“My Blood Thirsty Friend.”

The people have spoken.

Peaceful Hope’s Peak:

So this whole AU is based on the idea of the butterfly effect. One small detail can change the whole story.

What would have happened if the students had more time to solidify relationships before Monokuma started with the motives?

Hope’s Peak was relatively peaceful until that first motive was released, and even then Sayaka only acted on it due to fear and desperation. I think that of Monokuma had waited like a week to present the motive videos, Sayaka would have had a deeper and more genuine connection with the other students, and she wouldn’t have tried to frame Makoto.

So basically, the game starts out exactly the same, except there’s more time for the students to mingle and get somewhat used to life in the school. Makoto has a couple of rough patches with people (*cough* Byakuya and Mondo *cough*) but overall everyone’s been getting along. Monokuma presents the first motive, and Sayaka has her breakdown. This time, however, it’s not just Makoto who goes to comfort her. Most of the students are trying to cheer her up and support her.

A couple of nights later, Sayaka comes pounding on Makoto’s door, telling her story about someone trying to break into her room. She’s extremely close to convincing Makoto, but she loses her nerve at the last second and breaks. She tells Makoto everything and, because Makoto is like Jesus or something, he forgives her immediately. Sayaka goes back to her room, and spends her night jamming out with Leon like she had promised.

Time passes. No one else tries anything due to the risk being too high, and positive feelings about their classmates as a whole. Taka and Mondo start on their Gay Shit™, now with the added bonus of Makoto not being traumatized and also participating in Gay Shit™ with them. Mondo and Chihiro are also getting along really well.

Second motive is introduced, and Taka immediately decides to share his secret with the class so that the Mastermind can’t use it against them. Spurred on by this decision, Mondo follows his example. Soon everyone’s sat down with each other, revealing their secrets and talking through them one by one. Group Therapy ensues.

Time passes, and Monokuma is getting really sick of this Found Family shit so he tries again. This time the motive is money. Here’s how this one goes down:

Monokuma: Whoever kills another student and gets away with it gets 10,000,00$ how about that?

Everyone: …

Everyone: Anyways-

Celeste ponders it for a minute, but at this point she’s too close with Chihiro to really consider it, so she painstakingly let’s it go. (Outing myself as a CelesHiro shipper because the aesthetics are just too good)

At this point Junko - the real one not Mukuro because Junko was chosen as the Mastermind for shock value and I do not approve - decides she has been away from her sewing machine for long enough and starts working on projects for all of her classmates. This means MAKEOVERS because I said so.

Last ditch effort, Monokuma reveals that Sakura is the traitor because she hasn’t killed anybody yet. Sakura’s like: “I’m really sorry but like he has my family so I didn’t really have a choice. He’ll probably kill me soon, but I’m not gonna kill any of you.” Kyoko and Makoto immediately decide that this isn’t acceptable, and decide to try and put an end to the killing game.

Big ass investigation takes place and the students enter their first Class Trial, everyone is still alive. Things happen and the Mastermind is revealed to be Jin Kirigiri because he would’ve made so much more sense than Junko, and if a single persona asks me to elaborate I will.

Everyone makes it out alive, and this tremendous victory is shown to be a beacon of Hope to the rest of the world. The Future Foundation is established, with far more power behind it this time, and Hope’s Peak is turned into a proper sanctuary for people who haven’t yet fallen into despair.

Bing Bang Boom everybody’s alive and the world is healing you’re welcome everybody.

Fuyuhiko practice, been meaning to draw him for awhile, I hope to draw him properly one day.

"Even if I wanted you to forgive me, I really hope you won't."

Chapter 11: The darkness, Amalgamate by DoctorHaifisch or @jamieprimack on tumblr

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OMG GUYS THIS FIC LITERALLY MADE ME SCEECH OUT LOUD WHILE READING IT, ITS SO GOOD!!!!

This scene in particular is one of my many favourites, honestly I have too many favourites..

I'm probably wrong but I like to imagine this scene with Kokichi slow increase in his wardrobe as to sort of depict Kaitos slow succumb to the darkness with the way he views Kokichi becomes increasingly negative because Kokichi, to him is becoming increasingly incomprehensible and antagonistic..

