#I NEED TO CUT MYSELF I NEED TO CUT MYSELF NOW. I NEED TO. I MADE SO MANY PROMISES BUT I NEED TO DO IT NOW

[jupiterpilgrim]

The Elf Who Couldn't Help

Christmas Special 🎄

Miyeon x Male Reader

word count: 5K

You're wandering through the crowded mall, Christmas music blasting from every direction as you try to check off the last few items on your shopping list. The usual holiday chaos surrounds you - parents dragging screaming kids, teenagers hogging the benches, old people walking too damn slow. Just another December afternoon.

That's when you spot the Santa's workshop setup near the food court. There's a long-ass line of hyper children waiting to sit on Santa's lap, but what catches your eye is his helper elf. She's this tiny Asian girl in a green costume that looks about two sizes too big, desperately trying to wrangle the kids into some kind of order.

"Please stay in line! One at a time!" Her voice is high and stressed as a group of boys completely ignores her, ducking under the rope barriers.

You can't help but chuckle at how overwhelmed she looks. The elf costume is ridiculous - striped tights, pointy shoes with bells, and a hat that keeps sliding down over her eyes. But there's something endearing about how hard she's trying, even as chaos erupts around her.

And she's undeniably adorable too.

"Fucking hell," you mutter under your breath as another kid breaks free from the line, causing even more chaos. The girl's shoulders slump in defeat as she tries to restore order. This will definitely be a long day for the poor thing.

You continue with your shopping, but find yourself passing by the Santa setup a few more times. Each time, the poor elf looks more and more frazzled. Her dark hair is escaping from under the hat, her cheeks are flushed, and she's practically jogging to keep up with all the line-cutting kids.

"Please, one at a time!" the elf girl pleads, her voice cracking slightly. You notice dark circles under her eyes as you walk past.

After finishing up your shopping, you head to your car feeling accomplished. That's when your phone buzzes - a text from your mother saying your cousin - yes, that cousin - decided last-minute to join Christmas dinner.

Fuck.

Now you need another gift.

With a sigh, you trudge back into the mall. The Santa setup is gone now, packed away for the night. You quickly grab a generic gift card (he's not worth much effort anyway) and head back to the parking lot.

That's when you hear it - soft sniffling coming from between two cars. You pause, keys in hand. The sound continues, clearly someone crying. Following the noise, you find a small figure curled up against a tire, wearing that ridiculous elf costume.

"Hey... are you okay?" You ask gently.

She jerks up with a gasp, hastily wiping her eyes. It's the same elf from earlier, but her makeup is smeared and her eyes are red and puffy.

"I'm fine!" She squeaks, trying to force a smile. "Just... just taking a break!"

You raise an eyebrow. "In the parking lot? At night?"

She deflates slightly. "Okay, maybe not just taking a break..."

"I saw you earlier, helping Santa. Rough day with the kids?"

A bitter laugh escapes her. "That obvious, huh?" She sniffs and wipes her nose with her sleeve. "Everything went wrong. The kids were crazy, I couldn't control them, I dropped hot chocolate all over myself... and now they're firing me. Said I'm not 'elf material.'"

"That's harsh. Those kids were like wild animals though, not sure anyone could have controlled them."

She shrugs, looking down at her ridiculous pointed shoes. "I really needed this job though. Even just through Christmas..."

"I'm sorry. I'm sure you'll find something else soon." You hesitate for a second, then you say your name.

"Miyeon," she replies softly.

"Nice to meet you, Miyeon. Look, this might sound weird but... would you want to grab something to eat? You look like you could use a friend right now."

Her eyes widen. "Oh! That's very kind but... I don't know you. And I probably look terrible..." She gestures at her tear-stained face.

You grin. "Come on, who doesn't want to have dinner with a Christmas elf? I promise I'm not a serial killer. We can go somewhere public with lots of witnesses."

That gets a small laugh out of her. "I really shouldn't..."

Right on cue, her stomach lets out a loud growl. Her face turns bright red.

"When's the last time you ate?" You ask.

"Um... breakfast? Maybe?" She admits sheepishly. "I was too nervous to eat lunch..."

"That settles it then. Come on, my treat. Consider it my good deed for the holiday season."

She bites her lip, clearly conflicted. "You really don't have to..."

"I want to. Plus, how often do I get to take an elf to dinner? It'll make a great story."

Finally, a real smile breaks through. "Okay... but only if you promise to drive me home after?"

"Scout's honor," you reply, helping her up.

—

You lead her to your car, noticing how small and vulnerable she looks in the ridiculous elf costume. During the short drive, you learn that Miyeon is a college student who needed extra money for textbooks next semester.

"The mall job seemed perfect," she explains. "Decent pay for just two weeks of work. But I guess I'm not cut out for dealing with kids."

"Those weren't kids, they were tiny terrorists," you reply, making her giggle.

At the diner, you slide into a booth and watch in amusement as Miyeon demolishes a huge plate of pancakes. She pauses between bites, suddenly self-conscious.

"Am I being rude? I must look like such a pig..."

"Not at all. Eat up - you've earned it after this sitty day."

Other diners keep glancing at your table, probably wondering why there's an elf having breakfast for dinner. Miyeon shrinks under their stares.

"Don't you need to return the costume?" you ask.

She shakes her head. "Had to buy it myself. Waste of money now..."

"Seriously? They made you pay for it? That's fucked up."

"Yeah... I spent most of my savings on it too." Her voice wavers slightly.

You study her as she eats - she really is cute, even in the silly costume. There's something genuine and sweet about her that draws you in.

"So what are you studying?" you ask.

"Art history. Everyone says it's useless but... I love it. There's something magical about understanding how art has shaped human culture throughout time."

Her eyes light up as she talks about her studies, hands gesturing animatedly. You find yourself smiling at her enthusiasm.

"That's actually really cool. Most people just chase whatever degree will make them the most money."

"That's what my parents wanted me to do," she sighs. "They think I'm wasting my time. The mall job was supposed to prove I could be responsible and support myself but..." she trails off, looking down at her empty plate.

"Hey, no matter what they think. Do what makes you happy."

She gives you a grateful smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

After dinner, you drive her home as promised. She lives in a small apartment complex near campus.

"Thank you so much for everything," Miyeon says sincerely. "I don't know how to repay you."

You pretend to think hard for a moment.

"Hmm, how about drinks tomorrow night?" you suggest. "No elf costume required."

Her eyes widen. "Are you... are you asking me out?"

"Unless that would be weird?"

"No! I mean... no, it wouldn't be weird. I'd like that." Her cheeks flush pink.

"Great. I'll text you?"

She nods, typing her number into your phone. As she gets out of the car, she turns back one more time.

"You know... maybe getting fired wasn't the worst thing after all."

—

The next evening, you meet Miyeon at a cozy bar downtown. She looks completely different out of the elf costume - wearing a simple sweater and jeans that highlight her petite but curvy figure. Her dark hair falls in soft waves around her face.

"Wow, you clean up nice," you tease. "Almost didn't recognize you without the pointy ears."

She rolls her eyes but smiles. "Never mention that costume again. I'm trying to repress those memories."

Over drinks, conversation flows easily. You learn that Miyeon moved here from Korea as a child, that she has a passion for Renaissance art, and that she secretly loves terrible reality TV shows. She's funny and smart, with a dry sense of humor that catches you off guard.

"So what do you do?" she asks, sipping her cocktail.

You tell her about your job, making her laugh with stories about your weird coworkers. As the night goes on, you find yourself moving closer together, knees touching under the table.

"Want to know a secret?" Miyeon says, slightly tipsy. "I actually hate Christmas music now. Hours of Jingle Bells on repeat will do that to you."

"I don't blame you. That shit's torture."

She giggles, leaning into you slightly. "You know what else? Some of those kids were evil. Like, actually evil. One bit me!"

"No fucking way!"

"Yes! Right here!" She rolls up her sleeve to show you a small bruise on her forearm. Without thinking, you gently run your fingers over the mark. Her skin is incredibly soft.

Miyeon shivers slightly at your touch, looking up at you with those big dark eyes. The air between you feels charged suddenly.

"Do you want to take a walk in the park?" you ask softly.

Shd nods, biting her lower lip.

—

The winter air nips at your faces as you and Miyeon stroll through the park. Christmas lights twinkle in the trees, creating a magical atmosphere despite the late hour. Snow crunches beneath your feet as you walk close together, shoulders brushing.

"Thanks for tonight," Miyeon says softly. "I really needed this after... you know." She gestures vaguely, probably referring to the elf fiasco.

"Hey, I should be thanking you. Not every day I get to rescue a damsel in distress from a parking lot," you tease.

She playfully shoves your shoulder. "I wasn't in distress! I was just... strategically regrouping."

"Is that what we're calling crying behind a car now?"

"Shut up," she laughs, but moves closer to you as a cold breeze whips past.

You find a bench overlooking a small pond, its surface reflecting the colorful lights. Sitting close together for warmth, you can smell her light floral perfume mixing with the crisp winter air.

"You know what's funny?" Miyeon says, watching her breath form little clouds. "If I hadn't been such a terrible elf, we never would have met."

"You weren't terrible. Those kids were demons."

"True. But still..." She turns to look at you, snowflakes catching in her dark hair. Her cheeks are pink from the cold and maybe the drinks. "I'm kind of glad it happened."

The moment feels perfect - the lights, the snow, her eyes shining as she looks up at you. You lean in slowly, giving her time to pull away if she wants to.

Instead, she meets you halfway.

Her lips are soft and slightly cold from the winter air. The kiss is gentle, tentative at first, then deepening as she sighs against your mouth. Your hand comes up to cup her cheek, thumb brushing away a snowflake.

When you finally part, Miyeon's eyes stay closed for a moment longer, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Wow," she breathes.

"Yeah," you agree eloquently, making her giggle.

—

The next few days pass in a pleasant blur. You text constantly, sharing memes and stories about your days. She sends you pictures of terrible Christmas sweaters at thrift stores, you counter with photos of your coworker's increasingly elaborate desk decorations.

You meet up again for coffee between her job hunting attempts. This time she's wearing an oversized sweater that makes her look even tinier, hands wrapped around a steaming peppermint latte.

"I had another interview today," she sighs. "At a bookstore this time."

"How'd it go?"

"Well, I didn't cry or spill anything, so better than the mall job already." She takes a sip of her drink, leaving a foam mustache that you resist the urge to kiss away. "But they said they're looking for someone with more retail experience."

"That's bullshit. How are you supposed to get experience if no one will hire you?"

"Exactly!" She throws up her hands in frustration. "It's like they expect me to emerge fully formed from the womb with five years of customer service experience."

You think for a moment. "You know... my friend works at that art supply store downtown. I could put in a word?"

Miyeon's eyes light up. "Really? You'd do that?"

"Of course. Plus, it's related to your major kind of. You'd be surrounded by art stuff all day."

She practically bounces in her seat. "That would be amazing! Thank you-thank you-thank you!"

Her enthusiasm is infectious. You can't help but lean across the table to kiss her, tasting peppermint on her lips.

The art store interview goes well - Your friend's recommendation carries weight, and Miyeon's genuine passion for art shines through. They hire her for a temporary position through the holiday season, with potential to stay on part-time after.

"I start Monday!" she tells you excitedly over the phone. "And the employee discount is amazing. I'm going to buy so many fancy pencils."

You celebrate with takeout at her tiny apartment near campus. It's cramped but cozy, walls covered in art prints and fairy lights. You sit on her futon eating Chinese food straight from the containers while she tells you about all her plans.

"The manager said they do workshops sometimes too. Like, teaching basic techniques and stuff. Maybe eventually I could lead one!" She's practically vibrating with excitement.

"Look at you, moving up in the world. From disgraced elf to art guru."

She throws a fortune cookie at your head. "Never mention the elf thing again! I'm trying to maintain some dignity here."

You catch the cookie and crack it open. "'A surprise encounter will lead to lasting happiness.’ Huh, guess these things are right sometimes."

Miyeon blushes, ducking her head. You set aside the takeout containers and pull her close, kissing her slowly. She melts against you, fingers curling into your shirt.

The makeout sessions are becoming a regular thing, but neither of you pushes for more. It's nice, this slow build of intimacy. Learning the little things about each other - how she scrunches her nose when she laughs, the way she absently hums while reading, her habit of stealing sips of your drinks and more.

—

You help her prepare for her first day, picking out an outfit that's professional but still her style.

She texts you updates throughout the day:

"OMG there are so many types of pencils. How are there this many pencils??"

"Just had to explain to someone why they can't return used paint. Why are people like this?"

"A kid just asked me what colors taste the best. I told him blue. Hope I don't get sued."

After her shift, you meet her for dinner. She's tired but happy, chattering about everything she learned.

"And did you know there are pencils that cost like $50 EACH? For one pencil! But they're so smooth, feel this!" She pulls a sample pencil from her bag, making you test it on a napkin.

"Very smooth," you agree, charmed by her enthusiasm. "Worth $50?"

"Maybe not $50, but with my discount..." She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

The days leading up to Christmas pass quickly. You help Miyeon learn the store's inventory system, quizzing her on different types of paper and brush sizes. She introduces you to her favorite cheap noodle places near campus.

One evening, you're walking her home when it starts snowing heavily. She tilts her head back, sticking out her tongue to catch snowflakes.

"You know what?" she says thoughtfully. "I actually kind of miss the elf costume. Just a tiny bit."

You raise an eyebrow. "Stockholm syndrome kicking in?"

"No, it's just... if I hadn't taken that stupid job, if I hadn't been so bad at it... we wouldn't be here now." She stops walking, turning to face you. "Sometimes the worst things lead to the best things, you know?"

You brush snow from her hair. "Very philosophical. Must be all that art history education."

"Shut up," she laughs, standing on tiptoes to kiss you. Her lips are cold but her mouth is warm, tasting like the hot chocolate you shared earlier.

When she pulls back, her eyes are serious. "Thank you. For everything. The job, the support... just being there."

"Hey, I got something out of it too. How many people can say they're dating a former mall elf?"

She groans. "I take it back. You're the worst."

But she's smiling as she says it, snowflakes catching on her eyelashes, and you think maybe those fortune cookies know what they're talking about after all.

—

The art supply store keeps her busy through the holiday rush. You bring her coffee during her breaks, watching her explain different types of paints to customers with growing confidence. She's in her element here, surrounded by creative supplies and fellow art enthusiasts.

"A lady asked me to recommend brushes for oil painting today," she tells you proudly. "And I actually knew what to suggest! I'm becoming one of those knowledgeable retail people."

"Better than being one of those retail people who hides in the stockroom to cry," you point out.

"That was ONE TIME," she protests, but she's laughing.

—

Finally, about two days before Christmas, you invite her over to your place for dinner. You've cooked before, but tonight feels different. There's an electricity in the air, an unspoken anticipation.

Miyeon shows up wearing a simple red dress that hugs every curve. Her dark hair falls in soft waves past her shoulders, and you catch a hint of floral perfume when she hugs you hello.

"Something smells amazing," she says, following you to the kitchen.

"Don't sound so surprised," you tease. "I can cook sometimes."

"Sometimes being the key word." She peers into the pot on the stove. "Remember the Great Pasta Disaster of last week?"

"Hey, how was I supposed to know the sauce would explode like that?"

She laughs, stealing a piece of garlic bread. "My ceiling is still stained red. My landlord thinks I murdered someone up there."

Dinner is comfortable, filled with your usual banter. But there's an undercurrent of tension, a charge building between you. Every accidental brush of hands sends sparks down your spine. You catch her staring at your lips more than once.

After the dishes are done, you move to the couch with glasses of wine. Miyeon curls up against your side, fitting perfectly under your arm. You can feel her heart racing.

"This is nice," she murmurs, tracing patterns on your thigh.

"Yeah?" Your voice comes out rougher than intended. "Just nice?"

She tilts her head up to look at you, eyes dark and intense. "Maybe more than nice..."

You cup her face with one hand, thumb brushing her cheek. She leans into the touch, breath hitching slightly.

"Miyeon..."

"Yes?"

"Do you like me?"

Instead of answering, she surges up to press her lips against yours. It starts soft, tentative, but quickly deepens into something more urgent. Her tongue slides against yours as she shifts to straddle your lap, dress riding up her thighs.

You run your hands up her sides, feeling her shiver. She grinds down against you, drawing a groan from your throat. When you break for air, her pupils are blown wide with desire.

"Bedroom?" You manage to ask.

She nods frantically. "Please."

You stand, lifting her with you. Her legs wrap around your waist as you carry her down the hall, still kissing. You nearly trip twice, making her giggle against your mouth.

Finally reaching the bedroom, you put her back on the floor, your fingers gently touch her cheek, she looks up at you with such trust and want that it makes your chest ache.

"You're sure about this?" You have to ask.

"I've never been more sure of anything," she replies.

That’s all you needed to hear.

Your hands roam over Miyeon's body, mapping every delicious curve through her thin dress. She arches into your touch, soft moans escaping her perfect lips. When you kiss down her neck, she threads her fingers through your hair, pulling you closer.

"I've wanted this for so long," she whispers, her voice trembling with need. "Ever since we first met..."

You gently bite her neck, making her gasp. "Me too, princess. You drive me fucking crazy." Your hands slide down to squeeze her ass through the dress. She feels so perfect, so soft yet firm.

Miyeon grinds against you, her breath coming faster. "Please... touch me more..." She guides your hand to her breast, letting you feel her hardened nipple through the fabric.

You waste no time sliding the dress straps off her shoulders, revealing more of her flawless porcelain skin. Her medium breasts spill free, pink nipples begging for attention. "Fuck, you're gorgeous," you growl, taking one peak into your mouth.

"Ohh! Yes, suck them..." She holds your head to her chest as you lavish her breasts with your tongue, alternating between gentle licks and firm sucking. Her moans get louder when you graze your teeth over the sensitive buds.

Your hands push her dress down further until it pools at her feet. Miyeon stands before you in just her lacy panties, her face flushed with arousal and slight embarrassment. You drink in the sight of her nearly naked body.

"You're staring too much," she says shyly.

You gently grab her wrists. "It's because you're fucking perfect." You pull her close for a deep kiss, your tongue exploring her mouth as your hands roam her exposed skin.

She melts into the kiss, pressing her breasts against your chest. You can feel her nipples hard against you through your shirt. Her hands tug at the fabric. "Take this off... I want to feel your skin..."

You break the kiss just long enough to pull your shirt over your head. When your bare chest meets hers, you both moan at the contact. Her skin is so incredibly soft against yours.

"Bed. Now." You guide her backwards until her knees hit the mattress. She lies back, dark hair fanning out on the pillow as she looks up at you with those innocent yet lustful eyes.

You crawl over her, leaving a trail of hot kisses from her tummy up to her neck. Her hands explore your back, nails lightly scratching. When you grind your clothed erection against her core, she gasps.

"Can you feel how hard you make me?" You thrust against her again, making her whimper.

"Y-yes... I want to see it..." Her hands move to your belt, fumbling with the buckle.

You help her undo your pants, kicking them off along with your boxers. Your cock springs free, already rock hard and leaking precum. Miyeon's eyes widen as she takes in your size.

"Like what you see, princess?" You smirk as her hand wraps around your shaft, stroking experimentally.

"It's so big..." she whispers, thumb brushing over your sensitive tip. "Will it... fit?"

"We'll go nice and slow, baby. But first..." You hook your fingers in her panties, sliding them down her legs. You spread her creamy thighs wide apart, admiring how her pink pussy glistens with arousal. Her outer lips are puffy and swollen, inner folds glistening with her juices. The musky scent of her cunt makes your mouth water as you lean in closer. “Fuck, you're already so wet for me.”

"Please..." she whimpers, squirming under your intense gaze. "Stop teasing and lick me already!"

You give her a wicked grin before diving in, dragging your hot tongue through her dripping slit from bottom to top. The taste of her pussy explodes across your tongue - tangy and sweet like ripe fruit. She cries out and bucks her hips up into your face.

"Fuck! Your tongue feels so good!" Her fingers tangle in your hair as you focus on her clit, circling the swollen nub with firm strokes. You can feel it getting harder and more pronounced under your tongue.

Holding her thighs open wider, you bury your face deeper between her legs, eating her pussy like it's your last meal. Your tongue alternates between fucking into her tight hole and flicking rapidly over her clit. Wet sucking sounds fill the room as you devour her cunt.

Her pussy is absolutely drenched now, cream coating your chin as you feast on her. You slide two fingers into her clutching channel while continuing to assault her clit with your tongue. The walls of her cunt squeeze your digits hungrily.

"Holy shit, don't stop! Right there!" She grinds her pussy against your face, chasing her pleasure. "I'm getting so close already..."

You curl your fingers to massage her g-spot while sucking her clit between your lips. The combination has her writhing and moaning uncontrollably. Her thighs start to tremble as her orgasm builds.

You increase the pressure and speed, determined to make her cum hard on your tongue. Your fingers pump in and out of her sopping pussy while you flick her clit mercilessly. She's so wet that obscene squelching noises accompany each thrust of your fingers.

"Fuck fuck fuck! I'm gonna cum!" Her back arches off the bed as her climax hits. Her pussy clamps down on your fingers as waves of pleasure course through her. You keep licking and sucking, drawing out her orgasm until she pushes your head away.

But you're not done with her yet. Not so soon. As she lies there panting, you reposition yourself between her legs. Her pussy is still twitching with aftershocks when you dive back in, this time focusing solely on her sensitive clit.

"Wait! I just came—ahhhh!" Her protest turns into a moan as you suck her swollen clit between your lips. You can feel her trying to close her legs but you hold them open, continuing your relentless assault on her pussy.

The oversensitivity quickly transforms back into pleasure as you work her towards another orgasm. Your tongue swirls around her clit in tight circles while three fingers pump into her dripping hole. Her cream coats your hand as you finger-fuck her roughly.

"Oh god, I can't... it's too much!" But her hips are rocking against your face again, chasing the building pleasure. You can feel her pussy getting even wetter, if that's possible.

You alternate between broad strokes with your flattened tongue and quick flicks directly on her clit. Meanwhile your fingers curl to hit her g-spot with each thrust. The combination of stimulation has her climbing rapidly towards another peak.

Her moans get higher and more desperate as you drive her wild with your mouth and fingers. You can tell she's fighting the pleasure, still sensitive from her first orgasm. But you're determined to make her cum again.

"Please... I can't take it... gonna cum again!" Her thighs start shaking as her second orgasm approaches. You double down, sucking her clit firmly while hammering your fingers against her g-spot.

She screams as she cums, her pussy clamping down so hard on your fingers that you can barely move them. You keep your lips locked around her clit, sucking gently to draw out the intense pleasure.

When her orgasm finally subsides, you slowly withdraw your fingers from her quivering pussy. They're absolutely coated in her cream. You make eye contact as you lick them clean, savoring her tangy flavor.

"Holy shit..." Miyeon pants, still trembling. "That was incredible. I've never cum that hard before."

You smirk and dive right back in, making her yelp in surprise. Her clit is swollen and ultra-sensitive now, perfect for what you have planned. You flatten your tongue and lap at her pussy with long, slow strokes.

"No more, baby, I can't..." But her protests are weak and her hips are already moving against your mouth again. You can feel her getting wetter as you continue eating her out.

This time you take it slow, building her up gradually. Your tongue explores every fold and crease of her pussy, occasionally dipping into her hole to taste her essence. When you finally return attention to her clit, she's practically begging for it.

"Please... need to cum again..." Miyeon rocks desperately against your face, seeking more pressure. But you keep your touches light and teasing, driving her crazy with want.

You trace letters on her clit with the tip of your tongue, spelling out filthy words as she writhes beneath you. When you finally slide your fingers back into her clutching pussy, she moans in relief.

"Yes! Fuck me with your fingers while you eat my pussy!" Her dirty talk spurs you on as you pump three fingers into her dripping hole. Your tongue works her clit with firm, steady pressure.

Her pussy is absolutely gushing now, cream running down your wrist as you finger-fuck her roughly. The wet sounds of your fingers plunging into her cunt fill the room along with her desperate moans.

You curl your fingers to massage her g-spot while sucking her clit between your lips. The dual stimulation has her climbing rapidly towards another orgasm. Her thighs start trembling as she gets close.

"Gonna cum again! Don't stop, please don't stop!" She grinds her pussy against your face, chasing her pleasure. You increase the pressure and speed, determined to give her the most intense orgasm yet.

Her back lifts clear off the bed, her body trembling violently as the orgasm tears through her. Miyeon's cries of your name echo in the room, her voice breaking into a series of desperate whimpers. Her pussy clamps down on your fingers, pulsating in rhythm with the waves of pleasure crashing through her. Her hands clutch at the sheets, knuckles white, as her thighs twitch uncontrollably. You don’t let up, your fingers continuing to work her through every shuddering moment of ecstasy, curling and teasing until she lets out a sharp gasp and pushes your head back, her hips jerking away.

"Stop, stop! Too much," she pants, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her body glistening with sweat.

You lean back, watching her recover, her hair splayed out like a halo against the pillow. Her cheeks are flushed deep red, lips parted as she struggles to catch her breath. She drapes an arm over her face, giggling weakly. "Wow... that was—like—insane. I didn’t know you were this good with your hands."

“Take your time,” you say, your tone soft but teasing as your gaze roams her utterly wrecked form.

She peeks at you from beneath her arm, her eyes still hazy and unfocused. Her thighs quiver as she stretches her legs out, one hand brushing against her stomach as if grounding herself. “Okay, just give me a second,” she murmurs, her voice shaky, a tired smile playing at her lips.

While she lies there, basking in the aftershocks, you reach over to the nightstand. Your fingers brush against the foil packet, and you tear it open deliberately, watching her out of the corner of your eye. Her gaze snaps to you as you roll the condom onto your throbbing cock, her pupils dilating slightly.

"Already?" she whispers, a flicker of excitement chasing away the exhaustion in her expression. You smirk, positioning yourself above her, letting her feel the heat of your body pressing against hers.

"Yes. Ready for me, princess?" You position yourself at her entrance, rubbing your tip through her folds.

She nods, pulling you down for a passionate kiss. You can feel her trembling with anticipation.

"Tell me if it's too much," you murmur against her lips as you start pushing in. The head pops past her tight entrance, making you both moan.

"Oh fuck... you're so big..." She bites her lip, adjusting to the stretch as you slowly feed more of your length into her.

You go inch by inch, letting her pussy accommodate your size. Her walls grip you like a vice, so hot and tight it takes all your control not to just slam in.

"That's it, baby, taking my cock so well..." You bottom out, fully sheathed in her warmth.

