#I can't take anything seriously so all of these emotes are really fucking stupid

[blueberrybanee]

BlueBerryBane's Discord Emotes Return!

Hi! I'm bored and December has NOT been a good month for me, so I'm sharing some of the many, goofy ass emotes I have in my Discord server! I might've shown a couple of these before but I will show them again anyway!!! 😈 I love my silly little emotes and I hope you guys do too 🥰💙

He has seen things.

Credit to my buddy @twixedworlds for drawing this one in the server whiteboard lmfao

It's very hard to screenshot animated emotes, so poor Embo is being absolutely squashed here

OH GOD AUGH HE'S BEING SQUISHMED LIKE A BUG AHH OH NO

*dramatically falls to floor and pretends to be dead*

That trooper is either dead or now has the worst concussion imaginable

Smug lil' bastard (I have a lot of Cad Bane emotes I know I'm sorry but I still have so much more)

Everytime I look at this emote, I think back to one of my friends yelling "HE LOOKS LIKE A LIZARD, PUT HIS HAT BACK ON" in response to said image. It's stuck with me since

Another drawn emote (by me) 😁 Why did I make this? Idk I thought it was goofy

And lastly, the most terrifying of this bunch yet /j (I think the name of the emote says enough)

Okay that's it for now 💥 I'm definitely doing a part 2 in a few minutes or so because I feel the world has to see my strange collection of emotes

(Don't mind me, just tagging the gang @linminty @ghastly-poltergeist @white-knight7255 @twixedworlds)

[urdepressedslut]

Hello lovely,

I saw your post that your requests are open, so I will give it a try =)

Imagine Bucky and reader are best friends but they have a huge argument and now they don't talk to each other for days. She's feeling really bad, missing him. He is her most important person and now without interacting with him for days, she's feeling lost and lonely and heartbroken. Maybe she has not a super power and is only a normal human, helping the Avengers with IT or something. Due to the argument with her best friend and not talking to Bucky (Bucky ignores her completely) she begins to feel it not only mental but also physically. She can't eat probably and at the end falls deathly sick.... With a fluffy happy ending and a worried and protective Bucky

Please. That would be nice.

Take care honey

oh my goodness— my heart 😭❤️ the angst is gonna hurt, but i’m such a sucker for it. i had so much fun writing this one, thank you for requesting and i hope you like it🥰

Love Hurts

♡ Pairing: Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: You and Bucky get into a heated argument, things are said and done and now he won’t speak to you. You don’t think you can handle him ignoring your existence.

♡ Warnings: language, mentions of bucky’s trauma, heavy angst, malnourishment, depression, anxiety/panic attacks, minor injuries, hospitalization, suicidal ideation, self hate, literally hurt just writing this

main masterlist

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | MATURE CONTENT 18+

Your nails bit into your palm, denting the flesh— threatening to pierce the delicate skin. It was all to hold yourself back, distract you from the words that wanted to burst out.

It was becoming a sickening routine, Bucky was reckless and had yet another near death experience on his recent mission. The anxiety and the nerves stopping your body from functioning— the dreaded wait for his jet to arrive back at the compound. You shouldn’t have to be used of receiving the call that he had yet again made a reckless move— but you were starting to discover a pattern.

It did nothing to ease the panic that swirled in your chest every time he left for missions. You’d sob, throwing up everything you had eaten that day— unable to stomach anything with the idea that Bucky was on a mission. You never found your anxiety to be so severe— but when Bucky was even mentioned about going on a mission… it spiked.

That’s where you found yourself in his room, watching him pace the space— avoiding your frustrated stare. You weren’t angry at him per say— you were angry that he didn’t value his life.

“Seriously (Y/n)— you get so worked up over nothing. I’m here and alive— isn’t that enough?” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration.

You pressed your nails tighter to your palm, yet the pain couldn’t stop your thundering thoughts.

“You’re here and alive now, until you do some stupid shit like this again and are dead!” You hissed, trying to keep your voice low but you didn’t know how much longer you could control yourself.

He glared at you, squinting his eyes in anger and then rolling his eyes.

“Oh for fucks sake— can you stop fucking babying me? I can handle myself!” He raised his voice, his metal arm whirring.

“I’m not babying you— I’m just scared you’re gonna get yourself killed. Do you care about your life at all?” You asked him aggressively, your voice raising just a tad.

He took a long pause, staring at you with his face void of emotion— only annoyance.

“Not really.” He admitted.

You were taken back, although you had these conversations with him a time or twenty. It was an ongoing process to get him to slowly love himself— his past as The Winter Soldier torturing his soul. He was so convinced he wasn’t deserving of anything, not even a roof over his head. It was a struggle to help him, but you weren’t going to give up on him.

“You realize if anything ever happened to you I—” Your voice broke, needing a breath, “Buck I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

You thought you saw his eyes flash with guilt, but before you could linger on the look for too long— his face was hardening again.

“That doesn’t sound like my problem.” He mumbled out, making your eyes widen.

You were extremely taken back from those words, your chest aching painfully— him not knowing what effect those words had on you.

“Are you fucking serious?” You asked him, your face morphing into a hurt expression, mixed with anger. “Can you just do your job without trying to kill yourself?”

His face grew red with rage and he was stomping up towards you— his face inches from yours.

“I am doing my job— very well in fact. Unlike you who just fucking sits here doing nothing!” He defended himself, his breath hitting your face in warm pants.

“Doing nothing? Buck— why are you like this?” You puffed your chest, not backing down from his towering form.

But your words seemed to have hit a nerve, as he shrunk back slightly, narrowing his gaze at you.

“Like what?”

You furrowed your brows, slowing your racing heart from the shouting— you weren’t sure you had said anything bad. Did you?

“What?” You squeaked out, nervous now.

“You said, why am I like this… like what?” He pushed, stepping closer to you now, his face still red with anger but you could see the hurt in his eyes.

