when ur done with the fic but u still have to write a summary
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No fuck you guys I’m still pissed he falls for his best friend who just so happens to be straight okay something happens the friend is fine he’s on edge and starts ghosting EVERYONE and acting like a jackass to his best friend and his solution?? Hook up with Some Guy™️ to try and forget but spoiler alert it doesn’t work because you can’t fuck your feelings away that’s not how it works so he “brings” (quotations because the guy was invited but he didn’t want him to go) the guy he’s been banging to study group and then has the AUDACITY to get pissed when the guy flirts with his best friend who he very much so has feelings about like girl you don’t get to be upset you fucking idiot you did that to yourself
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i dont know shit abt lobcorp but silent orchestra is one of those designs thats just custom built hari bait like yea sure of course the fucking music guy wants to look like this WHATEVERRRRRRR
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They are enamored with her. It's clear by the way they so desperately grab at her, breaths hot, shaky against Eden's mouth. Knees knock into each other as she tugs them further into her room, her boot pushing the door shut behind her. Fingers pull at harnesses, fumbling to unbuckle them – and Eden shoves them down, onto her bed. She brings her knee up as she crawls atop them ; she places it tactfully between their legs.
To them, she is a force of nature, akin to one of mythos – far beyond a woman. Bringer of Hell, bringer of death ; she has her claws dug deep in them now. Yet, they look at her as if she hung each burning star in the night sky – paradise, perhaps a god. This unattainable dream, and yet she is within reach. She's right here – their hands remove garments, revealing scarred, yet soft skin underneath.
She closes the distance again, hands wandering down and eliciting a groan from them – and she breathes it in. Eden is focused, but she never meets their eyes. Not really. Perhaps a glance, perhaps a read of their expression as she moves against them – but it's as if she sees through them. This god, this untouchable force. They wonder where her mind is – or rather : something is missing.
But they don't linger, they can't linger on it long... for she knows every button to press, every string to pull. Their nails dig into her skin, symphony of pleasure falling from their lips. She'll clap her hand over their mouth as they writhe underneath her, her head will roll back – but she never relinquishes control. And they're fine with that, they like that.
After all... how did the mythos go? Was the devil really an angel – or was it the other way around? Whatever it was, whatever she was : they're intoxicated by it. Intoxicated by her command, by the tug at their hair now leading them where she wants them. Intoxicated by the soft moans she lets out when they dip their fingers into her, when they dip down to taste her.
Yet they know – even now : they will never have her. They can never have her. Even as she unravels at their touch, her claws near drawing blood from how tightly she grips. Even if they do this again tomorrow, or the next night.
Damn her. And damn them, too – they heeded every warning, every, 'this means nothing,' and they fell anyway. So they'll pretend – they'll pretend for just a moment, as she arches beneath them. They'll pretend they can have her.
They'll pretend they do.
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Was anyone gonna tell me the anniversary art shows Shoji without a mask, Sero with glasses, Hagakure without her invisibility quirk, kirishima with his roots grown out, and Jirou with a bandage over her ear, or was I supposed to just stare at the photo and have a mental breakdown with no warning
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