You stay still for a moment, letting her adjust while peppering kisses across her face and neck. When her hips start moving against you, you take it as your cue to move.

You start with a few slow, shallow thrusts, just to get her warmed up. Miyeon's moans are soft at first, but they grow louder with each push, urging you on. You can feel her nails digging into your back, her legs wrapping around your waist, pulling you deeper into her. The angle changes, and you hit something inside her that makes her cry out.

"Fuck, right there," she gasps. "Don't stop."

You don't plan to. You pick up the pace, your hips moving faster, your cock sliding in and out of her slick pussy. She's meeting your thrusts, her body arching up to take you deeper.

"Faster," she begs, her voice ragged. "Please fuck me faster."

You grip her hips, your fingers digging into her soft flesh. You start really giving it to her, your balls slapping against her ass with each stroke. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard banging against the wall as you pound her tight pussy.

"You like that, huh?" you growl in her ear. "Like getting fucked hard by my big cock?"

"Yes!" she screams. "Oh god, yes! Your cock feels so fucking good inside me."

Her words dissolve into incoherent moans, her body writhing beneath you. You can feel her getting wetter, her cream coating your shaft and dripping down her ass, making a fucking mess of the sheets. You can see it glistening on your cock every time you pull out, can feel it easing the way as you slam back in.

You lean down, your teeth finding her neck, biting down as you fuck her even harder. She cries out, her body convulsing around you. You can feel her pussy clenching, her walls squeezing your cock.

"Fuck, you're close," you groan. "I can feel it."

"Yes," she pants. "I'm gonna cum again. I'm gonna cum all over your cock."

You can feel your own orgasm building, your balls drawing up tight. But you hold back, determined to make her cum first. You want to feel her lose control, want to feel her pussy milking your cock.

You reach between them, your fingers finding her clit. You rub it in tight circles, your cock still pounding into her. She screams, her body bucking, her pussy clamping down on you like a vice.

"Cum for me, baby," you growl. "Let me feel you cum all over my cock."

And she does. She cums hard, her body convulsing, her pussy pulsing around you. You can feel her cream coating your cock, can feel it dripping down your balls. You keep fucking her, drawing out her orgasm, making her cry out with each thrust. Gradually you slow down the pace, each time your cock goes deep inside her, it pulls out slowly, you stay at this teasing pace until she catches her breath, then when you finally pull your cock out of her, without warning, you lift her shapely leg, exposing her dripping pussy and those delicate feet with festive red toenails.

"What are you doing?" she asks, watching as you grip her ankle.

"I'm gonna worship every inch of you," you growl, bringing her foot closer to your face. "Your pretty little toes look too tasty to resist."

Miyeon giggles nervously. "Nobody's ever... Oh fuck!" she gasps as you take her big toe into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it. The polish is smooth against your tongue as you suck gently, watching her face for reactions.

"Does that feel good, baby?" You ask between licks. Her toes taste clean with just a hint of salt from sweat.

"Mmmhh... it's weird but... kinda nice," she admits, wiggling her toes against your tongue. You take two toes in your mouth now, sucking harder as your hand slides up her thigh.

"Your feet are fucking perfect," you tell her, kissing down to her arch. "Just like the rest of you." Your fingers find her pussy lips, already swollen and slick from earlier. You gather some of her wetness and start rubbing slow circles around her clit.

"Ohhh..." Miyeon moans, her leg trembling in your grip. You alternate between sucking her toes and licking long stripes up her sole while your fingers work her pussy. Her cream coats your digits as you slide two inside her tight channel.

"So wet for me," you growl. "I love how your pussy gets all creamy when you're turned on." You curl your fingers, finding that special spot that makes her whole body jerk.

"Fuck! Right there!" she cries out, grinding against your hand. You keep the pressure steady, pumping your fingers as you lavish attention on her feet. Her pussy clenches rhythmically around you.

"You gonna cum again for me?" you ask, increasing the pace of your fingers. "Gonna soak my hand with that sweet pussy?"

"Yes! Please don't stop!" Miyeon pants, her head thrashing on the pillow. You can feel her getting close, her inner walls fluttering. Just before she peaks, you withdraw your fingers, making her whine in protest.

"Not yet baby," you tease, releasing her foot. "I want to fuck you while I suck these pretty toes." You position yourself behind her, keeping her leg lifted. Your cock slides easily through her folds, gathering her wetness.

"Please," she begs. "I need you inside me..."

You press just the tip against her entrance, making her squirm.

"Tell me how bad you want it."

"Please, baby, I need to feel your big cock deep in my pussy! Please fuck me... I'm so empty..."

Unable to resist her pleading, you thrust forward, burying your full length in her tight heat. "Fuuuck," you groan. "Your pussy feels amazing." You start a steady rhythm, not too fast yet, wanting to build her up slowly.

Miyeon moans with each thrust, her pussy gripping you perfectly. You capture her toes in your mouth again, sucking hard as you fuck her. The dual stimulation has her writhing.

"Oh god... that's so... unngh!" She can barely form words as pleasure overwhelms her. You increase your pace gradually, driving deeper. Her cream coats your shaft, making obscene wet sounds with each stroke.

"You like having your toes sucked while I fuck this tight pussy?" you ask, releasing her foot momentarily. "Such a good girl, taking my cock so well."

"Yes! Love it... love your cock..." she gasps. You've never heard her talk so dirty before. It spurs you on, making you thrust harder.

Her pussy starts clenching erratically around you as you pound into her. You can tell she's getting close again. This time you don't let up, determined to make her cum hard.

"Something's happening..." Miyeon pants suddenly. "Feels different... like I need to pee..."

"That's it baby," you encourage her. "Don't fight it. Let go for me." You redouble your efforts, angling your hips to hit her g-spot with each thrust while sucking her toes enthusiastically.

"But... unngh... I can't..." she protests weakly, even as her body tenses up.

"Yes, you can! Cum for me Miyeon. Fucking squirt all over my cock!" You slam into her faster, feeling her pussy spasm around you.

"Oh god, oh god, OH FUCK!" Miyeon screams as the dam finally breaks. Clear fluid gushes from around your cock, soaking the sheets beneath you. Her whole body convulses as she experiences her first squirting orgasm.

You keep thrusting through her release, prolonging it as much as possible. More fluid spurts out with each stroke as she trembles uncontrollably.

"That's it baby, let it all out," you growl around her toes. "So fucking hot watching you squirt."

Miyeon can only moan incoherently as waves of pleasure crash over her. Her pussy clamps down so hard it nearly pushes you out, but you maintain your rhythm until her orgasm finally starts to subside.

You gently release her foot and slow your thrusts, giving her time to catch her breath. She looks absolutely wrecked in the best way possible.

"Holy shit," she pants when she can speak again. "What... what was that?"

You chuckle, still buried deep inside her quivering pussy. "That was you squirting, baby. Felt good, didn't it?"

She nods weakly. "Amazing... I didn't know I could do that..."

"Oh we're just getting started," you promise with a wicked grin. "Now that I know how to make you squirt, I'm gonna make you do it again and again..."

Miyeon whimpers at your words, her pussy clenching around you. You can feel she's still sensitive, but also still aroused.

Perfect.

"Ready?" you ask, starting to move inside her again. She moans in response as you lift her foot back to your mouth...

Your cock slides easily through her creamy folds as you build up a steady rhythm once more. Miyeon's moans get louder with each thrust, her oversensitive pussy gripping you like a vice.

"Such a good girl," you praise her between licks to her foot. "Taking my cock so well after that huge orgasm."

"Feels so good," she gasps. "Everything's so sensitive..."

You angle your hips to hit her g-spot again, making her whole body jerk. "Think you can squirt for me again?" You ask, increasing your pace slightly.

"I... unngh... maybe?" Miyeon pants. "Still feels like I might pee..."

"That's normal, baby. Just let it happen." You suck her big toe into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it as you fuck her deeper. Her cream coats your shaft, dripping down onto the already soaked sheets.

"Oh fuck... oh fuck..." she chants as the pleasure builds. You can feel her starting to tense up again, her inner walls fluttering around your cock.

"That's it," you encourage her. "Let go for me. Show me what a good little squirter you are."

Your words push her over the edge. With a sharp cry, Miyeon's pussy contracts hard and another gush of clear fluid sprays out around your cock.

"Fuck yes!" You growl, maintaining your rhythm as she squirts. "So fucking hot watching you lose control like this."

Wave after wave of pleasure rocks through her body as you continue fucking her through the intense orgasm. Her toes curl against your tongue as more fluid spurts out with each thrust.

When her release finally subsides, Miyeon lies there trembling and gasping for air. You slow your pace but don't stop completely, knowing you can wring at least one more orgasm from her oversensitive body.

"Please..." she whimpers, her body trembling beneath you. "It's too much... I can't..."

"Shh, baby," you murmur, your voice steady and firm. "You can take it. You can take everything I give you." You slow your thrusts a little more, letting her catch her breath, but not enough to let her come down from the peak. "You've got one more in you. I know you do."

She shakes her head, her hair sticking to her sweat-slicked face. "No, I can't... I can't..."

"You can," you insist, your cock still moving inside her, stirring up her pleasure again. "You're a fucking goddess, Miyeon. You can take every inch of my cock. You can cum all over it again."

You increase your speed, your hips moving faster, your cock hitting that spot inside her that makes her scream. You can feel her pussy clenching around you, trying to keep you in, trying to milk you.

"Oh god," she moans, her voice rising in pitch. "Oh god, oh god, oh god..."

"That's it, baby," you growl. "Feel that? Feel my cock hitting your g-spot? You're gonna cum for me again. You're gonna squirt all over my cock."

"I'm so close... I'm so clo—OH GOD!" she cries out, her body tensing, her pussy gripping you like a vice.

You can feel her right on the edge, her body coiled tight, ready to snap. You lean down, your teeth finding her earlobe, biting down just hard enough to send a shockwave through her.

"Cum for me, Miyeon," you command, your voice low and rough. "Fucking let go. Let me feel that pussy explode. Let me see that squirt. Do it, baby. Fucking do it now."

She screams, her body convulsing, her eyes rolling back in her head. "I'm cumm—AAAAH!"

You can feel it, hot and wet, gushing out of her, coating your cock, dripping down your balls. You keep fucking her, drawing out her orgasm, making her scream with each thrust.

"That's it, baby," you groan. "Fuck, that's so good. You're squirting all over my cock. You're such a good girl, Miyeon. Such a fucking good girl."

Her body is shaking, her pussy still pulsing around you. You slow your thrusts, letting her ride out her orgasm, letting her come down slowly. You're about to cum, right on the edge, but you hold back again. This is about her.

This is about Miyeon.

You gently pull out of her, your cock still hard and glistening with her cum. You move down her body, your tongue tracing a path down her stomach, down to her pussy, your hands stroking her thighs, your touch gentle and soothing.

The bed beneath her is a fucking mess—sheets soaked through, the scent of sex heavy in the air. You can see the wet spot spreading, a testament to her pleasure.

"Fuck, baby," you murmur, your voice soft but filled with awe. "Look at this mess you made. You're so fucking sexy."

Miyeon's breath hitches as she looks down at the wet sheets, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and satisfaction. "I... I didn't know I could do that," she admits, her voice shaky. "It felt... god, it felt so fucking good."

You smile, your fingers tracing patterns on her inner thighs, feeling the slickness of her cum. "You squirted, baby. You fucking squirted all over my cock. It was the hottest thing I've ever seen."

She shivers, her body still sensitive from the intense orgasm. "I've never... I've never felt anything like that before. It was like... like my whole body just let go."

You lean in, your tongue lapping at her pussy, tasting her, cleaning her up. She jolts, her hips bucking slightly, but you hold her steady, your hands gripping her thighs.

"Shh, baby," you soothe. "Let me take care of you. Let me clean you up."

She relaxes, her body melting into the bed as you take your time, your tongue exploring every inch of her pussy. You can feel her shivering, her body responding to your touch. The taste of her is intoxicating, a mix of sweet and salty, pure fucking heaven.

"You taste so fucking good, Miyeon," you murmur, your voice low and husky. "I could do this all fucking night."

She moans softly, her fingers tangling in your hair. "It feels so good... I can't believe I did that. I can't believe I squirted."

You look up at her, your eyes meeting hers. She's watching you, her eyes soft and hazy with pleasure. You smile, your tongue giving her one last lick.

"You're so fucking beautiful, Miyeon," you whisper. "God, you're so fucking perfect…"

"But you haven't come yet," she suddenly notes.

"You're right. And where do you want my cum, princess?" You ask.

"On my face... want to taste you..."

"Fuck... Okay. Yeah, right. Get on your knees, baby,” you ask her as you quickly remove the condom.

Miyeon looks up at you with those innocent eyes as she kneels before you, her pretty face flushed with arousal. Her lips are already swollen from all the kissing, making them look even more cock-hungry than usual. You grab a fistful of her silky black hair, guiding her face closer to your throbbing shaft.

"Open that pretty mouth for me baby," you command, tapping your cock head against her plump lips. "I want to see how deep you can take it."

She parts her lips obediently, sticking out her pink tongue to lap at your sensitive tip. The sight of your precum glistening on her tongue makes your cock throb with need. You slowly feed her more of your length, watching in satisfaction as her lips stretch around your girth.

"Mmmmph," she moans around your cock, her eyes fluttering closed in pleasure. She clearly loves having her mouth filled, eagerly sucking and slurping as you push deeper.

You start with slow, shallow thrusts, letting her get used to your size. Her tongue swirls expertly around your shaft as you slide in and out between those perfect lips. Wet sucking sounds fill the room along with her muffled moans.

"That's it baby, take my cock," you growl, tightening your grip in her hair. "Your mouth feels so fucking good."

She responds by taking you deeper, relaxing her throat to accommodate more of your length. Tears form in the corners of her eyes as you hit the back of her throat, but she doesn't pull away.

If anything, she seems even more eager.

You pick up the pace slightly, fucking her mouth with measured strokes. Her lipstick is getting smeared all over your cock, marking it with traces of red. The sight of her face getting messy already has your balls tightening.

"Such a good little cocksucker," you praise, watching her cheeks hollow with suction. "You love having your pretty face fucked don't you?"

She nods as best she can with your cock stuffed in her mouth, humming in agreement. The vibrations send pleasure shooting through your shaft.

You pull out briefly to let her catch her breath, a string of saliva connecting her lips to your cock head. She gasps for air but immediately opens wide again, eager for more. Her face is already a mess of smeared makeup and drool.

"Please fuck my face harder," she begs, voice hoarse. "I want you to use my mouth like a pussy."

You don't need to be asked twice. Gripping her head firmly with both hands, you slam your cock back between her lips. This time you don't hold back, setting a brutal pace as you fuck her throat. She gags and chokes but takes it like a champ, her eyes watering heavily.

The wet sounds of her throat getting pounded are absolutely obscene. Drool runs down her chin and neck as you use her mouth roughly. Her hands grip your thighs for support but she doesn't try to pull away or slow you down.

"Fuck yes, take that cock," you grunt, watching your shaft disappear repeatedly into her willing mouth. "Going to paint that pretty face white soon."

She moans eagerly around your length, clearly excited by the promise of a facial. You can feel your orgasm building as her throat muscles massage your sensitive head.

Your thrusts become more erratic as you get closer to the edge. Her face is an absolute mess now - mascara running down her cheeks, lipstick completely ruined, drool everywhere. She looks utterly debauched and you haven't even cum yet.

"Get ready baby," you warn, feeling your balls tighten. "Going to cover that beautiful face."

You pull out just in time, the slick heat of her lips giving way as you grip your shaft tightly, aiming at Miyeon's upturned face. Her mouth is already open, tongue stretched out, her eyes locked on yours with a look of pure, desperate need. "Give it to me," she breathes, her voice thick with anticipation. The sight of her waiting so hungrily for your release sends a jolt through you, your cock twitching violently in your hand.

With a guttural groan, you let go, the first rope of hot cum splattering across her forehead and sliding down to her nose. She gasps softly, her breath hitching as the next thick jet paints her cheek, followed by another streaking across the bridge of her nose. Your hand works your shaft steadily, aiming with intent, making sure to glaze her perfect lips thoroughly, the creamy mess dripping onto her tongue as she moans in satisfaction.

She doesn’t flinch—if anything, she leans into it, her tongue sweeping over her lips, savoring every drop that lands in her mouth. You’re relentless, emptying yourself onto her until her face is a masterpiece of your desire, every inch of her skin marked with your seed. Thick streaks cling to her lashes, a stray drop dangling precariously from her chin before falling onto her chest. By the time you're finished, she’s a vision of debauched perfection, her flushed cheeks and parted lips framed by the glistening evidence of your climax.

"Fuck," you mutter, your voice hoarse as you admire her. "Look at you. My perfect, filthy girl."

She moans softly, tilting her head as you bring your cock closer, your tip still sensitive but eager for more. Slowly, deliberately, you use your softening length to spread the mess across her skin. You smear the cum over her cheeks, tracing her jawline, rubbing it into her lips before sliding down to her chin. She stays perfectly still, her eyes closed, a serene smile tugging at her mouth as she basks in the attention.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” you whisper, your voice thick with awe. “That pretty face deserves to be covered in my cum every day.”

Her lashes flutter as she peeks up at you, her voice soft but dripping with satisfaction. “I’ll let you paint me whenever you want. I love how it feels... so warm, so dirty.”

Your thumb moves to her lips, smearing the last of the cum over them before pushing lightly into her mouth. She sucks on it obediently, her tongue flicking against your skin, her moan vibrating through your thumb.

When you finally pull back, you grab a handful of tissues, leaning down to clean her face. You start gently, dabbing at her cheeks and lips, but you can’t help but pause to admire her wrecked state—the messy hair, her flushed skin, her swollen, cock-bruised lips. Even as you clean her, the heat between you lingers, your touch lingering on her skin as she smiles up at you.

"You’re mine, Miyeon," you blurt out unconsciously, but there’s no mistaking the edge in your voice.

"Yours," she repeats, her voice a dreamy whisper. "Yeah, I'm yours.”

—

After changing the sheets on the bed, you both collapse onto the fresh, clean mattress, exhausted but content. You pull Miyeon close, her body fitting perfectly against yours as you snuggle together. The room is quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the city outside the window.

Miyeon props herself up on an elbow, looking down at you with those dark, beautiful eyes. "So... this isn't just a one-time thing, right?" she asks, her voice soft but hopeful.

You pull her in for a kiss, your lips lingering on hers. "Definitely not," you murmur against her mouth. "Unless you want it to be?"

"No!" she says quickly, then blushes, her cheeks turning a cute shade of pink. "I mean... I really like you. Like, really really like you."

You smile, your heart swelling in your chest. "Good, because I really really like you too," you say. "Even when you're not dressed as an elf."

She groans, hiding her face in your neck. "Are you ever going to let me live that down?" she mumbles, her voice muffled.

You chuckle, your arms tightening around her. "Nope. It's how we met, it's part of our love story now."

She goes still in your arms, her body tensing slightly.

"Love story?" She asks

Shit. Too soon? You think to yourself, wondering if you've fucked up. But then she's beaming up at you with that bright smile that first caught your attention, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

"Yeah," you say softly. "Love story."

She kisses you again, pouring all her feelings into it. When she pulls back, her eyes are sparkling with happy tears. "Best Christmas present ever," she declares, her voice filled with joy.

[greersarchive]

It's great to have a physical backup of your media, but the idea that you need to use CDs to own your media is misleading. It's true that with Spotify or Apple Music or whatnot, you don't own your music. However, between CDs and streaming services, we had MP3s.

Most, if not all, digital storefronts selling MP3 files sell them without DRM. You own the file and you can copy it however you like and use it on any device you want. You can burn them to a CD if that's your preferred form of media backup, but you can also use USB sticks, SD cards, solid state external storage drives, whatever floats your boat. Like CDs, they're all just methods of storing a digital file that you can hold in your hand.

Now that being said, if you like to have a digital copy of your music, but you like having a physical backup, you can always buy CDs and rip them to your computer. It's what we used to do. But don't go looking at this and thinking that CDs are the only way to own your media. Check before you buy but almost certainly every MP3 you purchase from an online store is DRM free. Don't rely on always being able to redownload it from the store, they can cut that off any time they like. Back up the file on something you own. It just doesn't have to be a CD if you don't like them. I like USB sticks myself. There's a variety of devices on the market, often for quite cheap, that'll play audio files off a USB stick.

I will tell a fun bonus story about CDs though. See these days iTunes music downloads are DRM free, but it didn't always used to be this way. Time was those files were copy protected... ... sort of. See given CDs were still very common at the time, iTunes had built in functionality that let you burn a CD, presumably so you could listen to your music in the car or so forth. Of course, CD players don't know how to read iTunes DRM files. That's kinda the whole point of DRM. So when iTunes wrote the files to the disk, it did so in a non-DRM format. Which basically meant if you wanted to "crack" the DRM on any iTunes purchase you'd made, all you had to do was burn it to a CD, then rip that CD back into your computer. Or, to make a long story short, back in the day iTunes made the truly baffling decision to put copy protection on their files while also having built in a function to allow you to copy said files.

HOLD THE LINE!! KEEP PUSHING!!!!!

[bladeux]

✶⋆.˚ when you reunite after a long time apart !

pairings : sunday, aventurine, blade, jing yuan, gepard, boothill x reader (separate) | fluff, angst (?)

➜ Sunday

The room was quiet, filled with the hum of machinery and the soft glow of screens. Sunday sat at the very center, his posture tense as he poured over a map projected on the table. You lingered at the entrance, your heart pounding. After everything, would he even want to see you again? The soft creak of the door caught his attention. His head snapped up, his golden eyes narrowing in suspicion until they locked on yours. For a moment, he simply stared, the silence stretching between you. Then, slowly, he straightened, his guarded expression giving way to disbelief. "You," he breathed, his voice barely audible. "You’re here." "Sunday," you whispered, stepping closer. He shook his head, as if trying to dispel a dream. "I thought I’d lost you. I told myself you were gone, that I couldn’t waste time hoping—" His voice broke, and he looked away, his fists clenching at his sides. "I never stopped trying to come back to you," you said, your voice trembling. "I’m sorry it took so long." He exhaled sharply, his cool slipping. When he looked at you again, his eyes glistened with emotions he rarely let show. "Don’t you dare apologize," he said, his voice low and raw. "You’re here now. That’s all that matters." You took the last step, closing the distance between you. Hesitantly, you reached out, and he caught your hand, his grip firm and grounding. "I’ve missed you," you said, tears threatening to spill over. Sunday’s lips pressed into a thin line before he pulled you into a fierce embrace, his arms holding you as if you might vanish. "I missed you, too," he murmured, his voice unsteady. "More than I can ever say."

➜ Aventurine

Amidst the chaos, Aventurine was a striking presence. He stood at the center of it all, his eyes scanning the bustling crowd with an air of easy confidence. You stood at the edge, hesitant. Would he even want to see you again after all this time? As if drawn by an invisible thread, his gaze shifted and locked onto yours. The world seemed to still. His confident smirk faltered, his posture stiffening as disbelief flickered across his face. You took a tentative step forward, and then another. Before you could reach him, he was already moving, cutting through the crowd with long, purposeful strides. When he finally reached you, he stopped just short, his eyes searching your face as though trying to confirm that you were real. "So," he said, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it, "Penacony finally has a view worth admiring. "You laughed shakily, your throat tight with emotion. "Still the same smooth talker, I see." He smiled faintly. "I thought I’d lost you," he admitted, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Not a word, not a trace. And now you’re here, walking into my life like it’s the most natural thing in the world." "I was trying to get back to you," you said, your voice trembling. "It just... took longer than I wanted." He reached out, his hand brushing against yours before his fingers wrapped around it. "You’ve got a lot to explain, but we’ll get to that," he said, his voice steadier now. His other hand came up to cup your cheek, his touch warm and grounding. "Right now, I just need to know you’re staying." Tears welled in your eyes as you nodded. "I’m staying. I’m not leaving again."

➜ Blade

The ruins of an abandoned space station were eerily silent, with the occasional groan of it settling in the vacuum of space. You pushed open a rusted door, your breath catching when you saw him. Blade stood at the edge of the room, his back facing you, staring out a shattered viewport into the abyss. His sword leaned against the wall beside him, with his shoulders down in a way that seemed uncharacteristically vulnerable. "Blade," you called softly, your voice echoing in the hollow space. He froze. For a long moment, he didn’t move, didn’t even turn to face you. "I thought it was a ghost," he finally said, his voice rough. When he turned, his crimson eyes locked onto yours, and you could see the storm raging within them. You took a cautious step forward. "It’s me." His hand clenched into a fist at his side. "Why now?" he demanded, his voice breaking. "Why come back after all this time?" "I never stopped looking for you," you whispered, your heart aching at the pain etched into his features. "I’m here now." For a moment, he seemed ready to pull away, but then he closed the distance between you in an instant, his arms wrapping around you tightly. "Don’t leave me again," he murmured, his voice trembling.

➜ Jing Yuan

The sunlit garden of the Xianzhou Luofu was tranquil, the scent of blooming flowers mingling with the faint hum of distant bells. Seated beneath a tree, Jing Yuan looked every bit the picture of calm, his white hair catching the golden light as he rested with his eyes closed. You hesitated at the edge of the garden, the sight of him stealing your breath. He hadn’t changed, as he is still the composed general he has always been. Yet, as you stepped closer, the faint lines of weariness on his face became clearer, as if time apart had weighed on him just as much as it had on you. "Are you going to stand there all day?" he called suddenly, his voice laced with amusement. His golden eyes opened, meeting yours with an intensity that made your chest tighten. You laughed softly, stepping forward. "I didn’t want to disturb your nap." "And yet, you’re the only disturbance I’ve been hoping for." His voice softened as he approached, his usually calm expression hinting a flicker of vulnerability. When he stood before you, he paused, studying your face as if committing every detail to memory. "It’s been a long time," he said, his voice low, almost hesitant. "Too long," you replied, your throat tightening. Jing Yuan’s hand lifted, his fingers brushing gently against your cheek before settling there. "I wondered if I’d ever see you again," he admitted, his golden eyes shining with a rare openness. "You don’t have to wonder anymore," you said, placing your hand over his. "I’m here now, and I’m staying." His lips curved into a faint, genuine smile as he pulled you into a warm embrace, the weight of his arms grounding you. "Then let’s make up for lost time," he murmured, his voice steady, yet filled with quiet emotion.