You swallowed and wondered how to convince him you didn’t mean anything bad by what you said. But you were almost positive it would be an impossible task to get Bucky to listen.

“Buck, I didn’t mean anythin—”

“What— you think I’m not capable of doing my job? You think I’m still the monster hydra made me?” He spat, his chest rising and falling quicker.

“No, no Buck listen—”

That was definitely not what you meant, you could tell he was spiraling and you were still confused as to why. You would never make him think that.

“After 70 fucking years I finally have a job that I like— that I enjoy doing— I fucking help people! I’m finally doing some good and now you’re telling me I’m not capable of doing it?” He boomed, his chest puffing into yours and your stumbled back slightly. “You think I’m only capable of being a monster? Huh? Is that what you fucking think?”

You were growing scared now, the look in his eyes wild with something and you didn’t like how close he was to you— you knew he’d never hurt you but your fear overwhelmed your senses.

“Friday— call Steve and Sam in here now!” You shouted into the room, and Bucky’s eyes squinted painfully— his metal arm whirring again.

Bucky only saw one thing— you didn’t reassure him that he was thinking irrationally. You didn’t correct him that he wasn’t the monster. Instead you called for help, that you were clearly scared— because you thought he was a monster.

He was at a loss for words and just stared at you, almost through you— as his breathing was only getting heavier at the sight of your fearful eyes.

Not even minutes later, Steve and Sam were busting through the door, taking in the scene and separated you and Bucky.

“Hey— what’s going on?” Steve asked in between the two of you. “Buck, what’s wrong man?”

You couldn’t seem to find the words and just stood speechless as well— the fight startling you. This was one of the worst ones, and it was also one that still left you confused. You cursed yourself for not being careful enough with your words— but it was almost impossible to get through to him when he was on the brink of having an episode.

Sam walked closer to you, his facing morphing into concern as he took in your shocked expression.

“(Y/n)? You okay? Did he hurt you?” Sam whispered, keeping his words only between you two.

You slowly shook your head but still didn’t respond verbally.

“Okay, okay that’s good. You wanna go get a drink from downstairs? Why don’t we take a breather okay?” Sam suggested softly, big brother mode kicking in at the sight of your frazzled state.

Without another word, you left the room with Sam— missing the devastated look from Bucky.

Steve waited until the door shut, then his attention was back on Bucky.

“Buck, you gotta talk to me man— what happened?” He asked softly, watching his friend slowly relax, but it wasn’t from being in a relaxing mood— his body and mind were just exhausted from the argument.

“I fucked everything up. That’s what happened.” He mumbled, turning away from Steve to sit on the edge of his bed.

Steve followed behind but stood in front of him, shaking his head— ready to argue.

“You didn’t mess anything up, arguments happen. You guys will work it out. I know how much you mean to each other.” Steve pointed out, watching Bucky’s face unchanging.

“You didn’t see the way she looked at me— she’s scared of me I—” He shuttered, his breath shaky as he remembered your look, “I fucking scared her.”

Steve’s chest ached, the state of his friend breaking his heart. He knew Bucky meant no harm, and he almost for a fact knew that you knew that too. But Bucky for sure didn’t believe that himself.

“I didn’t see what you saw, but I can guarantee you that she’s not afraid of you. This is (Y/n) we are talking about. You are her world Buck.” Steve tried to convince him.

Bucky shook his head, running his flesh hand through his hair.

“I think I just need to stay away from her for awhile.” Bucky came up with instead.

Steve immediately started shaking his head, knowing that was the last thing he needed.

“Bucky I—”

“Please Steve… I just need some space.” Bucky pleaded, his body sagging in exhaustion.

Steve couldn’t find it in himself to argue with him anymore about this. Maybe he did need some time to himself, to cool down and gather his thoughts. Also Steve wasn’t going to force him to anything ever. After the years his pal went through— he would never make him do anything. He had enough things decided for him, and Steve wasn’t about to stoop to hydra’s level.

Meanwhile down in the kitchen, Sam was getting you a glass of water— standing across from your seated form at the island. He slid the cup across, sending a worried glance at you.

“(Y/n)?” Sam snapped his fingers getting your attention.

You were shaken from your state of staring, but even snapped out of the trance— the anxieties still swirled within you.

“Yeah sorry… I’m here.” You whispered, grabbing the glass and taking a tiny sip.

Sam gave you a quizzical expression, watching you start to slip back into a mindless stare— so he spoke up.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” He asked, genuinely curious what had went down.

He knew— hell everyone knew you and Bucky were extremely close. Best of friends, always there for one another— dancing on the line of strictly friends to lovers. Truthfully, Sam found it completely obnoxious and just wanted you two together already.

“I don’t really know… I think I said the wrong thing— I didn’t mean to make him upset.” You confessed, keeping your eyes on the countertop, not risking a glance to Sam.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up— mistakes happen. I’m sure he’ll forgive you.” Sam told you.

You shook your head, gripping the cup tighter.

“God I hope so… I don’t know what I’d do without him.” You whispered pathetically, tears welling in your eyes.

Sam reached out to rub your arm comfortingly, trying to relax you so you didn’t start crying. He hated to see you cry— made his heart hurt.

“It’s been a long day for everyone, why don’t you go head upstairs and get some sleep. I’m sure things will have blown over by tomorrow.” He suggested and you finally met his gaze, smiling weakly and nodding.

Without saying goodbye, you stood up and headed to your room. Taking Sam’s words and playing them on repeat in your head.

Tomorrow is another day, tomorrow would be better.

God had you hoped that was the case— it only was the beginning on the torment.

You had slept in longer than usual, but overall felt refreshed. The first thing that came to mind when fully waking up was Bucky. Immediately you headed downstairs to find him— needing to talk with him— apologize.

Making it down to the kitchen, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in at the sight of him sitting at the island— sipping at his coffee. You furrowed your brows, thinking he'd be done with his coffee by now, since you had slept in. Your chest ached with guilt with the possibility that he didn't sleep well.

