kept at prolonging your lack of stimulation, the more agonising his arousal became until he could not take it anymore and needed you to take care of his problem. As he shoved you to centre stage, giving your ass a couple of well-placed smacks strong enough to leave redness, he began to unbuckle his belt.

When you stood in front of him, he caressed your cheek with one of his hands, only to switch it to a tight hold around your throat, so unexpected that you could not restrain a yelp. Pressing in his thumb until he could feel the contours of your larynx, he watched as you shuddered in pleasure at the change in treatment. You really were phenomenal.

“On your knees.” He pushed you down, letting go and dragging a finger up to your chin, and soon enough you were looking up at him, eyes glazed over with a fiery lust, spelling total submission.

“You have just been taking, and taking, and taking. That’s not quite fair, is it? And on top of that you are being so unbelievably naughty, that I am not sure what to do with you.”

“Forgive me, Sir, I didn’t mean to.”

“Oh yes, you did. You can’t control yourself. Need it all at once. I do not think I can let go of that too easily. You need to make it up to me.”

Dragging the belt out, he took a step closer to you, taking a deep breath in. In contrast to his spitting accusations, he very carefully moved your hair out of the way as he wrapped the belt around your throat, hooked it through and tightened it until it took on the appearance of a leash. He gave it a few tugs to check for your response, giving you a lewd grin once you nodded and mumbled the ever so sweet:

“Please.”

Dragging you until you were only centimetres away from his barely concealed member, he gestured for you to finish undressing his lower half. With a quick nod you rushed to unbutton and unzip the clothing.

“Convince me that I shouldn’t just leave you here like the desperate whore you are, since you are so self-determined.” You bit back a response, as you slid Hongjoong’s underwear down, and were more than pleased with the sight before you. Yes, you indeed were a whore for this man.

Taking the throbbing cock into one of your hands, you rubbed the ample amount of precum across its entire length, giving special attention to its base, which elicited a satisfied hiss from Hongjoong, and a lazy tug on the accessory around your neck. Understanding it as a silent command to hurry up, you leaned in and licked the tip, glancing up and batting your eyelashes as though you were the picture of innocence.

It drove Hongjoong wild, watching you as your mouth took over, with your tongue caressing the member up and down while you adjusted to his size. You had not even taken him in fully yet, and he was already concerned with just how desperate he was for more. Unable to sustain the leisurely pace which you had selected, he took a fistful of your hair with his free hand and tightened the belt with the other, yanking you back until just his tip was between your lips, to peer into your eyes. There you were, all pretty, jaw slackened to take him in, terrified that you had done something to wrong him any further. Hongjoong chuckled, high off the control he had, and in one swift motion shoved his length into your mouth until it hit the back of your throat, making you choke momentarily and have tears spring to your eyes.

“Do you think your sorry attempts are eloquent enough? I need to see better than that.” He challenged between laboured breaths, holding you in place.

The contraction of your throat, every shudder from your body, and finally, the vibration you emitted when you hummed in understanding before beginning to bob your head back and forth were unbelievable, overriding any fantasy he had developed before experiencing the real you. The stark difference between the you – a diligent student, an attentive tutee, a young, classic lady, and the you – a sex-driven fiend, an adorably acquiescent star of his consciousness, a vixen hidden behind a supposedly pure image, was making the sight even more addictive.

“Aahh… fuuuck, baby girl…” he muttered as you aided yourself with your hands, one running over and massaging his balls, while the other remained at the base, providing a rhythmic, slow pump.

Instinctively, Hongjoong rolled his hips to further speed up the movement; this time you were ready to take it, mouth widening and tongue lapping at his delicious cock, now lubricated by your hot spit. Your eyelids were growing heavier as your own desire began to build once more. The moans that the man was trying to muffle so as to not lose his sanity to you while he throat fucked you were a haunting melody to your ears that you undoubtedly would be hearing for weeks on end. You needed to be good to him and coax out a crescendo, you did have forgiveness to beg for, didn’t you?

The heat inside your core was growing steadily, making you squeeze your kneeling legs together to provide at least some support. The action did not go unnoticed by Hongjoong who let out an airy chuckle and brushed some stray hairs out of your face.

“You really are such a slave to my dick, aren’t you? Eating it up… such a good cocksleeve…” the words inspired you to go faster, seeking for more praise to fall from your master’s lips. He gripped the belt for dear life, making the friction around your neck rise, along with sinful sounds coming with each pump as you started deepthroating him almost entirely on your own, his hand that was on the back of your head merely following along with your motions.

He could sense that he was getting close, the aching in his abdomen, tingling in his extremities turning his vision into a blurry mess that would unlikely be fixed even if he were to perch his lenses back onto his nose. But he was far from done with you, as much as he wanted to shoot strings of his cum into your oesophagus and watch you swallow it all like a good girl. Unwillingly he grabbed your locks again, and guided you away from him, nearly regretting it when he heard you whine. Like you were the one who was being pleasured. Truly, one of a kind. Breathless and pouting.

“Are you ready to deliver a presentation, baby girl?”

“What-” confused, you asked, but after being reminded by the choking of the belt, added “sir?”

“Tell me what fucking theory you follow,” he retorted, huffing, and made you get off the floor, “now, up, c’m’ere, pet.” Treating you every bit like an animal, he pulled on the makeshift leash and took you to the lectern, moving behind it and making you face the hall. Now that you were standing there did you realise just how vast the space was, how many ghosts of inquisitive eyes there were, one in each seat. How willing you were to put this show on and embed it into the walls, the floor, the ceiling. Turn it into an altar of sin that you wanted to never leave.

“Bend over… that’s right, good girl.” He instructed you to lean forwards onto the wooden structure, and you automatically placed your hands on its edges. Spreading your legs, you enthusiastically gave Hongjoong access to your wet pussy, and sighed as he flipped your skirt up once again. Finally, you were about to get your fill.

You heard the crinkling of what could only be some kind of wrapper behind you, and glanced, curious. Hongjoong was in the process of rolling a condom over his rock hard member, shutting his eyes as he stimulated it. Smirking at you, he explained:

“See, I’ve been bringing these to all of our little meetings lately. There’s not enough time in the world to describe in just how many ways I want to ruin you, Y/N.” he chose to utter your name instead of the substitutes, voice dangerously low. He wanted you to remember this as a promise that he was not going to hold himself back anymore. Both of you wanted to live and fuck with no limits. You bit your lower lip, hiding a lustful grin.

“Show me an example, sir.”

That was enough for him to let go of the belt, leaving it to hit the lectern and dangle under you and take you roughly by the hips. Using one hand he positioned his cock right by your entrance, running it over your folds a couple of times, and without further hesitation pushed deep into you, bottoming out. Awestruck at how good you felt with your cunt clenched around him, he failed to stop a guttural groan from escaping him, which in turn made you respond with a few whimpers and a grinding of your backside, adding to his growing high. Slapping you back into submission, he pulled out fully, only to shove himself back in, revelling in the tightness of your walls.

“Don’t test me, sweetheart,” he warned barely present as he began to thrust with a slightly higher frequency, pressing himself flush against you every time.

You were barely remembering to breathe as Hongjoong’s pulsing cock was being pounded into you, stretching you out repeatedly. More on edge than ever before, you were feeling every touch, every graze, every exhale of his that could reach you. He was in a similar state, air knocked out of him as he rocked harder and harder into you until the temporary break after his prior build up was long gone. To curb the wave that was about to take over him, he bent closer to you. His clothing fell over your back as he teased your soaked pussy with his tip, it twitching from the contact. Missing the perfection that you offered, he could not keep up this game much longer, sliding his pulsating cock back between your soaked folds.

Beads of sweat were beginning to accumulate on Hongjoong’s forehead from the sheer heat of your bodies moving in tandem, your moans forming a harmony. The teasing was fanning the flames, the approach of your climax accelerating. He took the end of the belt again and tightened the collar-like hold it had on you, making your vision darken at the edges. Almost immediately he let go, intuitively knowing the limit of restriction. You adored the feeling of being his fuckdoll, existing as a vessel for the filthy noise your pussy was making as he continued to penetrate you. He moved a hand to your swollen clit to rub languid circles over it, and slammed his dick deeper into you, making you yelp at the heightened stimulation.

"Funny how autonomy is a basic need, and yet you are so willing to give it up for that same satisfaction. Are you that drunk off my cock that you lost rationality?

"Yes... Hong..joong... ah fuck! Sir!" You yelped when he suddenly bucked his hips upwards, delivering a particularly well aimed stroke that hit your g-spot.

As you gripped onto the lectern until your knuckles turned white, Hongjoong began to pick up his pace. He nudged one of your feet, a signal to spread wider, and placed one of his own on an elevated part of the platform, giving him a new angle, and fully unlocking the path to your orgasm. His touch was hot against your skin, with him continuing to abuse your overly sensitive bud, and the other surely leaving marks as he pressed his fingers into your waist.

“No more sirs, Y/N, aahhh shit, I want to- mfph, hear you scream my name. Yell who you belong to.” He commanded, going harder than ever. You tried to answer, but no sound came out of your mouth as you were enveloped in the ecstasy. He was immaculate, taking you apart how you had dreamt of him doing. Your arousal was unbearably close, and all you could think about was how Hongjoong’s cock was stuffing your sex, which was begging for release.

The knot in your stomach was about to burst; you followed the beautiful man’s demands and chanted his name like a mantra, fluctuating between barely audible and soaring to squeals at the top of your lungs, echoing right back at you and blending with Hongjoong’s carnal growls. He was catching up with you, his own desire starting to overflow. As your movements started to falter, he read you instantly, adjusting himself so that one arm was out to support you, while the other continued to help you in reaching that explosion of all senses. You grew completely silent as the awaited orgasm shook you, tightening all muscles, a knee-buckling attack, effectively immobilising you.

“Good girl, Y/N, come for me. Ah- you’re so damn beautiful.”

It was almost possible to count the constellations racing in your eyes from the overstimulation, which not even a forehead pressed onto the cool surface of the lectern could subdue. Your juices started to stream out of your overfilled pussy and treacle down your thighs. Hongjoong was entranced by how you were letting him enjoy you to the fullest, even after you have reached your peak. You were better than anything he could have hypothesised. You were his motivation.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m about to-” he mustered before it all hit him, and he pulled you into an embrace to prevent himself from shaking too violently, whispering ‘Y/N’.

Your aroma, the fucked out, glazed over haze written all over you was making him want to fall in love because shit, you were perfect. To reel himself back into reality he shifted his focus back to you, even though his member was still throbbing aggressively, hitting your leg as he side stepped away. He became ever so gentle, removing his belt from your throat and peppering kisses over your shoulders, your neck, your face. He retraced the love bruises he had left, now tenderly pecking each one.

“You’re so wonderful, you know that?” He mumbled into your ear, unsure if you could even register that he was speaking to you, but your soft hum proved otherwise. “Thank you, Y/N, my sweet,” planting a kiss on your cheek, and then turning you for another on your lips, he expressed his gratitude, and helped you down into a seated position at the base of the lectern when you stated you needed a moment to recover.

Your eyes followed Hongjoong’s form, as he waddled from the bin to dispose of the condom, to the box of tissues tucked away on a shelf by the door. While he cleaned himself up, and as soon as he was fully dressed, moved to wipe away your release, you pondered how this all unfolded. You had been incredibly silly to think he did not want you, that was certain. Even now, on a post-coital high he was taking care of you diligently, moving away only to rush to take your clothes from where you had thrown them. He was treating you like the most fragile, precious being on this earth, a total contrast to a few minutes ago.

The clock, abandoned by its previously dedicated followers, was still ticking away but you and Hongjoong did the impossible, and remained in your shared hour. That was all either of you wanted, and felt you needed. Your breathing levelled out, and you leaned back, letting both your hands drop to either side of you. Hongjoong joined you, and cautiously took one of them, intertwining your fingers together. In a soothing pattern he ran a thumb over the back.

“Thank you.” You finally managed, to which Hongjoong beamed, and squeezed your digits.

You sat together in silence, sinking into the dimming surroundings, at ease, blissful.

“So… same time next week?” you wiggled your eyebrows and chuckled.

“Let me take you out for dinner first, say tonight?”

“I’d love that… but, so soon?”

“Perhaps, but you motivate me.”

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maythearo · 10 months

Note

Hi, I saw your drawings of JamiKali Spider-Man AU, and I LOVED IT!!

How is this AU? And what do you think of JamiKali's Shipp?