➜ Gepard

The city square of Belobog was alive with celebration, the people dancing and singing in the glow of warm lights. You stood at the edge of the crowd, scanning the familiar faces until your eyes landed on him. Gepard was in his full armor, commanding yet approachable as he spoke with a group of citizens. His laugh carried over the noise, and it struck you how much you had missed that sound. As if sensing your gaze, he turned and froze. His usually steady composure faltered, his eyes widening in disbelief. Without excusing himself, he strode toward you, each step faster than the last until he was standing just a breath away. "Is it... really you?" he asked, his voice hushed, as though speaking too loudly would shatter the moment. Tears welled in your eyes as you nodded. "It’s me, Gepard." His hands trembled as they reached for you, his fingers brushing your arms before pulling you into a crushing embrace. "I waited," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I didn’t know if you’d ever come back, but I couldn’t stop hoping." "I’m sorry I kept you waiting," you said, burying your face in his shoulder. "You’re here now," he murmured, his grip tightening as though he never intended to let go.

➜ Boothill

The trail stretched out before you, the horizon painted in hues of gold and crimson as the sun dipped low. Boothill was waiting, leaning casually against a wooden frame, his wide-brimmed hat casting a shadow over his face. When you approached, he tipped his hat back, revealing a crooked grin. "Well, ain’t this a sight for sore eyes," he drawled, though his voice was tinged with something softer. "Missed me?" you asked, your own smile faltering as emotions bubbled to the surface. "More than I care to admit," he replied, pushing off the post and sauntering toward you. His steps were slow, deliberate, as though savoring the moment. When he reached you, he stopped, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair from your face. "Thought I’d never see you again," he admitted, his grin fading. "I’m sorry," you said, your voice breaking. "I didn’t want to leave." His arms wrapped around you then, pulling you close against the warmth of his chest. "Don’t matter now," he murmured, his voice low and steady. "You’re here, and that’s all I care about."

a/n : i've been enjoying this so much and i would really like to say thank you for the love especially on my recent post hehe, if u have any requests or ideas in mind then feel free to send a message !!! <33

[blitzwhore]

Stolas just standing there and letting blitz hug him in the end is all good, right? He is just sad because of octavia and accepting that blitz is there with him right?? It's not that he regrets chosing him, right??? (I just need affirmation)

You know what? I've found myself needing reassurance about this too. So let's take a moment to look at the facts together, shall we?

(This reply turned out way longer than I expected it to 😅 sorry!)

Fact #1 - Stolas is still coming to terms with the consequences of his actions. He spends the whole episode finding out just how much his life has changed. Learning how to navigate groceries, and laundry, and meals, and having a job, and worrying about money.

Mid-episode, he has a breakdown where he truly questions if everything he gave up was worth it just for a fantasy. At this point in the episode, he still hasn't realised how much he means to Blitz. As far as he's concerned, he did all of this for someone who doesn't reciprocate his feelings. But by the end of the episode, though, his feelings have settled enough to understand and express what he has known to be true all along: that saving Blitz was the right thing to do.

What Stolas regrets isn't saving Blitz's life, or even loving Blitz in the first place.

What he regrets are the choices he made that led them to this. He feels guilty for selfishly (or, rather, naively) playing out his fantasies. He's the one who established the deal, who let Blitz illegally use the book for many months, who wasn't always sensible about how he expressed his love for Blitz publicly and despite being married, and who allowed himself to ignore the reality of his situation so he could live in his own, personal romcom—all of which ultimately led to the events of Mastermind and the loss of Via.

And all the guilt and regret he's grappling with (however justified it might be) is exacerbated by fact #2, which is:

Fact #2 - Stolas is off his medication. He's been off it for a month now. Symptoms of depression (especially untreated depression) include mood swings, irritability, self-hatred and low self-esteem, passive/active suicidal ideation, pessimism and hopelessness about the future, catastrophising, black-and-white thinking, and anhedonia (inability to feel pleasure and to find joy in things—and people—who used to bring you it). All symptoms Stolas exhibits throughout this episode.

So, even if he shows a lack of emotion toward Blitz at times, or irritation to seemingly minor things like low doors or "secretating" or Karen's behaviour, even if he acts regretful and angry and desolate... a lot of these emotions and behaviours are a result of his depression, and not of actually hating the life he chose.

Fact #3 - Stolas loves Blitz. He always has, and always will. I could point at a thousand different moments in the show when Stolas' love for Blitz has transpired, but I'm going to leave it at his line from Mastermind: "I would rather be dead than live life without you by my side."

Even after everything they've gone through, even now that he's taken Blitz off his pedestal and can acknowledge that Blitz can be a fucking idiot... Stolas simply does not want to live a life without Blitz. It has always been Blitz. It will always be Blitz.

Stolas loves Blitz.

Fact #4 - Stolas kissed Blitz. Before he truly hits rock bottom as a result of Octavia cutting him out, Stolas is so ecstatic that Blitz cares, that Blitz was willing to go to such lengths to save his life, that he can't hold back the need to kiss Blitz mid-air. Suddenly, none of his earlier frustration matters. Nothing matters expect for how elated he is that Blitz loves him back. So he smiles and he pulls Blitz into a kiss because he can't bear not to kiss Blitz for a moment longer.

Look at this man. Look at how happy he is. Because it's always been Blitz, and maybe it was a fantasy for a long time, but it doesn't have to be anymore. Maybe this can be real now. He's so happy he (and I) could cry.

Fact #5 - Stolas didn't deny loving Blitz. When Via said "You don't love me, you love him," the script very purposefully did not have Stolas go "no, no, Via, that's not true—" or say anything else that might make Blitz doubt, even for a moment, that Stolas loves him. Because that much is true. He does love Blitz. He just also loves Via. Which brings me to:

Fact #6 - Blitz knows Stolas loves him. At no point throughout the episode does Blitz doubt, even for a second, that Stolas loves him. And we know this because Blitz's walls remain down at all times. If Blitz doubted he was loved, if he had even the slightest of reservations, those walls would come crawling back up whether he wanted them to or not. It's what he's been trained and conditioned to do—it's how he's kept his heart safe ever since the accident.

But now, he knows his heart is safe with Stolas. He believes it enough to not depend on his walls to feel at ease. He believes it enough to let himself take care of Stolas and be soft with Stolas without the slightest trace of hesitation.

Look at Blitz's face. This is the face of a man who knows that even if Stolas isn't okay right now, things will get better. And when they do, they'll both still be in love with each other. This is the face of a man who can't wait for something beautiful to flourish between them, but who is in no rush to get there. He knows the road ahead is hard and painful, but he has faith in Stolas. In both of them.

Fact #6 - Stolas was happy to share a private, romantic dance with Blitz. Despite everything going through his mind, he found comfort and happiness in dancing with Blitz; in getting to have this little moment with him.

He found relief in the fact that Blitz stayed with him this time, even after Stolas told him, once again, that he didn't have to stay.

His reaction to Blitz initiating a dance between them is genuine surprise, immediately followed by an enamoured little smile at the mere notion that he gets to have this, now.

And, as they dance, he keeps smiling and leaning into Blitz, going as far as to manage a deep, heartfelt laugh at Blitz's words. This, for an unmedicated, depressed person going through one of the worst days of his life, is huge in itself. It shows that, even in the worst of times, he finds undeniable comfort and happiness in Blitz.

And, after their dance, Stolas looks at Blitz with a sobriety and soft sort of realisation that shows he's finally coming to terms with the fact that this is real. After everything he's lost, after all the fantasies he hoped for for so long and believed he'd never have, he finally gets to have this.

Despite the pain he's going through, Stolas looks at Blitz and sees the man he loves.

Notice how Blitz's eyes trail down to Stolas' mouth. And Stolas realises. And doesn't move away. Waiting, expectantly, for Blitz's next move, fully expecting it to be a kiss.

But then Blitz hugs him instead, and Stolas doesn't hug back.

And it's not because he doesn't want to be hugged by Blitz. It's not because his feelings for Blitz have changed, or dimmed, or disappeared. It's not because he regrets loving Blitz, or saving him. It's not because he doesn't want to have a close, healthy, loving romantic relationship with Blitz.

It's because of facts #1 (he's grappling with so much guilt and coming to terms with the consequences of his actions) and #2 (he's experiencing symptoms of unmedicated depression). And, above all, it's because of fact #7, which is...

Fact #7 - Stolas doesn't know how to be loved. Stolas has never had support. He has never had a shoulder to cry on, or someone to hold him when he needed it. When he's feeling vulnerable and broken, he defaults to hugging himself as a way to self-soothe, because that's the only comfort he's ever known.

And because he's never known comfort from others—because it was never allowed or safe for him to need or ask for comfort from others—all Stolas knows to do with his vulnerability is hide it. So much so that, the two times we see him begin to break down in front of Blitz, he either portals Blitz away or masks his tears and pain immediately. Even as he drunkenly rambles about wanting to be held, he still makes sure not to appear like he actually needs a hug.

So when he finds himself being held by Blitz in a warm, comforting hug, Stolas doesn't know how to respond. Because he's never had this. He's never had an opportunity to learn how to exist in someone's comforting embrace, how to interact with this kind of physical contact. He still has to learn how to feel safe between arms that aren't his own.

Simply put, Stolas still doesn't know how to hold Blitz back.

That doesn't mean Stolas doesn't want or need physical comfort. He needs it desperately—everyone does. But wanting something and knowing how to actually have it are two very different things, and Blitz knows that better than anyone, because he's wanted Stolas for a very long time, but didn't, until very recently, know how to feel safe accepting Stolas' love.

And that's why Blitz is completely understanding of the fact that all Stolas can do, all Stolas has the ability to do, is stand there and let himself be held, and let his emotions go through him. In, and out, with every breath, with every second. And get slowly acquainted with what being comforted by the person he loves feels like.

Thirty-something years of trauma can't be undone in a single hug, or a single conversation, and it's going to take time for Stolas to learn how to be present while in Blitz's arms, and how to return that emotional closeness.

But Blitz has faith in him. Blitz is willing to be patient and soft with him while he gets better. Blitz is ready to meet Stolas where he's at, because he knows, beyond a trace of doubt, that they love one another, and they're going to be okay. Even if Stolas doesn't know it yet—even if we, the audience don't know it yet—Blitz knows.

And that's just going to have to be enough for now.

And because this post got completely away from me, I shall conclude by quoting their song, because it summarises their story better than I ever could:

Truer love is hard to find. ❤️

[funhouse-mirror-barbie]

I may go into more detail about “Sinsmas” later, but I did want to talk about what I considered to be the one scene/sequence that I thought was very well done and that I truly enjoyed—Octavia’s song, “I Will Be Okay”.

(Song/Character Discussion below)

Octavia’s song is almost everything I could have asked for. A somber echo of Stolas’ song from season 1, Octavia’s I Will Be Okay, finally, finally, gives Octavia a voice and the chance to express her grief over her father’s abandonment.

For the first time in the series, there’s no one to tell Octavia that she should give her dad some slack or that she should forgive him. She’s finally allowed to be upset, to fully mourn her relationship with Stolas and to get mad about what happened. She’s finally allowed to start working towards accepting the ways Stolas’ neglected her, and begin healing from that pain and trauma.

Octavia’s experience is both terribly heart-wrenching and, in the most painful way, freeing. The lyrics reflect that perfectly, with Octavia acknowledging that while she’s not okay now because of everything Stolas put her through, she WILL be okay, and will grow into her own person without him.

The song is a direct response to Stolas’. Octavia is answering him, saying “Yes, I will be okay. Not because of anything that you were supposed to or failed to provide me as a father, but because I will forge my own path, and in doing so will heal from the pain you caused me.”

It’s a bittersweet song about finding the strength to cut contact with someone you loved who has repeatedly failed you in the worst ways, and who isn’t going to change.

I do have one “criticism” for this song and sequence, not because anything from it was poorly done, but because, in my opinion, the song’s visuals could have been even better.

The following scene was in the original storyboards for “I Will Be Okay”, and was changed in the final episode:

I think the decision to change the visuals for these lyrics in the song was a mistake. Please don’t get me wrong, the animation in this entire episode was fantastic, my critiques of Helluva Boss are almost never about the animation.

But the above sequence just has so much more emotional weight to me. It’s the visualization of Octavia realizing she can’t rely on Stolas, that she has to look to herself for comfort.

Octavia taking her younger self from her neglectful father’s arms, symbolizing that she’s accepted that Stolas cannot be depended on and that she’ll have to take care of herself now, is such a powerful image.

It really is a shame to me that they cut this scene, because I think it fully encapsulates everything Octavia has been through in such a simple and effective way. I think the scene really loses something by cutting this visual.

With all of that said though, Octavia’s song, and the scene where she FINALLY calls Stolas out for his behavior were very cathartic for me. I know that the scene’s intent was most likely to make us empathize with Stolas for losing his daughter, but I found myself empathizing only with Octavia, and hoping that she gets the time she needs to heal.

I would love it if the show actually let her decide whether or not she wants Stolas back in her life, but given the way HB’s writers portray women, I worry that it’s likely some big event will happen that “reveals” Stella to be awful, and Octavia will forgive Stolas just like that, and will probably end up apologizing to him instead (like in “Seeing Stars”)

Anyway, just like Octavia being the only good thing in Stolas’ life, “I Will Be Okay” was, in my opinion, the only good thing in “Sinsmas”. (well that and Octavia calling Stolas out)

[mj-iza-writer]

Whumpee had barricaded the door.

They huddled fearfully on the opposite side of the room. Tears threatened to fall as they held up a knife.

They managed to steal it off of one of the guards.

Whumpee jumped when a pounding knock came to the door.

"Whumpee, I have all of the guards surrounding this room. I really don't want to break this door down. It's really expensive to replace. Can we just talk this through? We can maybe come to an agreement. Do you need something special to help cope with the recent experiments", Whumper leaned against the door, "come on, I know you can hear me. Open the door, you won't get hurt."

"You're going to yell at me. Then I'm going to get a tranquilizer nap", Whumpee yelled. They tried to control their shaking, but it was getting worse by the second.

"I won't yell at you... I promise", Whumper gently jiggled the doorknob so not to alert Whumpee.

"Its unlocked, they probably have something in front of the door", Whumper whispered to the lead guards, "I'm going to try again. I would like them to come out willingly. Don't sedate them unless necessary."

Once everyone agreed, Whumper tried again.

"Whumpee, I really need you to open the door. The guards are in position. You can stop everything by just opening the door. The guards can even help push it open if you need", Whumper talked gently, "we can talk this out."

"I have a knife", Whumpee shook, "I'll kill myself if you come in here."

"Alright alright. We definitely don't want you to do that", Whumper sighed.

"You'd lose", Whumpee frowned, "you don't like to lose."

"You're right, I really don't like losing, and I don't want to find another test subject. You're just so good at it", Whumper still remained calm, "just think though... do you really want to be the cause of someone else getting captured and brought here?"

"I'll be dead...", Whumpee yelled hysterically.

"There is a gun on them", one of the lead guards whispered, "they got in through the vents. Say the word, and Whumpee will be sedated."

"Do they have a knife?", Whumper sighed, "how did they even get a knife? Honestly, how did any of this become a possibility?"

The lead nodded after a few seconds.

"They have a knife, it's currently raised at the door", the lead looked around, "it's your call."

"I don't want them to hurt themself or worse, but if we tranquilize them, they may fall on it and get hurt", Whumper frowned, "I've been bested by a labrat."

Whumper frowned, "let's get me into the room. Tell the guard to continue being aimed at Whumpee. Don't shoot unless I can't talk them down. I don't think Whumpee would actually kill themself, but I think their judgment is clouded by fear. If they make any moves, sedate them. I'll stitch and bandage whatever gets cut."

Whumpee jumped when the door started to get pushed in.

Their barricade wasn't exactly the strongest.

They raised the knife to their throat when Whumper finally squeezed in. The door shut behind Whumper.

Whumper climbed over a shelf, "It's just me. I just want to talk. You can lower the knife... I'm unarmed. I don't even know how to use the tranquilizer gun. Just you and me", Whumper started to walk toward Whumpee.

Whumpee held the knife even closer. It somewhat dug into their skin now.

"Don't", Whumpee warned.

"Alright, alright", Whumper paused, "I'll take a few steps back even. Just lower that down."

Whumpee blinked away their tears as they lowered the knife slightly.

"There see. Everything is alright", Whumper smirked.

"No, it's not", Whumpee glared, "none of this is alright."

"What can we do to make it better? Hmm, what can I do to help you?", Whumper looked at them curiously, "I know it's not fun being locked up and not listened to. I'm listening right now. You have my full attention."

Whumpee's lip quivered, "I don't want to be experimented on anymore. I-it hurts."

"Okay, noted", Whumper nodded, "I can see if I can work out something so it won't hurt as much."

"I don't want it at all. Don't you get that?", Whumpee yelled. They waved the knife angrily, "yes its not fun being locked up. No one cares about me. Just put in my cage until I'm needed what kind of life is that?"

Whumper nodded, "I get it. I do. I'm sure you're lonely. If I find you a friend... maybe that might help."

"I don't want anyone else to be here", Whumpee frowned, "I don't want to be the cause of someone else's torture."

"You won't be. I won't blame you at all", Whumper nodded, "I'll just bring them here with nothing else said."

"No", Whumpee whispered. "Please."

"There is nothing to be afraid of. We can fix all of these issues today", Whumper nodded, "just set the knife down."

Whumpee shook their head no, "please don't come any closer. I'm afraid you'll hurt me."

"I'm not going to hurt you. You got a little stressed and this is were that led. You needed to be heard and needed something like this to get my attention", Whumper sighed, "and right now, we are talking civily. I see that you are lonely and I'll will gladly fix that. I'm not unreasonable."

Whumpee couldn't help but nod... they were very lonely.

"Just one thing to do beforehand", Whumper chuckled lightly.

Whumpee looked up nervously. They hadn't paid attention, but Whumper had slowly crept closer and closer to them.

Whumper hurried and grabbed at Whumpee. They gripped tightly around their wrist and forced the knife to fall.

"That's better", Whumper hissed.

Whumpee sobbed as they fell to their knees.

Whumper still gripped their wrist.

The guards broke into the room and arrested Whumpee.

"Take them to their cage", Whumper wiped their hands on their coat.

"I-I'm sorry.... please don't be mad at me", Whumpee cried as they were pushed out of the room.

Whumper turned and looked down at the knife.

"Leader, figure out who this belonged to, and how it ended up in Whumpee's possession, and how long it has been missing", Whumper spoke to the lead guard.

Whumper sauntered into the room where Whumpee's cage was.

Whumpee huddled into the back of the cage.

Whumper peered in at them.

Whumpee looked up with a messy face, full of snot and tears.

"You look pitiful", Whumper cooed as they opened the door.

Whumpee cowereded away, "please I'll be good. I'm sorry, I just... just uhm."

"Like I said. You're not in trouble darling. We all have breakdowns. You needed to have a moment to express your needs. The guards and I were not paying enough attention to you", Whumper sighed, "here step out here. Let's clean you up a little. Labrats have needs and wants, too."

Whumpee watched as Whumper stepped back from the cage. They slowly unfolded their legs and slid out.

Whumper walked to the sink and grabbed a towel. They let some cold water run on it before carrying it back.

Whumpee stood shyly while Whumper sat in front of them and started to wipe their face off.

Whumpee's lip quivered as they fidgetted with their shirt.

"How about this... you can ask for three things", Whumper sighed, "you have had a rough time lately, so I'll let you have some rewards. The guards are also going to find you a friend to keep you company."

"No please", Whumpee pleaded.

"You didn't care earlier", Whumper smirked.

"Because I would have been dead. I don't want to cause someone else's imprisonment", Whumpee begged.

"You won't be the cause, I am. At least when they get here, they automatically get a friend. You've been here by yourself for a while", Whumper started to inspect Whumpee, "I'm glad you didn't cut yourself. Anyway, it has already been decided that you are getting a buddy. You don't get a say in the matter. Now, what are your three wishes?"

"C-can I have my big room back?", Whumpee was quick with the first request, "you said it would only be a couple days in the cage.... it's been a month since I've been in my room."

"I kind of forgotten about that. It's been easier not having to wrangle you down every time I need you", Whumper laughed, "but yes, we can make the sacrifice. We will get your room cleaned and move you in tomorrow. That will be good as well since you'll be getting a friend."

Whumpee looked at the cage sadly, "I don't know what else to ask for."

"Well, I guess I put you on the spot. Also, you're probably tired from all of the excitement you caused. Go ahead and think it over", Whumper stood, "dinner will be brought in here soon. Do you want to walk around in here while I work? I'll give you the rest of the day off. I don't need you to do anything for me."

Whumpee nodded quickly.

Whumper watched them for a few minutes before they sat down at their desk to work.

A guard came in after an hour. They looked at Whumpee disapprovingly then went to Whumper.

Whumpee looked down timidly.

It was the guard they had gotten the knife off of.

They watched Whumper and the guard talk out of the corner of their eye. They pretended to play with a toy ball Whumper had given them.

"So how on earth did Whumpee manage to get that knife?", Whumper whispered harshly.

"I have no idea. The stupid rat needs to be punished", the guard looked over at Whumpee again, "they can't be allowed to shut down your entire lab with a tatrum over a little bloodwork."

Whumpee shuddered as they looked up toward Whumper.

"Punish them for your mistake? You guards are supposed to be elite... top class. A labrat managed to sneak a weapon off of you and use it. They almost injured themself because of this. Do you know how screwed up my experiments would be without them", Whumper talked louder, "go to your In-charge and see what your new job will be. You will no longer be allowed to deal with Whumpee. If you ever harm Whumpee... you will be taking their place. I have an experiment that I'm just itching to do. The problem is that it will kill the test subject. Maybe then you can see what a little bloodwork feels like. Clear?"

"Yes Whumper", the guard grumbled, "I understand."

"Good, now get out", Whumper pointed to the door.

The guard left and Whumpee's dinner was carried in at the same time.

"Here, you little scamp", the person handed them the tray with a smirk.

"How is the hunt going Leader?", Whumper looked up.

Whumpee happily looked over the tray; all of their favorites had been made. Often that would be the apology.

"Uh, going well. They are tracking down the person of interest right now. We should have them by morning", the lead sighed.

Whumper eyed Whumpee while they talked with the guard.

"I think they will be surprised", Whumper whispered, "both of them."

Whumpee was being led back to their room. Guards held on tightly to either side of them... fearing they'd run again.

Whumpee looked ahead and saw that another set of guards were leading someone else past them.

"That must be my.... Caretaker?", Whumpee screamed and started to pull against the guard's firm grip.

"Whumpee?", Caretaker looked up worriedly and started to pull.

"Don't let them touch", Whumper's voice came from behind, "the new one needs to be cleaned, disinfected, and examined before I let them near my test subject."

"Test subject?", Caretaker paused and looked at Whumpee, "is this where you've been for... so .... long?"

"That it is.... they've been a very good labrat for me. You should be proud. You'll be able to talk later", Whumper looked at the guards, "carry on."

Whumpee nervously stood by the cage door of their room. They glanced up and down the hall as far as they could both ways.

"How could they take Caretaker. Out of everyone out there.... I would think Caretaker would be the hardest to get. Also, the most influential. This is my fault", Whumpee leaned their head on the bars to think.

Whumpee was eating their lunch when Caretaker was brought in.

They were naked.... only wrapped in a light blanket.

"Your clothes will be brought soon", the guards uncuffed Caretaker, "wait patiently until then."

Whumpee stared at Caretaker with wide, terrified eyes. Tears stung to be allowed to fall.

"My Whumpee", Caretaker finally knelt down, "it's okay, I'm so sorry."

"No I'm sorry", Whumpee whimpered, "you were brought here because of me.... I-I didn't know", their lip quivered, "I would have behaved had I known they would do this."

"Whumpee, what do you mean", Caretaker cupped Whumpee's cheek and wiped a stray tear.

Whumpee explained everything that had transpired the day before.

Caretaker only smiled.

"Why are you smiling... aren't you mad?", Whumpee whispered.

"A little upset at the situation, but not at you. It seems you grew a bit braver while being here", Caretaker patted Whumpee's head, "at least now I know where you've been."

Whumpee thought for a second before nodding, "I had to... you have no idea what they've done to me."

"I'm here now. Don't worry", Caretaker sighed, "hopefully I'll get some clothes soon. We can start planning our escape."

"I don't know about that."

Whumpee jumped at the familiar voice.

The door to the room opened, and Whumper stepped inside.

Caretaker was handed a stack of clothes.

"Those are for you", Whumper walked past and knelt next to Whumpee, "sorry about the cleaning process, I can't have you contaminating my rat."

Caretaker looked at the stack of sanitary scrubs judgmentally, "cozy", they grumbled.

"See an escape is not possible. I need my darling labrat to stay put. You were brought here as an incentive for them being good lately. At least for the most part. This reward can just as easily be taken away. I am actually a very nice person when everyone follows the rules. Don't make me be mean. Whumpee will agree that I am nice right?", Whumper cupped Whumpee's chin roughly.

Whumpee quickly nodded. They looked at Caretaker nervously.

"What have you been doing to them?", Caretaker frowned, "why have you brought them here?"

"That's only for me to know", Whumper stood, "don't make this hard. I truly don't want to be mean, but now I have leverage. You'll be good because you don't want Whumpee to be punished. My dearest rat will continue being good and helping with my experiments, or Caretaker gets it. Am I clear?"

"No please", Whumpee pleaded, "this is a punishment from yesterday. Please, I-I..."

"This is not from yesterday. I kept my word that you wouldn't be punished. This is just a precaution to keep you in line. Next time you act out you will receive a punishment", Whumper warned.

Whumpee shook as Whumper stood and looked down at them.

Caretaker watched as Whumpee hugged against the wall.

"Have I made myself clear to both of you?", Whumper walked toward the door, "any questions?"

"Nope", Caretaker looked at the clothes again.

Whumpee continued to huddle against the wall.

"I see they now understand the terms and conditions as well", Whumper chuckled, "very good, let's see if my lab has anymore outburst."

Caretaker sat down next to Whumpee once Whumper had left.

They sat quietly and just listened to Whumpee's breathing.

"I knew they would get back at me for yesterday. They went around the bush, but they did it", Whumpee wiped their eyes, "now you've been dragged here because of me. I'm so sorry."

"Whumpee, I'm not worried about that. I'm just happy to have found you. When you went missing... I couldn't sleep at all", Caretaker reached over and pulled Whumpee close, "I don't know what you've been through, and I am happy to listen to everything. We will work together to make sure nothing happens, at least until we hopefully get rescued", Caretaker talked lowly, "I need you to teach me what the rules are so we don't get into trouble. I don't want them to go as far separating us or worse. Can we try to survive until we get our escape."