You took a deep breath before making yourself known, although you were sure be could sense you in the room— considering he was a super soldier.

"Morning Buck." You announced, walking around the island so you could face him.

He kept his gaze down at his coffee, finding the cup more interesting than you.

Okay, that’s fair. You thought, you most probably deserved that reaction.

“You sleep okay?” You asked again, picking at the skin on your nails nervously.

Again— he didn’t even lift his head. In fact, he wasn’t even acknowledging you. You waited several minutes for a response, the silence becoming thick with tension and you couldn’t stand it.

“Bucky?” You tried, and this time he lifted his head.

Your heart twinged in your chest at his bloodshot eyes, clear evidence that he hadn’t gotten good sleep. You hated yourself for causing him the stress, especially knowing he was just starting to actually get hours of sleep. It was huge progress compared to his nights either screaming awake or just staring at the walls. But now you had to go and ruin all that progress. You felt sick to your stomach— disgusted with yourself.

“I’m really sorry about last night… I didn’t like how ugly it got and I’m sorry if I said something to upset you— you know I’d never intentionally hurt you.” You told him, picking more aggressively at your nails, causing to nail beds to bleed.

You swallowed nervously when he didn’t answer right away, instead staring at you with… what was that? Disgust? You didn’t know, but you hated the look altogether.

“Bucky, please say something.” You pleaded.

Bucky lowered his gaze to his coffee again, taking a minute before he stood up and looked your way.

“I just need some space.” He told you quietly.

You were relived to have him finally talk to you, but to hear him suggest space between you two— you could almost feel the knife digging into your chest. You tried to keep a neutral expression but otherwise felt your bottom lip quiver.

Without giving you time to respond, Bucky was walking out of the room— leaving you standing there speechless, lungs begging for air. You didn’t want your mind to go immediately to that thought, but you couldn’t ignore it either— he hated you.

“Hey babe, I need you to help me out in the lab tod—” Tony came busting into the room, but immediately shut up once he saw your broken expression. “Honey, what’s wrong? You alright?”

You nodded your head, lying to him and yourself and started waving him off with the fakest smile.

“Yeah— yeah I’m good. Just need to uh— need to get some things done.” You told him, your eyes darting all around the room, the familiar feeling of panic seeping into your being.

Tony gave you a ‘really?’ look and stepped closer to you.

“(Y/n) I’m not blind— I can see you’re upset. Talk to m—”

“Seriously Tony— I’m fine! Just leave it alone!” You told him a little too aggressively.

His face was taken back and you felt guilty immediately, cursing yourself for hurting everyone.

Why are you such a fucking issue? Your mind screamed at you.

You didn’t waste another second and sped walked out of the room, needing to calm yourself down before you ran into any one else. You were spiraling and you needed to just relax— take a deep breath. Maybe you just needed one more day and things would be back to normal.

Yeah… just one more day.

You had hoped that was the case as well… but as always— things only got worse.

Bucky refused to talk to you or even look at you. He’d given you the cold shoulder for almost two weeks now. He would get up and leave the second you entered the room. He couldn’t stand you it seemed.

You couldn’t keep hiding your hurt. At first, you had done a good job at hiding how you were really feeling. Saving the sobbing and attacks for when you were alone in your room. As the days lingered on, you found yourself weak and drained— you didn’t have enough energy to put up a charade anymore.

The whole team were sending you worried looks, and attempted to talk with you. But the second they’d try— you’d bolt. The subject was too sensitive, too raw. You didn’t want to talk to anyone but Bucky— and he hated you.

You had missed so many meals, forgetting to eat with your mental struggles throughout the days. You had been getting no more than two hours of sleep. You were so stressed, so stuck in your own mind that you couldn’t function. Even when you had managed to remember to eat, your stomach would knot up to the point that you were throwing everything up. You were gaunt, basically a real life zombie. You needed help— but you needed Bucky more.

You were laying in bed staring unknowingly into space, it had been hard to focus with no food or sleep in your system— so you had only managed to lay here. Even that was exhausting, no matter how much you laid around— your mind wouldn’t stop the assault. Your anxiety had never been this bad, you were a prisoner to it.

Knocking at your door had you jumping, your heart racing— and for a moment you forgot where you were.

You’re in the compound… yeah that’s right.

You slowed your breathing and swung your legs sluggishly over the edge of the bed to answer it. You weren’t prepared for the sudden dizzy spell, your vision spotting with black and white specks. You tried to blink it off, but suddenly you were toppling to the ground.

You fell to the floor with a loud thump, luckily landing on your front, your hands somehow catching most of your fall— you could already feel the throbbing in your palms.

You didn’t hear the persistent knocking, or the door open. You didn’t even hear the voice speaking from the doorway. It was when a hand landed on your shoulder that you were gasping, forgetting your surroundings once again.

Your eyes met Steve’s and you swore your heart was about to beat out of your chest.

“(Y/n) are you alright?” He asked you, hovering his hands over you— not sure what you had hurt.

You furrowed your brows, looking him over.

“Steve what are… what are you doing here?” You asked genuinely confused.

You watched Steve’s eyes widen and he swallowed nervously— his expression growing more concerned.

“(Y/n) it’s okay… I’ve got you.” Steve hushed, and he was pulling you into his chest, hugging you protectively.

You were still confused but then you tasted one of your stray tears, and you immediately came to your senses. You were crying in Steve’s arms… but why? You were having gaps of time missing from you, this wasn’t the first time this had happened— you just didn’t seem to care.

“Steve… my head hurts.” You slurred into his chest, sagging against him.

You were grateful that he was here, you desperately needed someone around. You were just hoping that someone would’ve been Bucky.

“Okay, let’s get you to Helen. She’s gonna take care of you, okay?” Steve asked you, and you could only give a weak nod.

He knew there was no way you were walking there, so he hoisted you up into his arms, and cradled your head as he started to the med bay.

You just stared blankly at his chest, not really caring if Steve were to throw you off the roof of the building. You just didn’t care.