Idk how to really explain that but yeah..

Tldr; this fic has driven me MAD

Oops.

Oumota Week Day 3: dancing

kazuhina cringe compilation

“In case we don’t see ya: good afternoon, good evening and goodnight.”

Friendly reminder that Scribe Haylen risks her life to save Danse.

She risks it by warning him. Telling him what the Brotherhood found out before anyone had a chance to come after him.

She risks it by storming into Quinlan’s office, accusing sole of turning their back on Danse and not giving a damn that she’s speaking to officers that outrank her.

She risks it by lying to sole, a ranking member of the Brotherhood, telling them she has information on her vertibird only to lead them into the bowels of the Prydwen to plead for Danse’s life.

She risks it if Danse is saved by returning to check up on him and bring him supplies. He who is a known synth, an accused traitor and is supposed to be dead.

And why does she do it? Because she’s in love with him? No, it’s clear that her feelings for Danse come from respect, admiration and friendship. Because it benefits her in some way? No, her actions, if ever found out could only hurt her. She does it because he’s a good man, because he deserves a chance, because it’s the right thing to do.

And that is one of the most badass things in this entire game imo.

FORGIVENESS. — aizawa shouta x male reader

wc: 2.1k

WARNING: dirty talk (sho has the filthiest mouth ever :O), choking (brief), manhandling, slapping, face-grabbing, degradation/humiliation, semi-public sex, frottage, blowjob mention, creampie, ruined orgasm

genitalia terms: dick, cock, hole, cunt, pussy (even though these terms are used the readers genitals are ambiguous)

a/n: UMM I THINK I GOT CARRIED AWAY WITH THE…….. DIALOGUE no one talks about how embarrassing it is to write this stuff outtttt my face is burning

“I just want to know why.” Aizawa says, hunched over with his hands in his pockets. You can see how tense his shoulders are, and the furrow of his brows almost makes you want to get down on your knees and beg for forgiveness. In the middle of Musutafu’s central police station, you sit in an uncomfortably stiff chair that digs into your thighs, the plastic all but holding you in place. It wasn’t even your fault— Okay, maybe throwing the first punch was your fault. And ignoring Shouta’s dire instructions to stay out of trouble. And maybe you deserve a slap on the wrist for instigating….But what was a broken leg to a regeneration quirk?

And maybe the whole argument-in-front-of-the-police thing wasn’t very smart either. So what, you’re a big boy. You can handle yourself, you don’t need Shouta’s saving.

“He’ll live.” Is all you say, watching Shouta’s jaw clench. His adam's apple bobs in his throat as he nods once, crossing his arms over his chest. Through his black shirt, though baggy, you can see the swell of his biceps as they rest on his opposing knuckles. And because you just can’t help yourself, you grumble, “Bitch deserved it anyway.”

“Right..” He laughs, almost in disbelief, as he signs something you can’t quite make out at the reception table. Then he turns to you and grabs your arm, tightening his grip as he walks you out the station. You have the urge to run, to scramble out of his grasp and go as far as your legs will take you. To your left, a police officer looks ready to ask you more questions but he’s interrupted before he can even take an opening breath. “He’s with me, I got it handled.”

You’re fucked.

“Airheaded little boys and bars don’t mix,” He makes a passing comment, opening the passenger's seat to his car and hastily pushing you in. Usually, the casual dominance of his large, veiny hands buckling your seatbelt for you would have you swooning, raising your chin to steal a kiss on his stubbled cheek with a saccharine smile. Instead, you turn your head away, watching Shouta close the door and briskly walk to the driver’s seat, and from there he sits with bristle, moving his hair out of his handsome face. His eyes remain heavy-lidded, dark circles cascading into deep shadows around his tired eyes. “Do you—“

“I know you can’t say the same for yourself, but I handle myself just fine.” You feel quite proud of yourself for that one, crossing your arms over your chest and setting your jaw— just like you’d seen the hero do before.

“Aht, what do I always say about speaking over me?” Aizawa’s grip on your jaw tightens, squeezing your cheeks and pushing your lips together. You look much sweeter like this, quiet and anticipating as you look at him with wide eyes. His dark eyes are even darker, stone cold and unrelenting— but you can see a trickle of red light gleam through them. “Repeat it.”