OH you just reminded me to add the tag for this AU on other previous posts where I was chatting about it with ppl who sent me asks! The general tag for my blog is ".twst into the spider verse" if you want to check mine and other people's ideas on it in more detail over there!

Second question first: I'm not really into shipping im general, so idk, I don't think about JamiKali much tbh skdndwknd 🏃

And for the first question I'll take this ask as an opportunity to sum up some hcs I have for this AU 👍 but some important notes first:

I personally rather imagine this AU as a magicless/not-so-magic-central kinda world just for simplicity sake, but the rest of twst og lore pretty much remains the same.

I just talk abt scarabia here bcs they are my faves!

Since what inspired me to ramble about this AU was across the spider-verse, I do make a brief mention canon events and a bit of multiverse stuff

Also there is major character death here 🧍

Scarabia into the spider-verse, headcanons under the cut!

Earth 2506 - Kalim as the spider-man of his dimension. Can also be referred to as the desert-spider!

uhh (making up an origin story on the spot right now) considering he comes from a family of influential merchants, maybe they got a great deal to partner up with some sort of scientific corporation, to deal with the business side of their new technologies. Kalim was for the first time invited to one of the meetings, as the heir to the family business, it was about time for him to check in person how things worked on this field. In short, it did not end well. As they walked around the corporation's main labs, one spider subject went loose, and Kalim stood right under its web.

he's very fitting to be a spidey, considering his happy-go-lucky personality, he'd be the type of spider-man to mess around and have a lot of fun playing the role of a hero

(Fight goes silent)

Kalim: well! that was another easy adventure for spider ma-

(Big explosion)

Jamil is the first one to know about this secret identity of course. He covers up any potential slips, as to not reveal this secret to anyone else

One notable thing about spider-man!Kalim is that he can afford whatever hero gadgets he needs. Gotta fix his web shooters? Want a nice improvement on his hero constume? No problem. He got a fair share of contacts from people who'd easily do all of these for him. Even though it is Jamil the one who usually runs after this stuff in his place...

Canon event stuff being losing a best friend? Jamil in this universe actually becomes Venom (maybe he found a symbiote from the same lab the spider came from) and yeah they had to fight. Jamil probably snapped for the same reasons he got his overblot. And this is the part where Kalim learns that with great powers comes great responsibility...

What would happen next? Does he move on eventually after the fight? Will there be other villains for spider-man to stop? How will he keep the secret identity now that Jamil's gone? Well, these are great questions, because- (runs away)

Earth 1209 - Jamil as the spider-man of his dimension. Idk if he'd go by any other variant of a spider-man name

Now that I think about it, his own universe is probably an accidental breach from Kalim's. As in "what if Kalim didn't get bitten at the lab, and instead brought the radioactive spider back home by accident?" then when Jamil took Kalim's backpack he was the one to get bitten instead

Ace happened to be the first one to find out about Jamil's powers after an incident on a basketball game. Their dynamic is funny. It's not like Ace wants to be the "guy in the chair" but if Jamil's secret identity is ever at risk, he'd volunteer to help, no questions asked. And aside from him, Najma is the only other person who knows about this as well. The very moment spider-man made his first appearance in public she knew! She says it's a "sister instinct", or something like that. She'd even offer to help him and make him a proper hero uniform... but ONLY if he agrees to do all the house chores for her for a month.

Najma: you gotta say it first :)

Jamil: (sigh) callforbackup

Najma: what? :)

Jamil: .......callforbackup

Najma: come onn :)

Jamil: PLEASE just call for-

Najma: yeah I already called it :)

Perhaps spider-man!Jamil has a puppeteer-like skill that he can use to control a small number of people with his webs!

Leona could be a mentor type of character in this universe. Like Jamil already kinda looks up to him in canon, but this time they are a little nicer to each other loll and I only bring this up because there is no "uncle Ben" for Jamil to lose, but Leona is the closest thing he could have to one, so...... canon event. That also ties up to that spider-man story trope of the hero finding himself in the wrong place wrong time, by the side of the person they just lost, only for a third party to walk in and assume it was spider-man the one who killed them. Having people assume this masked man to have killed a person as prestigious as Leona immediately makes spider-man public enemy #1

And edit: just remembered the point abouve could be Kalim alternatively. Which would be even more tragic to think both Jamil and Kalim lose each other in their respective universes

But what do we do after that? How does Jamil redeem himself after this misunderstanding? What if he just gives up being spider-man? Well, uhhh these are also good questions.... look over there! (runs away again)

#wait does Jamil's origin story make him an anomaly too? is Miguel O'Hara a Jamil hater???#.twst into the spider verse #jamil viper #kalim al asim #i may have forgotten something i responded in previous asks about this au #and i think i also changed my mind in a feeew details? i should really talk less

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gremlins-hotel · 1 year

Note

(sorry for being unhinged in your inbox)

Ok as someone who has put many things in my mouth that I should not have have, and if I scale it by say x 3 if we take Alfred strength (the average human bite force is 180 psi, so I'll make Alfred's 500 at the minimum) here is what he can most likely bite through

I've bitten through leather with some difficulty (dont ask) so I'll assume he can do that with like 2 good chomps.

I've also bitten clean through a plank of wood once, it took a while, but it is possible, so Alfred bites through it slightly faster than a beaver.

General cloth like linen or cotton isnt hard to break so with the right angle, and mind you this is with human shaped teeth so tearing isnt very good, he could probably bite it out in one go, or grind it and fray it very easily.

Hemp rope and burlap is significantly harder and much itchier, and considering how tightly everything is woven, it's kind of as hard to do as leather straight up, and the fibre makes it even slightly harder.

As for sheet metal Ive managed to dent it but never cut through it, I think because if how flat sheet metal is, hed be able to do this as we do with aluminium.

Most plastics are easy for people so hed have no trouble

I've managed to bite through a feldspar and flourite, but nothing harder, so I'll bet he could probably bite through quartz and maybe topaz if we're pushing it.

I may return with further findings.

Once again apologies

okay first off i'm glad i'm not the only one who's put weird shit in my mouth

second this gave me many thoughts. asdkjfh

tl;dr this man needs to be studied and also to never be let outside without a leash. don't let him bite things.

the human mouth is so lamely shaped for biting inopportune things because we have cheeks. big cheeks for holding food. biting stuff like rocks would be so much simpler if we could reach our flat, grinding molars with more ease. and while incisors are meant for tearing, you're right that human incisors are not meant for wood or metal, but rather for vegetal material (frugivory, folivory).

but also consider that human teeth can still very much break skin. the most dangerous part of a human bite, though, is the bacteria in our mouths rather than the puncture wound itself per se,,,

also was it you that put in the tags "mohs hardness scale but it's if alfred can bite through them"? because i loved this tag so much sldkfjhgsads i stan this new mohs hardness scale. also i am SO sorry to tag you again but @if-you-like-pina-colada-s made a very very wonderful addition to my ramblings regarding bite force. you postulate 500 psi at least (fun fact - that's 100 more psi than the grip strength of an average adult bald eagle, bc i'm silly and think about grip strength, too). piña got a number for the stronger nations at ~3,000 psi, which approaches a crocodile's bite force, and if you've seen what a croc can do with their sheer amount of closing power,,,, ough. i find this to be a wide range full of fun to play with.

also i think i went insane one night when i had to remember that in canon we see a probably 3-year-old alfred lift and swing a bison. if we assume your average three-year-old male weighs about 31.8 lbs (CDC) while a male american bison (Bison bison) can weigh up to 2,200 lbs. if we are to believe these shenanigans, that's 69.18x alfred's body weight if the bison is at its heaviest. even a female, which tops at 1200 lbs, is still 37.74x. he's the real ant-man fr!! because i'm telling you someone reminded me of that bit and i was sitting like bro what the hell,,,

this whole conversation is just making me want to compare alfred's skull and jaw to a robust australopithecine. like okay paranthropus robustus boy. gonna start calling him a gorilla fr. 1300 psi? 1500 like a jaguar? fuck this dude do NOT put your mouth anywhere near me. please fuck off immediately.

#callsign gremlin checking in #asjkfhdfa hrnnnnng i have so many overthinky thoughts about this kind of shit #and now i'm thinking about grip strength AGAIN #alfred f. jones // daring to fly #mechanics of nations // eldritch abominations

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streets-in-paradise · 1 year

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Relaxing Amazement - Andy Barclay x (Fem) Reader

Requested by @yesiscandyskiller

“ How about Reader x Andy relaxing at home after canceling some stressful plans, which is a relief with them both dealing with anxiety.”

( This is one of the first Andy requests i ever got and I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it. I’m negecting some obligations just because I couldn’t stop writing and I’m happy about it lol. It was going to be longer, I had more ideas in mind, but had to stop here to not get too behind with my things. If i find time to keep going later I may drop a continuation.)

Masterlist

Warnings: No proofreading, flirting and some sexy teasing (not smut, just teasing), happy couple being fluffy and silly when in love.

Summary: You surprise Andy with the late hour cancelation of a stressfull plan that was occupying your minds too intensely. Seeking for some home relax instead, you start to fool arround with your boyfriend just for a chance to see him smile again.

Notes: I try to do my best to avoid physical descriptions, but there may be accidental implications of the reader being plus sized that are there just because I took my body as reference when writing. It’s not important to the plot, just happened because i was too self inmersed in the writting. However, this is written in a way that makes it easy to be ignored.

Tags: @losersclubisms ( I wrote this under the influence of the high left on me by your Andy x OC fic, part of how this turned out is your fault.)

That cursed family gathering was on your minds all week. It wasn’t like you hated all your extended family, but the environment it was able to create was not the best for yours or your boyfriend’s mental health. Meeting your parents has been hard for Andy, introducing him to a lot of new relatives all at once was going to be a nightmare to both of you. Your godmother was coming and you knew she had a tendency of being very critical of everything in your life, negatively comparing you since childhood to her own daughter. The man who stole your heart was not going to be an exception, she would make him a victim of her sharp tongue and its prideful commentary about her son in law.

Despite being the most wonderful man you ever meet, Andy was deeply misunderstood by the outside world unaware of Chucky’s existence. People would be asking tons of questions and there was no way for him to answer without sounding like a weirdo, his strong awareness of that was worrying him to the core and you felt terrible because of the new distress brought to him. For so, you have been rehearsing together an entire set of lies that you would follow for them into a coherent made up story of how you meet and what was he doing with his life. The planning was becoming increasingly stressful because the overthinking was mutual. You would sometimes get lost together on minuscule details that didn’t really matter under a ‘ but what if they ask about that?’ paranoia that would end up angering you and frustrating you. As the days would pass you would realize it was not even worthy, most of the people that were going to be present were the distant family that wasn’t really part of your life because you would only see them once or twice a year.

The final resolution you took was canceling the plans, using your creative liar's will to create a pretext to stay at home, but you didn’t tell Andy immediately because you wanted to surprise him. The hellish week you made him spend worrying about that social situation was worth a good compensation. Some relaxing amazement was going to suit him wonderfully, so you invented an excuse to get him out of the house for a while meanwhile you did the canceling call. Your poor tormented boyfriend forgot the house keys when he rushed out, stressed over doing everything good, so you had to open the door for him on the return.

Andy’s burnout was such that he began to ramble out loud across the other side of the door.

“... The bakery was about to close, they didn’t have much and I couldn’t find what you wanted so had to improvise the choice with what they had at this hour.” He lamented, trying to remind himself to decelerate his breathing. “ That’s my luck, my shitty luck! “

You felt so sorry for the little trick you pulled on him, but it was needed so the surprise would be better.

“ Calm down, honey. It 's alright.”

Hearing your tranquilizing voice was like a call back to earth, but he wasn’t ready for the pleasant confusion he had at the sight of you. Careless about everything, you were in a casual indoor look. He found you dressed in just a tight fitting tank top, old enough that your belly button was peeking out despite the fabric should be covering it, and very revealing jean shorts.

His mind got circumstantially blurry because he found it sexy.

“ Babe, shouldn’t you be getting all dolled up to leave?” Andy asked, so distracted that he ignored the awful phrasing for an instant. “ … Fuck, pun unintended.”

You smirked as his eyes were feasting in your image.

“ That one is not that bad.” You added, allowing him to follow you inside in that state of visual trance. “ I would love to be your Barbie doll, they come in all shapes and sizes now.”

Andy felt that tease to the deepest core of his being, seriously wondering how you made it work.

“ Seriously? Do you wanna be the one doll that is truly gonna be the death of me?”

“ I want to fill you with love for being such a wonderful boyfriend, so patient with all the shit that has been going on this week.”