Steve had gotten you down to her, and she checked you out. Alerting Steve that you were extremely malnourished, dehydrated— an insomniac. She kept listing off all the things Steve was afraid to hear. The whole time he was sure you didn’t hear a thing, although you were in the room— you were just checked out.

Helen eventually left, and Steve took his opportunity to speak with you. He pulled up a chair next to the hospital bed and grabbed your hand.

“(Y/n), what’s going on? You can talk to me— you can’t keep doing this to yourself. Please… just talk to me.” Steve whispered, pleading with you that you would stop torturing yourself.

“He hates me.” You mumbled.

Steve’s eyes widened and he frowned, knowing what you meant. He knew he let this go on for too long.

“(Y/n) he doesn’t hate you. He just needed time to himself, so he co—”

“I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings, I don’t even know what I said to hurt him but I—” You rushed out, the heart monitor beeping frantically, “I’m a horrible person, I didn’t mean to— I didn’t mean to!”

You wheezed out, clutching your chest as you couldn’t catch your breath. Your cheeks glistened with a steady stream of tears, your wheezing only growing by the second.

“Okay, okay (Y/n)— I need you to slow your breathing. You’re okay, he doesn’t hate you. Just take deep breaths okay— even if you can’t just try. I’m here.” He tried to coach you, but this wasn’t his thing.

Now he was starting to get mad at his friend, Bucky shouldn’t of let this go on for this long.

You followed his chest rising and falling, staring at him as he tried to calm you down. Your breaths were heavy and painful sounding. Steve was about to say something but stopped himself when he saw your eyes look behind him.

He turned and saw Bucky standing in the doorway— his face paled. Truthfully, he looked like he was going to be sick.

“(Y/n)?” He whispered, his heart breaking at your state.

He had ran into Helen in the kitchen and was informed of your condition— he didn’t believe it and had to see for himself. He was shocked to find you like this.

Your tears only edged on from his appearance and you shook your head in shame.

“I’m sorry Bucky! Whatever I did, I’m sorry!” You sobbed and Bucky ran to the bed, kneeling down and taking your hands into his.

“Doll it’s okay, you’re okay. I’m here— I’m here. I’m not gonna leave you… I’m sorry.” He rushed out, shushing your cries, watching you slow your breathing at his words. “There we go, just keep breathing with me. I’m here, you’re okay.”

He kept repeating himself, making sure you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

Steve knew you were in good hands and slowly snuck out of the room— knowing you two needed to talk.

Bucky tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers trail down your cheek to your jaw. You couldn’t help the way your face leaned into his touch, it felt like it had been forever since the last one.

Your breathing had slowed down, and now you just stared up at him— eyes glossy with more tears. You felt so many emotions. You felt relived, but also angry and hurt. Above all— you needed to know what you did to upset him. The guilt still ate away at your heart, and even just the memory of the argument had your chest aching.

“What did I do?” You whispered, making his eyes shoot up to yours, concern painting his face.

“You didn’t do anything.” He told you, and you furrowed your brows.

You were still anxious— he hadn’t answered your question. Even more so— if you didn’t do anything then why did he ignore you?

“Then why?”

“Why what (Y/n)?” He dared to ask, and you scoffed— ripping your hands out of his.

The anger was approaching.

“Why did you shut me out?” You wondered, and he only let his eyes cast down to the bed— making you angrier. “You ignored me for two weeks! Two fucking weeks you just acted as if I didn’t exist! Do you know how much that fucking hurts?”

You were breathing heavy again, but this time it wasn’t from panic— it was the full force of all your anger bursting out.

He lifted his eyes to you, and you saw how broken he looked. How your state had affected him.

“I could never do that to you Buck— I would never do that to you! You’re my everything! I don’t trust anyone as much as I trust you!” You raised your voice, while he stayed silent. “If I didn’t do anything then why would you— why—”

You broke out into a sob, covering your face with your hands. You felt good getting all the built up anger out— but now you felt extremely guilty. The pitiful face of Bucky staring at you, causing your heart to hurt all over again. It didn’t matter what happened, you always ended up hurting others.

“(Y/n) I’m so sorry I— god I fucked up. I didn’t ever mean to hurt you, please know that. You’re my other half, and no one has ever been there for me like you have.” He spoke through a tight throat, swelling with emotion.

You uncovered your face and just stared at him a little longer, still incredibly hurt from his actions— but you knew you couldn’t stay mad at him. You so badly wanted to forgive and forget— and just wrap him in your arms like you both needed.

“It’s hard to explain what’s wrong with me to someone when I don’t even understand what’s wrong with me— I just know I’m fucked up. I’m broken beyond repair.” His voice broke, his own eyes welling with tears.

You didn’t have it in you to keep up an angry facade, and so you reached out and took his hand in yours. His face almost immediately lit up, his breathing slowing at your touch.

“Try me.” You whispered, watching Bucky take a deep breath before he spoke again.

“The night of our fight…” He started, and you swallowed in having to remember that night. “I had never seen you look at me like that.”

You stayed silent, afraid to open your mouth and have a sob escape. You could feel it bubbling up— the memory playing back through your mind.

“You looked at me like you were scared. You looked at me like I was a monster.” He confessed and it all made sense to you now.

It wasn’t about what you said, it was your reaction that disturbed him to no ends. Even if you couldn’t control your reaction in the moment— you still felt guilty for causing him pain of remembering the hydra days.

“Oh Buck…” You whimpered, trying to pull him close— but he pulled away before he could reach your embrace.

“No— you don’t get to be nice to me after what I did. I promised I would never hurt you and I did— you’re in here because of me! I don’t deserve your forgiveness!” He raised his voice, and you weren’t scared of him— just concerned.

“I wasn’t scared of you Bucky, you just caught me off guard. Things were heated— I’m not afraid of you and I most definitely don’t think you’re a monster.” You tried to convince him.