Whumpee rested their head against Caretaker. The first ounce of comfort they had received since coming here.

"Whumpee, did you hear me?", Caretaker cuddled them even closer.

"Yes I heard you. I'd do anything not to lose you again. I'm sorry you were brought here, but I'm happy you are here with me now", Whumpee whispered, "I missed you."

"I missed you too", Caretaker smiled, "I'm sorry you've been alone for so long."

Caretaker sat quietly for a while until they could hear Whumpee's snoring.

They carefully moved Whumpee until they were comfortably rested next to them.

Whumper came to the door and opened it.

Caretaker quietly got up and walked toward the opened door.

Whumper led them down to a different hall... far from Whumpee.

"You have your Whumpee back, and you have my undivided attention. Now you need to hold up you part of the bargain", Whumper warned.

"I requested Whumpee to be kept safe. I think I need to know a little more about what you've done to them before I hold my deal", Caretaker frowned.

"That's not the deal", Whumper got a little louder.

"I wouldn't. You have no idea who of the guards here are on your side and who are mine", Caretaker watched a few guards walk past, "I can bring down your entire lab with one command, is that what you want?"

"You gave me Whumpee to use for my experiments. I had to do what I had to do. You knew that would come with risk", Whumper paced back and forth, "I'm almost tempted to tell Whumpee about everything. How much you really care about them. Sent them to an illegal lab and have them experimented on by the evil scientist because your lab is too good for illegal purposes. You just wanted to see if this would work, and it does. I just need your research now. We are so close to this being done."

"I care about my Whumpee. Even if you did that, I would just wipe their memory again", Caretaker frowned, "just do your job so I can get them out of here. They like my lab better anyways. They are a helper there. Not a lab rat. The password to the document is *******, use that, and you will get everything you need."

Whumper frowned, "once I get what I need, I should have everything finalized in a week or so. I will stage it so you will be able to get out of here with them safely."

Caretaker nodded and turned, "I suppose you'll have to take me back for this to look realistic."

"So you really have people hiding out in my lab?", Whumper questioned, "wouldn't Whumpee know them?"

"Yes, I sent ten guards to sneak in here. They were to make sure Whumpee was kept safe and that you held your part of our bargain", Caretaker nodded, "your guards all wear face coverings. Whumpee wouldn't know any different."

"I wonder if Whumpee purposely got the knife from one of your guys then", Whumper started to walk.

"I doubt it, Whumpee isn't allowed to have weapons. They would never give them one purposely", Caretaker frowned, "I still can't believe they managed to do that."

Whumper nodded.

Caretaker quietly sat next to Whumpee again and ruffled their hair lovingly.

"I'm sorry for everything you've gone through. Just know it was for the greater good."

Whumpee reached for Caretaker's arm and cuddled it close.

"My dear lab rat", Caretaker whispered, "sleep well. You deserve it after what you've been through. I'm sorry I caused this. It was for the betterment of mankind... I promise."

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

@villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived

@sacredwrath @porschethemermaid

@monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz

@bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13

@notpeppermint @cyborg0109

@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots

@whumpbump @everythingsscary

@skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr

@theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

@candleshopmenace @whumpanthems

@lavndvrr @ivymyers

@starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

@lumpofsand @watermeezer

@indigoviolet311 @whumpy-mountains

@3-2-whump @risk606

@electrons2006 @paperprinxe

@whumprince @kaz-of-crows

@mis-graves @decaffeinatedtimetraveler94

@sausages-things @castiels-favorite-hunter

@isikedmyself878 @daffyduckcommittedtaxfraud

@valravnthefrenchie @glennemerald

@jasperthecapser @does-directions

@deafeninglittlecrown @jumpywhumpywriter

@blackbirdsinatrenchcoat @mylifeisonthebookshelf

@thenormalestever @whatwhump

@galatic-worm @starmoon-constellation

@bacillusinfection @whumpsandbumps

@tobiasbones

[mingoooossii]

ATEEZ comforting you after you have a rough week.

Ot8 x reader

Warnings: hurt/comfort, lots of hugs, reader is overwhelmed in most of these, mentions of exams(scary ik), kinda corny tbh, also not proofread so there might be some mistakes.

A/n: i used most of my braincells 4 this 🫠 yea also this purely depended upon my mood so that's why some of them are just thoughts while the others are full blown conversations. will most likely rewrite this is in the future I think. Also I'm planning on opening taglists so if you want to be included just lmk!! (for ateez or any other group)

Words: 3.1k

Requested ♡ Ateez masterlist.

"When you feel like you're nowhere, Let it go 'cause I'll be there for you..."

⋆˚࿔ Hongjoong

• whenever things get a little too much, you'd usually suck it up

• it wasn't healthy, you know that yet you couldn't afford to fall back now so you did it anyway

• him, who's very sensitive to your every little changes in mood, of course, noticed it too

• you tend to sort of shut down whenever you get overwhelmed, causing you to get moody and quiet, often leading to minor arguments with him

• but he understands (being prone to overworking himself, he was never too fond of the after effects)

• but that doesn't mean he's not going to do anything about it

• ”you're taking a break.” “But I need to finish this-”

• he cut you off by closing your book, making sure to bookmark it before picking you up from the chair

• ”have you looked at yourself yet? you're about to collapse.”

• you fell silent at that, letting him carry you over to the bed, feeling your irritation dissolve at the stern tone, yet you could pick up on the hint of worry.

• ”but I need to finish it, or else I won't catch up on my work. I'm already behind in-”

• your worried ramblings was silenced by his lips pressing against yours for a brief moment

• ”i vaguely remember someone pulling me out of my studio, by my ear, when I was overworking myself.”

• he muttered, sitting beside you once he put you down on the bed, his hand reaching up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear

• ”you should listen to your own advice, you know?”

• you could feel the tears pricking your eyes at his words, making you feel helpless and frustrated

• ”there's just…so much. i don't know if I'll ever finish it…what am I gonna do?”

• you mumbled, your lips trembling as you tried to bite back your sobs

• his expression softened at your words, pulling you into his embrace, stroking your hair

• ”i know. but exhausting yourself is only going to make it harder for you to catch up.”

• ”let's take a break, okay? you need to rest, let your mind calm down first.”

• you felt him pull away from you, his hand wiping your tears away

• ”how about we go for a walk outside? some fresh air would help, i think.”

• you thought for a bit before nodding. you definitely wouldn't be able to get anything done while you were in this state.

• he finally let a small smile break free, standing up, moving to get your shoes for you

“An ice cream could help too, i've heard. and there's a parlour that just opened up, down the street. i think it's fate.”

⋆˚࿔ Seonghwa

��� "are you okay?"

• he asked softly, worry lacing his tone as he watched your sullen figure drop down onto the couch.

• "I'm okay."

• your curt response came out as if it was clockwork, removing your bag before burying your face into the comforter

• you obviously weren't. Well, it'd been like that for a while now

• he sighed before coming over to you on the couch. He knelt down and reached out to take off your shoes which you forgot to

• you tried to sit up, suddenly feeling guilty

• "i got it...-" "Let me."

• you paused before laying back down, feeling a bit nervous at his tone of voice. Was he mad?

• "I'm sorry... it's just lately everything's been going downhill..."

• you mumbled, tears pricking your eyes as you let your emotions of the past week finally weigh you down

• "i c-can't seem to do anything right and...i can't muster up energy for anything...i.."

• you sniffled, waiting for a response. He didn’t reply, instead placing your shoes neatly to the side before standing up and sitting down next to you on the couch.

• "Hwa..."

• a tear rolled down your face as he wrapped his arms around you, resting your head beneath his chin.

• it was incredible how the warmth of his embrace contrasted the gloominess you've been feeling all week.

• "I'm not mad. Why would I be?"

• he spoke quietly, his eyes shutting for a moment, his hand tracing patterns on your back

• "and you know... people don't always have to be okay..."

• "if that were the case then, i think we'd be superhumans..."

• you let out a laugh at his words, feeling your heart lighten slightly

• "i guess..."

• he smiled at the pleasant sound, leaning back slightly to look at you, his hand moving to wipe your tears away.

• "so don't put yourself down, i won't let you."

• he whispered, his expression gentle yet firm before pulling you close again, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

• "I'm still gonna worry though. Because I'm a human, a human who happened to be really really really in love with you."

• you chuckled, feeling exasperated yet so so light hearted

"Well, then...this human loves you too, a lot."

⋆˚࿔ Yunho.

• exams were coming up.

• and with exams came all nighters.

• you knew it wasn't healthy at all but your brain refused to listen to you, conjuring up various 'what ifs' each one, bleak.

• yes, exam seasons usually had you stressed.

• he knew it too.

• don't get him wrong, he knew you'd do well (with you being one of the most hardworking people he knows, there was no doubt about that)

• but he knew you couldn't help it. Despite all the assurances, a small part of you always doubted if your efforts were enough

• and he was worried. Of course, he was but he couldn't push you to take breaks even when he knew you needed it

• because he thought it'd be better to be distant than to have you completely shut him out

• but he wasn't sure anymore.

• even more so when he came upon you staring down at your books with teary eyes. You couldn't take it anymore.

• "I'm just so tired"

• you sobbed, burying your face into his chest. He had carried you to the bed from your desk, despite your protests but now you were glad that he did.

• "i know, love."

• he whispered, his hand rubbing your back soothingly, his heart clenching at the sound of your sobs. How could he have let it get this bad?

• but one thing was sure, he wasn't about to let you go through this alone.

• "Take a break, hm?" "But i...-"

• "No buts."

• he replied firmly, his expression showing his worry

• "Baby, it's admirable, it really is...you work so hard and I'm so proud of you..."

• "but I'm worried."

• he mumbled, his voice soft and low, tightening his hold on you

• your words faltered as you sensed the genuine concern in his voice, a twinge of guilt washing over you.

• "You always seem so tired and i...i can't help but feel frustrated for not being able to do anything..."

• his tone was soft, holding you close as if he feared losing you.

• "i don't want anything to happen to you..."

• you heart clenched at the tone of fear in his voice. you felt him lean back, taking your face into his hands carefully

• ”no matter how important it is, pushing yourself beyond the point of breaking will never do you any good.”

•he whispered, his voice quiet as he stroked your face gently

•you stayed silent for a moment, his words going through your mind. you could feel the toll these last few days had on your body. crashing out wouldn't be far at this point.

•so you nodded, reluctantly agreeing, not wanting to worry him any longer and also because you knew you needed this.

•he smiled, seeing you agree (although reluctant) relief coursing through him finally.

“Good. Now, how about some tea? I'll…let you get back to it after a break and this time, I'll help you.”

⋆˚࿔ Yeosang.

• something was wrong.

• he wasn't used to seeing you so...pensive.

• that slight slumping of your shoulders, the way you zone out mid-convos and the quiet sighs that escapes you whenever you think no one's looking

• no, he definitely noticed. It was so unlike you and...he wasn't sure how to react.

• would you be mad if he were to bring this up?

• or would you pretend like there was

nothing wrong?

• he knows that you value your independence very much, often preferring to deal with things on your own

• he respects that and doesn't push in anyway, not wanting to make you uncomfortable

• but he'd also feel a bit guilty (thought it was never his fault) feeling like he was failing as a boyfriend for just watching from the sidelines while you struggled

• though initially, he'd be a bit hesitant and cautious when approaching the matter

• he wouldn't directly confront you but lets you know that he's there for you

• "I'm here, if you want to talk."

• he'll also try to distract you with other activities, whether if it's like a walk in the park or a simply game

• he'll try his best to keep the atmosphere quiet and positive so you'll be able to relax your mind even if it's just a little

• and when you finally open up to him, he listens.

• he doesn't really respond in between and just lets you rant while listening intently

• and you know he is from the way his hand gently squeezes yours in assurance whenever you come to a pause, letting you know that whatever you were feeling was valid

• he isn't that big on physical affection but won't hesitate to shower you in it if you were to ask

• he's just a green flag over all

"I'll be here if you need me. I'll always be here."

⋆˚࿔ San.

• "come here."

• you hesitantly glanced at him before immediately looking away once you met his eyes. How does he know you so well?

• "choi y/n, come. here."

• he repeated, his tone a bit more firm now, spreading his arms wide and looking at you expectantly

• "what's with the choi?"

• you sighed, half-laughing, but you walked towards him, your emotions bubbling up again.

• "you own my heart, so you might as well take my last name too."

• he said softly with a small smile as you finally stepped into his arms.

• "seriously..."

• you mumbled, your voice breaking towards the end as you pressed your face into his chest, tears starting to flow again

• "there we go..."

• he guided you to the couch before sitting beside you. He wrapped his arms around you again, pulling you into him and gently ran his fingers through your hair, whispering.

• "you did a good job, hm? I'm so proud of you."

• "it doesn't feel like that though..."

• you laughed. his words, though comforting, stung a bit, reminding you of your failures yet again

• he frowned, picking upon on the hint of self depreciation in your tone

• "how dare you say that about the love of my life? Do you have any idea how much they mean to me?"

• he spoke, leaning back slightly to look at you, his hand reaching up to pinch your cheeks

• "what're you on about?"

• you chuckled, avoiding his hand, not knowing whether to be amused or exasperated at his sudden burst out

• "I'm serious, my love's the best, the smartest, the kindest, the most hardworking, the prettiest...the list goes on..."

• he continued, his voice firm as he made you face him, wiping your tears away

• "but you know what i like the most about them?"

• he asked, his expression softening considerably

• "they never give up. no matter how hard it gets, no matter what anyone else says, they never give up, because they know that they can get through it..."

• he stroked your face, his eyes never leaving yours, the genuineness in them halting your breath for a moment

• "I know you can..."

• you felt your heart tighten at his words, feeling a wave of emotion wash over you. You hugged him again, tears forming again.

• "why do you always have to be so nice? I hate you..."

• you sobbed, though there was no real heat behind your words

• he chuckled, rubbing your back soothingly

"It's okay, in return, I have lots of love to give you..."

⋆˚࿔ Mingi.

• he knew that things have been rough for you lately

• while he was worried, he wasn't sure to how to bring it up without making you feel even worse

• so he had hoped you'd come to him first

• though nothing prepared him for the sight of you sobbing into your hands infront of him, when you did

• initially he was at a loss as to what to do (it's that T in him)

• but he could feel his heart breaking as he watched you desperately trying to wipe your tears away which seemed to be flowing endlessly at that moment

• instantly he pulled you into his embrace, his arms wrapping around you so tightly like he wanted to shield you from whatever that was hurting you

• "I'm sorry..."

• you weren't sure what he was apologising for and neither was he

• though he wasn't good with words in this situation, he was there for you

• and he hoped you'd know it too

"don't hold back your tears, just let it all out. I'm here."

⋆˚࿔ Wooyoung

• he’s been walking on eggshells the entire week and he wasn't sure how long he could he take it

• your obvious avoidance of him, the curt texts, (hell, he'd prefer it more if you argued with him than this) it was all getting ridiculous

• so, what was the next step? obviously, confronting you.

• though it wasn't going like how he expected it to go.

• ”I'm sorry, i thought it'd be better to avoid you than to let you get affected too”

• you mumbled, your voice a bit hoarse as you brought your blanket covering you, closer

• your face was red, a sheen of sweat covering your forehead as you supported yourself on the wall.

• these past few weeks had taken a toll on you, worse than you thought and before you knew it, you had a fever.

• ”Affect me-...are you serious?”

• he spoke before he could stop himself. really? that's what you've been worried about?

• “I've been worried sick! you think I'd care about some damn germs?”

• you fell silent, feeling a bit guilty now.

• he huffed as if he was in disbelief. he wanted to say more but paused, his eyes falling on your pale face

• he sighed before stepping in, his hands reaching for your face.

• “you're burning up…”

• he muttered, worry lacing his tone as he supported you, making sure to close the door before leading you to your living room, sitting you down on the couch

• you sniffled, rubbing your nose as you watched him bustle around your apartment

• it was weird, seeing him so serious like this, different from his usual playful self

• and it only made you more guilty for worrying him

• ”I'm sorry…”

• he paused, hearing your words, his movements slowing down as he closed the door to your shelf after retrieving the medicine

• “you know? these past few days, I was wondering whether I did something. I couldn't figure it out.”

• he spoke up, returning to the couch, kneeling infront of you, placing a hand on your lap

• “besides, what if you were in your death bed? of course i need to be here.”

• he added, a small smirk forming on his face

• “Hey!”

• you countered, your eyes wide, hitting his shoulder making him laugh out a small ‘sorry!’, lightening the mood slightly

• “no but seriously, you should've told me you were sick. i would've came running.”

• “you always take care of me when I'm sick. I want to do the same…”

• he muttered, his playfulness dissolving into softness, his hand squeezing yours gently

• you felt your heart melt at his words, warmth coursing through you, the pleasant kind this time.

• “Alright then, can you…make me your special chicken soup?”

• you asked, a hopeful glint in your eyes. you’ve been craving it actually.

• his smile returned even more brightly as he stood up, turning to make his way to your kitchen

“I'll make you the damn best chicken soup you're gonna ever have! You won't even need medicine cause it's gonna heal you up right away.”

⋆˚࿔ Jongho

• he knew you were having a rough week

• considering how moody you've seemed lately and you also didn't talk much

• and you were usually the 'affectionate' one in your relationship so the lack of it made him pause

• he was concerned, obviously, but didn't voice it directly or push you to open up

• he trusted that you'd come to him if there was something

• however, it seems like you finally reached your breaking point

• he regretted not talking to you sooner when he came home to you crying one day

• he immediately engulfs you into his embrace.

• you seemed a bit surprised to see him, not expecting him to come back so early

• and you felt bad to burden him with your emotions, surely he had a lot on his plate as well-

• "stupid, you should be worrying about yourself."

• he mumbled, his voice annoyed yet... concerned, pulling you closer when you tried to move away.

• he won't respond with words when you start to pour your worries out

• but you know he's listening with the gentle but assuring squeezes he gave your hand whenever you come to a pause

• well, it wasn't like he really had to talk when his embrace spoke volumes more than any words ever could.

“Don't feel bad for feeling bad, you don't always have to be okay, it's completely normal.”

[lvrboy-inc]

“Siren” — K.M.

“Boy, I know what you desire..”

“Oh, you’re such a bad, bad liar.”

꒰: Précis | After a shitty breakup with a subpar man, you find yourself drawn to the lights and sleaze of the nearest bar. Drink away your problems or fuck and forget them with the bartender who’s hot as hell.

꒰: Disclaimer(s) | Dirty talk, praise, coercion, praise, spitting, hair pulling, PRAISE, pet names (♡)

꒰: Word Count ; 10.2k

꒰: Sweetest Sin Masterlist

Incubus Bartender!Satoru

x

Sad Drunk Virgin m!reader

“You seem tense, handsome..”

Starting your night off with a shitty breakup and one two many drinks might’ve not been the best route to take. In hindsight at least.

Your co-workers had already urged you to break it off with the less than desirable man who could barely breathe without working your nerves and not only that—trying to make you work in the bedroom. 

It was an endless cycle of  “You get on top, work for me.” and never him using the hips that God gave him to work you out—always ending in a resounding turn off, consistently followed up with, “Next time for sure.” So, after he had started an argument, ending in trauma being spat out in a fit of anger, you felt thankful, grateful, blessed even that he gave you a reason.

But..all breakups are hard to get over. Whether they were a long time coming or not, it’s always a shitty experience. 

What’s always the best unhealthy coping mechanism for such..? A drink, of course.

“A drink.”

That was the intention..but you wound up getting more plastered than expected and crying out your woes to the bartender who had only asked whether you’d be putting things on your tab or card for the night. 

He was charismatic—maybe because of the job description and having to be a poster boy for such a place. Sweet talking drinks into vulnerable people so he could get tips and points from his boss for making them profit. It was a good hustle, respectable and fun.

Not to mention..he was damn good at it.

After a bit of a slurred exchange of words, you’d gotten to know a few things about him: His name, Satoru, Satoru Gojo. 28, graduated college with a psych major, infinitely and criminally tall—6’3 to be exact—and to your surprise, swung both ways. Often.

You found yourself asking stupid questions just so he would slide your way from the other customers.

“I’m starting to think I should cut you off,” He teased after about the 5th call over.

You raised up your head to rest in the palm of your hand, running your index over the rim of the golden-lined glass he’d refilled so many times now. Some of it you drank, most of it you babysat. “I’m pacing myself alright..” You’d slur out with a mild puffing of your cheeks.

“Oh yeah? Your cheeks are flushed, hun. Unless that’s just from staring too long.” The way he pointed out your fluster so obviously couldn’t have made it go down any.

“You’re too cocky..‘m holding over fine.” A bit snippy but he laughed heartily, drying off a used glass with the hand towel he’d kept attached to his hip. 

Even from this distance, you could just tell he smelled nice. Maybe it was the already alcoholic aroma that the rather sleazy place held but you could’ve sworn there were hints of cologne—expensive cologne—that mingled with it. 

Those piercing blues he had, barely dimmed out by the lighting of the establishment flickered over you and a slick smile spread across his lips. “Then, please, I’m at your disposal. Need another drink, pretty boy?”

An initial sound of surprise came with the name but you turned away from him slightly and blew a stray strand of hair from in front of your eyes. “No..”

“Ah, so you did just want to talk to me.”

“Shut up..don’t you have a job to do?” You quickly retorted with a harsh roll of eyes. 

Shrugging, he waved a small goodbye. Not before adding on a small, “You’re technically a part of it..”

And in another moment, you were back to eating up the eye candy. In your mild boredom, you opened up your phone to see your shitty ex spamming you across every platform imaginable—TikTok, Insta, Snap, Facebook, hell, he went as far as to email you. He was hooked and just seeing the mass notifications made you want to throw the whole device away.

That’s when you got a really..really bad idea.

About an hour went by and the promiscuous bartender had paid you a few more stops of his own volition. Each encounter got more and more..suggestive, to say the least.

From mild flirting to him finally saying, “My eyes are up here, you know.” when yours were drifting.

“Obviously..but that’s not really the objective.” 

He visibly was caught off guard by your comment, going as far as to lean his arms forward onto the bar top, eyes now boring into your soul it felt like as he purred out a response. “Oh? And what might your objective be? You’ve been eyeing me since you walked in, can’t help but feel you undressing me.”

“I’m not some sort of pervert—you’re making it sound worse than it is.” Furrowing your brows slightly, he tilted his head in that oh-so innocent fashion.

It was hard to not crack a smile.

“I am,” He admitted smoothly, now actively ignoring a small trio of women at the end of the counter. “But, you didn’t answer my question.”

With one last adjustment of his neck, he was staring right at you. “What’s your objective here, pretty boy?”

“Is it not obvious?” 

“Terribly. But, I’d just love it if you could use your words. Give me something worth listening to and blowing off customers for.” His tone, his posture, his eyes—God, this is what true temptation feels like.

Working up the courage which..didn’t take long, thanks to liquid confidence, you squared your shoulders a bit to meet his gaze properly. “My objective is you. Is that so hard to piece together?”

“Don’t talk about things being hard right now.”

…

A round of silence and you were pulling a pen out of his breast pocket, you went along and grabbed his notepad as well. “And what are you doing now?”

“Giving you my cell..obviously.” Quipping back, you started to jot down the series of numbers before his slender fingers were pulling the parchment down so your focus was back on him once more.

He flashed that award-winning smile and stood up straight again. “No need. My shift ends in 30.”

Oh, he was confident.

“Make it 25. My place or yours?” 

Finally, the women at the end had gotten more than impatient and wound up calling out a not-so passive, aggressive, “Bartender!” from down the way to which he cast a small grin your way.

“Duty calls.” He said briefly and then, he was gone again. Was he serious..? Maybe the drinks were really just getting to you but Lord..the way he spoke to you, sized you up—he wanted to talk about undressing people with their eyes? Please. 

You could almost feel how he was defiling you in his head.

Among other things, you decided to down the rest of your drink and ultimately did put it on your tab. Once he’d taken down his apron and you had gathered the remnants of your heart that had led you to this point, you both were walking out with an air of civility…

Such a stark contrast to the debauchery that was promising the night.

Initially, you’d offered to take your car but he waved a hand with a chuckle, pointing over to a white Mustang GT sitting pretty in the parking lot. “I’ll get my co-worker to keep an eye on your ride for the night. You can come get it in the morning, ‘kay, handsome?”

“Should I feel insulted..?” 

He looked around for a bit before looking back down at you. “I don’t know, are you into that sorta thing?”

“Do you always talk to people like this?”

“Hm, like what?” Peering in closer, he dug his keys out of his pocket, twirling them around his index for a moment before resting them in his palm.

Crossing your arms and beginning the path to his car, you spoke, “Like a slut.”

“Are you not one too, though?” He drawled, purposely keeping his strides slow just so you could keep up easily in your dwindling intoxication. “I mean, you came to my place of work, talked me up, now, we’re heading back to your place—is that not slut behavior?”

You got ready to make another smart comment but wound up falling short and simply digging an elbow into his ribs that elicited a pained groan followed by light laughter. 

He was enjoying this way too much. 

Even on the ride home, he wouldn’t let up in his relentless teasing fit. With the low rumbling of the smooth engine carrying you across the streets of the night city, he held one hand on the wheel whilst the other rested on the gear shift. 

Every so often though, he’d try and drift his fingers over..over and up to your thigh which made you crane your neck to give him a sideways glance. “We’re not even halfway there yet..” You chastised lowly to which he moved his hand down, giving your thigh a playful squeeze instead of the devilish wandering it’d been doing before.

“Oh, I’m sorry, is foreplay not your thing?” Scoffing lightly, he shook his head and briefly peeled his eyes away from the road to look over you once again—it was becoming a habit. “I thought maybe you’d be as eager as I am—seeing as you’re the one who came onto me, after all.”

Rolling your eyes instinctively, you turned to face the window a bit. “Barely..I gave hints and you took them to ten fold. And I do like foreplay, seeing as my ex lacked the ability…I just wouldn’t want it to wind up with us fogging up these windows.”

“Please, I wouldn’t fuck you in my car,” He said it quick, as if he was a bit offended at the proposition. “I respect my baby better than to make a mess of either of you in here.”

That shut you up rather quickly.

You let your head make a small thud against the cold glass with an audible, “Hmph.” But, it was rather deterred when your hand moved over his, dragging it up further until it basically rested on the junction of your hips and leg. He didn’t make a comment and neither did you, save for the way your body spoke, pressing your thighs lightly together to hold his hand there.