He was about to reply, but ended up delayed because he was staring from a different angle.

“ The pressure is killing me, not gonna lie.”

You chuckled to the confession and, while following your trace, he noticed that the door of your shared bedroom was closed. You may be up to something, but things weren’t clear for him at that point.

“ No more games, pretty doll. You know we don’t have time.”

Your sweet but slightly devilish giggling to that affirmation was driving him insane.

“ Who says we don’t? I called with my best impersonation of a flu voice and got us out.” Was the mischievous confession that you purred with pride. “ I’m all yours to play.”

The relief he felt was great as the distraction you were providing.

“ How the fuck can you make that sound so good? My brain is wired to hate it, but you take it and it works.. It freaking works!”

“ I was just following your lead.” You innocently declared, getting closer before you could start a little game of ‘ who is more desperate to caress who?’ “ About our plans and what we were supposed to do, I just canceled because it was driving us mad. I would rather stay comfy at home with you, try to relax. We need some of that.”

“ Hell, we do.” Andy purred with satisfaction, sneaking his hands to the sides of your hips. “ How do you want to start?”

“ Not with what you are thinking of.” You teased him, enjoying a bit of the short groan that answer got from him. “ We’ll get to that, but first I want to romance you.”

He chuckled under his breath and you took it away with a kiss, only to later deliver one last naughty mock.

“ You know? If you ever wanna try turning all that wrong into something that feels good, let me know. I’m here for you… and I have a pink Barbie shirt. With pink panties to match I can be your pretty doll.”

Andy looked amazed, but not by the reasons you thought.

“ Is there a limit to what you would do for me? How much weirdness are you up to allow just so I would be happy?”

The challenging light in your eyes spoke for you, but you still felt the need to talk.

“ Do you really wanna find out?”

Grabbing him by the shirt, you stamped another kiss on his lips and proceeded to allow your dorkiness escalate singing your answer in whispers close to his ear.

“ Oh, pretty baby. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do.”

He bursted into laughter, unable to do anything else.

“ ‘Baby One More Time’ ? Is that your definition of romance?”

“ I made you laugh and that’s all I care about. I can humiliate myself even more to get that.” You defended yourself. “ Besides, Britney works just fine sometimes. Think about it: everyone in the 90’s was convinced that she was a living Barbie AND my love for you is so strong that it turns me into a teen girl who just got a crush that no other can compare to.”

Andy was smiling, his cheeks had an adorable shade of pink that was nothing but growing blush.

“ Really? Do you still get excited like that when you see me?”

“ If everyone would love you like I do, you would have been elected President of the United States.”

He kissed you that time, happily overwhelmed by your love and totally living for it. Not like he could have possibly imagined the start of the rest of the night was going to be you performing a bubblegum pop song, moving around your living room and singing the lyrics out loud. The only context in which Andy could have seen himself joining such dorky shit was drunk at a karaoke, yet there he was, melting a little bit to your ‘ oh, pretty baby. The reason I breath is you’

If Freddy Krueger could have sent Chucky a nightmare to fight in, the scene you were creating was pretty close to how the start of it could be like. Andy Barclay enjoying life, being loved by someone who was showing their affection in the cheesiest way. It would be painfull to watch by his criteria of how fluffy dumb it was and, to make it even worse, there was some Britney on it.

A sober but unaware Andy Barclay, as blissfully unaware as you, was singing along to the chorus of Baby One More Time in a dorky duet and that was all on you. He didn’t mind being silly, he would never refuse any of your efforts to bring a smile out of him.

He may have not been drunk on booze, but you had your ways to get him drunk on happiness.

#andy barclay #andy barclay x reader #alex vincent #alex vincent x reader #chucky 2021 #cult of chucky #curse of chucky #child's play

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psalacanthea · 8 months

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WiP Wednesday

Playing Act 3 this week (still taking my sweet time, so mostly not here) but every now and again I'm poking at the rewrite of the BG3 Early Access fic. So I thought I'd post a little bit of it. If you would like to be tagged for next time, pls post your own and tag me so I can read and reblog it!

...

“You’re an awfully quiet young man, for a bard,” the wizard said, settling back on his heels.

Zyn glanced up, clopping the book closed noisily and tilting his head to the side. “Scratch the surface and gilding flakes, but true metal proves its mettle with no need for flair nor convoluted airs, but in its solemn reticence.”

“Silence is golden, I believe.” Gale smiled faintly. “An excellent riddle and aphorism.” He laughed quietly and dropped his head. “Not a skill I myself excel at.”

Pursing his lips, he took slight pity on Gale. At least he was amiable. And irritatingly attractive– she always preferred human men when they started going gray. “My master told me I tend to ramble, and it’s better to craft your words carefully than let them spill out every which way. Perhaps I’m jealous of your ability to meander and still end up at the destination you intended. I don't want to talk too much and end up sounding stupid.”

“Nonsense! Creativity and eloquence can be exercised, like any other skill. You’re young; you’ve all the time in the world. Besides, your tongue has already proven its edge in battle.”

Zyn grimaced at the mention of the goblins they’d just faced outside the gate. “I don’t like to fight.”

“A sad necessity in our current circumstances. Stay far out of the fray, if at all possible. We'll look after you.”

Pretending to be a child had its benefits. Zyn could admit she was feeling a bit smug over how well it was going, especially since it'd been a snap decision. Staying out of the fights, or even at camp, seemed a fine state of affairs to her.

Hells, why hadn't she been a teenage boy earlier?

This was easy.

Provided, of course...that she didn't get caught.

#WiP Wednesday #BG3 #Baldur's Gate 3 #and then she immediately gets caught #Tav: Zynatheri Rivati #Gale of Waterdeep

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cometomecosette · 2 years

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Character ask: Grantaire

Tagged by anonymous

Favorite thing about them: Despite his small role, he’s such a rich character who appeals on multiple levels. For starters, he’s funny, witty, lively, and fun-loving, which provides much-needed relief from the story’s heavy drama. But at heart, of course, he’s a “sad clown,” and his cynical worldview is poignant and sometimes all too relatable. And then there’s the key contradiction within his character, which is both fascinating and moving: the fact that despite being a resolute skeptic, he adores his idealistic friends, is only happy in their presence despite mocking their beliefs, and loves Enjolras, idealism personified, to the point that he chooses to die with him. He would be a compelling character even without the gay subtext, but the fact that he’s almost explicitly in love with another man makes him all the more engaging for modern audiences. It’s impressive that Hugo managed to put so much substance into a minor character who only appears in a few scenes.

Least favorite thing about them: Well, he is a loose cannon who fails to make himself useful as a revolutionary. As much as we might like him, it’s understandable that Enjolras dislikes him until the end. In the novel (glossed over in the musical), there’s also his casual sexism, which was probably to be expected from such a wild and worldly young man in the 1830s.

Three things I have in common with them:

*I’m often disappointed with the state of the world and feel tempted to become a total cynic.

*I enjoy physical pleasures and sometimes indulge in them too much. (I’m more prone to overeating than drinking, though.)

*I admire Enjolras’s idealism enormously.

Three things I don’t have in common with them:

*I very rarely drink alcohol.

*I don’t belong to a group of revolutionaries.

*I’m female.

Favorite line: From the novel, it wasn’t easy going through his long speeches to pick out favorite lines, but I finally narrowed it down.

About Christ’s cross: “There is a gibbet which has been a success.” (Or, in another translation, “a gallows that made good.”)

About Enjolras: “What fine marble!”

From his first rambling speech: “Life is a hideous invention of I know not whom.”

From the famous dialogue in “Enjolras and his Lieutenants,” when Enjolras asks him if he’s good for anything: “I have a vague ambition in that direction.”

When Enjolras accuses him of believing in nothing: “I believe in you.”

From “Preliminary Gayeties:

"...I suspect that God is not rich. The appearance exists, it is true, but I feel that he is hard up.”

“Marius and his Marie, or his Marion, or his Maria, or his Mariette. They must make a queer pair of lovers. I know just what it is like. Ecstasies in which they forget to kiss. Pure on earth, but joined in heaven.“

And of course, from his ultimate self-sacrifice:

“Long live the republic, I’m one of them!”

And his final words, to Enjolras:

“Do you permit it?”

From the musical:

“I am agog, I am aghast!

Is Marius in love at last?

I have never heard him ooh and aah!

You talk of battles to be won,

And here he comes like Don Ju-an!

It’s better than an o-per-a!”

and

“Drink with me to days gone by.

Can it be you fear to die?

Will the world remember you when you fall?

Can it be your death means nothing at all?

Is your life just one more lie?”

brOTP: His fellow Amis, and in many productions of the musical, Gavroche.

OTP: Enjolras, though less in the main plot than in the afterlife, and/or in a better time and place where they could have reached an understanding sooner.

nOTP: Any woman.

Random headcanon: His backstory, with everything that made him such a skeptic and yet gave him such a profound need for others’ idealism, would probably be worthy of its own novel.

Unpopular opinion: While I do think he’s in love with Enjolras, I don’t take great offense to seeing his devotion read in a platonic way too, because it does have much more depth than just romantic attraction. And I certainly don’t think Enjolras is in love with him; I ship them in a sense of “what could have been.”

Song I associate with them: “Drink With Me.”

youtube

Favorite pictures of them:

This illustration by Gustave Brion.

Anthony Crivello with crazy ‘80s hair, Broadway, 1987.

And with normal hair in the 10th Anniversary Concert, 1995.

Paul Truckey, US 3rd National Tour, 1996.

Tom Zemon with Stephen Buntrock as Enjolras, Broadway, 1997.

Hadley Fraser, 25th Anniversary Concert, 2010.

George Blagden, 2012 film.

#les mis #les miserables #character ask #grantaire #fictional characters #ask game

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thebibliosphere · 3 years

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So I'm currently unemployed because I got fired for taking too much sick leave (it was legally sketchy blah blah blah but in the end I just can't work and take care of myself and investigate my mystery health problems at the same time). So I've been spending more time writing!

I really admire your writing and loved Hunger Pangs. I'm looking forward to the poly elements developing and I'm wondering if you have any advice for writing about poly. I've made one of my projects a snarky take on "write what you know" ... Apparently what I know is southern gothic meets Pacific northwest gothic, chronic illness pandemic surrealism, and falling back-asswards into threesomes.

I know this is a very open-ended question and I don't expect an answer, I'm just curious about it if you have the energy. As a writer, trying to write honestly / realistically about polyamory/enm, I'm curious if you have any thoughts on what's different about portraying monogamy or nonmonogamy in books, romance or erotica or otherwise.

I'm trying to read examples but it's hard to find examples that fit the niche I'm looking at. Excuse me if this question is nonsense, it's the cluster headaches.

I'm sorry to hear you've been dealing with all that and solidarity on the cluster headaches. But I'm glad you're finding an outlet through writing! And I hope you're happy with an open-ended ramble in response because oh boy, there's a lot I could talk about and I could probably do a better job of answering this sort of thing with more specific questions, but let's see where we end up.

There's definitely a big difference between writing polyamory/ENM (ethical non-monogamy) and what people often expect from monogamous love stories.

Just even from a purely sales and marketing standpoint, the moment you write anything polyamorous (or even just straight up LGBTQIA+ without the ENM) you're going to get considered closer to being erotica/obscene than hetero romances. It's an unfair bias, but it's one that exists in our society. But also the Amazon algorithm and their shitty, shitty human censors. Especially the ones that work the weekends. (Talking to you, Carlos 🖕.)

So not only do you start out hyper-aware that you're writing something that is highly stigmatized or fetishized (at least I'm hyper-aware) but that you are also writing for a niche market that is starving for positive content because the content that exists is either limited, not what they want, or is problematic in some fashion i.e. highly stigmatized or fetishy. And even then, the wants, desires, and expectations of the community you're writing for are complex and wildly varied and hard to fit into an easy formula.

When writing monogamous love stories, there is a set expectation that’s really hard to fuck up once you know it. X person meets Y. Attraction happens, followed by some sort of minor conflict/resolution. Other plot may happen. A greater catalyst involving personal growth for both parties (hopefully) happens. Follow the equation to its ultimate resolution and achieve Happily Ever After.

But writing ENM is... a lot more difficult, if only because of the pure scope of possibilities. You could try to follow the same equation and shove three (or more) people into it, but it rarely works well. Usually because if you’re doing it right, you won’t have enough room in a single character arc to allow for enough growth, and if ENM requires anything in abundance, it’s room to grow.