“I really hope you’re not lying because if you were afraid of me… god I don’t know what I’d do. If you never wanted to see me again— that’s fine. Whatever you want, but I can’t live knowing you’re afraid of me.” He whimpered out.

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

He nodded his head, knowing damn well you’d never lie. That was one thing he loved about you— you were so honest. Keeping it real with him, even if he didn’t wanna hear it. He could count on you for the truth.

“I still don’t deserve your forgiveness.” He argued.

“Well too bad, I’m forgiving you anyway.” You finally told him and he felt his chest expand.

Like he could finally breath.

“Why?” He wondered.

You knew it was the line you two had been dancing on forever— but you knew if there was ever a time to say it. It was now.

“Because I love you.” You admitted quietly.

His eyes widened just slightly, and his breath stuttered. He had always had a feeling what you two had was more than friends, he just never spoke up about it. Of course he loves you too— god he loves you so much. That’s why the thought of you being scared of him was enough to pull him away. He couldn’t bear being around you if you were frightened by him. He couldn’t live with himself. More importantly he now discovered, he really couldn’t live without you.

“I love you so much.” He confessed back as your tears leaked down your cheeks.

You pulled his arm, and he let you pull him to the bed— close enough where you could cup both his cheeks.

“Don’t ever do that to me again, please. I need you Bucky— life is not livable without you.” You cried, kissing his forehead to which he leaned into your lips.

“Never again— I promise.”

This time, he wouldn’t break it.

to be added to a taglist

TAGLIST: @engie115 @kmc1989 @ghostofwinter @silverfire13 @goldylions @potatothots @billy-reads @hanihoney88 @skittle479 @hereticdance @mentalidrainedfangirl @natashassandwich @marvelogic @soul-system @alinasmcu @almosttoopizza @lilbabygirll @sebastiansstanswhore @yujyujj @jasminocano

[lostfracturess]

─── games and matches | ch. 03

pairing — satoru gojo x suguru's daughter reader

summary — after a night of partying and drinking, you run into none other than satoru gojo — your dad's infuriatingly hot best friend who you haven't seen in years. blame it on the alcohol, but you start flirting with him. and he flirts back. so, can it really be that wrong to want to fuck your dad's best friend? after all, what happens in the kitchen at 3AM stays in the kitchen, right?

word count — 12.5 k (chapter 3/3)

warnings — 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content, light angst, age difference, unprotected sex, public sex, sad sex?, masturbation, penetration, oral (female receiving), in need of heavy daddy issues to enjoy this.

author's note — hello again !! we've reached the final chapter of our story. brace yourselves for a bit of angst and emotion, but don't worry, a happy ending is on the horizon. so, get comfy, grab your fave snack, and let's jump into this last chapter & happy reading <3

masterlist + ao3 + wattpad

<- prev chapter | completed ✓

In the days following the party, your father had been livid. 

He'd ranted and raved, furious at what he saw as Satoru's betrayal and your reckless naivety. He'd had a long, serious talk with you, demanding that you end things with Satoru immediately and return to college to focus on your studies.

But the truth was, there hadn't been anything to end with Satoru. 

Not really. 

You'd tried to reason with him, to make him understand that Satoru was not using you and you wanted it too. But he'd been unmovable, insisting that he knew what was best for you, that Satoru was too old, too experienced, too much of a player to ever take you seriously.

Your dad was usually a gentle man at heart.

But you'd never seen him so angry.

But despite his anger towards Satoru, your dad couldn't find it in himself to be truly angry with you. Still, you could see the disappointment in his eyes, so you'd had no choice but to capitulate, agreeing to return to college and focus on your studies, putting some distance between yourself and Satoru. 

But somehow, you couldn't stop thinking about him.

You went through the motions of college life, attending classes and studying late into the night, all the while your thoughts wander back to the man that changed your whole world in mere days.

You counted the days until break, until you could see him again, touch him again, lose yourself in the heat of him again.

It was stupid, really.

You've known him your entire life, but this thing between you, it's new.

And it's irrational, illogical, and yet, you can't help but be drawn to him like a moth to a flame, craving his presence, his touch, as if you'd never realized what you were missing until now. 

It doesn't make sense.

And then, one night as you lay in your dorm room, your roommate out at some party or another — your phone rang. Your heart leapt into your throat when you saw Satoru's name on the screen, your pulse picking up speed as you fumbled to answer.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite lawyer," you drawled, a smile already on your lips. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this late-night call?"

"What, a man can't just call his favorite girl?"

"Aw, you're making me blush. But seriously, what's up?"

"Just wanted to hear your voice, check in on you. That's all."

Your smile softened, your free hand absently playing with the hem of your shirt. 

Oh, his voice.

There was something about his voice that always managed to put you at ease, no matter how stressed you were feeling. It was like a soothing balm, washing over you and melting away all your worries. 

You could listen to him talk for hours, getting lost in the rich timbre of his voice, the way it seemed to wrap around you like a warm embrace. 

Again.

It was stupid, really.

"I'm okay. I mean, Dad's still not thrilled about...us, but he's coming around. He could never stay mad at me for long. You, on the other hand...you might want to steer clear of him for a while,” you said after a pause.

“Yeah, I figured as much. My jaw still hurts like hell. Can't say I blame him though. If I had a daughter, I'd probably want to throttle any man who looked at her twice, too."

“Flatterer. You're just trying to butter me up so I'll send you dirty pictures or something."

"Love, I don't need to butter you up for that. I've got a whole album on my phone that says you're more than happy to oblige me without any sweet talking necessary."

You could hear the grin in his voice, and you huffed out a laugh. "Shut up. I still can't believe I let you talk me into that."

"Oh, I didn't have to do much talking, if I recall. In fact, I'm pretty sure it was your idea to—"

"Anyway," you interrupted. "Other than missing my revealing pictures, how have you been? How's work?"

Are you seriously asking him about work right now? 

Stupid, really.

But somehow you genuinely wanted to know, wanted to know what's happening in his life.