“‘M’not sh’posed sh’to…” And part of you wants to ignore how the sadistic quirk of his lips upturns as you speak, but the brat in you just can’t let it go. You roll your eyes, averting your gaze as if the traffic lights are the most entertaining things you’ve seen in a while.

“Oh, so you can listen,” You just choose not to. His grip loosens as he pulls out the parking lot, driving in silence.

Save for the occasional blinker signal sound as he drives— wherever you’re going isn’t home, you’d realized after a particularly sharp turn into a vacant lot. During the drive, Aizawa seems to have collected himself, his long, dark hair pulled into a loose ponytail that trickled down his shoulders. Evidently, he didn’t want to drive angry, and most certainly didn’t want to punish you while angry. “Need me to pound some sense into you, baby? Knock those bratty thoughts right outta that pretty head of yours?”

A high whine threatens to escape your throat, Shouta reaching over to grab your throat and nip at your lips, trailing hot, wet kisses and bites down to your chin and throat. He seems to move your body so easily, manhandling you into the perfect position to be used, into positions that have you whining and moaning like a slut. Your legs spread across his lap, and had his seat not been lowered, you’d surely have smacked your head into the ceiling.

It’s embarrassing, all it takes is a few kisses and bites to have you rutting in his arms, desperate to blow off steam and even more desperate for him. Aizawa’s hands rest at your hips, holding you down while he grinds into you slowly, like he’s fucking you, save for the layers of clothes in the way. You click your tongue, fingers exploring the dark sea of hair framing his face. You go to pull, wrapping the locks around your fingers, but your efforts are fruitless.

“You wanna touch? That’s cute. Ask for it, I know you can use your manners, gonna ask to touch me, baby?” He whispers in your ear, his voice deep and gruff and stern. It’s completely rhetorical, he’s demanding you ask. The low purr of his voice sends shivers down your spine, instinctively you move to touch between your thighs, to feel pressure where you need it, but you can’t.

Because Shouta stops you with his stupidly large and strong hands. Because Shouta’s gaze is stern and downright scary. Because Shouta’s dick could be inches down your throat by now, had you just been a good boy, and the promise of that in the future makes you want to pause. Still, you groan, because how dare he deprive you of his dick. How dare he let you sit there, drooling for it and whiney as if that’s not evidence enough.

“You just needed some attention, didn’t you?” Aizawa purrs, unbuttoning your clingy jeans and pulling them past the swell of your ass to place a harsh smack straight across it. You jerk forward, face falling into his shoulder as he laughs at you, condescending and evil and mean. “Needed Daddy to hold your hand, whisper a few pretty words in your ears and give that greedy pussy a stern talkin’ to.”

“Don’t— don’t call it that,” You whisper, weak in the knees and your limbs feel like jello.

“Why not? That’s what it is, isn’t it? Always so ready and pretty, always aching for Daddy’s tongue, fingers.. his cock. Got a perfect pussy on my boy, don’t I? S’a perfect fit.”

His dick springs to life, through the fly of his comfortable pants and twitching against his matching black sweatshirt. Your mouth waters, watching as the brown-pink tip leaks precum, a particularly pretty vein disappearing into the head and wrapping around his shaft. You want to trace it with your tongue, drool all over it and have him force it down your throat while you cry and moan. Knowing Shouta, he’d pinch your nose and watch you struggle to breathe with a sweet smile on his face.

You can hear the faint click of the center console organizer closing, and the loud squelch of lube pouring, but you don’t expect the cool sensation of it being rubbed into your skin. It feels nice against the blazing smack from earlier, but all you can think of is how obscene you must look, whining in your Daddy’s arms while he prods at your hole and squeezes handfuls of your ass. Cool air brushes against your hole, you’re spread out for anyone to see, back arched while you push back on his fingers and moan like a whore.

“Such a greedy hole,” Shouta tuts, smacking your ass once more as a warning to get you to stop moving. You both know if he wanted to he could simply grab your hips, hold you in place and finger your brains out, but he wants you to keep your composure yourself. You said it, anyways. You can handle yourself just fine. “Gonna let me fuck this cunt stupid, baby? Stretch you out like you need it. Don’t rush.”