And this post is huge so I’m going to put the rest under a cut :)

There's also a common refrain in certain online polyam/ENM circles that triads and throuples are overrepresented in media and they may be right to some extent. Personally, I believe the issue isn't that triads and throuples are overrepresented, but that there is such minuscule positive rep of ethical non-monogamy in general, that the few tiny instances we have of triads in media make it seem like it's "everywhere" when in actuality, it's still quite rare and the media we do have often veers into Unicorn Hunter fetish porn. Which is its own problematic thing. And just to be clear, I’m not including this part to dissuade you from writing "falling back-asswards into threesomes." If anything, I need more of it and would hook it directly into my brain if I could. I'm just throwing it out there into the void in the hope that someone will take the thought and run with it, lol.

I’d love to see more polyfidelitous rep in fiction, just as much as I’d like to see more relationship anarchy too. More diversity in fiction is always good.

Another thing that differs in writing ENM romance vs conventional monogamy is the feeling like you need to justify yourself. There's a lot of pressure to be as healthy and non-problematic as possible because you are being held to a higher standard of criticism. Both from people from without the ENM communities, and from the people within. Granted, some people don't give a shit and just want to read some fantastic porn (valid) but there are those who will cheerfully read Fifty Shades of Bullshit and call it "spicy" and "romantic," then turn around and call the most tooth-rottingly-sweet-fluff about a queer platonic polycule heresy. That's just the way the world works.

(Pro-tip for author life in general: never read your own reviews; that way madness lies. I glimpsed one the other day that tagged Hunger Pangs as “ethical cheating” and just about had an aneurism.)

And while that feeling of needing to justify yourself comes from a valid place of being excluded from the table of socially accepted norms, it can also be to the detriment of both the story and the subject matter at hand. I've seen some authors bend so far over backward to avoid being problematic in their portrayal of ENM, they end up being problematic for entirely different reasons. Usually because they give such a skewed, rose-tinted perspective of how things work, it ends up coming off as well... a bit culty and obnoxious tbh.

“Look how enlightened we are, freed from the trappings of monogamy and jealousy! We’re all so honest and perfect and happy!”

Yeah, uhu, sure Jan. Except here’s the thing, not all jealousy is bad. How you act on it can be, but jealousy itself is an important tool in the junk drawer that is the range of human emotion. It can clue us in to when we’re feeling sad or neglected, which in turn means we should figure out why we’re feeling those things. Sometimes it’s because brains are just like that and anxiety is a thing. Other times it’s because our needs are actually being neglected and we are in an unhealthy situation we need to remedy. You gotta put the work in to figure it out. Which is the same as any style of relationship, whether it’s mono, polyam or whatever flavor of ENM you subscribe to* And sometimes you just gotta be messy, because that’s how humans are. Being afraid to show that mess makes it a dishonest portrayal, and it also robs you of some great cannon fodder for character development.

Which brings me in a roundabout way to my current pet peeve in how certain writers take monogamous ideals and apply them to ENM, sometimes without even realizing it. The “Find the Right Person and Settle Down” trope.

Often, in this case, ENM or polyamory is treated as a phase. Something you mature out of with age or until you meet “The One(tm).” This is, of course, an attempt to follow the mono style formula expected in most romances. And while it might appeal to many readers, it’s uh, actually quite insulting.

To give an example, I am currently seeing this a lot in the Witcher fandom.

Fanon Netflix!Jaskier is everyone's favorite ethical slut until he meets Geralt then woops, wouldn’t you know, he just needed to find The One(tm). Suddenly, all his other sexual and romantic exploits or attractions mean nothing to him. Let's watch as he throws away a core aspect of his personality in favor of a man.

Yeah... that sure showed those societal norms...

If I were being generous, I’d say it’s a poor attempt at showing New Relationship Euphoria and how wrapped up people can become in new relationships. But honestly, it’s monogamous bias eking its way in to validate how special and unique the relationship is. Because sometimes people really can’t think of any other way to show how important and valid a relationship is without defining it in terms of exclusivity. Which is a fundamental misunderstanding of how ENM works for a lot of people and invalidates a lot of loving, serious and long-term relationships.

This is not to say that some polyam/poly-leaning people can't be happy in monogamous relationships! I am! (I consider myself ambiamorous. I'm happy with either monogamy or polyamory, it really just depends on the relationship(s) I’m in.) But I also don't regard my relationship with a mono partner as "settling down" or "growing up." It's just a choice I made to be with a person I love, and it's a valid one. Just like choosing to never close yourself off to multiple relationships is valid. And I wish more people realized that, or rather, I wish the people writing these things knew that :P

Anyway, I think I’ve rambled enough. I hope this collection of incoherent thoughts actually makes some sense and might be useful.

----

*A good resource book that doesn't pull any punches in this regard is Polysecure by Jessica Fern. It's a wonderfully insightful read that explores the messier side of consensual non-monogamy, especially with how it can be affected by trauma or inter-relationship conflicts. But it also shows how to take better steps toward healthy, ethical non-monogamy (a far better job than More Than Two**) and conflict resolution, making it a valuable resource both for someone who is a part of this relationship style***, but also for writers on the outside looking in who might have a very simple or misguided idea of what conflict within polyam/ENM relationships might look like, vs traditional monogamous ones.

** The author of More Than Two has been accused of multiple accounts of abuse within the polyamorous community, with many of his coauthors having spoken out about the gaslighting and emotional and psychological damage they experienced while in a relationship with him. A lot of their stories are documented here: https://www.itrippedonthepolystair.com/ (warning: it is not light material and deals with issues of abuse, gaslighting, and a whole other plethora of Yikes.) While some people still find More Than Two helpful reading, there are now, thankfully, much, much better resources out there.

*** Some people consider polyam/ENM to be part of their identity or orientation, while others view it as a relationship style.It largely depends on the individual.

#long post #writing #ethical non-monogamy #relationship styles #relationship models in fiction #also that kindle link is an affiliate link #because fuck giving amazon free recs

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otp-holic · 3 years

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Stucky Week: Angst

For @stucky-week angst... I present you with:

A lost, unshot scene where we find Bucky Barnes (The Winter Soldier) getting a glimpse of his past during a mission in 1962.

1. THE LOST SCRIPT

2. THE LOST STORYBOARD

3. THE LOST (ALREADY MADE) PROPS & CONCEPT SHOTS

4. OPENING THE SUITCASE: FROM SCRIPT TO CONCEPT ART

5. THE SCRIPT (full text) + My ramble

A festive and sunny day of 1962. Lots of people in a typical Sunday flea market in the city.

We see the WINTER SOLDIER in disguise watching a couple who is looking at old lamps across from him. The man is his new mission, so he is alert but laying low and mingling as he awaits the final order.

The couple takes a sudden turn and starts crossing the street and facing his way, so the WINTER SOLDIER turns toward the closest market stand hiding his face away from them.

This market stand is one of those places where they sell old pictures by the lot: full of faded photos, postcards with wet burry ink, and faces forgotten by time. But something there catches the WINTER SOLDIER‘s attention.

It’s an old suitcase. Brown stripes consumed by time framing a tag that says “SGR” in what were once shiny golden letters.

The WINTER SOLDIER is confused. Mission uncharacteristically going to the back of his mind, focus shifted to a distant recognition of something unknown.

PICTURES’STAND OWNER

(interrupting his thoughts)

They don’t do them like that anymore, uh? I believe it’s from the ’20s. A little worn on the edges but still good to go.

The WINTER SOLDIER looks at the man, confusion over his face.

PICTURES’STAND OWNER

You can open that if you want; but carefully, please, I think there’s stuff inside.

The WINTER SOLDIER says nothing but can feel himself nodding and reaching for the suitcase as if the actions were being performed by somebody else, while the PICTURES’STAND OWNER goes after another potential client.

He opens the suitcase and sees the inside: it’s filled with boxes, postcards, and pictures. An enclosed version of the stand it was lying on.

He scans the content and the feeling of recognition on those pictures lies heavily on his chest, distressing him.

He is distressed but also drawn to the handwriting on the envelopes and the faces of the young boys on the pictures that are all over the suitcase looking at him from below.

The WINTER SOLDIER is freezing. He doesn’t know who that people are, and yet...

He takes one picture in his hands: a dark haired boy (features very much like his) posing broodily somewhere that looks like an amusement park.

Something alien and unrecognizable keeps happening to the WINTER SOLDIER: He’s feeling his heart in his throat and the start of a cold sweat breaking in while a weird smell of burnt bacon and a distant voice whispering “Buck, you handsome jerk” keep sinking him more and more away from his surroundings; the need to have this picture for himself, to steal the whole suitcase full of smiling faces and run somewhere far away taking hold of him.

PICTURES’STAND OWNER

Are you ok, sir? You are a little white there. Want to take any of that… I believe it’s a bargain and…

The voice breaks the WINTER SOLDIER out of his state of mind.

Mind clearer, he knows the Winter Soldier doesn’t own things, the Winter Soldier doesn’t even own himself. The Winter Soldier doesn’t decide where to run.

What the Winter Soldier does is to follow orders, so he quickly scans the market in seach of his mission: The couple are further away that he would have liked but still easy to follow.

The WINTER SOLDIER takes one final look at the picture still in his gloved hand, recognition lost but confusion still in the back of his mind.

He leaves the picture on the suitcase and follows the couple.

My ramble and the happy ending I might explore: This has been on my "To Do" for a long time now and I don't think it's ever going to turn out the way I expected... so here it is. Decaffeinated but done. My heart suffers for poor Bucky but this scene would not leave me alone.

I'm obsessed with fanfics/art exploring what might have happened with Steve and Bucky's personal things while they were "un-alive".

My end for this particular piece is something along the lines of Becca finding it it in another Flea not long after this, and although she was shocked with some of the pictures/writings inside, she kept it because she loved the boys. Fast forward to Steve and Bucky being in the 21st century happy and together forever... and the suitcase somehow makes its way to them. I don't have the details figured out, and I want to explore all that, but in case I can't... YOU HAVE TO KNOW THIS HAS A HAPPY ENDING.

Also I will put all the manips on a separate post at some point, but right now I cannot stand the thought of facing my million unnamed photoshop layers trying to extract them 🤣

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silversatoru · 3 years

Note

Hi, I just finished burdens and OML 🥺🥺🥺

May I request some sort of megumi x reader continuous where the reader ends up becoming a powerful sorcerer (or a cursed spirit👀 whichever you’d like tbh) megumi and the reader somehow cross paths again a little while after the break up and he witnesses her fighting for the first time? I just know that boy would fall in love all over again but she’s moved on and he feels guilty and just angst? And maybe fluff idk. I’m new to requests so I hope I did this right, thank you so much❤️❤️

burdens pt. 2

a/n: hello, part two of this not-so-lovely story is finally here. every single one of you is allowed one free punch to my face for taking so long to write it,,, i’m so sorry. this is its fourth rewrite and it got a little darker than expected but it’s finally done,, i hope you enjoy <3

fushiguro megumi x f!reader

synopsis: you finally see megumi again at the kyoto sister school goodwill event

tags/warnings: angst, some graphic depictions of violence, character death

word count: 3k

“Do you know how tired I am of watching the people I love die? Things would be so much easier for me if you just stayed the fuck away”.

Megumi’s bitter words were on repeat in your head — the harshness of his voice leaving a hollow feeling carved into your chest. Tear-stained cheeks and shaky breathes had become your new normal these past few days. Tight, sharp pains filled your empty stomach, waves of nausea coursing through your body.

You’ve had no motivation to get out of bed lately, nevermind to shower or cook yourself a proper meal — honestly, for all you cared you could rot away in your blanket filled bed. You checked your phone like a fiend too, thinking that eventually, a miraculous text from Megumi would appear and make everything better. It never did.

He’d completely ghosted you since that dreadful day, and that hurt more than anything. You’d held onto a sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, he hadn't meant what he said. But as the days continued to pass, your hope quickly dwindled.

To say your current state was shameful was putting it lightly, and you were embarrassed at how poorly this was effecting you. You liked to think that you were strong, motivated, independent — that you didn't need some douchebag just to feel happy. But truth be told, breakups are fucking hard, and it's okay to not be okay for a while — or at least that's what you kept telling yourself.

So when you were trudging miserably down the street to your local convenience store and you saw a familiar pair of jujutsu sorcerers, you wanted desperately to sink into the ground. You made a quick turn to head to a different shop, but it was too late, you were spotted.

“y/n! hey!” Two lighthearted voices sang through the air, filling your ears and making your heart clench in your chest.