Satoru hummed, and you could picture him stretching out on his bed, one arm tucked behind his head. "Work is work. Busy, stressful, the usual. But I'd rather hear about you. How are classes? How's tennis? Any campus heartthrobs I need to come beat up for sniffing around my girl?"

You smiled, your heart warming at the fond possessiveness in his voice, the easy way he called you 'his girl'. Like it was a foregone conclusion, like there could never be anyone else for either of you.

You laid back more on the bed, starring up the ceiling. “Things are fine. Classes are kicking my ass, but I'm surviving. And tennis is... tennis. Lots of training and sore muscles. The usual."

"Sore muscles huh, there's an image," Satoru purred, his voice dipping low, taking on that gravelly edge that never failed to raise goosebumps on your skin. "You know, if you ever need help with that, I'm more than happy to volunteer my ser—"

"Like what?"

"Oh, you know what I mean."

"You're stupid."

"You love it."

"Mm. Debatable."

"Liar." But he was laughing as he said it, bright and boyish, and the ache in your chest eased a bit.

God, you'd missed this. 

Missed him?

No. That can’t be. 

He’s just an affair, right?

A beat of comfortable silence settled over the line, broken only by the soft sounds of your matched breathing. You closed your eyes, letting yourself pretend, just for a moment, that he was there with you. That if you rolled over, you'd find him sprawled out beside you, all tousled hair and sleepy eyes.

"I miss you," Satoru said quietly, breaking you out of your reverie. 

Your heart clenched, your throat going tight.

For what felt like an eternity, you held your breath.

“You miss fucking me,” you say eventually, needing to break the intensity with a quip, a tease. "That's what this is really about. You're hard up and looking for a steamy bedtime story."

"Oh, I definitely want to fuck you," he agreed readily, his voice pitching lower, darker. "It makes me lose my mind, if I'm being honest. But love, if that was all this was, I'd be watching porn and taking matters into my own hands, so to speak. When I say I miss you... I mean you. Your mind, your heart, your ridiculous snort-laugh that makes you sound like a drunken piglet."

"Rude."

"The point is," he continued, barreling past your interruption, "I miss all of you. The sex is just a very, very nice bonus."

You were glad he couldn't see your face in that moment, because you were fairly certain you were grinning like an idiot. "Wow. I think you missed your calling. You should have been a poet, not a lawyer."

"But then I wouldn't get to argue for a living. Where's the fun in that?"

"Yeah, true. The courtroom would be way too quiet without you there to stir things up."

"Exactly. Plus, I look quite good in a suit."

"Wow, so humble, aren't you?"

"Just spitting facts. But you know, I bet I'd look even better with you by my side."

"Is that so?"

"Definitely. We'd be the ultimate power couple. Me, the godly lawyer, and you, the brilliant and smoking hot...wait, what was it you were studying again?"

You rolled your eyes, even though he couldn't see you. "Nice try, Satoru. You know damn well what I'm studying."

"Mmm, it's not coming to me. Guess you'll have to refresh my memory...preferably in person."

"You're such a pain in the ass, you know that?"

"Yeah, but you love me just the way I am."

His words echoed in your mind, 'you love me', and suddenly it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. Your throat went tight, your chest constricting as the weight of those words sank in.

He’s just an affair.

You had to remind yourself of it, because otherwise—

No. It could never possibly be.

For a long moment, you just listened to each other breathe, the silence comfortable and charged all at once. It felt like something was building, some inevitable tide that would sweep you both away if you let it.

"Are you alone?" Satoru asked abruptly.

You blinked, snapping back to reality as you glanced around your empty dorm room, taking in the half-cracked textbooks and rumpled bedding, the scatter of discarded clothing littering every surface. You knew your roommate was with her boyfriend tonight, likely wouldn't be home until morning, if at all.

"Yeah," you confirmed. "Just me and a truly alarming amount of dirty laundry."

"Perfect. Put me on speaker."

You paused for a second, but then anticipation rose in your blood, a thrilling shiver running down your spine at the low, suggestive tone of his voice. You did as instructed, placed the phone on your pillow and lay back on the soft bed.

"Take off your pants for me, love.”

You shivered, fingers already working at the tie of your sleep shorts. "You too. I want to hear your voice."

The rustle of fabric and the clank of a belt buckle echoed through the phone, followed by Satoru's drawn-out sigh of relief. "Fuck, that's better," he groaned, sounding almost pained. "I've been hard since the second I heard your voice, just aching to get a hand on myself. You drive me so crazy, you know that? Make me throb and leak, desperate to bury myself in you."

"God, Satoru," you whimpered, heat pulsing between your thighs. Your own pants were long gone, kicked somewhere off the bed. "Don't say things like that. I can't stand how much I need you. I'm already so wet just thinking about you."

"Fuck, such a needy little thing," he groaned. "Put your fingers in that pretty mouth for me. Get them nice and wet for me, love. Pretend it's my cock you're sucking on, my cum you're tasting on your tongue."

You hastened to obey, sliding two fingers past your parted lips. You swirled your tongue around the digits, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked, picturing Satoru's thick length sliding over your tongue, heavy and hard and leaking at the tip.

"God, you’re such a good girl," Satoru breathed, the slick sound of flesh on flesh suggesting his hand had found its destination. "Now trail those wet fingers down your throat, over your chest. Pluck and roll your nipples for me, let me hear those moans."

You did as told, your back arching off the bed as you circled and tugged at the aching peaks. Satoru's labored breathing and low curses spilled from the speaker, causing your core to clench.

"Satoru," you mewled, pinching harder, hips starting to circle restlessly against the empty air. 

"Slide that hand lower, love. Drag your fingertips through your slick folds, feel how wet you are for me. Circle your clit, get it nice and hot and ready for my tongue."

A broken moan tumbled from your lips as you touched yourself as directed, your hips bucking up to chase more of the pressure. Your clit throbbed under the pads of your fingers, aching and needy.