Regardless, the rest of the drive was calm and when you’d arrived back to your quaint condo, just a bit out from the center of the cityscape, he turned the keys out of the ignition and got out of the driver’s side door. 

Moving to open up the door, you started to get out before he was right there in front of it, closing it back. “What the hell?” You exclaimed, given the roughness of the pushback.

He took a few moments before opening the door so gently and leaning down to your sitting level. “You’re trying to rob me of my gentlemanly status, pretty boy. Can’t have that now, can we?” With that, he extended a flat palm your way which you took—not without a low, grumbled string of complaints at his dramatacism. 

You fumbled with your keys for a split second before getting up to the door. Satoru loomed behind you, making a small shiver trail over your spine—that cologne was his.

Once getting inside, you were greeted by your precious feline companion who, instead of rubbing against your ankles, circled through Satoru’s. He gave a deep laugh of amusement, crouching down to scratch behind the furry friend’s ear to which he purred and mewed in response. “What’s its name?”

“His name is Dot.” You gave back, just the slightest bit jealous that the cat had taken a bigger liking to the house guest than the man who fed him every day. “He usually doesn’t like house guests..” A mild jab at the pet who was jingling and purring as Satoru catered to his sweet spots.

Though..after enough time and playful back and forth, just getting to know one another, flirting..whispering..trading spit..things got much more hot and heavy much quicker than you expected.

Once he’d had his tongue down your throat, it tasted..sweet. Not even in the metaphorical sense but like a literal syrup—an addictively sweet taste that had your head spinning..hazy, even. 

Your back was already flat against the bed and he was taking his time..so much so you were getting impatient. Breaking the seal between your spit-drenched lips with a soft pwah, he was breathing right into your mouth. He trailed his hand up along the column of your throat and finally, a thumb was swiping across your bottom lip, pressing down on it just to get a glimpse of your lower set.

“Somethin’ wrong..?” God..how did he sound even more sultry than before..? All panting, just as his low-lidded eyes fell on yours. “Don’t tell me you’re backing out now..”

Just for a moment, you were speechless. Now, you were really feeling the effects. Kissing’s never felt this good before..ever. And that haze from before? It was becoming a lot more prominent. “My head..feels weird..” You breathed out, finding yourself gradually heating up..from the inside.

“Ah, you’re catching on, pretty boy.” Catching on? To what exactly?

Instead of giving any sort of reassurance, his knee was creating friction along your jeans that were already straining. It was all so warm..hot, burning..something was off and all you could trace it back to was the man on top of you now. “It’s been so long since I’ve gotten an easy mark like you..you really did make this way too easy, handsome.” He purred, trailing kisses and nips down your collarbones—exposed by your loose hanging shirt—and down, down, down.

It was so heated, every touch he showered your body with, even the simple action of him sliding his fingertips under your tee and dragging the fabric up was enough to make you squirm.

“What are you..talking about..?” You managed to say, relatively snapping back to a bit of reality. Despite how he was already kissing down from where your ribs connected under your skin, past your midsection and laving his tongue over your navel—it was obvious he was avoiding your questions.

Deft fingers picked apart the button of your pants, leaving them hanging open until he was back over top of your face. Satoru was analyzing your features, each twitch and shift in expression—the effect he was having on you. 

It was utterly adorable.

Watching that stressed, pretty face all night, going from ranting and raving about a man who could hardly be called such to opening up into his own drunken desire and now laid out underneath him—fuck, it was a head rush.

“You seem tense, handsome..” The name rolled off his tongue like a vice and you could’ve sworn you were hooked. “Are you finally realizing what you got yourself into, hm?”

It was only a second. You blinked, eyes already squinting through each glance up at him and before you knew it he wasn’t..him anymore. With each passing open and shut rhythm it was something:

First his teeth, he was speaking but God knows you weren’t tuned in. Then the hands that had once been so soft, neatly cut and filed down grew into something sharp—clawed. And finally, there were those damn horns. You wished, hoped prayed that you were just too out of it to really be seeing straight but..it was real.

That cute bartender, the one who had teased and teased, led you on and wrapped you around his finger for the night..was a demon. An incubus at that—which, when it dawned on you, became even more of a problem.

Obviously, the first reaction was panic, a widespread “fight or flight” response that gradually was dimmed out. Next thing you knew, he was laughing..like, genuinely, cracking the fuck up. He could see the struggle in your eyes, the burning want, the need to fight back but oh..that little party trick from earlier was doing its job.

“Shh, shhh..it’s alright, nothin’ to worry your pretty little head about. Relax f’me..thaaat’s it..” He was speaking so slowly, so tauntingly, it felt like he was dumbing you down with his voice alone. “Fun fact about incubi—their spit counts as raw aphrodisiac..”

He leaned in closer, licking away a stray tear that had rolled down to the peak of your cheekbone before disappearing onto the warmth of his tongue. “And another fun fact..you kiss like a fuckin’ pornstar.” Already, his mouth was in desperate need of some soap.

If it’d stopped there, that would’ve been ideal. You could barely think straight, poor thing. A little too turned on for a first time, scared out of your wits, and still..still wanting to go further. You wanted him to take you further.

“Don’t you worry about a siiingle thing,” A low purr would escape him as his hands’ earlier work at your shirt finally finished, sliding it up and over your head until it was then pulled right around your wrists—he made it so. “Let me do allll that fuckin’ work for you. I told you you’re a part of my job, didn’t I..?”

You took in a shuddering breath, head instinctively flicking over to the side with a subtle roll of your hips. Oh-so absentmindedly your movements were..because as his nails made their tracings along your skin—from your chest, where he leaned all the way down just to shower your sensitive buds with the utmost attention, to how his palms then rubbed over your hips—you were just grinding.

Grinding it out on the rough fabric covering his knee as he steadily worked you over. His tongue felt..different. As in, before, it was..softer, more inviting, cute even. But now..? God, it could’ve wrapped around your cock twice and still reach the base with ease. That was a bet.

He was reveling in the series of whimpers and whines that you drenched his ears with, each one offering up a low, vibrating chuckle against your chest. 

“Mhn.. ‘Toru..” Damn, was that your voice speaking..? Where did all this “Toru” business come from..? Whatever..all you knew was it tasted like heaven in your mouth and like a siren’s call to his brain. “S-stop fuckin’ around already..demon, incubus or not, you got me hot and bothered so deal with it—properly.”

A round of tutting left him as he finally detached himself from your now-swollen nipples, only to go back in to land a bite and minor tug on one of them. Already, the action alone had your legs trying to close up around his, stomach fluttering just from the feeling of his sharp canines digging in. Oh you knew he left a mark. You could already feel it.

Just as quickly as he doled out his physical reprimand, he was back to his affectionate, lewd lapping at your nub, alternating between each and giving whichever was orally unattended, pinches and rolls between his fingers. “I thought you liked foreplay, pretty boy..don’t tell me you got a little impatient and changed your mind?”

“You’ve got the brain of a whore and the body of a virgin—what kinda joke is that?” Sitting back on his haunches, both of his hands crossed over his pelvis, gripping the ends of his shirt as he tugged it off over his head. In all honesty your body had a reaction to that—a small gasp that he undoubtedly heard as well. 

The shocking part wasn’t even the sheer cut of him, no, but the pair of wings that accompanied. A dark, charcoal black that differed so heavily from the pure white that his hair adorned. Stemming from his chiseled shoulder blades like a stalk.

His attention ran right back to you as he readjusted himself between your legs, both hands snaking to your inner thighs as he parted them like a sea: slow and deliberate. One of them trailed up further..coming to rest just before your groin where he splayed his fingers out.

“Hey,” A more baritone call for your attention as he stared you head on. “This is gonna really suck while I’m not inside you so..hold out for me, ‘kay?”

Rubbing soothing circles over where his fingers had found purchase, he rolled his hips forward, cracking that smile that was now sullied by the sharpness of his once-straight and narrow dental set. “You can hold out f’me, right?”

He wasn’t even asking. He talked like it was a fact.

“Nah, I know you can..you can take anything I throw at you..” Before you could even deny it, to tell him to reevaluate his expectations of your threshold, it was in motion. 

The surging energy that he flowed out into your lower body first, then the crackle of electricity that followed suit, gradually descending into a sickening ache inside that felt like an inferno needing to be quelled. You squirmed and writhed, fragile fingers threatened to tear up your sheets as your strained voice caught up in your throat. 

Eyes squeezed shut as you grit your teeth so hard you thought they could’ve cracked from the pressure. He was murmuring words of praise, encouragement, of urging you to endure it. And after a bit, it was less painful and more just a throbbing need that already had you breathless.

“Haah..fuck, what is..God..” The last name was said like it was the worst of profanity as you finally worked up enough gall to look down. Once his hand lifted from its place, that’s when you saw it. 

Right there, just below where your stomach ended and your happy trail began—a fucking womb tattoo. 

No, like, for real. It was engraved in your skin, staining your flesh that same charcoal black with the intricate scrawl of abstract twists all centered around a hollow heart design. 

Fuck how it looked though—your body was screaming.

Just from the proximity alone from Satoru, it was getting harder to breathe, harder to even think straight and his pants weren’t even off yet. Was this the power of a real fucking demon? Able to bring a man to his knees with just a few well-placed touches and words of slutty promise?

“Toruuu..it burns..” A pathetic whine fell from your lips as you ran your hands down to try and soothe the ache. But not only with your shirt tangled up along your wrists but one of his own pinning them back against the headboard, you were stuck. 

That roll of his hips had gotten bolder, more rhythmic..you could feel how much he was into this. Not only by the way he seemed to do it mindlessly, his breathy pants and the slight flutter of his abnormal appendages, but God..the fucking print.

Oh, it was fucking big.

Here he was, trying to keep you under control when he seemed like he would burst at the seams with one wrong move. “I know, I know..I feel it too, baby..” This whole time, he’d been rather composed—you know, while making you fall apart—but even now, it seemed hard for even him to keep himself under control.

“Tell me,” There went that damn tone again, though, instead of that cocky arrogance, it was almost desperate. “Do you want this as much as I do..? Don’t think with your dick right now, as hard as I know that is to do that right now…”

Trailing off, his free hand cupped your jaw, making blown pupils meet the zeroed. You could’ve gotten high off the eye contact alone at this point. “Say the word and I’ll stop—you won’t have to remember this ever happened. You’ll forget everything about me, your body will go right back to how it was and..I’ll be gone.”

“But I’ll miss this face..those eyes, your voice..oh…” No matter how much he was prioritizing you, how much he meant every word he said..he couldn’t help but pray, beg for God to do him a solid and let you say yes to this. “Come on, pretty boy..”

“Talk to me.”

It was less of an asking and much more like a command. Your hesitation was so evident in the way your breath hitched with each labored inhale and exhale. The proposition was set but the real question remained unanswered—were you really about to give up your virginity to an incubus..?

…

Well..yeah.

Making sure you never took your eyes off him, after what felt like an eternity, you uttered, “I crave it, Toru..please, don’t get me all the way here and leave me..I need you. Need to feel you in places I don’t know exist…” And with a final batting of your lashes, you breathed, “..need you to fuckin’ ruin me.”

That did it.

“Goddamn your mouth is so fuckin’ nasty,” Like a flip switched in his brain, he was on you. Gone was the gentle caress of his kiss—replaced by the starved devouring of your lips, teeth and tongue as he finally got serious. “I cannot wait to break you the fuck in.”

And by God did he mean it in every sense of the word. 

His hands were everywhere: your hips, thighs, face, anywhere he could get a feel for you. A feel for the heat that you were radiating and pouring off in gallons. It didn’t take long at all for him to start tugging at the rest of the clothing that was keeping him from what he was gunning for.

Bits and pieces of fabric stripped away like nothing but an inconvenience before being discarded into the growing pile of articles on the floor. Once you were laid out bare in front of him, you faintly caught wind of an instinctive, “Fuck..” Slipping from his mouth before he was already hooking your leg onto his shoulder. 

Even in his haste, he was handling you with sooo much care. His bites felt like nips and grazes before he was leaning in closer..further up until the heated inner of your thigh was burning the side of his face. He stayed there for a moment closing his eyes like he was an aerosol fiend.

But oh, oh when those glaciers met your gaze again, he bit down, hard. Those canines of his were a force to be reckoned with because the yelp that tore from you upon the breaking of skin was awful.

“What the hell, Toru..?” You complained, furrowing your eyebrows down into an expression that was meant to be scolding but you couldn’t deny the way the new addition to your skin was twisting your perception of pain and pleasure oh so deliciously. 

And boy did he know. One turned into two and gradually, your thighs were stained with his saliva and the clear imprint of his teeth—slightly bloodied and hickeys for daaays. 

At one point, you’d closed your legs up around him, a feeble attempt at a timeout but he wasted no time in prying then right back open, lowering his head enough to lick a looong, slow stripe up your neglected cock that had been sitting so pretty on the sidelines. 

You really were acting like a virgin—the simple lick making your hips lift up just a bit before the contact was taken back away. A whimper of protest was heard at the loss of sensation and before you knew it, he was speaking again. “Ahh, is that what you want, pretty boy? Hm?”

Although his eyes were on you right now, he couldn’t help but feel the effects of not only smelling—seeing, touching, breathing—but tasting you on his tongue. All the while with both hands busy and his pants seeming like the greatest obstacle on Earth. But he digressed, bringing up a sharp-nailed hand to press his palm down juuust enough to glide up and dig your length a bit further against your stomach.

“Wanna feel my mouth giving all my attention to this cute cock of yours, hm?” A drawl of a question and you were already getting driven up the wall by the physical aspect that came with it. “Come onnn, what did I say about using your words, sweetheart?”

Did he like..need you to die in the process of all this?

A simpering moan was all your mind could muster up before you let out a light puff, willing yourself to meet those eyes that seemed to be doing more work than anything else right now. “Please, Toru..You’re driving me insane..” Breathless and absolutely helpless—just how he liked you.

The verbal queue was all he needed. With one chuckled out, “Good boyyy.” Oh he was getting to work.

That tongue that had seemingly grown in measure was going alongside with his hands—smooth and soft, yet a little calloused—that took your aching shaft up into his palm. He fucking kissed up, from base to tip and then swiped his tongue back and forth under your sensitive frenulum before using those plump lips to give playful sucks to your weeping slit.

Swirling that aphrodisiac-saliva slick all over until you finally caved, pulling your forearms in front of your eyes and just barely stifling out your voice from behind them. The muscles in your thighs were just shivering, and he hadn’t even taken it all in yet.

God you were fucking hopeless.

Satoru’s hands rubbed soothingly along your inners as he showered your cockhead with sooo much care. It was so much yet still not enough. “Mhn..f-fuck, deeper..please..” Even as you begged for more, your body was following its own rhythm, hips bucking up into the inviting heat of his mouth. “Come on..you’re a..haah, demon, right..? This is your job..right?”

“Then give me more.” You were taken aback by the urgency you held in your voice and he clearly was too—seeing as his tongue stopped its endless movement that had remained focused solely on the tip of your member. And in one, sharp-toothed grin, he was following your words to the letter.

Oh and God could you tell he had the experience of a lifetime. From head to base, he took it alll down. He even did the courtesy of holding his mouth there, swallowing around every delicious inch like it was the sweetest candy he’d ever. Fucking. Tasted.

The sensation was enough to make your head finally fall back into the plush pillow set that decorated the top of your bed, shuddering out a throaty groan and ultimately a sigh of relief. His tongue got back to work, even though he wasn’t moving his head, you could feel the methodical patterns he made along the underside, around—even going as far as to trace the veins that pulsed with each flick.

But when he started to move? Your eyes fluttered back like you were experiencing the first effects of anesthesia. Even with his sharpened set, you didn’t feel one bit of teeth.

The worst fucking part was those damn eyes.

You were avoiding his like a plague but you could feel them burning holes through you as your fingers raked through your hair. Yeah, you’d gotten sucked off before but goddamn, he was sucking the soul out of you. 

Finally, your lids managed to peel open when your legs began to tense up, mindlessly rutting your pelvis up and down, just so desperate for that high you could feel coiling in your stomach. He noticed all the squirming, could taste the bittersweet of pre that dripped into his tongue each time he pulled his head back up—you both knew you were close.

A series of careening moans later and he pulled his lips off of you with a wet pop, putting in the effort to spit directly on the tip, rubbing his thumb over that weeping slit until you were sure you’d cramp up. His hand already picked up where his mouth left off and he was just heaving those barely useful, hot, shuddering, laughing breaths onto the connection of your shaft and head.

“You taste like fuckin’ heaven, pretty boy,” He said with a bit of a cockdrunk smile on his face. Those charcoal wings gave their own fluttering of excitement—now that you were slightly able to focus on something else other than his oral cavity. “I could suck this cock for hours and I’d keep going even when my jaw locks.”

And he wanted to talk about your mouth being nasty?

He brought his other hand to help with the job, left moving in short, up and down motions whilst the other was simply bullying the entrance of your urethra. Your hands, on the other hand, were simply just trying to find purchase on anything you could get them on.

The sheets, the pillow, your own tousled locks—whatever to help you cope with the burning need in your gut. “Oh f-fuck, oh God..‘Toru, Toru..!” You tumbled out in a hurried fashion as both your hands tried to close either ends of the pillow over your face to possibly shield you from the embarrassment..from those damn eyes. “Close.. ‘m close..s-so fuckin’..fuuuck..”

Vocabulary falling short, you heard the deep chuckle that he made, followed up by such a soft coo—all the while he was making you feel euphoric. It couldn’t have felt this good in its own..right? Sure, being a virgin was one thing but you’d gotten handys and blowjobs plenty of times before. It had to be that damn mark..right?

“Look at you..aww, you poor, poor thing,” The lilt in his voice made a whine of annoyance and frustration die out in the pillow that now barely masked your features. “You feelin’ it? My hands, my mouth, my breath..oh it’s just too much isn’t it? If you can’t handle this..”

He trailed off like he finished the sentence once in his head before finally verbalizing it, “Just how are you going to manage with my cock fucking you stupid? Huuh?” 

Automatically, you felt another surge when his words reached your brain—not your ears but after they registered—and you were damn near trembling with the effort to hold back and keep up the tedious conversation. Or, it seemed rather tedious..to you. 

“Can you imagine it already, huh? How it’s gonna feel when I finally sink in, the draaaag..Your eyes going cross when I bottom out, when you can feel me all the way up to your stomach—” He didn’t even get to finish his sentence before you were sent tumbling over the edge in a fit of muffled profanity and swears.

Once again, that raspy chuckle of his echoed against your walls, only quieted down when his lips wrapped around the twitching and now pulsating head of your cock that emptied out straight into his waiting maw.

He closed his eyes, you heard—and felt—his low hums of appreciation as he drank it all down like he was on the brink of dehydration. As he did, the symbol along your pelvic bone started illuminating the small space it took up. It was almost hypnotizing..

After what seemed like absolutely forever, you fell back into the pillows with strained sounds of your come down, looking down to find Satoru’s glaciers staring right back up at you through those snowy lashes. You’d expected a witty remark but he simply pulled his lips off, holding your softening shaft in one hand as he opened his mouth up.

There, you saw the aftermath of your own premature climax. Immediately, your face lit up with a deep crimson. “Jeez, I thought you swallowed already..!”

He shook his head, smiling cheekily.

“Are you waiting on my say-so..?” 

A bout of silence..then another nod.

You pulled a face, glancing off to the side and only coming back when he gave a few more teasing strokes that made you yelp in frustration. “F-fine..! Swallow, spit, I don’t care..I just..”

“I just want to stop the burning in my stomach..it feels like…I’ll die without it—without you..” You breathed. “So quit fucking around and do me right.”

That did it for him, seeing as he swallowed with haste and stuck his tongue out to reveal the—relatively—empty contents. What he did next was more bold.

Slowly, surely, he raised his head up, peering in over you. Even after all this and such a lack of clothing, the scent of his cologne still drenched your senses and managed to make your vision just a bit hazier in the proximity. All of that amplified ten-fold when he sealed your mouths together.

Sloppy, and riddled with the taste of your own cum, he was taking your breath away with each slick slide of your tongues along one another. A heady mixture of that delicious aphrodisiac and something uniquely his.

This entire time he’d been so patient. Dragging it on for what seemed like absolute ages. So when you felt his hand sneaking down—past your navel, not at all skipping your sensitivity—and finally down to your patient, waiting, hole. 

Just the graze was enough but when two—not one—of his lengthy digits slid in, and his breath began to fan across your face with each break of this kiss..it was showtime.

“Fun fact, pretty boy..” He’d say, curling his fingertips into a spot you couldn’t even reach properly before you met him. “This, this little symbol right here..?”

As your legs were starting to clamp up, he used his free hand to trace over the tattoo embedded into your pelvic bone. “Makes things sooo much easier for me—for us..” Trailing off, he had gotten just mildly carried away as he hit that sweet nerve inside that elicited such a tantalizing sound to drip from your lips. “It gets you all nice and ready for me and I don’t even have to do anything too bad, t’ya..”

“Ain’t that exciting?” Chiming, he got his answer via the resurgence of your erection against your stomach. 

This was his element and clearly he was thriving.

The sound of his digits knuckle deep inside—stirring up the fire that was raging in yourty core—bounced off the walls like a symphony. 

Your voice was only getting sweeter and sweeter, falling on his ears in a way that made his previous, mindless, grinding down into the sheets seem like it would never be enough. 

It wasn’t enough. 

Not with your tight heat already pulsing and gripping his fingers like a vice, giving him a perfect demonstration of what he could be buried in right now.

“C’monn, I’ll talk you through it if it hurts too bad but..fuck…I can’t hold off anymore,” He slid his fingers out of you, but not without a shiver running up your spine. 

Drifting downward, he undid—what he would call—his restraints and slid off everything from the waist down. Once he kicked it off to the edge of the bed and over, Satoru sat up on his knees and began fisting the base of his thick shaft.

“You’ve been leading me on all night..a man can only take so much you know..” It was almost a whining complaint that he twisted into a slight reprimand. “Let’s take this all the way. Let me get you there. You know I’ll fuck you so right in all the wrong ways.”

Panting now, he looked down at how your body was screaming with Fahrenheit and anticipation as much a him. The puddle of slick pouring out into the slight indents of your abdomen from your sobbing cockhead—that, amongst others let him know just how he was getting to you. 

Just a bit of finger fucking and you were already like this..? He couldn’t even begin to fathom how you’d be when all 7.4 sunk in.

A whine trailed out when, the slight of fullness had been removed from your pulsing walls. “‘Toru..” You frustratedly simpered out, covering up your eyes with your forearm. “Quit f-fucking playing..”

“Playing? I’m just waiting for you to drop the attitude and ask me how you know you’re s’posed to.” He snipped back. “You’re the one squirming around and enjoying yourself getting off on my hand but you’re still so confident.”

You bit back a groan at his bratty response and shivered out a sigh. “I’m..sorry.”

“For..?”

“For giving you lip about how you’re not inside me right now.”

He shrugged his shoulders and slid his dripping tip along the crevice of your as—teasing you with his hips each time it caught on the rim. “I think you can do better than that..” Each pass spreading the slick that was artificially—or ‘magically’—pouring out of you and the fat drops of pre that were coming from Satoru.

Leaning your head back, down into the pillow, you began to speak, “Haah..for being..defiant—”

“Look me in the eyes when you’re asking me for something. That’s common courtesy.” With a slight bite, he pressed the tip past just a bit and it was enough to make you trip up in your sentence.

Your arm fell from over your eyes and to the side of your head as you stared up at him with all due reluctance. It was mildly hard to tell with how your features were already being contorted by the promise of more. “I’m sorry for being..mhn..defiant. I’ll listen, I’ll be..good for you. So please give me what I want..” 

“Atta boy.” He purred, taking that as a sign to ‘spontaneously forgive you’. In reality—he just hadn’t expected you to beg so fucking nicely with just a bit of teasing. Next thing you knew, he was bottoming out inside you.

The pathetic sound that your mouth produced was one you didn’t know you could make before. A gradual and steady ease into it would’ve been better but oh he did the exact opposite of any of that. He had let out his own slightly pained groan at the sheer grip that you had on every inch you’d taken so gracefully. Eyes falling directly down onto you, he gave a half-smile that was somewhat meant to convince himself, just as much as you that it wasn’t that big of a deal. 

“Holy shit..fuck you feel…fuck..” Vocabulary failing for what felt like the first time during the entire encounter, you heard the light fluttering of his wings up on his shoulders–most likely compensating for the way his hips had jutted to a stop after the initial breach of both your senses. 

The cherry on top had to be the fact that he had pressed down riiight onto that little symbol of yours. Exactly where you could feel his cockhead nestled so snugly inside. It didn’t help that the veins were pulsing as they struggled to all find purchase within your sopping wet hole. He pushed your legs back by your knees–not into a full-on mating press yet but just enough so he could start rocking and setting up a steadfast rhythm inside. 

You thought it’d be easier to–well, who are we kidding? It was already hard enough for you to deal with him just being inside but now with that drag that was building up the friction your body felt like it’d been waiting ages for; you were already rendered a stuttering, tensed up mess. 

Rampant fingers scrambling for him and finally pulling him down on top of you by the base of his horns, you earned a groan that faded off into a dry laugh. “Aw, already can’t seem to get me close enough? I’m already all the way up in your stomach, you know..”

“I..mnh..I know, I know..f-fuck, ‘s just..a lot.” You pieced together, even with the currents that were creating seas of pleasure through your veins. It was like each time he pulled out and dropped all the way back down into you, his throbbing cock found new spots to bully and pinpoint. “.. ‘Yer fillin’ me up so much I c-can barely think straight, ‘Toru..”

That hanging coo of his name made his heart–and well, dick–throb as he furrowed his eyebrows in slight concentration. He was building up a sweat, easy to tell from the droplets that slid down his brow ridge and past his face to fall onto you. 

“Are you sure you’re a virgin..? Or do you just naturally say shit that makes me want to give up on trying to fuck you slow?” He grunted, each time with a deep grind against your deepest parts.

At one point, he went into what felt like full downward dog and that alone was enough to prove his question to be redundant. Poor you, you didn’t even know what that bit of hip curvature could do before you were shuddering out a premature orgasm that startled the both of you when it hit. You were slightly mortified at the fact you’d cum from just a few well-placed strokes but to Satoru, you couldn’t have stroked his ego any better. That little emblem glowed it’s white shimmer until your climax subsided, Satoru never really stopping his motions until you were completely sated and now thoroughly heightened in your nerves. “Fuck, ah, s-shit, I’m sorry I didn’t think I’d–”

“Why’re you apologizing for that?” He laughed out. “It’s only your first of tonight, anyway. Might as well get used to it..” Giving another scan over your body, he could see and feel just how much each little detail was contributing to the state you were in now. “Hey, can you..get on all fours for me..?” “Why..?”