You turned around and anxiously approached them, your unkempt hair and baggy eyes sending looks of concern across their faces.

“Hey girl, you good?” Nobara shot you a sideways glance, Maki raising a suspicious eyebrow.

“Yeah, uh, ice cream,” You croaked, speaking for the first time in a couple days, “I’m here for ice cream, that’s all”.

“Yeah, but why do you look like a fucking zombie?” Maki pushed her eyeglasses further up her nose, her sharp eyes looking you up and down.

“Ah, he didn’t say anything to you guys, did he?” You shook your head, heavy eyes falling to ground as you refused to meet theirs.

“Don’t tell me…” Nobara’s face contorted, “Did he break up with you?”

You nodded, a pitiful chuckle falling from your lips, because if you didn’t laugh, you’d start sobbing right now.

Maki threw her arm around your shoulder, pulling you to her side and ushering you into the store, “It’s okay, men suck. Hang out with us today”.

Meanwhile, Nobara trailed quickly behind the two of you, anger seething from her teeth and steam practically billowing out of her ears.

“That fuckhead! I swear I’ll fuck his shit up big time, he won’t even know what fucking hit him. I knew that boy was stupid but shit, this is a whole new low for him! I-,” She continued to ramble and rant as Maki led you through the store, picking out drinks and snacks to help ease your pain.

The three of you ended up in a nearby park, sitting around a small picnic table and gorging on the massive array of snacks. Lighthearted conversation and lots of food make your chest ache a little less, and you even found yourself laughing and chatting as if things were normal. You’d told the two of them all about that day, about Megumi’s irrational words and his tragic breakdown that led to some kind of fucked-up break up sex.

“So, how are we gonna get back at him? Egg his car? Put bleach in his shampoo? Bugs in his food? God - it’s a shame his dad is dead because from the pictures I’ve seen that man was FINE and revenge sex—,”

“Nobara,” Maki shot her idiot girlfriend a dirty look, and the orange-haired girl quickly shut her mouth, “As much as I support any idea that revolves around ruining a man’s day, I don’t think revenge is the healthiest coping strategy here”.

You were tracing your eyes around Maki’s face as she spoke, and you found yourself carefully inspecting her purple glasses that rested softly on the bridge of her nose. And that’s when it clicked, the light bulb ignited in your head and you knew exactly what you wanted to do.

“Maki,” your voice was urgent, “You don’t have cursed energy, you can’t even see them without your glasses!”

Her face twisted and her nose scrunched, a look of distaste in her eyes, “I know?”

“So, you could teach me, right? You could help me learn how to use some cursed weapons?”

“Yeah! You have to Maki, then she can beat his ass with me,” Nobara chimed in.

“That’s not a bad idea actually,” Maki’s mouth formed an evil grin, “Could you imagine his face after watching you exorcise a curse?”

The three of your conversed for a bit longer, speculating and potting about training, weapons, and your very own pair of curse-seeing glasses. By the end of the night you had a plan, and a pretty good one if you say so yourself.

From that day on, teary eyes and achy hearts were a thing of the past, not because it was that easy to get over Megumi, but because Maki didn’t even allow you the time to feel dismal anymore. You met her everyday after classes without fail, and everyday she would train you until you thought your arms would fall off. After months and months of sore muscles, sweat, and the occasional injury, you were convinced that Maki was incapable of feeling pity or remorse for other living things. Every time you speculated about quitting, she’d set a fire under you, unafraid to remind you how weak you still were.

The green-haired sorcerer had ultimately decided that you worked best dual-armed -- a long, lightweight blade in each hand. On your final day of training, she officially gifted the two swords to you, as a “graduation” gift.

Skill-wise, you were by no means as incredible Maki, but you definitely held your own, and the progress you’d made in a mere 8 months was astronomical. They’d introduced you to a strange silver-haired man at some point, Gojo, who had taken not only an interest in you but also your plot against your ex-boyfriend. He cackled to himself when you told him why you were here, going on and on about how priceless Megumi’s face would be when he saw you.

Your appearance was highly anticipated, so why not debut at one of the biggest jujutsu events all year? The Kyoto Sister School Goodwill Event — Gojo thought it was the most perfect idea.

You tried hard to exude confidence as you walked at Nobara and Maki’s sides, but behind your arrogant facade your stomach was twisting itself into knots. Truthfully, you were scared to see Megumi again after so long.

And when your eyes met with his as you walked into the meeting room, you thought you just might pass out. You thought you were ready for this — but the look of complete shock, fear, and anger on his face as he looked you up and down almost made you regret all of it.

“What’s going on?” Megumi’s words were incredibly calculated, an edge on his voice.

His question was pointless, however, because judging by the fact that you were wearing a jujutsu tech uniform and had two swords sheathed at your sides could only mean one thing. Your hair was longer now too, and your frame was wider with an extra layer of muscle from all the training — you almost looked like a different person.

“I’ve been training with Maki, I-,” You spoke up to explain yourself, but you weren’t even granted the opportunity.

“No, no, Maki, what the hell did you do?” His eyes were shaky and laced with concern.

“I only did what she asked me to. I’m not the one who gave her a complex about being weak, you did that,” Maki shrugged, “and she’s not your girlfriend anymore dude, what do you care?”

Absolute confliction flashed through his eyes, uncertainty and madness swirling in his irises, “You’re right, I don’t care. Let me know when the event is starting”.

He took a sharp turn out of the room and let the door slam a little too hard behind him. The sound of his icey voice and the door shutting with unkind force was all too reminiscent of the night you broke up. Burying every emotion you had deep into your stomach you gave Maki a small, reassuring smile and plopped down on one of the couches.

“Alright, so when does this thing start?”

after the start of the event

Fighting the Kyoto students was proving to be much harder than you initially expected, but you were holding your own at Maki’s side. The two of you had easily taken down a small, kind, blue haired girl named Miwa, and now you were watching an emotional battle between Maki and her sister unfold.

Wait here, she’d told you, I want to do this one myself. Take some notes on my form and watch our backs, okay?

Okay, you’d said, a little confused but ultimately finding a nice spot up in a thick tree to carefully observe from. Maki was truly a force of nature, and it seemed like the other girl never actually had a chance of winning. It was honestly only a few minutes before the small black, haired girl was slumped against a tree and Maki was making her way back to you. Things were looking good, two of Kyoto’s student’s were down already and adrenaline was pumping through your veins.

You couldn't quite shake the awful feeling churning in your stomach though, and Megumi’s face was haunting your thoughts. You hadn’t seen him since before the event started, when an odd, pink haired boy jumped out of a box and freaked everyone out. Nobara had later explained who he was and what had happened, and you wondered how many awful surprises Gojo had planned today -- first you, then that.

A small rumble rippled under your feet, and Maki grabbed your arm as you watched a giant brown vine lurch it’s way out of the ground a few hundred yards in the distance.

“That technique doesn’t belong to anyone from Kyoto,” She shot you a look of concern and determination, “let’s go check it out”.

You gave her a firm nod, the two of you making your way towards the horrifying wooden vines. By the time you managed to arrive, Inumaki was already down and so was a dark-haired boy from Kyoto. A muscular, white curse with black markings and wooden branches for eyes was moments away from taking Megumi on all by himself — thank god you got here in time to help.

Megumi, however, was horrified when he saw you jump over the tall roofed building with Maki at your side. He’d just watched two incredible sorcerers get their shit rocked by this curse, there was no way you would stand a chance against this thing. But before he could even try to stop you, you and the green-haired sorcerer were flying through the air and taking shots at the curse. The two of you worked perfectly in sync, the months of daily training finally paying off.

He watched with intent glazed over his eyes, his heart threatening to lurch up his throat. You were a spectacle, and he always thought you were beautiful but seeing you now with dirt and blood stained clothes, cursed weapons gripped firmly in your hands, you truly were ethereal. He hated it though, he hated that he was falling in love with you all over again, especially under these circumstances. Guilt and anxiety was eating away at him — why did you have to get involved? Why couldn’t you have just stayed away like he told you to?

He was quick to join the two of you, sticking close to your side to protect you if need be — but, even with all three of you together the curse still had the upper hand. Maki had been swatted to the side, her back slamming hard against one of the tiled roofs and knocking her unconscious. It was down to just the two of you now, beads of sweat causing your hair to uncomfortably stick to the back of your neck. This was something that Maki’s training could have never prepared you for.

Megumi was getting tired, taking one wrong step and losing his footing momentarily. The curse saw this as a perfect window of opportunity, sending a spiral of vines and branches hurling for Megumi. It was fast, but the adrenaline coursing through you helped you to move faster, launching yourself through the air and intercepting the attack. The barky, wooden vines twisted violently through your stomach, shooting clean through your back and ripping a violent scream from your throat.

It hurt so bad, feeling the plant wriggle through your organs and tear you apart from the inside out. The curse retracted his vine a few moments later, leaving your mangled body to fall helplessly to the roof. Tears rippled from your eyes, your body shaking and seizing as you coughed up a few sprays of blood.

A long, strong pair of arms scooped you up instantaneously, and your head was resting against a firm chest — probably Megumi, but you didn’t quite have the energy to open your eyes to check.

“We’ll take it from here, get her to Ieiri!” You heard a pair of deep voices yelling to Megumi, but it was too foggy and far away for you to understand what they were saying.

Megumi was seething with anger, moving as fast as his feet could carry him and he ran through the school. As you waved in and out of consciousness, you batted open your eyes, stealing quick glances at his twisted features and — were those tears on his face?

“I- I’m sorry Megumi… I think I finally understand what you were so afraid of all this time,” Your voice was barely a croak, “when I saw it coming, I couldn’t stomach the thought of having to watch you die. I suddenly just thought I would do anything to keep you safe”.

Yeah, those were definitely tears, you could see them a little clearer now. His eyes were red and his cheeks were dried with salty streaks.

“You’re so thick-headed,” he mumbled, his grip around you tightening slightly as he picked up his pace, “I wish you would have made that realization before there was a giant hole in your stomach”.

“Me too,” You hummed, but you weren’t really in any pain anymore. The pain had subdued to a sweet warm sensation inside your stomach, and an intoxicating sleepiness was washing over your head, “I was angry for a long time, but I’m not mad at you anymore, Gumi. I hope you can forgive me too”.

You offered him a tiny smile, but the blood leaking from between you keeps made it anything but sweet.

“There’s nothing to forgive you for, you never did anything wrong,” He spoke quickly, his voice quiet and cracking.

“No, but we’re not gonna make it to Ieiri, I know that and so do you,” You fell into a violent fit of coughs again, sputtering red splatters all over the front of his uniform.

“Shut up”.

“It’s not your fault, none of it was ever your fault,” you choked out once the fit of coughs subsided — and you weren’t just talking about yourself, you were talking about all of the unfortunate tragedies he’d witnessed throughout this life.

“And you’re allowed to be selfish sometimes, you know? I hope that when you meet someone, your soulmate even, you can allow yourself to love them with every part of you”.

The words painfully left your lips, but you meant every single one of them. You were starting to realize that you and Megumi were never meant to make it to the end. You weren’t his soulmate, you were here to help him grow, so that when he did finally meet them he’d be ready.

“You deserve to be loved, Megumi,” You looked up at him with big eyes, but his face was starting to get really fuzzy now.

Your fingers were going numb and your mouth felt like it was filled with sand. You were so tired, letting your eyes flutter shut and your head rest softly against Megumi’s chest. You felt him stop running, you could even hear him screaming at you — but it was too far away for you to hear. You drifted closer and closer to eternal sleep, your soul swollen with love for the boy who broke your heart.

Megumi didn’t even feel sad when you stopped breathing in his arms — he just felt hollow. More empty and broken than he’d ever thought possible. You were the most incredible person he’d ever met — someone with extreme motivation, who acted with no fear or hesitation, who always had love to give, even when he didn’t deserve it. He’d never forget you, not for as long as he’d live anyway.

Even when he did meet a new girl a few years later — a compassionate, brave girl, who reminded him a lot of you — he wouldn’t forget. He wouldn’t forget your words and for the first time in his life he’d let his walls down for her. He’d allow himself to truly love, and be loved in return.

And maybe you were right, maybe he did deserve to be loved like this, because god, he finally feels whole again when she’s around. He just wishes you were still here so he could say thank you.