"Wish it was my mouth on you," Satoru panted, the slick, rhythmic glide of his hand over his cock filling the air. "Wish I could bury my face between your thighs and lick up every drop of you. Fuck, the way you taste, the sounds you make—”

"Satoru, please," you whined, two fingers dipping lower to circle your entrance, thighs fallen open. "I want to feel you inside me, want you to fuck me so bad."

"Do it," he commanded breathlessly. "Fuck yourself on your fingers, nice and deep. Picture me there, hovering over you, my cock sinking into you inch by inch. Feel me stretching you wide, filling you up, making you mine."

You obeyed, plunging your fingers knuckle-deep, your free hand flying to your mouth to muffle your cry. You started up a desperate rhythm, hips rolling into every thrust, the wet sounds of your own penetration mixing with Satoru's heavy breathing and latching groans.

"Good girl. Ride those fingers like you'd ride my dick. Fast and hard and greedy, taking every inch. Fuck, if you could see what you're doing to me right now.” His voice was absolutely wrecked, cracking and catching like he was barely hanging on to his control. “I'm so hard it hurts, leaking all over my fist. I'm fucking close already.”

You whimpered, your hips bucking into your hand as his words made your core clench harder. "Tell me, Satoru. Tell me what you're doing, how you're stroking yourself. I want to hear it, want to picture it so clearly it's like I'm there with you."

Satoru groaned. "I've got my cock in a tight grip, love. Squeezing the base hard to stave off my orgasm, because I'll be damned if I come before you do. Want to time it just right, want to hear you fall apart and know it's my voice that pushed you over the edge."

You moaned brokenly, thighs starting to tremble as your climax approached. "Close," you managed to gasp out, your free hand fisting in your sweat-dampened sheets. "Satoru, fuck, I'm so fucking close—"

"Come with me, love," he encouraged, voice breaking on a moan. "Rub your clit just how I know you like, just how I would with my tongue. Fuck, I can practically taste you, can feel you clenching around my fingers, my cock—"

And then his low, throaty groan cut through the air, and the sound — so intimate, so hot, so fucking reminiscent of all the times he'd spilled inside you — shoved you violently over the edge.

With a wordless cry, you shattered, your core rippling and gushing around your buried fingers. Distantly, you heard Satoru praising you through his own desperate grunts and moans, heard the rhythmic slap of his hand as it pumped his twitching cock through the aftershocks.

For long, panting moments, you just trembled and gasped in the aftermath, boneless and buzzing, your heart pounding against your ribs. Your skin felt too tight, your body alive and electric in a way only Satoru could cause — even from miles away.

"Fuck, what you do to me, woman," Satoru said after a moment, his words hitching a bit like he'd just stretched out real good. "You should see the mess I made over here. I'm covered in my own cum, it's all over my stomach and chest. Fuck, I haven't come that hard from just my hand in years."

"I wish I could see that.” You slipped your fingers out of your core and reached for a tissue before collapsing back onto the bed. “Wish I could watch you come, see every drop spill onto your skin. God, I'd lick it all up, every fucking drop, nice and slow."

"Fuck," Satoru choked out, and you could practically hear him trembling through the phone. "You're killing me here, you know that? I'm too old to get it up again this fast, but fuck if you aren't making me want to try."

You laughed. "Sorry, sorry. I'll behave. For now."

"You, behave?" Satoru scoffed, but you could hear the smile in his voice. "I'll believe that when I see it."

"Guess you'll just have to keep me in line then, won't you?"

"Careful what you wish for. Next time I get my hands on you, I might not let you go for days."

"Hm. I’m scared,” you teased.

"Oh, love. You have no idea what you're in for. I'm gonna fuck you so hard and so long that we're gonna break that tiny dorm bed of yours, just you wait."

"Promises, promises, counselor,” you said even as a smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. God, you couldn't wait to have him in your bed, in your body, surrounding you with his heat and scent.

Suddenly, your phone chimed with a message notification. You pulled it away from your ear to check the screen and for a moment you forgot how to breathe.

It was a picture from Satoru — or rather his lap.

His sculpted abs and muscular thighs framed the shot and in the center a very familiar thick, generously proportioned cock, red and swollen and covered in milky cum, a pearly bead of liquid welling from the slit. 

Damn. 

He really had made a mess. 

"Fuck, Satoru. Warn a girl before you go sending porn of yourself, would you?”

"What, you don't like your presents? And here I put so much effort into the lighting and angles."

You huffed out a laugh, your cheeks flushing hot as you continued to stare at the picture. "Oh, I didn't say that. Trust me, this is going in the top tier spank bank folder. Might even make it my new background, so I can stare at your dick all day during boring lectures."

"Don't you dare. My cock is for your eyes only, got it? No sharing with the class."

"Aww, you're no fun.”

"Oh, I'll show you fun.”

“You know—” You rolled onto your side and hugged a pillow to your chest. "You should come visit me sometime."

There was a beat of surprised silence, then a sharp inhale. "You want me to come to your college?"

You shrugged even though he couldn't see it. "I mean... yeah. Why not?”

"But what about Suguru? I thought he made it pretty clear he didn't want me within a hundred miles of you.”

"My dad's not here though, is he? He can't exactly stalk our every move when I'm hours away at school. And besides, I'm a grown woman. He doesn't get to tell me who I can and can't see."

"You're really trying to give your old man a heart attack, huh?"

"To be fair, I think we both are," you said with a chuckle. "So, is that a promise? You'll come see me?"

"Sure. I'll drive up this weekend. We can grab dinner, take a walk around campus, whatever you want."

"And then barricade ourselves in my dorm room and not come up for air until Sunday night, right?"

A low, strangled groan echoed over the line. "God, I can't wait to get my hands on you. My mouth on you. Wanna make you scream so loud, the whole damn dorm knows exactly how well you're being taken care of.”

Your face hurt from how hard you were smiling. "Looks like we both have our work cut out for us then. Good thing we've got all weekend to cross some things off the to-do list, because I've already got a few ideas."