His fingers curl inside you, moans bubbling in your throat as your hips buck forward, your front clothed and aching. Your eyes roll back, a knot forming in your stomach as your abdomen clenches and his fingers thrust into the same sweet spot over and over and over. You mewl and cry, blabbering nonsense into his ears while he nips at your cheek, calling you a slut for liking this so much, for trying to take his fingers deeper, even once they’ve reached the final knuckle.

“Never. Fuckin’. Satisfied.” He enunciates with particularly sharp thrusts before slowly sliding his fingers out of you, feeling your hole wink around nothing, empty once again. He wipes the remaining lube on his fingers onto your face, watching as your watery eyes blink in delayed confusion. He smiles, sadistically sweet before slapping you across the cheek and pushing his fingers into your mouth, watching your lips curl into a dopey smile. Still, you’re empty.

Too empty.

“Wait.. wait.. Sho’, wan’ more.. c‘mon, give it t’me, please! I can— M’your good boy, m’a good boy..” You sob, wailing in his cock as he pushes his head against your hole. You wriggle down, watching as his strong hands tighten around your waist. He holds you there, thrusting up into your hole to use you like a fleshlight, groaning as your warmth wraps around his big dick, and kisses his tip with velvet.

You squeal, eyes scrunched closed as he raises you up and down as if you weigh nothing, an aching burn in your thighs as you struggle to push down onto his cock.

“Shut up, if they catch you taking a Pro-Hero’s dick like some whore that’s all you’ll ever be known for,” He gasps, spreading your cheeks apart to watch his cock disappear inside you through the side-view mirror. Sticky precum holds you two together, making a particularly sloppy sound when he pulls out completely, then slams back in. “But you’d like that wouldn’t you? Wanna be passed around at an agency, see how many loads you can take in that fuckin’ cunt.”

“M’sorry, Shou— M’sorry Daddy, please..!”

“You’ll take what I give you, brat,” His thrusts grow sluggish and sloppy as you crash into him and pant in his ear, tears streaming down your pretty face as every coherent thought leaves your brain. All you can muster out are jumbled pleas, toes curling as you grab his shirt— how slutty you must look while he’s still fully clothed. “You can handle yourself, right? You’ll cum on this dick with no hands, let Daddy fuck a load into you while you cum since you think you’re such a big boy.”

The knot in your abdomen tightens, your hole fluttering around his cock as Shouta moans, and you feel your body shutter as it briefly goes numb. You’re cumming, your head falls forward as he uses you like a fucktoy, bouncing in his lap with tiny, “Uh, uh, uh”‘s. Your hole grips him like a vice, swallowing his cock impossibly deep until you feel warmth flood your stomach, but before you can ride the high of getting your release, Shouta shoves you down at the hilt of his dick, pumping rope after rope inside you.

You want to cry, ball your hands into fists and beat at his chest because of course, you’re not allowed to cum. Of course, your orgasm is ruined and he gets to huff out satisfied breaths.

So mean.

“I know,” He sighs, breathless and tired as he slowly lifts you off his cock, hissing at the sensitivity. You let him do it, clawing at his shirt with a newfound lack of strength, whining as he catches the cum leaking out of you and pushes it back into your spent hole. He squeezes your ass one last time before pulling your pants and underwear back up, buttoning your jeans as if he didn’t just fuck you within an inch of your life and leave you high and dry. “I’m so mean, so mean. I’ll make it up to you.”

Too fucked out to say anything, you let him situate you back in the passengers seat, watching as he buckles your seatbelt for you. Whining, you grab his wrist, letting a sleepy smile grace your lips as he kisses your cheek. You had a lot to talk about once you got home, but he’d let you sleep for now.

“Brat.” He hums, nothing but love in his voice.

Deacon would fall for sole first but would never actually admit it, I mean of course he would fall for sole, how could he not? They embody everything he stands for, they rose from the ground frozen and broken and still fought for him when he didn't think he deserved it

It would eat him up inside, the constant fear that something would happen to sole. The thought that if he was to tell them how he felt, it would be more real and easier to take away.

Sole would have to act first, and only after years of being around each other so that deacon could accept that nothing would be able to remove them from his life without a fight