#megumi angst #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro megumi #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi x reader #angst #fushiguro megumi x you #fushiguro x reader #megumi x you #megumi fushiguro angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsukaisen #jjk x y/n #jjk angst #jjk x reader #jjk oneshot #this is sad i’m sorry

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zasaka-studio · 2 years

Text

Exchange Disaster

Tag: ED

Info : character reels: 1 - 2

-Act: 1-

Part 1 / Part 2

─────────────────────────────

Title: Oh mAwh gawd it's showtime!

─────────────────────────────

The buss was always quiet in your other school, but this was just chaos... Two kids where literally mauling echother, and a few were recording and some trying not to get mauled themselves. Like what? How did this bullshit start you just got on the buss! You sighed and fixed the strap on your backpack, ready to just plow these guys over to get to a seat. But you didnt want to get in trouble on your first day now will you?

So you had opted to wait for the buss driver to say something. Which eventually come, loudly. "AKAZA, DOUMA FOR THE LAST TIME STOP TAKING UP THE ISLE! YOU CAN MAUL ECHOTHER LATER JUST NOT ON MY BUSS!". Mr Urokodaki aka the buss driver had yelled at the two. So that's those twos names.

You could hear distant sounds of laughter and the occasional 'ooh y'all got in trouble!... Again-' wait this was normal?-

"Im sorry for those kids behaviors, they do this like- every other week. Now go sit down kiddo, before we arrive late." Mr. Urokodaki had said, pointing to the back of the buss. And that's when you noticed that the fight had entirely cleared up. Well that was fast? But you had shook off the thought and decided to try and get to the back as fast as humanly possible. Which was pretty easy, untill a hand flew up. They seemed that they wanted you to sit with them, what a shocker! So you decided to sit with them to not be rude.

"Why hello there! My name's Kyojuro Rengoku, what's yours?" you almost died at how loud this guy was, but you finally got to see his face. Which kinda shocked you a bit. Red and orange eyes, same for the hair that looked to mimick fire, the everlasting smile and stair that was .. intimidating to you.

"Oh, hello my name's (Y/N) (L/N), also Françé?" You asked, hoping one person can share your native dialect. But he just raised one of his eyebrows which discouraged you. 'Why would anyone be french anyways?' You thought as Rengoku just smiled wider somehow. "Im sorry if I had made you think if your the only one here with that language! But I don't know who else could speak it so I'm sorry!" He said enthusiastically, wow that makes it so much better. "No no, I'm sorry for asking! I'm in Japan so why would anyone speak that?" You said as you scratched the back of your head. A bit uncomfortable at the unblinking stare he had on you.

"Its alright!" He still yelled. "And I haven't heard of you around here! So are you new here!?" He said as he continued to be in owl mode. Smile as bright as ever. "Y-yeah, soo-","Of course I'll show you around! I'm honored to help a fellow student out!" He interrupted, wait how the fUck did he know what you were gonna say? Like is this man's reading my m I n d? Welp time to delete my brains search history.

"Alright?" You said, weirded out a bit. As you usually did things by yourself most of the time. But I guess you just have to suck it up and socialize.

So the entire buss ride was summed up to Rengoku, or Kyojuro. Which he told you to call him by that, talking the whole damn way. Like this dude didn't even stop to breathe. Though he kinda just rambled on about the school- also he was student council president too, which you could see why. But you don't personally seeing yourself being best friends with this guy, but would it hurt to just be friends?

" Alright were here. Now get out!" Mr. Urokodaki had yelled, clearly done with everyone's bullshit. Then everyone started to stampede out of the buss.

'Aight, time to die-' You internally prepared yourself to jump into the mass of students. But Kyojuro had seemingly invaded your minds privacy again and pulled you closer to himself. "Hah, don't try. Trust me they don't pay attention!" He said, and on que a person groaned as they were shoved into a seat. "Alright." You said as you scooted to your original spot. It also didn't take long before it cleared up and the other students who were also sitting started to leave as well.

" Alright Kyojuro, i think I'll just go-""WAIT!" You jumped, other students looked at the two of you before going back to what they were doing. "Let me see your schedule, i want to see if we share any classes!" Kyojuro said. A bright smile widening as you begrudgingly zipped open your plain backpack and brought out the piece of paper. Not even surprised when Kyojuro snatched it from your hand and excitedly looked at the contents.

But to no surprise he sighed. "We only have one class together..." He said uncharacteristically quite. You sighed as you got up. Kyojuro fallowing suit, "hey which class was it?" You said as he handed your paper back. He then gave you yet another smile. "No spoilers!" Kyojuro said. Already taking a liking to you. He felt the two of you would be great friends!

"Thats either a good or bad thing." Walking off of the bus felt nice. As sitting down for so damn long dose give you tension am I right. "Hey!" Kyojuro yelled but you had already taken off. Finally entering the school, which seemed to be a lot different then your old one. There were lockers lining the walls, which probably ment no cubbies filled with two or three backpacks that look the same. Which was a relief. But you felt guilty leaving Kyojuro back there.

But Cha gotta do what you gotta do.

So you had decided to try and find your locker cause your backpack was like fifteen tuns. Why were there so many books? Well it's highschool sooo.

And somehow you had managed to find your locker relatively earlier then you'd think. Opening it and shoving your bookbag in it. You then checked your schedule for what you had first. " Choir, Aight. I'm pretty sure I just get a key book. Well I hope so..." You said to yourself as you shut your locker. Thinking you'd never get used to that.

But you had some trouble finding the choir club? Intermediate? Hall? You didn't know what to call it. So you had done the next best thing. What did you think I'd say ask for help? Nah, open random doors till it works. You could ask another student as the late bell hasn't rung yet. But no, you had to learn yourself.

"347-A... 347-A...-""E-Excuse me? We have the same class..." You whipped your head around to see someone outrageously taller than you. He was also t h i cc. Like my man's could snap my neck in two. Johnathan style."Oh that's sweet. Mind me fallowing you?" he shook his head no, and rubbed the back of his head. His short brown hair was ruffled and more healthy than your's. Dang- jealous, "So what's your name?" You ask the burly student. Who just fiddled with his hands as the two of you walked in awkward silence. "Its Taylor..." Taylor said. "Oh that sounds like a western name. So where are you from?" You felt so relieved that someone else was also from the western side of the world. Even if France isn't in the Americas it's still in the west!

(Haha get smacked with a secret character! That I'm definitely not gonna be obsessed with writing!)

The boy seemed shocked and relived. Wait- there were racists too?! Whoever hurt this boi is gonna get an ass whoopin'. "O-oh! I'm s-sorry! Its just that... Everyone usually laughed at me for being a "halfy"..." He air quoted. "Nah it's fine! So what's your other ethnicity?!" You said. Finally not feeling alone.

"Well- u-uhm... I'm..." The giant boi had stuttered from embarrassment. "Im sorry for being-""No, your fine Taylor. I used to be the same!" You laughed along side him. But then he looked around for any other students. But at the moment you two were walking to another building. Taylor then looked back at you and said. "well- I'm half... French...." He seemed to recoil after he said that. But you literally flipped.

Who woulda guessed that you'd meet someone with the same language as you! This is fucking awesome!

"Oh my god i thought I was alone!" Tearing up from such happy feeling's. "W-wait really!" Taylor said, clearly excited. But his black eyes widened then he put his fist to his lips. "Sorry, th-that was rude." Taylor said. "Nah it's fine buddy! But did you move to Japan or lived here?" you said. Clearly interested in the gentle giant. Which made his heart throb, no one ever really treated him like this- it was new to him. Even sharing a common language is, amazing!

Finally after what felt like hours you had finally made it to choir. The room was right next to the cafeteria, making a mental note of it. Taylor was actually really fun to conversate with! He's just a big boi with an event bigger heart. He also had a cat named momo. Isn't that neat? Wonder if it's a chonker like the hell spawn that is jimmy. That bababoi is fatter with a ph then the moon.

"were here.. uhm if it's alright can i walk you here-"

Taylor and yourself winced as the late bell finally rung. "Dose it still count if we got here before..?" You said. Taylor had a sad look on his face. Dang now you feel bad, probably the first time he's gotten here late. "Oh well... Its not like I've never been late before..." He then looked down at you, yes down, to see your somewhere between confused and shocked face. How? That just broke your entire delusion!

"D-dont look at me like that..." Taylor shyly looked away. Rubbing his forearm, which seemed to be a way to show that he was embarrassed. "No-no it's fine. I'm the reason your late anyways..." You quieted down, feeling even worse about it. "What did you say? I'm sorry I couldn't here you- oh! T-that was rude..." Taylor had somehow accomplished the feat of making himself red at his own words. It was to pure for your devilish eyes.

"Welp, time to get detention on the first day!" You excitedly said as you swung open the door.

Everyone was still talking as you sighed in relief. No one noticed you, wait why the hell did you even swing it open anyways? Taylor seemed to be kinda nervous, more so than ever. Which was more or so like 5-4 minutes ago. "Well care to explain why you two are late?" Taylor flinched at the teachers words. " Hey it's alright. Its very sweet of you to walk with him Y/N. He doesn't seem to have a lot of friends. So thank you." Mis. Uh what was her name? Whatever you'll hear it later. "No problem mam. And I'm also new here!" "Oh that's wonderful! Everyone be nice! And my name is Daki by the way!" Mis. Daki, now you remembered! Taylor was just standing there. Fiddling with his short sleeved button up. "U-uhm we have to sit down now ..." Taylor mumbled. You nodded and said to Daki that class has to start. She then ushered you two away as she was prepping for today's class.

"can you sit with me?.." Taylor said as the two of you got closer to the rows of chairs and music stand's. Taylor sat a bit farther then the other students. But one decided to go and say hi.

"Hello! I'm Kanroji Mitsuri! Nice to meet you, and can i sit with you guys?" The Melon haired girl asked. Also what's with everyone having big titty? Like stop rubbing it in my face. "Sure, Taylor you ok with that?" The shy boy just nodded. Fixing the music board so that it could meet his face. "Welcome to hell!" You joked as you gave the girl a handshake. She giggled, then sat down next to you. Not before saying- yelling sorry to who she was originally sitting with.

"So your new here? That's great, so got any friends yet?" Mitsuri asked. You looked over at Taylor then back at Mitsuri. "Yeah, i thought it was obvious?" You said. You did think of Taylor as a friend. Cause now someone can repremand you for cussing out a teacher. "Oh that's so sweet!" She gushed as she did an overdramatic hand gesture. Like was this gorl on crack? Probably. Knowing this school. But everyone was shut up by the announcements.

"Remember on December 24th all students on the football team are heading over to hati, Also remember to check your passports given by the administration! Have a good day!"

You could hear a few cheers. "Oh, i wish I could travel to there. I've heard it is a beautiful place!" Mitsuri did her thing while you just looked at her. You were about to talk to Taylor but Mis. Daki had decided she was ready for class. "Alrighty! As you know we have a new student here. So we're gonna be looking at great singers from around the world! I know we usually do that on Thursdays but I'd like for Y/N to get used to how we operate in my class" Well I'll be damned, were not just gonna be practicing some random songs!

"Taylor could you please turn off the lights? Oh and Obanai, could you sit at the monitor and skip over adds?" Taylor had gotten up and so did this Obanai guy. You could hear a faint groan of anguish come from the hetorocramia guy. You kinda feel bad."Oh! I should introduce you to him! He's a great friend!" Mitsuri said while she wrapped an arm around yours. "Heh sure." You then got your arm out of her death grip. Then decided to look around, noticing instrument cases in a hallway to your left. There was also a silencing room. Oh so band is also here? That checks another thing off of your list of 'finding the room'.

Then the lights went out except for one as Taylor returned. Fiddling with his shirt again. But as you were yet again foiled by Mitsuri pulling you close to her. "Hey, isn't Taylor cute? Just look at him! C'mon tell me!" She whispered. You gave her the infamous , the rock eyebrow raise. She just giggled. "He's, nice-""No not that! Like do you find him cute?", She persisted. "Uhm yeah? I mean he's a good person to hang around?" Mitsuri seemed satisfied as she let you go. 'Aww! Y/N so cute!' She thought to herself. The blush being concealed by the dark room.

Then Britain's got talent started to play. You almost bursted out laughing. But had successfully concealed the demons. Taylor seemed to be watching it intently. Maybe he's a music fanatic? I mean you were so-

As the contestant started singing after a very sad backstory, it was beautiful! "Omg, i can't believe that her pet bitch ass dog died to a plane crashing through their house! Now they're homeless!" You internally cried as Mitsuri yet again for the fourth time gushed on how 'cute' you were. Heavy quotation's. "Well it's common that most singers do have bad upbringings or something bad happened in their life. 1/3 singers or music artist to be exact." Taylor quipped. Damn he knew a lot. But no one can beat you in song remembering. And as the song finished Mitsuri was practically in tears. "That song was so beautiful! So full of love!" She cried. Its a song sure you've cried to them at 2:59 in the morning but that doesn't count.