“I want to see if you can get a few back to backs while I’m hitting it from the back.” So chipper about it, you couldn’t help the slight twist of annoyance that came with it. To him it was worth it though, just to see your face get all pouty about the matter. 

Slowly withdrawing, he eased you off of your back with a flawless handling of your waist and legs, making sure not to give you too much ragdoll treatment–yet. Your face naturally landed into the pillow with a muffled ‘hmph’ and just seconds later, you felt his thumbs spreading your hole out. He was admiring the view and your face grew hotter with each passing instant that you could feel his eyes lingering there. 

“Do you mind–”

“Hush up, f’me. Let me enjoy this fully–it’s not every day that I get to fuck virgins so I’m trying to make you last.”

You let out a lengthy groan into the fabric before speaking again, “Why can’t you just fuck my brains out already..that is your job. Not to tease me until I can’t take it anymore..” “Oh, trust me, sweetie,” All matter-of-factly, he leaned down to nip and bite at the exposed skin of your shoulder, moving to lick a stripe from your tailbone, all the way up until he placed another loving set of teeth marks at the nape of your neck. “If that was enough to make you finish quick as you did–you wouldn’t be able to handle all that. I’m doing this for your sake, so try and sound a bit more grateful.”

Whatever bratty remark you had to give afterward was silenced by the sound and feeling of a fat wad of his saliva coming into contact with your puckered entrance. A mild shiver and you could’ve sworn that the tips of your ears were redder than ever. It also didn’t help the fact that he began that languid stroking of his angry cockhead all along the crevice that he’d spread out so gracefully and politely.

Throaty grunts–some fading into soft, almost tender moans–fell on your ears in an increasing succession. It was enough to drive anyone far up the wall. Especially when he’d already given you such a clear-cut example and beautiful snippet of what was to come.

Almost on their own, your hips began to bounce back on him in the slight of chasing more of the friction that was your only–inadequate–sense of relief. “Aww, ‘s the matter, pretty boy?” Once again, that patronizing coo of his pet name stole a whimpered complaint from your mouth. It felt mostly on deaf ears with your face being so submerged into the plush. “Doesn’t this feel soo nice? Hm? Remember what we talked about..”

“I-it does..it feels..hah, amazing…” You’d meekly reply.

He cocked his head to the side, angling an eyebrow at you before planting an arm squarely beside your face, then using his free hand to guide your eyes up to his. “Buttt..”

“I told you..” It was then that Satoru got to see the true effect of all his ruthless teasing–you were already tearing up. His snow blues widened at the sight of the mild wetness that had begun to spring from your eyes and stain your cheeks. “..‘S not enough..I’m burning inside and you’re being fucking..mean.” 

Oh, but how could he not? 

The entire night, you’d been casting glances, slipping words under your breath and essentially leading him all the way on. It was–one of–the more irritating ‘jobs’ that he’d ever gotten but after having a taste of you..? Seeing how those pouty expressions became twisted and eventually fell away once you really started to feel it..how could he resist..? 

“Ah, I see now..” he drawled, lining himself up once again. Luminous depths all muddled with lust and something just simply carnal lurking behind them, his breath hitched and so did yours when he slipped the tip in. As much as you wanted to recoil, he held your face there, clawed nails softly digging into your cheeks. Mouth hung open above yours, his lips just ghosted with the heat of his every exhale. “I’m sorry, baby..you must be in agony, huh..? You’ve already had such a bad night..”

Inch by inch, he watched with hawk-eyes the gradual descension of your facial expression–so needy, so fucking pathetic–alll because of him. 

Oh, that was just the half of it. 

From this angle, this position..fuck was he reaching deep. Deeper than before it felt–and even then, he didn’t stop until he was fit so snugly inside. “S-shit..might get fuckin’ addicted to this,” he huffed once again, then pressing his sweat-riddled chest against your fluttering spine. “Let me help you forget about all your problems..you deserve it. Just lie there, look good, and take everything I have to offer..” 

With that low mutter, he sealed your lips together and kicked up his rhythm–obscene and just downright filthy sounds coming from the connection between the two of you. Instead of the grind he’d grown and nurtured beforehand, his hips were slamming into you, making that harsh slap each time that his pelvis pressed up against the fat of your ass. It was enough to have your legs trembling just a few minutes in.

Over and over and over, just fucking pounding you in. Your moans and gasps for air were all swallowed up into his slick maw as he dominated the kiss with ease. His tongue was mapping out each crevice of your mouth. As much as you thought he tasted sweet enough to make your dentist fly into a fury–he thought you tasted fucking divine.

“God-damn, holy–keep it arched like this..just like..ahh…” He began to roll his head back but just as he did, your hand came up, tugging him back down over you by one of his horns. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea. A brief widening of his eyes and he was now hooking his big hands into the junctures of either of your hips, pulling you back with a harsh tug that made the precision of his thrusts seem all the more brutal. 

One hand firmly clasped on the protrusion of his head, ever-adjusting, another scrunching up your poor pillow as yet another round of tremors rang out through your spine. Your lips were fallen open in such a blissed out way that all manners of sounds were coming from there. Ranging from, “Right there..! R-right fuckin’ ohhh..!” to strings of, “S-slow– mhn..! Can’t take..haah..” It was so endearing how you couldn’t even properly place what exactly it was that you really wanted.

Slithering a hand from its holster, he wrapped around, once again laying his chest on top of you but this time sinking his weight down into you in a way that made your body tense and you could’ve sworn you heard the zip! Signaling a short circuit in your brain when your prostate was dug into sooo fucking deliciously. 

What definitely wasn’t helping were the fingers that had found your sorely forgotten shaft–left to leak endless strings of pre down onto your sheets as you were dicked down into them. Methodically twisting his wrist on the upstroke, he eventually noticed how your ass was rutting back against him, encouraging him to continue his relentless pursuit. “I can’t..hngh..make you out…” heavily panting, he began to leave the back of your neck and shoulders branded with the map of his sharp canines and incisors. 

Another one of those hearty chuckles, just a little less throaty and more breathless than anything and he was kissing up along your shoulders. “You’re really something, y’know.”

“..‘Toru...”

“Yess, handsome?” That purr was enough to make you flush, maybe even a bit more than how he was literally jerking you off while keeping at a standstill inside.

Pulling your face up and out of the small huddle you’d made amongst your arms, you gave him that glossy-eyed look. Oh you felt him throb. “I’m..getting close again…”

“Oh yeah? Aaand..you’re getting close to..what, exactly?” Even now, he wasn’t letting up on his teasing, sliding his fist up to create a lewd squelching sound along your weeping tip. A careening moan stopped what you were going to say next but it was so cute to hear you struggle to form the most basic of sentences. 

“..Fuck.. ‘m gonna cum..”

“Already?” 

His response made your cheeks stain with crimson once more as you then coyly nodded along. “I want you to..cum with me…You didn’t before.” 

God. 

Maybe he was just turned on or maybe it was his heart melting, but that ignited something inside of Satoru that he couldn’t explain. All that you knew was that he was practically smothering you now, big, strong arms gathered around your head as he buried his face into the crook of your neck–fucking ramming his cock deeper and deeper with all due haste.

Your fingers came up to scratch at his biceps, clawing at the skin there as your voice grew louder and louder, more and more strained and finally being dulled out by the pillow whilst you were sent barreling over the edge. Incoherencies flowing from your mouth like a fountain–akin to how your dick was pumping out rope after rope of burning release onto the sheets. It didn’t help that even when your body grew rigid and you were shuddering through your climax–he kept going.

“Fuck, fuck, fuuuck..” Chanting over and over, each weighted slap of his balls up against your sore taint was plowing you through your already-powerful orgasm and straight into overstimulation. He would’ve been more gentle, would’ve stopped and maybe rubbed the rest out after you came but the way your hole was fucking clinging to him–as if begging him to stay–he knew that was a lost cause.

His breathing faltered, got caught in his throat a few times before he was whining in your ear. It was hard to make sense of, given your deliriousness and the fog that was beginning to mar your psyche but something along the lines of, “My name, f-fucking say my name..” he pleaded. “Wanna let this..whole fuckin’ neighborhood know who’s the first..who’s the best fuck you’ll ever have.”

In a blind state of compliance, you tried your hardest to follow his command.

“Satoru–”

“Fucking wrong.” He bit.

Trying again, you rolled your neck off to the side, resting your cheek down into his forearm as you helplessly mewled underneath him. So close already, his cock was pulsing inside of you with each rapidfire, short stroke he made. “Jesus fuckin’--ahh..! ‘Toru, ‘Toru..oh my fuck, ‘Toru..!” With how syrupy sweet his name sounded on your lips, it was no surprise at all when you felt the first spurts of cum begin to paint your insides when you said it.

‘Toru, Toru, Toru’ over and over--he rode out every last second of his climax with deep, guttural groans of your name, essentially returning the favor a bit. By this point, your mind was already swamped with pleasure that had long since had your eyes simply rolling. That burn had begun to dim down and it seemed as though he was spent as well–for the most part.

Basking in that pretty afterglow, he finally let some of his weight stop pinning you down to the mattress and opted for leisurely laying on top of you. “Hey, not too bad at all for a first timer.” like a switch was flipped, he was right back to his casual, smug demeanor. Still out of breath but steadily regaining his senses, he brushed back a few strands from your face before letting his softening shaft slip out. Teasing the tip a bit before the pop! rang out, almost immediately his load started to drip down your thighs.

Only then did you let your hips sink back down with an unceremonious fall.

He glanced over the sight with rapt attention–he couldn’t help but glide his fingers through the mess he’d made of you. You felt a small shiver run up your spine when he did, lifting your head up and off of the pillow just enough to look back at him through your tousled locks. “Seriously, Satoru?”

“Aww, what? I liked it when I was ‘Toru’.” He’d whined with a feigned look of dejection.

Rolling your eyes, you turned over on your back and to your surprise–the mark was gone. “Hey, where did–”

“It’s temporary,” Cutting you off just a bit, he smiled. “I came inside, I helped you out, anddd..my job is done.”

Slowly but surely, you watched all of his otherworldly features begin to retreat–his horns disappearing back into his hair, wings folding up and sliding back into place inside his shoulder blades. It looked..painful, but he hadn’t really flinched.

“Does that not..hurt at all..?” You inquired, gesturing toward the clear expanse of skin where his horns had been before.

All he did was shrug it off, bringing a hand up to his neck as he scratched the back of it lightly. “Huh..? Ah, I guess not. It’s sort of like..when humans naturally lose teeth. Orrr, growing and cutting off nails.”

“Kinda gross.” 

“You didn’t seem to find any part of me gross a few moments ago,” Swinging his long legs off to the side of the bed, he leaned down to tug his pants back on, keeping his belt messily undone. In another moment, he stalked over to your bathroom and you sat up a bit straighter, pulling your legs into yourself a bit. Your face fell as you thought it was simply over just like that. Well, until he came back with a towel from the cabinet. “Humans are so odd. Keeping towels in such places–they go on racks.” he’d grumbled as he made his way over to you.

Stepping back into frame, he saw the way your face was just a few seconds away from tearing up. “What’s the matter? Don’t tell me you’re hurt somewhere..” his features fell somber as he cupped your face, tilting it upward to look back at him. 

“N-no it’s..nothing.”

He gave a harsh scoff and once again pulled that smug smirk. “Uhuh. ‘Nothing’ my sweet ass. Talk to me, pretty boy.”

“I just thought..you’d stay a while longer.” Your eyes sideswiped away from his and all Satoru could do was smile even harder, dragging your face to his lips. Peppering kisses wherever his mouth could reach, you soon felt your face growing hotter. “Fuck–quit it..! What’s up with you-?”

Once again, another burst of laughter and he tugged away, unfurling the towel and wiping down all of your sullied limbs and taking extra time to tend to where he’d been paying the most attention beforehand. Knelt in front of you, cleaning off your inner thighs, he was humming lowly to himself. Your fingers carded through his white head of hair enough for him to look up at you with a raised eyebrow. “Is this the part where you say ‘I love you’ and you ask me to stay the night?”

“You ruined the moment, so..I’ll skip over the first part and just say thanks for helping me not be an adult virgin anymore.” You remarked with a small flick of his forehead.

Shrugging, he chimed back, “So I can still stay over?”

“Of course–my couch is always open for freeloaders.” 

That was enough for him to know where he stood and get back to cleaning up his mess.

A/N: Kind of my debut into this scene..! You lot showed so much love to the mlist alone! I hope I characterized my precious ‘Toru’ well, I took inspiration. More on the way—enjoy the first commandment. 🧧

[allsadnshit]

Even after years of therapy I am still really learning how to be mad and actually act on it

I used to be super swift with the block button on all social media and for reasons I am not really sure of yet I stopped and started doing a sort of "I'm the bigger person for not cutting anything off all the way it shows I am chill and not bothered" type beat partially I think because of wanting to still have access to their accounts even if I didn't allow myself to look - and also I think because I have a bad habit of assuming the best of people but like not in a beautiful way more like I literally assume someone's sorry or still cares about me even when all their words and actions show the exact opposite

And I had a big cry this morning about trust and how I am realizing that although the work I've put in to repair my self trust has felt important and good - it's not everything. And the fact that to have a career, relationships, and freedom means I WILL have to interact and trust others means there will always be a huge variable I can't actually control no matter how much I heal myself or learn to have boundaries won't stop someone from hurting me even if I gain the ability to respond in a way that I'm proud of or is healthy

And after crying into my miso soup and rice with my husband I was like okay...I need to get real with myself. I need to stop making excuses for leaving the door open for people to intimately see my life. My ex best friends have no business liking my Instagram posts about my life and art like they really don't. And I keep the door opening hoping I'll get an apology or something and guess what? It doesn't come. Because I don't even truly treat them like they hurt me and aren't in my life. I try and keep all doors open and all it does and make me take it out on the people who want to be in my life now and that hurts ME.

So I went back and blocked everybody. YEARS late. They might not ever even notice! They might notice and not care! Doesn't really matter. I just knew the excuses I make for not expressing my anger are bad for me and if I want to open myself up to change I need to see these feelings through and not just wait for the anger to pass so I don't do anything "rash".

Anger, especially the kind that bubbles up again and again from the same place, is your soul pointing to a hole in the boat where water is getting in and sinking you! It's an alarm! And no matter how small the hole is or if someone else thinks "I wouldn't have taken it so personally" doesn't really matter in the end. It's your ship, and you're the one going down if it sinks. So if the alarms go off, don't take it lightly.

[northern-passage]

I really don't get how Lea could ever think they and the Hunter were a team, when apparently they knew about the collar thing while the hunter didn't even know??? They are the literal embodiment of the Hunter's alienation and dehumanization. Will Lea (and the narrative) ever acknowledge how fucking despicable the order actually is??? They're a bunch of child abusers who prey on poor families and practice human trafficking. On that note I actually deeply despise the Hunter's mentor. That fight scene with him forcing us to stand up again and again? I don't care that the same was done to him and he did it to make the Hunter stronger or whatever. That was the same logic my grandmother had when she hit my mother, and she would have done the same to us if my mother hadn't cut ties with her and broke the cycle of generational violence. I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't play this game right now as it very clearly trigger some things within me that I should address elsewhere than in your ask box, but I guess I needed to express how helpless the Hunter made me feel. Especially with Lea. My character (and myself I guess) couldn't sit down and have a normal conversation with them given how blind they were to the Hunter's situation, and that was even before I understood what the collar thing truly meant after replaying the demo and reading the last snippet you published. Lea comes from a powerful family with ties everywhere, they are literally called our 'handler', and they know what the ladder does to someone (both short term and long term, mentally and physically)... And they truly think them and the Hunter are the same??? Equals??? The only explanation I can find is that they grew up their entire life within the order and never knew anything else, and so this is a case of great ignorance and deep denial. They need a good wake up call and a lot of character development, but when I see Noel's reaction and Lea's behavior during their rival route, I'm kinda worried.

well... i mean most of what you've mentioned here is The Point. Lea is a hypocrite, and the hunter can argue with them and refuse their partnership because of it. Jorah is an asshole and treated the hunter poorly at times, to the point that him and Rodrick argued about it frequently, and is why Rodrick attempts to intervene when they spar. the Order does cause harm and coerces people into their ranks, usually children or those that are more vulnerable and lack other options; and this is always true no matter how the hunter tries to justify it and convince themselves otherwise. all of the people and institutions in this game are complex, none of them are righteous, and they exist as they do because i have something i want to say-- all of these are choices i've intentionally made when writing this story.

and we're only on chapter 1 right now (and even before the rerelease, only on chapter 2), all of the characters need character development, none of their arcs have even started yet.

this story is supposed to make you Feel, big feelings and little feelings, my goal is for people to connect with the characters or at the very least just empathize with them and have a desire to see their stories through. i'm not out to trigger people but this game is intended to be a dark fantasy that explores heavier topics. i'm always open to discussing my thoughts behind certain characters/narrative choices and i will always welcome suggestions if you feel i need to add something to the content warning list, but i really don't like asks like this, and i'm not really sure how to respond as a stranger on the internet. you can either trust me and my intent as the author, or maybe it would be better to not continue with the story if that's what is best and safest for you. only you can know and make that choice, not me.

[madamechrissy]

Preview for Silent Serenades

An arranged Marriage with Duke Gojo - ♔Part Fourteen ♔

MDNI- Explicit sex/dirty talk/possessive Gojo- Do not read if you haven't read part Thirteen- major spoilers after the cut- we are heading to the end OMG <3 Masterlist - will be out on Christmas Eve!

“Look at me when you cum for me, Duchess. I want to see those beautiful eyes roll back in pleasure, just for me.” His voice is a low growl, a quiet demand, you struggle to focus, feeling the pressure coil in your tummy.

You lock eyes with him, feeling the connection between you grow stronger with each passing second, the passion and the love that abounds and grows every day, somehow even the dirtiest words that spill from his mouth are sweet. Pretty little slut is sweet to your ears, the squishing of your wetness on his cock is beautiful especially when your husband looks at you like this.

Your orgasm crashes over you like a wave then, spreading all over your body, your cries echoing loudly while one of his hands squeezes your throat, watching you fall apart all over him. Your walls are convulsing around his cock, you’re barely able to hold yourself up anymore.

“Mine, mine, mine.” He grunts with every thrust, releasing your throat now, you nod quickly, gasping for a greedy breath.

“Y-yours.” You whisper, he needs it, and you need this, after everything to know who you belong to, and who he belongs to.

The grip on your hips tightening, his beautiful eyes never leaving yours, when you feel him thickening, hear the catch in his breath, the crease between his brows, you know he’s close. You press his back against the velvet carriage seat, taking a breath and rocking up and down his length again, he lets you take control, watching you hungrily.

“God, fucking look at you.” You feel your cheeks heat up at his praise, as his hands press against your stays, the fabric marking your skin, as he watches you with a lidded gaze.

“W-want you to cum for me, Toru. Please.” Your plea earns his lips slamming on yours, and he pins you down fully on his entire length, groaning into your mouth as he finds his release.

His hot spurts of cum fill you, and his throbbing cock edges you again, you’re falling with him, hopelessly into him in the little carriage, arms wrapping around your waist as he keeps pumping his cum deeper. You feel tears falling on your cheeks, legs shaking as you ride him slower and slower, as he fucks you both through the aftershocks and you’re both trembling messes.

“How are you so sexy? What you do to me?” He murmurs now, you giggle a bit, breathless, he eases out of your sore cunt, your cum and his dripping out of your little hole and onto him.

“What you do to me. Having me act so wanton and scandalous.” You tease, he chuckles a bit, sighing and cupping your face with two hands.

“Do you know what I wish, Duchess?”

“What is it, Satoru?” You both adjust yourselves somewhat, he turns you so you are sideways in his lap, pressing kisses all over your face.

“That we could redo our wedding. That I could… fix it.” You hear the emotions in his throat, you sigh, nodding then. “That you didn’t hate that night, that you weren’t crying on the fucking floor.”

“Satoru we are so far past it-”

“It does not matter, I will hate myself for it forever.”

You take his hand, pressing a kiss on the back of his knuckles, feeling emotions capture your heart. “We need not think on it, I do not hold any resentment any longer in my heart.”

“I want to do it over. I want a true wedding, I want a honeymoon… I want so much more for you than I gave.” You feel his heart racing under your palm as it rests on his chest over his dress shirt. You watch the man you adore have to handle what he has done, and all you can do is try to reassure him you do not hold anything against him, but he has to live with it.

“Do not endlessly punish yourself, I want us to be happy.” He exhales, shaking his head, hand stroking your back gently.

“This will help me, please agree to it.”

“Agree to what exactly, Satoru? What do you need?”

“I want to marry you because we want to, not because we were forced to, even though lord knows I couldn’t be happier I am with you. I want it for us, and us only. I want to carry you over that threshold, in my fucking arms. I want to make love to you on our wedding night, and have you fall asleep in my bed, and wake you up licking and kissing every inch.” His voice gets more hoarse with every word, and your heart is racing, your chest rising and falling with each breath.

“Satoru…”

“No, Princess, I need this. I need you to feel desired and loved like you were supposed to, like I should have.” He swipes tears that fall down your cheeks, you feel like you’re spinning, like you’re dizzy, like you’re in a dream.

“We have it now, I feel your love now. I feel it burning for me, as I burn for you, I feel you everywhere.” He gulps, adam’s apple bobbing.

“I know you do, but I need to show you what I should have given you, fuck what you deserve. You deserved to be happy that night, looking so beautiful, so hopeful just for me to crush you.” You’re sobbing now, as the pain sinks in, it’s almost as if you cannot imagine Satoru did it.

“I want to pretend it did not happen.” He shakes his head.

“It did happen, I did those things. I need to right them, to do it all over, to take you far the fuck away from here, somewhere beautiful, fuck you on every surface and feed you and pamper you. Like the Princess you are to me.” His words make you dizzy, images flitting your mind.

“You already make me feel that way, I swear you do.” You murmur, he takes your hand then, thumbing the pearls of the ring on your delicate finger.

“I want to marry you again, it can be just us two. But I want it, and I need it, to take you away and give you everything, to make it special for you. You deserve that and more. Let me show you my love, please, marry me because you want to, because I want you to. Because I love you so deeply it kills me, because I cannot imagine a life without you.”

“Satoru!” You are a sobbing mess now, kissing him over and over, nodding and sniffling as he holds you to him, so tightly you cannot breathe, you’re nodding weakly, and he’s smiling against your lips then.

“Will you marry me, Duchess? Truly marry me this time?”

YEPPPP it's happening <3 This will be an emotional and beautiful chap for these two, as well as ofc the drama- we have the ball w/ King Sukuna and Adelia (this is set after the two leave the ball) There are only two parts left after this ahhhh

[widebrimmedhatsblog]

I wish you would write a fic where Xaden accidently confesses his love to Violet in a casual conversation

Sure, anon! Have a 1k fic!

(some housekeeping: I don't know what "casual conversation" means, and I wrote this on my phone at midnight, so any typos...you don't see them. Set during the latter half of Fourth Wing, post sex scene #1. I don't actually know what else you're supposed to put with fics on tumblr, but!! here she is! Full fic below the cut)

When Xaden Riorson knocks on your door and tells you he’s taking somewhere, you listen. 

At least, Violet listens. She looks at it like doing a favor to the wing: no one likes a grumpy wingleader, and by hanging out with him while he gets tipsy in Chantarra, she’s avoiding just that perilous situation. 

He’s definitely not grumpy now. Not as he sits, whiskey in hand, eyes on Violet’s throwing stance. Not earlier, either, as he’d covered her in his cloak and coaxed her down Basgiath’s halls. It wasn’t even a Chantarra weekend for the upperclassmen who were allowed to go. Violet had zero reason to be here, in this Chantarra pub with Xaden Riorson. Xaden had his own reasons, but he was keeping them close to his chest, like everything else. 

She cocks her hand back, then throws the dart at the board. A perfect bullseye, nestled between her four other throws. 

She appraises her own work with a smile, though she takes care to keep it slight. She doesn’t need to get braggy now. Still, her cheeks are already pink, and they only grow more so when she hears slow clapping coming from Xaden’s seat at the closest table. 

“Excellent work, Violence,” he tells her, somehow sounding smug on her behalf. Under his breath, he continues, “Excellent.” 

He swirls his whiskey. The amber catches the low pub light. Violet’s eyes track his hands as they stretch around the glass, the veins shifting while he raises it to his lips, the bobbing of his throat that signifies his swallow. 

His glass clanks against the table. It’s rickety and sticky and she can’t believe he’s sitting there. The cheap wood doesn’t look right with him beside it. 

“Go on,” he says. “Give me another show.” 

She scoffs, but even as she does so, her feet march towards the board. 

“You’re ridiculous,” she insists, plucking her darts free. “It’s now a show for you.” 

She spins on her heel and backs up from the board once more. Doing so means she catches a glimpse of Xaden’s face, the upturn of his lips. 

“Can’t I enjoy myself?” 

His voice is rich. He doesn’t slur his words, but something in their quality makes it clear to Violet that the alcohol is making him be more honest, even if only slightly. 

She averts her eyes to the board. Heart racing, she throws her first dart. Just shy of a bullseye. 

“This can’t be your idea of an enjoyable night, Riorson.” 

He shuffles in his seat. She shouldn’t look at him—she should keep her eyes glued to the board. She should perfectly plot her next throw. 

She finds him staring at her, brows raised. He’d been awaiting her attention. 

“Can’t I?” 

She scoffs, refocusing on the board. Her next throw is better, but she’s still setting herself up to encircle the bullseye instead of truly hitting it. 

“You can do whatever you want.” Another throw, this one closer. “I just didn’t think you’d like to sit around and watch me play darts.”

Her next throw is her best. With every second, she gets better. Closer. Her heart has not calmed even a fraction.

“If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t have invited you.” He drums his fingers on the table Slowly, her eyes seek out the source of the sound, but Xaden makes a tsk-sound. “Finish your game, Violence. Let me see what you can do.” 

Her cheeks feel flushed beyond pink, and she hadn’t even had a sip to drink tonight. Xaden had offered—egregiously and at length—but she didn’t have a cent to her name, and she didn’t want to give the barkeep a good look at her hair. 

She throws her final two darts without further commentary. Finally, she gets her bullseye. 

She expects to hear Xaden’s voice. If not his voice, his applause, his raucous, ridiculous encouragement. But he’s silent, and because of that silence, she’s forced to look at him. 

He’s grinning, grinning at her. 

Her heart begins to seize in her chest. She feels it thrashing against her breast bone—it’s the only part of her that moves, that reacts in any discernible way. The rest of her is frozen.

Has she ever seen him grin? 

And suddenly, to top it all off, a chuckle slips through his lips. Her jaw drops, and he shakes his head, just as baffled as she is, but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop laughing, and he doesn’t stop grinning. 

“What?” she demands “What is it?” 

“Nothing, Violence,” he insists, but she can hear the laughter in his voice, and the evidence is irrefutable. It can’t have been nothing. Not even close. “Go again. Let me watch.” 

She doesn’t go again. She approaches him, head held high, and orders him, “Tell me now.” 

His lips twist, but they stay upturned. She wants to glue her eyes to them, if not her own lips. She still remembers the searing burn of his kiss, how delicious that heat had been 

“I don’t think so, Violence.” He looks around at the pub behind her, the few patrons that line the stools. “Not really the time.” 

Fine, Violet thinks. She’ll make it the right time. 

She pulls out one of her knives from the sheaths at her ribs. A knife Xaden got her. Poetic justice, really. 

She slams it into the table, in the sliver of space between Xaden’s thumb and pointer finger. The blade sinks into the wood, splitting it. 

“You’ll tell me now.” 

Xaden only grins wider. His face practically glows with it, this foreign happiness. 

“You’re going to threaten me into telling you that I lo-”

His unfinished word hangs between them. Violet waits for those final two letters to come. She wants them out in the open so she can snatch at them, swallow them. 

He doesn’t give them to her. He stares at her face, lips parted. Xaden Riorson, who never makes a mistake. 

Of course, if he thinks that was a mistake, he’s completely and utterly wrong. 

Violet pounces on him. She bolsters herself with her dagger, but she doesn’t have to support herself for long. Her lips find Xaden’s and his arms find her waist, slotting her into the space between his legs. They kiss and kiss and kiss. She tastes his whiskey. He must taste her victory. 

When they part, it is only so that Violet can pant, “I am going to threaten you, actually.”  

She feels his laughter against her lips.

[4vanaa]

WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING, rafe cameron, 10

summary: y/n left the outer banks years ago, determined to build a life far from the memories of her childhood love, rafe cameron. now a botanist, she's moved on-though a quiet part of her still clings to the past. when an event brings her back to OBX, she's forced to confront the one person she never truly forgot.

cw: slight angst, mature language | masterlist | 09 | 11 |

❀ ❀ ❀ - indication that the chapter takes place in the past!!

❀ ❀ ❀

The wooden planks beneath your feet are slick with mist, the chill seeping through your sneakers and biting at your skin. The water below laps gently against the beams, a sound that used to soothe you. Now, it just feels hollow — like everything else.

You hug your arms around yourself, trying to ward off the cold that has nothing to do with the night air. You aren’t even sure why you’re here. Maybe for closure. Maybe because you still need to see him one last time. To understand how everything you built together fell apart so violently.

Footsteps behind you, hesitant and uneven, interrupt the quiet. He’s here.

You turn slowly, and there he is.

Rafe.

His hair is tousled and damp, like he’s been running his hands through it for hours. His eyes are red-rimmed, exhaustion and something more — something deeper — clouding them. His shoulders slump under the weight of everything unsaid, and when his eyes lock onto yours, you feel it. That electric ache, raw and unresolved.

For a moment, neither of you speak. The silence stretches between you, sharp as broken glass.

“You came,” he finally says, his voice low and rough, like it physically pains him to get the words out.

“You asked,” you reply, your words coming out quieter than you intended. Your heart aches at the sight of him — how can you still feel this way about him after everything? But you swallow the feeling, pushing it down deep.

He takes a step forward, hands shoved deep into his pockets. His eyes trace your face, lingering on the tear-streaks on your cheeks, the way your jaw is set firm. Like you’re holding yourself together with sheer willpower.

Even now, when everything is shattered, his voice drops into that familiar rough drawl. “How do you still look this good?” The compliment, if it even is one, is soaked in bitterness and disbelief. “I’m falling apart, and you… you look like you just walked out of one of those memories I can’t fucking escape.”

Your breath catches in your throat, but you fight to keep your composure. “Don’t do that, Rafe. Don’t turn this into something it’s not.”

He laughs bitterly, running a hand through his hair. “What’s it supposed to be, then? Just another night where I realize I can’t ever have you back?” His voice cracks, his eyes burning into yours. “I can’t stop fucking thinking about you. Every night. Every goddamn second.”

A tear slips down your cheek, and you wipe it away quickly. “Thinking about me doesn’t change what you did. It doesn’t fix how you treated me.”

“I know.” His voice trembles, and his hands shake as they fall from his hair. “I know, and I hate myself for it.”

You want to say something cutting. Something to make him feel the weight of what he’s done. But all that comes out is a strangled whisper. “You made your choice.”

He flinches, his face twisting. “I didn’t mean to. God, I didn’t mean to, Sunshine. I—I didn’t mean to push you away.” He takes another step, his hands trembling. “I didn’t want to lose you.”

The nickname hits you like a punch to the gut. Sunshine. The name he used to call you when everything felt right between you two. Now it only feels like a lie.

“Don’t,” you say, voice sharp. You take a step back, arms crossing over your chest like a shield. “Don’t call me that.”

He hesitates, but then his gaze softens. His voice breaks as he whispers, “I can’t help it. You’re still my sunshine.” He reaches out, like he’s about to touch your arm, but pulls back, his hand falling to his side. “Even if you hate me for it. I can’t stop myself.”

You press your lips together, your chest tight with grief and frustration. “You wanted to trap me, Rafe. You couldn’t stand the idea that I had a life outside of you.”

“I wanted to be enough for you.” His voice is desperate, eyes pleading. “I wanted to be the only thing you needed.”

“But that was never the problem.” You shake your head, your voice trembling. “I loved you, Rafe. I chose you, over and over. But you were so busy trying to keep me somewhere I already was, that you didn’t realize you were pushing me away.” You let out a shaky breath, the ache in your chest almost unbearable. “By the time you noticed, I was already gone.”

He steps closer, eyes shining with tears he refuses to let fall. “I can’t let you go.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

His hands reach for you, but stop short, like he’s afraid to touch you, afraid he’ll break you again. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” you say, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “You didn’t want me when you had me. And now you want me to stay?”

His shoulders sag under the weight of those words. He looks at you like he’s dying inside, like the thought of losing you is something he’ll never recover from. And maybe that’s true. But it doesn’t matter now.

“I never wanted this,” he chokes out, tears running down his face. “I just wanted you.”

“But you chose something else.” Your voice breaks, and you step back, each movement like walking through shards of glass. “Goodbye, Rafe.”

You turn, tears blinding you as you walk away. The sound of your footsteps fades into the night, and he doesn’t follow. Behind you, the boy you loved shatters in the dark, his sobs swallowed by the empty silence he created.

a/n: 🥳🥳 10 chapters of while you were sleeping eek !! the final past chapter!!

tags: @xoxo-ada @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @sleepiibunniiii @urbrunettebombshell @sideboobrry11 @acidfeens @marleymarleymarleymarley

[bitchkay]

This whole fic series altered my brain chemistry.

🎸 out of my mind ! 💿 track five: the battle of the bands

guitarist!ino x drummer!reader

summary: it's the annual battle of the bands at the fix, your college campus's iconic live music bar, and this year you're taking the stage as the drummer for indie rock group cursed technique. you know the competition is strong, but no part of you is ready for lead singer and guitarist takuma ino. you lock eyes at the edge of the stage, and something starts—something that might make you feel alive even more than the beat of the drums.

warnings: language, alcohol, DOGGOS, yuji literally is just a ray of sunshine 24/7, mentions of drunk driving, so much fluff, ridiculous amount of kissing tbh, short time skip at the end, FINAL CHAPTER! || sfw. 8.8k words.

FOR THE FIRST time in a long stretch of busy days, you wake up not to the chirp of your alarm but to soft rays of Saturday morning sunlight seeping through the cracks in the blinds, painting your eyelids orange-gold. You crack an eye open and find Takuma stirring beside you. Right.

“Morning,” you whisper. For a moment, when Takuma opens his eyes, he looks surprised, and then he seems to remember why and how you got here and his expression melts into a soft smile.

“Morning, Skip.” He yawns. “Time’s it?”

You shrug. You’re pretty sure your phone is dead.

“Eh, it’s Saturday,” he mumbles. “S’fine.” You chuckle, daring to reach out and ruffle his hair. You don’t know what this is, the unspoken thing in the thin slice of air between you. You know what you want it to be, though.

For a while you both lie in comfortable silence, letting the sounds of the awakening house float up the stairs toward you. Murmuring, clattering around in the kitchen, the front door opening and closing, cars outside.

“Hey,” you say eventually, making eye contact. His eyes are a very deep shade of brown, dark but warm in a way that reminds you of old bookshelves or tree bark after the rain.

“Hey back.”

He’s relaxed, every part of him unhurried, and you take the image of it and stamp it into your mind over the memory of the night prior. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Takuma smiles. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Maybe it should be more awkward, the fact that you’re here in his bed in his clothes and you haven’t named whatever it is that stretches out in the silence. But it’s not. It’s just… easy.

“Skipper?”

“Hm?”

“I really, really like you,” Takuma whispers. The words wrap themselves around you, warm when you didn’t know you were cold.

“Yeah?” You bring a hand up to his face, trace the line of his jaw. His cheeks are a little colored in the mix of light slipping through the window and the cracked door. “I really, really like you too, Takuma.”

He cups your face in both hands, pulls your lips to his, and your whole body responds, pressing up against him in the too-small twin bed. Your hand goes to hold the back of his neck, deepening the kiss, and this is what people write love songs about, you fucking get it now, all the metaphors and cliché words you thought were exaggerations but no, they’re not, because you’re feeling all of them all at once and you don’t ever want to leave this moment in time.

“Like” doesn’t feel strong enough, not for this. You’ve only known him for a month. Is it really possible he’s already become so integral to the structure of your heart?

You’re kissing in the early morning light and it’s hungrier than you thought your next kiss would be, because even though all the rest of your days are rolling out before you, you don’t know how many there are. He twists so he’s above you on his knees, one of them between your legs, and it’s like a reversal of that night on the roof, like you can feel the night air even in the golden midmorning hours.

“Kuma,” you murmur between kisses, and he grins against your mouth, takes your next breath and makes it his.

At some point you’re interrupted by the startled growl of your stomach, and you break apart, unable to stifle the giggles rising up in your throat. “Well.”

“Well,” Takuma echoes, grinning. He stands and offers you a hand. “Breakfast?”

Downstairs, the house is alive with idle chatter and the clinking of silverware. Kirara is seated atop the counter, legs swinging as she eats a plate of eggs, and Hakari stands beside her leaning against the cabinets. Megumi scrolls absently through his phone at the table, the dogs looking up at him expectantly from either side, and Yuji is digging through a bunch of take-out boxes. When he sees you, his whole face lights up.

“Morning!” he practically sings. “Here, eat food.”

“Where’d this come from?” Takuma asks.

“My friend dropped off breakfast,” Yuji chirps, pushing a Tupperware container of pancakes toward you. If it weren’t for the brace wrapped around his wrist, you’d have no idea anything happened. He’s his usual golden retriever self.

You smile, forking one of the pancakes onto a plate. “That’s sweet.”

Your phone buzzes, and it’s Tsumiki sending you the link to the news brief. You frown at the headline, not out of any disrespect for the writer who stepped up to cover it, but more at the fact that it’s unfortunately true.

JU senior issued DUI after crash on 34th and Olson Blvd Friday night

“What’s up?” Takuma asks, immediately noting your expression. You slide the phone across the counter, watching its screen catch the light from the kitchen window. Kirara leans over it as well and starts reading off Junpei’s story halfway through.

“Zenin, who according to a campus police report was driving under the influence of alcohol, was on the phone with an ex-girlfriend when he swerved into the opposite lane.” Her dark brows knit together in some combination of anger and disbelief. “Jesus.”

“That’s fucked,” you murmur.

Someone’s phone rings, and Megumi glances at his screen and blinks, seems to hesitate. Then he gets up and disappears down the hall. You glance at Takuma, but he just shrugs. It’s probably Gojo.

The rest of you eat and eventually make your way to the living room, scattering yourselves across the couch and carpet and chairs.

“That single last night,” Takuma says, letting Kuro jump up beside him on the couch. “Concept. Make it the title track of an EP.”

You blink for a second, startled. “Wait, for real?”

“Yes!” Takuma says, sitting up straighter. “Think about it. Cover art is one of those name tag stickers, you all sign it, wrinkle it up and crease it and take a grainy film photo. And you put the song on it with Next Fix and a couple of your older singles you and blow up.”

“Or you print one off that says hello, our name is,” Kirara pipes up, seeming excited by the idea. “Ooh, you can have an intro track like that.”

“All caps. Just to match the energy,” you say, picturing the EP cover in your mind. “HELLO MY NAME IS. No punctuation either.”

“I like it,” Kirara nods. Takuma’s got that excited shine to his eyes, and you realize he’s very in his element in this conceptual space—he really will be a good producer. He has the mind for it.

Megumi slips back into the room looking a little haphazard, disgruntled, looking anywhere but into anyone else’s eyes, and Yuji cocks his head in question. Not Gojo, then. “Who was that?”

“No one,” Megumi lies, waving him off and turning back toward the kitchen to avoid everyone’s questioning gaze. Hm.You know better than to ask, and it seems that’s the consensus, because nobody pushes it—Megumi will open up in his own time. You hope he figures it out soon.

For your part, it’s a lazy Saturday, hanging out with Takuma, Yuji, Megumi, Kirara, and Hakari, gaming and talking and generally just existing in each other’s presence. After the chaos of last night, it seems to be exactly what all of you needed.

It’s not until late afternoon that Kirara broaches the topic of the band.

She gestures at Yuji, a flapping motion that misses the mark a little because Kirara is sprawled upside-down in the beanbag in the corner. “Itadori, can you, like… drum with that?”

He shrugs, looking down at his injured wrist. “Yeah, probably!” You frown. So much of drumming is in the wrist, and you kind of figured Kirara’s question was rhetorical. You realize abruptly that Shibuya Incident is still going up against Black Flash in the finals on Friday, and if they don’t have Yuji, they’re fucked.

“Psh, don’t look like that, it’s fine,” Yuji insists, grabbing two Wii remotes and wielding them like drumsticks. He goes to bang them around, mimicking a rock beat, and you watch as his face twists into a grimace and he drops one of them. “Okay, so, update: never mind!” He grins sheepishly.

Kirara is the first one to look at you, and by the time you’ve processed what exactly it is she’s trying to say, everyone else has their eyes locked on you—including Yuji.

Oh, shit.

“Whaddaya say, girl drummer?” Kirara asks, pointing a finger gun at you.

“Oh, guys, I don’t… I don’t know, it’s your band. Yuji—”

But Yuji is the one who seems the most excited about it. He’s abandoned both Wii remotes on the floor and is now looking up at you with bright eyes and his eternal grin. “No, Skipper, please? It would be so fun! I can still do aux and stuff. But we could play together! It would be so awesome!”

“Is that even allowed?” you ask, glancing at Takuma, who’s trying and failing to hide a boyishly excited smile. “I mean, I already got eliminated.”

“Hang on,” Hakari says, pulling out his phone. It takes you a minute to realize who he’s asking. “Yeah, no, Panda says it’s whatever. Better that than not have a battle at all.”

Takuma nudges you with a knee, looking at you with steady eyes. It’s your choice, he seems to say.

“I think,” you say slowly, “I should talk to my band first. But… I’m not opposed.”

Yuji whoops so loudly you flinch a little and Takuma grins, putting his arm around you and squeezing your shoulder.

“I probably should head out,” you say, a little reluctantly. “Kinda left the roommates high and dry last night.”

Kirara salutes you, her face red from the blood rush of still being upside down, and Yuji chirps out a happy see ya!

“I’ll walk you out,” Takuma says, standing when you do. You say bye to the band and the dogs and he follows you to the front door, going as far as to step just outside with you. The door stays open just a crack as you linger, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back. He pulls you in and kisses you right there on the front step, and you smile against his lips.

“Are we, like…?” Takuma murmurs when he pulls away, cheeks flushed from the question or the cold, you can’t tell.

“Are we what?” you tease, shoving lightly at his chest.

“You know.”

“Well, if you don’t say it I’m gonna beat you to asking—”

This seems to zap whatever hesitation Takuma had right out of him, and he cuts in, “Willyoubemygirlfriend?”

“Sorry, what was that?” You know you’ve got a shit-eating grin on your face, but you can’t stop it. “Couldn’t really hear you—”

“Oh my god. Will,” he says slowly, drawing out the word, “You. Be. My. Girlfriend?”

You can see your laugh fanning out before you in a puff of warm air, and you tip your head forward into his chest, grinning. “Yes, Takuma, I would love to be your girlfriend.” You pull back and look up at him, lacing your fingers together. “I was kind of trying to get you alone all week so we could figure out what the fuck was going on. But it worked out, huh?”

“Yeah,” he grins. “It worked out.” He reaches up and ruffles your hair, laughing when you go to swat his hand away. “I was trying to get you alone, too,” he admits. “I like spending time with you, Skip. I’m pretty sure you’re the coolest person I’ve met, like, ever.”

“Ever,” you echo. “Those are some pretty lofty expectations to live up to.”

He shrugs. “You meet them all.”

Despite yourself, heat creeps up to your cheeks again.

“That was less scary than I thought it was gonna be,” Takuma confesses. Your phone rings in your pocket, and you glance at it and see Maki’s name sliding across the screen.

“Think that’s my cue.” You plant one last kiss on Takuma’s lips and turn around, throwing a “bye, boyfriend” over your shoulder. You glance back and catch him mid fist-pump, and he sheepishly shoves his hands into his pockets when he realizes you saw.

You’re still wearing his clothes, you realize as you answer your phone. Guess it doesn’t really matter, since they’re your boyfriend’s.

“Hey,” Maki says in your ear. “You comin’ home anytime soon? No rush, but we’re making lunch so we figured we’d ask.” In the background, you can hear Toge singing what you think is a dramatic rendition of Kristoff’s song from Frozen II, but you aren’t entirely certain because none of the words are right.

“Yeah, I’m literally walking through the door in thirty seconds,” you say, and Nobara’s face appears in the kitchen window. She waves excitedly and you raise a hand in return.

“Oh, sick.” The line goes dead as you open the front door. “Hey!” Maki shouts when she hears it click, and you slam it closed against the rush of cool air trying to sneak inside with you.

“Hi!” you call back.

Yuta pokes his head around the corner and grins at you. “Welcome home, our favorite breaking news reporter.”

“I didn’t actually report on anything,” you admit, kicking your shoes off and padding into the kitchen. Toge is somehow balancing cross-legged on one of the high stools, and Maki is making tacos. “Conflict of interest once I realized who it was.”

“Yeah, I saw the article,” Nobara chimes in, glancing up from her phone. “Yikes. Frickin’ Naoya Zenin. What an asshat.”

You snort. What an understatement.

“Hope he rots in jail,” Maki says in a sing-song voice, not even looking up.

“I love family,” Toge says.

You fill your friends in on the crash and the aftermath and Yuji’s wrist, leaving out some of the details about Takuma, because that feels a little invasive. And then Yuta asks the big question: “What about the band?”

“About that,” you say, taking a deep breath. You’re not exactly sure why this makes you so nervous. Maybe it’s just that these are your people, your band, and you all worked so hard and then went down together. It doesn’t seem fair that you get to go back on stage and try again and the rest of them don’t. “So. They asked me to fill in—“

“Yes!” Nobara shouts, pumping a fist in the air. “Oh, that’s so awesome!”

“Well, I didn’t say yes yet—”

“What? Why?” Toge asks incredulously. You laugh, feeling the weight lift off your shoulders. Of course they’re okay with it. These are your best friends. They’ll always have your back.

“I wanted to check with you guys,” you say, feeling silly about it now. “Just—I don’t know, to make sure. Since it’s not our band, and I didn’t want you guys to feel like I was, I don’t know, like…”

“Musically cheating?” Maki chuckles. “Skipper, this is great. You should say yes.”

Yuta solemnly puts a hand over his heart. “Avenge us.”

“Thanks, guys.” You grin as you hop up on the counter next to Nobara, pressing your shoulder to hers. “I love y’all.”

“Sap,” Maki says, which means love you too.

—

Using a drum set that isn’t yours is always a weird experience. You feel like everything is just ever so slightly off, and Yuji’s kit is an absolute patchwork of different brands of heads and shells and cymbals. You have to lower the stool because he’s taller than you. But it’s just for rehearsal, at least—you can use your own kit at The Fix.

It’s your first time in the shabby basement of Takuma’s house, and it looks distinctly different than your own. They’ve pinned old rugs to the walls as a type of sound deadener, not dissimilar to your own setup, but their lighting is a collection of Facebook marketplace floor lamps and a little disco ball that’s apparently Yuji’s. Your basement has string lights and a bunch of stools and beanbags, and this one has extra blankets all over the floor where Yuji and Kirara have made themselves at home.

Learning Shibuya Incident’s songs isn’t difficult—you’ve heard enough of their music to anticipate what’s coming, and Yuji’s there to give you pointers. Their three-song set for the final performance isn’t actually done, because they don’t feel like they have a good enough finisher, and after you’ve run the first two songs several times you mess around with potential chorus lines.

“What about that?” Kirara says after plucking out a new melody. “It’s hype enough, I think. Or it will be, once we add the rest of you.”

“I like that.” You tap out the rhythm on the snare rim, humming. “You have lyrics?” You look at Takuma, who’s staring at the ceiling like it might have all the answers if he just squints hard enough.

“Somethin’ about, like… losing your head a little bit because you caught feels,” he says. “Like, you’re down so bad you can’t function, to be dramatic about it. That triplet at the beginning of the chorus, Kirara—”

She plucks it out again, down-up-down. “On my own,” Takuma echoes, down-up-down. “Every little move I can’t pin down…”

The words tumble past your lips before you can stop them, because they’ve been circling your head for a week now. “Friends with all the dead in my ghost town.”

He spins around to look at you, a grin spreading across his face. “Yes! It’s like I’m going…”

“Going,” Kirara echoes, and they go back and forth—going, going, “out of my mind!”

“Whoo!” Yuji cheers, pumping a fist in the air. “Holy shit. That was crazy.” Takuma grabs the nearest beat-to-hell spiral notebook and starts scribbling.

Megumi starts laying out a bassline, subtly driving the beat forward a little, and you clamp the hat down on two and four to keep time. Kirara comes in with something that must be the verse, and Takuma reads off, “You left in the morning after eight, I got into work two hours late, I can’t see the sun without your face.” Bass, bass, bass. Megumi nods along and Yuji is practically dancing from his spot on the floor.

“One day and I run fresh out of light…”

Hm. You add, “Twelve hours without your hand in mine.”

“I’m dizzy and overworked and tired,” Kirara sings lowly. All three of you sing the chorus again, and you feel just like you’re at home in your own basement, writing a song in real time with Nobara and Maki and the boys.

“Oh, that slaps,” Takuma practically shouts. “Jesus. We’re gonna win.”

“Don’t get cocky,” Megumi warns, a wry quirk to his lips.

Kirara glances at her phone. “Food’s here. Break time, freaks.” She bounds up the stairs and Megumi follows to help her grab the bags—you DoorDashed Taco Bell, since Yuji never got his beloved crunch wrap on Friday.

You leave your sticks on the snare and move around the drum set, flopping down on the ground beside Takuma. “You’re good at that,” you tell him honestly, pulling the notebook away to read what he’s writing down. I met you across the darkened stage, you shook up my life, you got me made, you’re drivin’ me crazy night and day.

You can’t help thinking of the night you met him, locking eyes while he sang from the edge of the low stage at The Fix, lit up by purple-red stage lights and putting you in a trance. You scribble a few more lines after his and hand the pen back.

“You’re a poet,” he tells you, and you laugh.

“I’m a journalist.”

“Woman of many talents,” he says, echoing Maki’s words from that first night you met.

“Itadori!” Kirara shouts down the stairs.

“Coming!” Yuji leaps up and disappears up the rickety basement staircase, leaving you and Takuma alone.

“Hey,” he says, tapping the pen on the page. You glance up at him, nodding for him to keep going. “Can I take you out? Like, on an actual date?”

Something light and quick kicks around in your chest, a hummingbird loose in your ribcage. “I would not be opposed,” you say, as if the idea doesn’t make you want to kick your feet like a little kid. “When are you thinking?”

“Mm, you’re in night class prison tomorrow,” he says, tapping the pen against his lip now. “Tuesday?”

It shouldn’t make you so irrationally happy that he remembers your schedule, but logic seems to go out the window where Takuma Ino is concerned. “Tuesday’s good. Where do you wanna go?”

He shakes his head adamantly, tapping you on the nose with his pen. “Leave it to me.”

—

The only things Takuma’s told you about your date tonight are dress warm and bring your board. He meets you outside your place at four, his bag definitely bulkier than usual, his own skateboard under one foot.

You’re wearing a denim jacket over a hoodie and your favorite cargo pants with your boots, and you tucked a beanie and gloves into your bag just in case, but it’s surprisingly balmy out for late October. The wind is the worst of it.

“Hey, pretty girl,” Takuma says when you coast down the driveway and come to a stop beside him. The greeting makes you blush as much as his smile does, and he chuckles as he pushes off. “This way.”

“Where are we going?”

“Crazy,” he says. You roll your eyes. Sounds like the kind of dad joke Yuta would make.

“Well, then.” The two of you make your way down the street and around the bend, and you realize he’s taking you to the skate park. But at the entrance he keeps going, around the pit and a few of the ramps and to the largest one, back in the corner—not the one Sukuna deals under, but the one opposite. And you stop in your tracks, your longboard making a protesting schkk under your feet, when you see it.

Battery-powered string lights loop around the posts and down the underside of the ramp, and blankets and pillows are spread out across the ground. The area is sheltered from the worst of the wind, and you know your jaw is hanging open a little as you watch Takuma unload his bag—JBL speaker, two thermoses, and a bunch of food.

“Takuma,” you say, not knowing what other words suffice. “I—oh my god.” You did not peg him as being this romantic.