Then an add started to play, well damn this is gonna take forever-

ー

And once the 45 minute long video ended the release bell had blown everyone's eardrums out.

You could just hear the groans of pain.

"Aww! We were gonna do solo's, but oh well! Everyone have a good rest of the day!" Mis. Daki said, waving at the students. "Well i just dodged a bullet there..." You whispered as you felt Taylor tap your shoulder. "Uhm can i see your schedule please? I just w-wanna see if we share anymore classes..." He shyly mumbled, but you heard him and gave him a smile. "Of course homie! Here!" You said as you passed it to him. He smiled then looked through it. "Ooh ooh! Me too I wana see!" Mitsuri asked excitedly. She kinda reminded you of that Renbozo guy. You know what your calling him that from now on.

Mitsuri then scared the shit outta Taylor by leaning over him to see as well... More like looking around cause Taylor was maybe 6'6 or something. If it turns out your right you're gonna go buy some lottery tickets then get murdered by an immediate family member if you win.

"YES! We have language arts together! Thats awesome as me and Obanai also have that!" Mitsuri then gave you a crushing hug. You just vibed with it, untill Taylor coughed into his hand. "M-mitsuri, she might be uncomfortable..." How thoughtful my giant gentleman beef wall. "Oh dear! Sorry if I made you uncomfortable!" Mitsuri immediately let go as she packed up her things. You then stood up, Taylor fallowing as the two of you started to leave after Mitsuri ran over to Obanai- you think, wait did he have a snake? That's rad. Maybe you can bring jimmy?

"Y/N wait!" Mis. Daki had said as you passed the round desk she stood at. A whiteboard behind it with familiar notes on it. "Heres your choir handbook. It has everything were gonna be practicing besides the music were gonna be doing for plays! That's one thing you all can vote on actually! Oh I'm rambling on now go!" She said as she handed you the book. You thanked her and walked out, Taylor then spoke up.

"We have cooking and gym together." He said as he gave you back you're schedule. "Thats awesome! So see you then!" You said as you waved at him as you walked away.

Taylor giving you a small smile as you walked away and to the hell that is- Math! Ba dum Tish!

─────────────────────────────

Taisho Secrets ! (Hahah get surprised >;)

Taylor is my favorite character ive made! (Except Hantei bc that man i have in my heart )

Rengoku halfway through his conversation had randomly started to cough a lot. Because he didn't stop to breath literally.

Obanai was glaring at you the entire time. (Mitsuri simp)

Yes i remember these were a thing

─────────────────────────────

Yay- time to copy and past until chapter 3 :')

#yandere demon slayer #yandere x reader #dark themes #demon slayer angst #yandere aesthetic #yandere core #yandere kny x reader #kny smut #yandere kimetsu no yaiba #yandere+demon+slayer+x+reader #yandere kny #yandere stuff #ED #yandere rengoku x reader #yandere doodoo

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honeytae · 3 years

Note

Hi!! Idk if you’re taking requests or not, but I was hoping I could request something along the lines of where you’re in love with your best friend, taehyung, but he doesn’t know and he’s getting married soon. you don’t tell him how you feel until the night of his wedding when you’re a bit tipsy from drinking your feelings away. you can decide the ending! thank you in advance if you end up writing this! hope you’re doing well and staying safe. Xx

hi darling! i’m so sorry this took so long for me to write. i couldn’t get it to a point where i was satisfied with it for a really long time, i still don’t feel that good about it honestly but hopefully it’s okay for you!!! i tried to make it angsty (yikes) so hopefully it’s not horrible lmao

tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy, @the1921-monsters

genre: angst

word count: 1.6k

warnings: um so much heartbreak, oc is a little (very) in denial about the situation and comes off a little toxic tbh, requited love but nothing they can do about it now, mentions of tae going into a panic attack

You couldn’t handle it.

You couldn’t handle the ‘congratulations to the happy couple,’ nor the Mr. and Mrs. Kim sign practically floating over their heads. You couldn’t handle the copious bouquets and all the preparations that went into this.

And you felt like a complete asshole about it.

Which is precisely why you decided to prematurely exit the event, doing yourself and everyone else a favor by leaving for the night to go sulk in your hotel by your lonesome.

The elevator ride up to your floor was miserable, your own battles within your mind coupled with the fact that your floor was the top one, making the ride excruciatingly long on top of everything else.

Rustling with the hotel key in your bag seemed to take forever as well, finally barging into your half unpacked space with a sigh. You quickly shut the door behind you, hoping you’d been able to sneak away from the hotel lobby without any guests noticing.

Shuffling further into the room, you sat on the edge of the king bed in the center of the room, placing your head in your hands at the mere prospect of this weekend.

Taehyung was getting married. Kim Taehyung, your best friend, the one person you’d been pining for since middle school, would be legally bound to someone else in less than twenty four hours.

Maybe you just shouldn’t have come. Despite sending red flags to Tae, you couldn’t think of a better solution than fleeing at this exact moment. Why did you think you could handle this?

Two knocks against the locked door had your head raising from its resting place, cursing under your breath at someone coming after you.

You didn’t feel well. That would be your excuse.

“Hey, you okay?” Immediately upon opening the door, Taehyung spoke the question out into the air, dark eyebrows knit in concern and kind eyes imploring yours for an answer.

“Hi. I’m fine, just a little tired, Tae.” You pressed your lips together in a hopefully believable smile, the man frowning before nodding at you.

“Me too. Can I come in?” He asked, the question completely innocent however making your heart rate a bit faster at the what if. What if things had gone differently? What if it was still a possibility for things to escalate between you two?

Cut it out. He’s about to be a married man.

You raised your eyebrows at him for a moment, then stepped back to allow him in, putting all your concentration on shutting the wood for a moment as you took a steadying breath.

“What about your party?” You wondered aloud, the man humming as he took a seat on your fully made bed.

“I’m tired of the parties. They’re exhausting.” He chuckled, covering his face with his hands as he reclined back on your bed.

Your heart skipped another beat at the vision, his tight pants leaving little to the imagination and buttons from his dress shirt stretched to new limits with his strained position. Diverting your eyes, you walked over to the desk chair in the corner of your room, reaching for a water bottle out of your mini fridge. Get a fucking grip.

Tossing one over to the bed beside Taehyung, you sat down in the plush seat, grateful that the man didn’t seem to notice your distance from him as you glanced out the window.

Until….

“Are you really okay? I feel like you’ve been avoiding me lately.”

At his sudden words, you froze, gripping your water a bit tighter as you brought your eyes back to his face. He was closer now than before, having scooted to the edge of your bed to lean toward you, eyes showing concern for you as you shuffled in your seat.

Taehyung was never one to beat around the bush, and at times like this, you really wish he would just brush some things under the rug as easy as you could.

“I’m good, Tae. Just have a lot going on, I guess. I’m sorry I made you feel like that.” You said, hoping to clear the air and dismiss the topic as soon as you possibly could. The man’s stare wasn’t helping your state any.

“No apologies. Just wanted to check in on you.” He sighed, seemingly disappointed with your lack of response before a hideous painting across the room caught his eye.

“What the fuck is that?” He griped, making you chuckle as he sat up to lean toward the art piece, squinting with his lip curled in amusement.

“It’s not so bad.” You shrugged, smirking when he turned back to you in bewilderment. Realizing you were teasing him, his eyes went back to normal size, a smile meeting his own lips at the return of your familiar banter.

“How can you sleep in a room with that shit? I feel like asking for a refund.” He shook his head, making you laugh before taking a swig from your water.

“Somehow I manage.” You replied, twisting the cap back on the bottle with a sigh.

It’s times like these that you feel as though nothing is wrong. Times like these that transport you back to periods of your life when Taehyung was just a call away, and you thought maybe, just maybe, you two had a chance. But that was over now. Those days were no more.

Because Taehyung informing you about a blind date then turned into him in a full blown relationship, a serious one at that, and soon enough they were taking big steps such as meeting the parents, moving in together, and yes, getting engaged.

Your friends had been just as shocked as you were, pitying you with deep sympathetic looks over Taehyungs shoulder as you hugged him in confused congratulations. It had all happened so fast...how did you manage to lose him forever?

Waking up the next day, you felt a particular heaviness on your chest. It was the day before the wedding, the rehearsal dinner turned into an entire day of partying for their guests. A celebratory day, if anything.

But waking up and getting all dolled up for this occasion was the absolute last thing you wanted to do, today or ever. You had always thought that you’d have much more of a starring role in Kim Taehyung’s life. Shaking your head to dismiss those kinds of thoughts, you cursed as you left your hotel room, wondering how the hell you’d be getting through this day.

Four martinis. Four martinis was how you’d be getting through today. The bartender had become one of your closest acquaintances over the past few hours, eyeballing you silently as he poured you yet another cocktail, your demands obvious that you were not drinking out of celebration.

Sitting at the bar, you contemplated everything. From the time you’d met Tae, you had been so sure that you two completed each other. Were you that naive? And fuck, why are you still thinking about this now? It’s over. You and Tae will never be.

Nearly jumping off your stool at a hand suddenly clapping your back, you shifted your gaze over to the arm belonging to Jungkook, one of Taehyung’s youngest yet wisest friends.

“You’re sulking.” He said plainly, dark eyes tracing over your faded features, briefly examining the drink in your hand before shooting the bartender a knowing look.

“You shouldn’t be out here.” You sighed, nearly breaking into a sob when his hand laid over yours, fingers fitting between your own in a comforting gesture. With one glance at the man, you gained all the information you didn’t want.

He knew.

You wondered how long he’d known. Jungkook, being the quiet and relatively introverted person he was, was an observer. He knew everything about everyone it seemed, by not speaking to them at all. He noticed everything.

You just hoped he didn’t notice the way your eyes started blinking rapidly, and that he’d instead just go back into the party without another word.

“Neither should you.” He replied to you, his tone holding nothing but concern as he tried to catch your eyes.

You just couldn’t hold it in.

“Well maybe if I wasn’t in love with him I’d be having a better time.” You mumbled, leaning your head down on your hands, elbows pressed to the tops of your thighs, sad and tired as Jungkook froze beside you.

Unbeknownst to you, a concerned Taehyung had also come to find you, stumbling upon that very scene as Jungkook tried to console you.

Meeting eyes with his older friend, Jungkook’s mouth gaped open for a moment, opening and closing like a fish out of water as you cluelessly rambled under your breath about how stupid you were to ever let yourself come here.

With a shaky exhale, Taehyung silently began to put it all together. The way you’d been working constantly lately, picking up every shift you could to decline his repeated attempts at getting together with you, the way you’d ran off last night and brushed it off as you being too tired. It was all adding up.

You were struggling with this as much as he was. Maybe more.

But what Taehyung could do about this years ago was no longer an option, his hands shaking at his sides as he spun on his heel and walked out of the lobby. He could briefly hear Jungkook call for him but ignored it, breathing heavily as he rounded one of the hallways leading to the restrooms.

Unshed tears misted over his eyes as he hugged a corner of the wall, feeling rather unsteady as he leaned his forehead against the cool surface. The burning pain in his chest had him sinking down to the floor in an instant, sobs wracking his shoulders with heightening emotions rising in his throat.

You’d finally given him the green light. And it was too fucking late.

#bts fanfiction #bts member x reader #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts angst #bts reader insert #kim taehyung fanfiction #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung imagines #kim taehyung angst #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung x reader #taehyung imagines #taehyung angst #writing #fanfiction #angst #x reader #reader insert

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seyenna · 3 years

Text

Philza and/or Techno and/or Ranboo fic recs

just some of my fav dsmp fics, mainly phil, techno or ranboo bc i’m biased but also a bunch of sbi and others

this one goes out mainly to zablr discord my beloved

pls tell me if the links don’t work

all of these are on ao3

rating\status(complete/ongoing)\warnings\word count\misc tags

ichor flows free amongst the iron by summer_rising

T\o\violence\13k\series\gods AU

Summary:

A gods and goddesses AU of the Dream SMP, dramatized for all our benefits.

First work:

"Two gods meeting on a mountaintop overlooking the stormy sea? Very classy, Dream, I appreciate your taste."

Dream didn't turn to look at him, but the faint shake of his shoulders let Techno know he had heard.

"Scar's healing up nicely, I see," Techno mumbled with a light nod of his head.

"Mhm. Cut nice and clean. Not that I expected any less from you, of course."

The god of power and the god of luck meet on a mountaintop to discuss Luck's standing in the ongoing political disaster.

We're Only Young by ImperialKatwala

G\o\-\66k\series\Dream & Technoblade

It's easy to forget amid the chaos and bloodshed how similar - and how young - Dream and Technoblade really are.

And when the sun comes up, you'll find a brand new god. by SkyboxZoo

M\o\violence\19k\gods AU

Summary:

The wounds from the fight had healed nigh instantly, but the golden blood still soaked Techno’s shirt. His cloak had gotten torn off and his hair had fallen out of its pony-tail. Ichor pooled in his boots. The man left a trail of golden, bloody footprints in his wake.

old gods (new gods) by WriterWinged

T\o\-\9k\series\gods AU

Summary of first work:

Survival, Blood, Madness. Philza, Technoblade, Wilbur Soot. Three gods who have never cared for mortal life, who play with them when they want to, who kill their toys just as easily. How, then, did a mortal end up in their hands?

This House Is A Fucking Nightmare by SilverWing15

T\c\-\17k\series\sbi

Summary:

AU Where Phil isn't quite as willing to stand by while his sons drop like flies

Summary of third part (my fav):

Does lingering too long in the shadow of a god make you a god? The voices in his head seem to think so.

His brothers know he's older than them but they don't know how much

OR: Technoblade doesn't think his brothers realize how different they are from ordinary men. After all, ordinary men may fight the gods, but they don't win.

It's been a long day. by BecausePlot

G\c\-\3k\Philza & Ranboo

Summary:

Sides are bad: he knows that much. He’s seen it tear people apart time and time again, so when he decided to separate himself from Tubbo and keep his distance, he knew he was in the right.

Well. He thought he was in the right, at the time. Sitting all by himself on the steps to the Prime Path, he’s not so sure anymore.

Yes, the sides might have torn the others apart, might have made them so weak that they have no choice but to fold under Dream’s hand, but at least they aren’t lonely.

So are sides bad?

‘I don’t know.’

~*~

Or, Ranboo looks out at the ruins of L'Manburg, feeling more lost and lonely than he ever has.

But, as he soon finds, he's not as alone as he thinks.

the voices in my head, they say a lot of things by rosyasteria

-\c\violence\1k\Technoblade-centric

Summary:

Some days the voices didn’t listen. They didn’t let up. They screamed instead of whispered, relentless, assaulting his ears until they bled.

tell them i was the warmest place you knew and you turned me cold by rosyasteria

-\c\-\2k\Techonblade-centric

Summary:

Technoblade cared. But in the end it just fucked him over.

For the majority of his life, Techno felt like less of a companion, less of a family member, and more like a weapon to be wielded. 'The Blade' they called him; never 'friend'.

It Leaves Little Time for Anything Else by mirandible

M\c\-\1k\part of series\Dream & Technoblade

Summary:

A young man aims for the top, but fate has other plans for him. So does Technoblade, apparently.

(Or: answering the question of “Why does Techno hide his scars if they’re supposed to be some sort of trophy? Why keep your point of pride a secret?”)

the best requiem is a bar of silence (and I'll sing it, even if I must hold back my tears) by jello12451

T\o\-\10k\Philza & Technoblade

Summary:

He can’t help the noise of celebration that escapes him. Techno- this means that Techno’s free, and he got his horse back, and everything is alright-

Tubbo, filled with rage at Phil’s cheers, turns and impulsively shoots an arrow.

He doesn’t expect to hit his target.

---

Alternatively: What if Phil didn't have a bucket of water when Tubbo shot him?

Change fate by being aggressively kind by sircantus

T\o\-\13k\sbi, Philza-centric

Summary:

“You do understand that you’re caring for the thing meant to bring destruction and chaos to our world, right?” The woman asks, Phil looking behind him fondly as Techno grabs at the ends of his wings.

“He’s just a child.” Phil answers distractedly, humming as his wings get gently yanked at.

“He’s the first of three to destroy life as we know it! Shouldn’t we, well, get rid of him?!”

“Oh, no.” Phil raises his eyes with a sharp glare. “Believe me, I have my own way of preventing the apocalypse.”

---

Or, Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy are basically chaotic forces of nature, destined from birth to end the world and bring destruction. Most who hear of the tale of them are trying their best to track them down, and to end the monsters while they’re still young, still just children.

Phil has a different plan.

(In which Phil raises the minecraft equivalents of the anti-christ with love and support, so much so to the point where the world ending is really just a funny thought, and Phil has three kids who casually have powers that are bit more extreme than anything else in the world)

I promised you that everything would be fine by findingkairos

G\c\-\6k\Technoblade-centric

Summary:

manifestation: (n.)

1. an event, action, or object that clearly shows or embodies something abstract or theoretical;

2. a version or incarnation of something or someone;

3. an appearance of a ghost or spirit;

4. the Blood God.

When he's young and still alone, still establishing his reputation as the immortal warrior, Technoblade makes up an imaginary friend.

Years later, the blood god is very real and very much a god: one that is prepared to do anything for their first and only friend.

the inner mechanism of a black box by Bee_4

T\c\violence, self-harm\Technoblade-centric

Summary:

Technoblade lets himself get imprisoned for Philza’s sake. He doesn’t plan on being there long. Unfortunately, he’s underestimated Pandora’s Vault.

There are things that will make even the Blade fall apart in due time, as it turns out.

carry all my sins by BananasofThorns

T\c\-\4k\Ranboo-centric

Summary:

Ranboo swallows. “All my armor and weapons and stuff are missing. Fundy and I were gonna go looking for them after the festival, I think.”

“I see.” Tubbo smiles again, but this time it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Well, I’m sure it’ll be fine, it’s just a festival. We could probably find someone to lend you a sword or an axe or something.”

He starts towards the stage, waving at people when they call his name, and Ranboo follows. The original panic has dulled to a cold buzz in his chest, but apprehension still wraps itself around his body like chains. He doesn’t like being without his armor and tools; he feels too exposed, and if something happens, he’ll be helpless.

“Ranboo?” Tubbo calls, glancing back.

Ranboo shakes his head and hurries to catch up. “Yeah, it’ll be fine,” he repeats. “Everything’s gonna be fine."

Tubbo grins. “That’s the spirit.”

Rule 5: be loyal. L'manberg doesn't do well with supposed traitors. Ranboo deals with the consequences.

Sojourn by Lacy_Star

T\o\-\13k\Ranboo & Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

“Well…” Ranboo started slowly, “You see, uh… I kinda… don’t have a house anymore, obviously. Um… Phil found me in—“ He paused, cutting himself off and squinting at the floorboards— very discreet, “Phil… found me. And… um… He said I could stay by you guys. Like, um, by the dog house he wants to build?” He paused, then began to ramble, “But, uh, if you don’t want me here, I understand— and I’m sorry for coming in your house when you weren’t here, I swear I didn’t touch anything— it was just cold outside and—“

Techno just stared at him. And how, how was this the second time this had happened to him? How was this the second time he returned home after battle to discover an injured teenage boy waiting for him, seeking assistance with nowhere to go? And how badly had that ended last time, in nothing but betrayal and insults?

---

AKA: Phil drags a half-enderman home after Doomsday, and Techno decides that they can keep it. For now.

can an axe count as rent? by aboutfivebees

T\c\-\4k\Ranboo & Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

Ranboo’s struggling to settle into his new life on the Arctic Anarchist Commune, but at least he’s got bread.

or the struggles of an enderman hybrid to come up with a housewarming gift to give to his friends, who are just trying to adopt him

The Caged Bird Sings of Freedom by StarPrince_Punk

T\o\-\25k\Ranboo & Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

The Blade's stance was still tense, his body prepared to fight at a moment’s notice if need be. “What’s your name?” Phil asked “My… name?” The Blade asked. “Yeah. Your name isn’t actually The Blade, right? That’s like a stage name?” Phil tried to keep his tone light. “What’s your real name?” The Blade hesitated. “No one… No one’s called me by my name in a long time.” ------- When Phil comes across Ranboo in his panic room after L'Manberg's destruction, it reminds him of when he first met Technoblade. And just like when he met Techno, Phil's first instinct is that he has to help this kid. While living together, Techno and Ranboo learn that they're much more similar than they had previously thought, and Phil learns that it's not too late for him to be a better dad.

This already feels like more of a home by H3118ENDER

T\o\violence, death\18k\Ranboo & Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

As the ashes of L'Manberg settle the conflict continues to come to life setting the stage for a new wave of blood shed. Stuck slam in the middle of past and present friends Ranboo is coming to learn that even without nations to their names feelings and feuds don't die but people, people do.

A Shadow of a Shadow by unappetizingegg

T\c\-\4k\ Ranboo & Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

There were a few beats of silence, and then- “What are your plans, now? Do you need a place to stay?”

That caught him off guard. Surely he’d heard incorrectly. Phil was offering him a home, right after he’d orchestrated the destruction of his past one? It didn’t make any sense, none of it did. Why would Phil say that?

Then he remembered, he remembered Techno stopping him in the fight. He remembered being handed his book, the question in Techno’s gaze. He swore, in that moment, Technoblade, the Technoblade, had been worried about him. He remembered that he had been told to leave, to run, to get away and preserve himself. He had spared him, he remembered that Techno had spared him.

Techno had helped him. Phil had tried to protect him, to get him away from the danger.

They were there for him.

---

alternatively:

Ranboo is alone. But he really isn't.

Meritocracy by oddsbodkins

G\o\-\18k\Dream & Technoblade, sbi, medieval AU

Summary:

Dream is more successful than he'd ever imagined - but there's one thing that's been bothering him. Technoblade, his biggest rival, the Acolyte of the Blood God and King of the Arena, went missing last spring, just before Dream got the chance to duel him. Without that one achievement to pave his way, all the following victories have felt cheap.

So, Dream hired some goons to dig Technoblade up and pester him into coming back to the Capitol, for one last showdown. Easy enough, right?

Interlude I: "Promises to Keep" by Ozzyyy

T\c\-\1k\part of a series\Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

These woods are lovely, dark, and deep But I have promises to keep

And miles to go before I sleep And miles to go before I sleep.

Techno has a plan. It's crazy. It's insane, it's actually just batshit bonkers. But if chaos cannot be enjoyed together, then what's it worth, yeah? There's a certain beauty in watching the world burn from the center of the flames. Phil intends to be there.

I Don't Want To Start A Fight (wouldn't you rather start a riot?) by KryOnBlock

T\c\violence, death\15k\Technoblade & Philza & Ranboo

Summary:

An universal ping rang out from behind him, the third and final he knew, and Phil sobbed, clutching the body tighter.

Techno didn’t move.

It always has been Technoblade and Philza, Philza and Technoblade. Take on half, and you shall never go back.

Sheltered by Lulatic

G\c\-\6k\Ranboo & Technoblade

Summary:

It was cold outside. But Techno never heard Ranboo complain.

That was the best excuse he could muster to keep him out.

Antarctic Princes 'verse by BirchWrites

T\o\-\15k\series\sbi

Summary:

Loosely-connected one shots set in an AU where the Antarctic Empire and the Dream SMP are in the same world. Ordered chronologically, but each fic can be read as a standalone thing

Summary of first part:

Oh shit. Forget arrested; Dream’s going to have to tell Wilbur that he watched Tommy get stabbed for being terminally stupid.

May we cross paths again by QueenLunaFreed

G\c\-\1k\Dream & Technoblade

Summary:

“Even if tomorrow it’s just us versus the entire server, Dream, I’m telling you right now - I have confidence.”

---

Dream couldn’t comprehend the pacing contradiction in front of him, the weakness he could clearly see, but would never comment on. Because this man has been defying Dream's expectations since they first met, because despite them not being friends and having no reason to trust each other, Dream knew that Technoblade is the only person who he’d trust to do this right. To destroy L'Manberg alongside him yet again, this time for real.

leave me your starlight by findingkairos

T\o\-\18k\Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

For you the world, Phil.

Once upon a time, Philza Minecraft is the only person who does not shy away from the bloody teen that regularly turns the tide of war.

This cements a friendship that will last wars, empires, worlds, and lifetimes.

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(Featuring: Back to Back Badasses, healthy relationships, accidental deification, intentional world domination, and Phil's past coming back to haunt his best friend.)

#fanfic #dsmp #technoblade #philza #ranboo #zablr #fic recs

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