Then you think about his song lyrics and think maybe you should have.

He grins at you from where he’s sat down on the blankets, holding out one of the thermoses. You leave your board by one of the poles and sit down beside him, taking it and letting the warmth seep into your hands. “What is it?”

“Hot chocolate.”

“Mm.” You scoot closer to him, staring up at the layers and layers of graffiti and marker art covering the underside of the ramp. “This is maybe the sweetest thing ever.”

“I’m glad,” he says. “I had no idea what I was doing.”

“I wouldn’t know.” You take a sip of the hot chocolate—still warm. “It’s romantic. Big fan.”

“Really?” He points to where somebody drew a dick on the far side of the ramp.

“Okay, well, you didn’t have to point it out,” you smirk. “You ever done graffiti?” Looking at his mischievous smile and the beanie tugged over his head, the skateboard abandoned a few feet away, he does look like the type.

“Tagging?” He shrugs. “No. I would, though. Maybe we should.”

You hum, staring up at the arcing bubble letters and jagged black lines all over the ramp. You think you’d be horrible at graffiti, but you’ve always appreciated it, the way it sends a message and doesn’t ask for anything in return.

“This is like… alternative aesthetic stargazing,” you muse, lifting a finger and tracing the sharp lines of one of the illegible words in the air. You could stare at all this art for hours and never find all the intricacies of it.

Takuma digs around in his bag and produces a Sharpie with an “aha!”

“You’re gonna graffiti with a Sharpie?”

He throws it at you and you catch it in one hand, instinctively twirling it like a drumstick. “We’re gonna graffiti with a Sharpie,” he corrects.

And so you do.

The nearest part of the wall is covered in bright pink paint outlined in black, and it takes you a moment of squinting and tilting your head to realize it says LEAVEYOURMARK. Seems as clear of an instruction as any. So you do—scooting forward, you start to draw flowers into the thick bands of pink lettering, and soon they’re shifting to music notes, percussion notation, aimless squiggles. Takuma queues up a laid-back playlist with a few artists you recognize and many more you don’t, and you pass the pen back and forth, adding tiny notes to messages around the ramp, doodling in the empty space.

You’ve been on dates before, but this feels wholly different. With Takuma, you’re not stressing over conversation starters, worrying about commitment, wondering if you picked the right outfit, trying to gauge your shared interests with carefully planned questions. It’s just easy, existing with him like this.

After a while, you’re on your back in the mess of pillows and blankets, staring directly up at the massive painting of a skateboard with a face. Takuma is drawing something on the wall behind you.

Squinting, the green streaks under the skateboard look like that loss meme Toge sends you at least twice a week. You take a photo with the intention of showing it to him later, though maybe you shouldn’t—he gets way too proud of himself for versing you in what he calls Reddit culture.

You crane your neck to see what Takuma’s drawing and find the thick, dark strokes of a city skyline, towers and domes and boxy apartment buildings.

“Artsy,” you tell him, smiling when he appears in your line of vision upside-down. “You sure about this computer science thing? You’re too creative.”

“That’s what my mom said,” he chuckles, capping the Sharpie and sitting down beside you. As you sit up, he leans back on his hands and glances over at you. “I told her about you. She’d love you. I mean, I’m pretty sure she already does.” He hesitates. “Is that weird? Too soon?”

“No,” you grin. “I—that’s really sweet, actually. I would love to meet your mom.” Your gaze softens at the relieved smile that crosses his face. “Gotta thank her for raising a guy like you, anyway.”

You realize you want Takuma to meet your family too—you want to show him all the corners of your too-small town, show him the place you grew up. It made you who you are—it led you here, to him, after all.

“So,” you say, tilting your head. “When you say you wanna be a producer. Where do you mean? Like, LA?”

He shrugs. “Probably. But I’m sure it’s more competitive there than anywhere else. I feel like the major hubs are there and New York, but I wouldn’t mind somewhere quieter, either.” He loops an arm around you, and your head finds its way to his shoulder. “What about you, world-class journalist?”

You grin, thinking of all the places you haven’t been, all the places you want to go. “Anywhere and everywhere. I just wanna see it all. I wanna travel.”

“You should!” He sounds genuinely excited about the concept, and you lift your head, taking in the expression on his face—he looks the way he did when he was talking about making an EP, like the world is full of possibilities and he wants to see them all play out. “You’d be so good at it. Being a travel writer or international correspondent or whatever.” He clears his throat. “I read some of your stuff, y’know.”

“What?” Suddenly you’re racking your brain for every piece you’ve published in the JU Journal, overly critical of your own work in hindsight. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s good. Really good, Skip, seriously.” He reaches out and tugs a wayward strand of hair behind your ear, and you find yourself leaning into the contact.

You aren’t sure what to say, so you settle on a soft, “Thank you.” Somehow, the idea of Takuma going out of his way to read your work feels personal on the same level that writing a song together does. Taking in your words, your ideas, internalizing them. What is intimacy if not that intellectual exchange?

“I think you’re going to be a really good producer.” It’s his turn to blush. “I mean it. Not everyone has the perspective for it, or the ear. But you do.”

“Ah, well, I—”

“Am not good at taking compliments?” you cut him off, raising a brow. “Mm, we’ll fix that.” He laughs, and you’re leaning in to kiss him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it is the most natural thing in the world.

It’s late October, and you are not the least bit cold.

—

Your hands need to stop sweating before you lose a drumstick or something.

Shibuya Incident has about twenty minutes before you’re all due on stage for the finals, and The Fix is alive with students and lights and drinks and music and chatter. You’re out on the floor tonight, off to the side for easy access to the stage once Black Flash clears out.

“We’re kicking off with the reigning champions of the Battle of the Bands,” Panda booms, throwing an arm out as the band takes the stage. “You know ‘em, you love ‘em, they’re every genre and no genre, covers and originals, brass and wind. Give it up for Black Flash!”

You whoop just as loud as anyone else here, grinning at Nobara’s animated cheering from closer to the center of the floor. Miwa walks right up to the mic and takes it off the stand, the neck of her white electric in her other hand. “Hey, folks!” She brushes her bright blue hair out of her face and shouts, “Y’all ready to hear some good music?”

She has the sort of infectious enthusiasm that could work on pretty much anyone, and before you know it you and Kirara are spinning each other around to the beat of a synth-heavy pop song that sounds like it came straight out of the 80s. The instrumentals are simple but tight, and Miwa jumps around, engaging the crowd, belting like she doesn’t have a care in the world.

“They’re good,” you catch Megumi saying lowly, probably to Yuji, but Takuma’s the one who answers.

“If I tell you the power of friendship will lead us to victory—”

“No.”

“Well, okay, you’re no fun.”

Kirara turns around and plants a hand on her hip, looking at Megumi. “Fushiguro, we’re fine. We’re going out with a badass new single and not one but two percussionists. We’ve never sounded this good.”

“Just being the token pessimist,” he sighs, cracking a reluctant half-smile. “I know we’re good.”

Yuji elbows him playfully. “Mr. Realist.”

Black Flash segues into a second track, an ABBA cover that has you dancing without thinking, and Takuma catches your eye and grins, moving along with you. And all too soon it’s over, a third song come and gone, and Panda’s back up on stage and the five of you are hopping up over the side to make your way to your places. Hakari and another tech have already swapped out the kits, and you settle yourself in the comfort of your own throne, your own pedals, flipping on the snare and pounding the kick a few times.

Yuji’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, grinning at you. “You got this,” he mouths, shaking his tambourine at you.

You truly have no idea where he got a tambourine.

“What happened in Shibuya? Who the hell knows?” Panda shouts, riling up the crowd. “Give it up for Shibuya Incident!”

That’s your cue. You look at Kirara, who nods with a conspiratorial smile, and then Megumi, who plucks out a few notes in answer. Yuji’s already giving you a grin and a thumbs-up. And Takuma… he’s already stepped into his on-stage confidence, all relaxed, easygoing performer, and the look he gives you has energy coursing through your fingertips like an electric shock.

You hold your sticks above your head, clicking them loud on the lower end of the shaft, and shout, “One, two, three, four!”

You are alive.

The first track is another pulled from their EP, and you’ve listened to it probably an embarrassing number of times—you know Yuji’s part down to the sixteenth note, the roll, the rest, but you don’t hesitate to put your own spin on it, and he’s alight with the same energy beside you, messing around with a tambourine and a few other aux instruments near a mic of his own, since he’s also doing backup vocals tonight.

Your hands are moving fast, your feet pumping the pedals of their own accord, an instinct, and it’s over before you know it, a sheen of sweat already forming under the stage lights. You grin, catching your breath, wiping your hands on your jeans as Takuma introduces the band.

From your place near the back of the stage, you get more of the low feedback than anything else, but you definitely hear when he says Shibuya Incident and the crowd responds raucously in kind.

“That’s Kirara Hoshi on guitar and vocals,” he says, pointing to her as she does her little riff.

“Yeah, Kira!” You have no idea where Hakari’s voice is coming from, but it’s unmistakable.

“We got Fushiguro back there on the bass,” Takuma continues, and Megumi gives the crowd an unbothered nod, showing off his own instrument for a moment. “Itadori’s back here on aux and vocals.” He pauses to let the crowd shout for Yuji and then adds, “And filling in for him on kit, we’ve got the legendary drummer from Cursed Technique. Everyone give it up for Skipper!”

You do a quick roll, laughing as your own band goes crazy—you can’t see them in the glare of the lights, but you (and everyone else) can definitely hear them.

“I’m Ino, we’re Shibuya Incident, and this next one’s gonna slow things down a little.”

This one starts with Megumi, a laid-back track with a similar vibe to the first song you ever heard Shibuya Incident perform, but a little smoother. It’s over before you know it, and then you and Kirara are launching into the new single. Even Yuji looks like he’s having the time of life on backup vocals.

“On my own,” he and Kirara harmonize, Takuma taking the lead, and you nail the next two lines with punchy cymbal-tom hits, “all the shadows look like a death threat, everybody’s waitin’ to get hit, it’s like I’m going (going) going (going) out of my mind!”

All your worries melt away as the beat drives your movements. You’re not thinking about dropping a drumstick, missing a measure, losing the competition. You’re doing what you love with people you love, and that’s all you’ve ever wanted to do.

“Think I’m seein’ double in one eye, startin’ to think this air is spiked, no one told me that’s what love is like.” Takuma lets the guitar hang and grips the mic in one hand and the stand in the other, leaning with it as he engages the crowd, and you definitely hear Nobara screaming. “You got me going (going) going (going) out of my mind, yeah, yeah.”

It’s over so fast you can barely breathe, and you’re laughing before you know what’s happening, Yuji throwing his arm around you and shouting, “You killed it!”

Takuma turns around and locks eyes with you, and you see that same adrenaline high in his gaze that you know is in yours, and when the band stumbles off stage in Panda’s wake, he grabs your hand and pulls you into a hug. “That was crazy!” he practically shouts, which is probably good, because your ears are ringing so much you probably wouldn’t have heard him otherwise.

“Guys,” Megumi says, deadpan as always, but you can see the effects of the performance even on him, his usually stoic expression unable to mask his own excitement. “I think… we might have a shot.”

“Holy shit,” Kirara says. “Skip, write the story. Resident pessimist breaks vow of negativity—”

“Oh, shut up.” Megumi elbows her as she dissolves into laughter. In the wings, you can hear the indistinct sounds of Panda’s instructions as he starts voting, and music kicks up over the speakers. Ten minutes. Ten minutes.

It’s the longest and shortest wait of your life, and then you’re back on stage with Black Flash and Panda, and it’s fucking time.

You wonder if everyone else can hear your blood roaring, too.

“Once again, an insanely tight vote,” Panda says, a hush falling over the crowd as they wait for the verdict. “Phenomenal performances from both of our final bands, but someone’s gotta win. Give it up for the champions of this year’s Battle of the Bands…”

You imagine Maki hissing under her breath for Panda to hurry it up, Nobara’s hands clasped together as she anxiously bounces on the balls of her feet, Yuta biting his lip and trying to get Toge to shut up.

Takuma’s hand is on your shoulder, Yuji on your other side, Megumi and Kirara behind you. You glance at Miwa, and she gives you a knowing look that you can’t interpret.

You almost don’t hear it.

“SHIBUYA INCIDENT!”

You don’t know which screams belong to who—maybe one of them’s yours—but you’re swept into a massive pile of musicians drunk off victory, and you’re laughing, and Miwa’s jumping up and down and saying how that was insane, guys, you were amazing, and even Mai nods at you in congratulations, and Yuji is abruptly on Todo’s shoulders, and as the stage lights turn down a bit you finally catch sight of your own band, losing their minds on the floor.

“That’s our girl!” Maki hollers, and Yuta whoops as Toge pumps a fist in the air. You realize you can’t see Nobara, and two seconds later your questions are answered when she somehow materializes on the stage, launching herself at you with a massive grin on her face.

“You did it!” she shouts. “Holy shit, Skipper!”

Everything around you is chaos and laughter and noise, but something in the center of your being is incredibly still, and you think maybe it’s contentment. In this moment, you would ask for nothing else. It is perfect.

Nobara detaches herself from you after more profuse congratulations, turning to Miwa, and the bands make their way gradually off stage. Takuma’s hand is in yours—you don’t know when that happened—and he pulls you past the band, past the wings, all the way into the drum storage room backstage.

“That was fucking amazing,” he says. “You’re fucking amazing.” His beanie is off, tucked into his pocket, his hair as wild as his eyes as wild as your heart.

You close the door.

It’s a pulse. That’s the only way you can describe it, the rush of living energy that comes with kissing Takuma Ino behind the stage of a shitty campus bar, the heat shooting through your veins in time with the throb of the bass from distant speakers. Breath on your teeth and hands in your hair, the warmth in your gut from skin-on-skin proximity, ears ringing with the sound of your name on his lips and love-blind eyes, you’re alive and addicted to a feeling you know you’ll chase forever.

—

TWO MONTHS LATER. DECEMBER 19.

The house is alive with laughter and chatter and Michael Bublé’s Christmas album spinning from the record player. The semester is over, and tomorrow you’ll scatter for winter break, home for the holidays. Nobara insisted on throwing a party before all the inevitable road trips and flights, and the main floor is strung with multicolored lights and tinsel—Yuta’s plant, Rika, even has a tiny Santa hat on.

In addition to the actual residents of the house, Takuma and the band are here, as well as Hakari, Panda, Tsumiki, Miwa, and a handful of other friends. Megumi’s even brought the dogs, who have both taken a liking to the loveseat by the window and claimed it as their own. You’ve informed Megumi that they’re going to stay here with you forever (he said no, but you don’t take orders from him).

“Okay, I’m dropping you off at ten, right?” Yuta quadruple-checks. You’re huddled in the kitchen with him and Maki—Toge was here a minute ago, but he heard someone in the living room mention Just Dance and ran off to assert his dominance or whatever.

“Oh my god, yes,” Maki answers for you. “Yuta. You wrote it down. It’s in your calendar. You live in the same house as Skip, you’re not gonna forget.” She bumps her shoulder with his and he sighs in admission.

“I know.” He smiles at you. “Just gotta make sure she gets home for the holidays. Can’t have you turning into a sad Christmas cliché on us, Skip.”

You salute him with half a gingerbread cookie. “Appreciate it.” He’s taking you to the airport tomorrow for your flight home and refuses to take your gas money, so you’re already planning on beating him to paying for the first grocery run when you get back.

“Things with Mai are good?” you ask, glancing at Maki. She shrugs noncommittally but doesn’t correct you, which is a good sign. She and her sister met up the week after the Battle of the Bands for coffee, which you genuinely thought was a joke when she told you about it. They’re both going home for Christmas and have apparently decided to try and like each other a little more openly. And she actually showed up tonight, which you have to admit you weren’t entirely expecting.

“Yuta!” Toge hollers from the other room. “You have to come do Rasputin with me!”

Yuta groans, looking pleadingly at Maki like she can get him out of this, but she just grins. “You heard him.”

“You hate me.”

“Yeah,” Maki says fondly. Yuta, defeated, goes to join Toge in the dance of death. Maki whispers to you that she’s going to record it for blackmail and slips out after him.

Tsumiki appears beside you, drink in hand, and leans against the wall. She tilts her phone screen toward you and you see it’s the Journal website analytics.

The top story right now is yours. You grin. “Oh, wow. I didn’t realize.”

“I expected it,” she admits, tucking her phone back in her pocket and gazing out across the room. “Look, I’ve been meaning to tell you. We won’t start the application process until spring sem, but, if you want it,” she glances at you, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth, “I really think you should apply for editor-in-chief, Skip.”

Your mouth opens and closes without anything of use coming out, and Tsumiki laughs. “You don’t have to, but—”

“No!” you blurt, grinning. “I—I want to. I would love to. I was planning on it. I just didn’t know you… wanted me to.” Kusakabe’s just the advisor—when it comes to actually hiring the next editor, Tsumiki has the final say. Her endorsement is as good as a job offer. “I… thank you, Tsumiki.” You look down, suddenly overwhelmed by the words. “Big shoes to fill.”

“Aw, none of that,” she says, stealing a cookie from the tray on the counter next to you. “I literally can’t think of anyone better.” With a wink, she disappears through the doorway, where Kirara and Nobara are talking animatedly. Nobara gestures to you when she catches your eye.

“Dude, our listens are shooting up!” she says, shoving her phone into your hands. Your EP dropped mid-November, six tracks recorded in the studio with Takuma and Hakari, and you’ve performed better than you ever expected. The analytics show a sharp uptick that’s probably in large part due to Panda playing your stuff on the radio station.

You whistle, leaning on Nobara’s shoulder. “Awesome.”

Kirara leans against the wall, considering. “You guys thought about what you’re gonna do next year?”

Truthfully, you’ve really tried not to. The idea of Maki and Yuta graduating is so bittersweet. But graduation means Shibuya Incident will have a hole in their band, too. Kirara will be gone.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Nobara muses. “We could join forces. If we lose Maki and Yuta and Kirara, the only thing we’re doubled up on is drums and lead.”

It’s not a bad idea. And if Yuji is track captain next year and you get that editor job, neither of you will have as much time for the band—switching off could actually be very helpful. You hum, considering. You’ll have to talk to the others.

“Oi,” Kirara says, reaching out to poke you with a socked foot. “Your boyfriend’s in lost puppy mode over there.” You glance into the living room to see Takuma scanning the room next to Megumi and the dogs, probably looking for you.

“Dumbass,” you say fondly, and nod goodbye to Nobara and Kirara before making your way over to him. The boys are halfway through Rasputin and Yuta is, much to Toge’s chagrin, kicking ass. Toge looks like he’s just run a half marathon.

Takuma lights up when he sees you, a mischievous smile appearing on his face as he intercepts you by the hall entrance.

“Oh, wow, what is that?” he asks cheekily, and tilts your chin up to see a piece of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. That was definitely Nobara’s doing. “Crazy that we just happened to—”

You cut him off, dragging him in by the shirt and kissing him, and makes a surprised sound that has you smiling against his lips.

“Crazy,” you repeat after you pull back, relishing the flush on his cheeks. Even after dating him for two months (as of today), every reaction you get out of Takuma makes your heart rate bump up a few beats. “Oh!” he says, suddenly remembering something. “Wait, c’mere, I have something for you.”

“Takuma!” You swat at him. “I told you not to—”

“Boo hoo,” he says, sticking his tongue out and dragging you toward your room, where he dumped his stuff earlier. You quietly close the door behind you as Takuma digs around his bag, standing up with his hands behind his back. “It’s Christmas and it’s been two months. You have no defense. Close your eyes.”

You do, giggling a little as he grabs your hand and presses something into it—something soft. “Okay,” he says, and you open your eyes to see a little stuffed penguin perched in the palm of your hand. It’s fucking adorable.

“Oh my god!” you cry. “Oh, he’s so cute! Takuma.” You cradle the penguin to your chest with both hands, grinning.

“It’s you!” he says, laughing. “Not official Madagascar merch, but I thought it was pretty cute. Your own lil’ Skipper.”

“I love it,” you say, making the penguin do a little dance in the air. You grab its tiny wing and poke Takuma on the nose with it. “Thank you.”

“Merry early Christmas.” His nose scrunches up a little in thought. “Early Merry Christmas? What’s the right way to say that?”

“Happy early nondenominational holiday of your choice,” you say teasingly, because the public university won’t actually say Christmas despite the decorations all around campus.

It’s a running joke among the entirety of the student body that the massive tree in the arts lobby is not a Christmas tree but a secular modern art installation. There are variations of insane alternate tree names on the school meme accounts. The knockoff JU Barstool page even got in on it, and the student groups hosting the Hanukkah and Kwanzaa celebrations.

Takuma’s answering laugh is bright and it follows you as you cross the room to your desk, pulling a box out of the second drawer. “Your turn.”

“What?” He has the audacity to look confused. “Skip—”

You hold up the penguin. “Objection denied!” The box is light and square, and you watch excitedly as he opens it.

“Oh my god,” he says when he realizes what’s inside. “No way. These are the exact ones—how did you even—?”

You had to do some investigating to figure out the precise guitar strings he uses, but what's your journalism degree for if not this?

“Who knows?” You shrug playfully. “Maybe it’s the psychic powers, maybe it’s the housemate I begged to sneak into your room and find out.”

Kirara was more than willing. “Good thing you came to me and not Itadori,” she laughed. “That kid can’t be subtle to save his life.” Takuma’s strings have been on the brink for a while, and you’re honestly shocked none of them have given out yet.

“They’re perfect,” Takuma laughs, setting the box back on your desk. “I love them. I love you.”

He says it so easily it takes you a moment to realize what just happened. He freezes, mouth opening and closing like he doesn’t know what words he’s looking for.

“I—uh,” he says eloquently. “It’s—I mean. I didn’t mean to—I mean, I didn’t mean to say it like that but I did mean it, you don’t have to say it back, if it’s too soon or you—”

Instead of cutting him off verbally, you grab him by the shoulders and press your lips to his. His eyes are wide when you pull back, despite the way he relaxed into the kiss on instinct.

“Hey,” you laugh, one hand trailing up to the back of his neck. “I love you, too.”

The excited smile that spreads across his face is slow and hesitant, like he can’t believe you reciprocate. You pull him back in and feel his grin against your lips, his hands coming to rest at your waist, warm.

“Thank god,” he murmurs between breaths. “Because I keep almost accidentally saying it, and it was gonna happen sooner or later.”

“Least it didn’t happen over the phone,” you grin, your hand skating down his arm and coming to rest in his.

Sheepishly, he admits, “Almost did. Yesterday.” Your laugh is bright and so is his answering one, and you perch your little stuffed penguin atop the guitar strings and tug Takuma toward the door.

“Okay, lover boy. Back to the outside world.”

“Lover boy, huh?” he teases. “Kay, pretty girl.”

“Couple of cheesy ass romantics we are.”

“Mm.” He presses a kiss to your temple, the action so casual and unthinking you want to melt. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The second you step back into the living room, Yuta grabs you by the elbow and presses a Wii remote into your hand.

“Oh, no. Yuta—”

The song’s been chosen for you, and Toge has passed the remote to Maki, who looks like she’d rather die than give a rousing performance of TiK ToK by Ke$ha.

“Well, at least it’s you,” she says. Toge tries to discreetly pull his phone out, but Maki gives him a death glare that could send a grown man to his grave. He nearly drops it in his hurry to shove it back into his pocket.

You snort, patting Maki sympathetically on the shoulder. “Let’s kick ass.”

Three hours later, everyone has somewhat settled down, sprawled across furniture and countertops and the carpeted floor. Yuta’s grabbed an acoustic from the basement and it’s being passed around, goofy Christmas songs overlapping with the still-spinning record player.

You enrolled here with the intention of building a new life, finding a new purpose—new faces, new music, a new place to call home. And you feel like you’ve found it. This is the point of college. You’re surrounded by the best people you’ve ever known, and your heart is practically overflowing with how much you fucking love them all.

After all, your heart is not a finite thing. You’ve just got an endless supply of affection, and you’re not scared of it.

Love is the right word, you think, letting your head fall onto Takuma’s shoulders, legs tucked up beneath you on the couch.

“I love you,” you whisper, just to say it. When he whispers your name, your real name, in the shell of your ear, something in your chest sparks a little. He makes it sound like a song.

“I love you, too.”

directory | prev.

jjk taglist open: just send me a message!

@shutuppeter @mikikkoo @reactwithjan @theclassbookworm @lilactaro @bisforbuse @risararelywrites @idkidk32 @gojodickbig @stargazing-with-choso @anonymity-222 @honeyyhuggs

a/n: that’s a wrap on out of my mind! ahh! i loved this one a lot, and it has so much spinoff potential i’m going a little crazy with it—keep an eye out for the megumi spinoff dropping soon. if you want to be alerted when it drops, lmk and i’ll put you on the jjk taglist. also, greta wrote a sukuna spinoff here—go read!

@bitchkay i need you to know your reblog tags give me life and you were fucking RIGHT ON THE MONEY with these developments

i’m not sure if i’ll start writing other fandoms or not—if y’all would want to see attack on titan or blue lock do let me know!

[changingplumbob]

Struck By Love – Dec 22nd Post 1

Cut for potential spoilers this holiday season (Dec 16th - Jan 5th)

Johnny: Here we are, mostly furnished home sweet home

Elena: *laughing* You can put me down now

Johnny: Fair enough, I think I pulled my back a bit

Elena: Weakling. Do you need a massage?

Johnny: It can wait till later. So what do you think? Picked the place myself. And the best part is the view

Elena: The view? Let me see! Is- we’re right by R Triple C! Like right next door

Johnny: I know that the kids are like family to you so I thought you’d like to be closer in case of emergencies or whatever

Elena: You don’t mind being stuck in the spice district?

Johnny: If I’m with you, I’m not stuck

[bookshelfdreams]

I need to show y'all one more thing I made - red trousers for my nephew!

Now. Are they a bit large? Yes. Is this because I got confused about the seam allowance and cut out the wrong size? Also yes. Did I accidentally sew half the seams inside out? Is the inside a bit of a mess in general? Well. Yes. BUT.

They are wearable trousers, they do have a detachable "belt" pouch, which makes for a total pocket count of 7 (seven!), corduroy is very forgiving of crooked seams and I did have this incredibly well-matched printed cotton in my stash for lining and for the pockets

so I am still very very happy with them. I have always found trousers really intimidating, but this was fun! A lot easier than I would have thought, and it would have been easier still if they could have been tried on during the making. I could definitely make a pair of these for myself.