"Oh, really? What ideas?”

"Mm, that would be telling.”

"You goddamn tease," he laughed, the sound warm and rich and god, you'd never tire of hearing it.

A beat of comfortable silence fell between you, filled only with the soft sounds of your matched breathing over the line. It was intimate in its own way, just existing together in this quiet moment.

"I miss you," Satoru said quietly, “really miss you.”

You inhaled shakily, your heart racing in your chest. "I miss you too.”

Another pause, heavy with unspoken emotion.

"Sleep well, love," Satoru murmured finally, a soft smile in his voice. "Dream of me."

"Yeah, you too, counselor," you whispered back. "See you soon."

And then he was gone, the line clicking off, leaving you alone with the pounding of your heart and the swirling mess of your thoughts.

You rolled onto your back and stared up at the ceiling, trying to make sense of the emotions churning in your gut. This thing with Satoru—it was supposed to be casual. Fun. Just a hot little affair between two consenting adults, no strings or expectations.

Just really good sex.

Mind-blowingly good sex, sure, but still just sex. 

But the way he'd sounded just now, so soft and earnest, the way your pulse raced and your skin tingled at just the thought of seeing him, being near him—

God, what was this feeling? 

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the tiny, traitorous voice whispering that it was so much more than that.

It couldn't be. 

You couldn't let it be.

Because you were married to tennis. And Satoru, with his high-powered career, was always jetting off to handle cases abroad.

This, whatever this was between you, it had an expiration date. 

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

The sun beat down on the back of your neck as you bounced lightly on the balls of your feet, racket at the ready. Your hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, a few sticky strands clinging to your sweaty face.

You'd been out on the court for over an hour, serving balls and perfecting your moves. It was tough as hell, but damn did it feel good to push yourself, to feel the satisfying burn in your muscles.

Tennis was your escape, your passion. 

When you were on the court, nothing else mattered. Not school, not picking a major, not deciding if you should chase your pro athlete dreams.

Out here, it was just you, your racket, and the ball. 

Pure and simple.

You were so focused on your practice, so absorbed in the steady back and forth of the ball, that you completely missed the fact that you had an audience. At least, until a very familiar voice called out, cutting through the regular court sounds.

"Hey there, superstar."

You turned around, to see Satoru walking towards you, a rakish grin on his unfairly handsome face. He was dressed casually in dark slacks and a light sage button down, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his muscular forearms.

"Satoru?" you gasped, your heart racing. "What are you doing here? I thought you weren't coming 'til tomorrow."

He shrugged, tucking his hands in his pockets as he got closer. "Couldn't wait that long. Kept picturing you out here, all alone, in that little skirt..." His eyes raked over you, hot and heavy, lingering on your bare legs. "Let's just say it was a bit too much for my poor imagination to handle."

You flushed, a thrill chasing down your spine at the blatant appreciation in his gaze. Suddenly, you were acutely aware of your skimpy tennis dress, of the way the thin, sweat-soaked fabric clung to your curves.

"So what, you just decided to drive all night and ambush me on the court in broad daylight?" You crossed your arms, trying to look stern even though you were fighting back a smile.

"Ambush? I prefer 'surprise’, or maybe 'make your whole day’, given the way you're looking at me right now."

You scoffed, but couldn't stop the grin that broke free. "Awful sure of yourself, aren't you counselor?"

"With good reason." He reached out and cupped your face in one big, warm hand, his thumb stroking over your cheek so tenderly it made your breath hitch. "After all, I have it on very good authority that you've been pining for me. Yearning, even."

"Oh, is that so?" You leaned into his touch, your skin sparking at even this simple contact. 

God, you'd missed him. 

Missed this easy back and forth, the simmering tension that always stretched between you.

"Mhm." He dipped his head, his nose brushing against yours, his breath fanning hot over your parted lips. "A little birdie might have mentioned something about you sighing wistfully and doodling my name in hearts all over your notes. Very high school of you, by the way."

You huffed, giving his chest a playful shove even as you felt your face heat up. "In your dreams."

"Mm, always." His other hand found your hip, fingers slipping under the hem of your skirt to stroke over the smooth, sweaty skin there. "But looks like reality's even better this time around."

Your breath hitched, need spiking through you sudden and sharp. Your hands fisted in his shirt, tugging him closer, wanting to feel more of his heat. "Satoru," you warned, but it came out breathy, wanting. "We're in public. Anyone could see..."

"Fuck it, let them," he said, his grip tightening on your hip, his eyes going dark and intense in a way that made your knees weak. "Let the whole damn world know who you belong to. How fucking gone I am for you."

You nearly moaned, your fingers tangling in his hair, torn between dragging him closer and pushing him away. "But I can't suck you off in public now, can I?" 

"Fuckin' tease. You're going to pay for that.”

"Mm, can't wait. But for now, I've still got practice to finish up."

"Look at you, being all responsible." His lips trailed down your neck, making you shiver. 

"I mean, if I'm gonna go pro, I can't slack off, right?"

He pulled back a little to look you in the eye, his smile going soft. "You're really serious about that, huh? Going pro?"

You shrugged, feeling suddenly shy under the warmth of his gaze. "Yeah, I mean...it's not like, a totally crazy dream, right?"

"Not even a little bit, love. You can do anything you set your mind to. And I'll be right there in the front row, cheering you on every step of the way."

God, the sincerity in his voice, the absolute faith shining in his eyes. It made your throat go tight and your heart feel like it was ten sizes too big for your chest.

"Satoru, you..."

"—are incredible? I know," he cut in with a cheeky grin.

You just smiled, a soft, tender thing that felt too big for your face. 

Yeah, he really was incredible. 

He smiled in return, leaning in to press a quick, sweet kiss to the tip of your nose. "Now, what do you say, we see if I remember how to swing a racket, hm? I'll even let you beat me, since you've been practicing so hard and all."

"Oh, you'll let me beat you? That's adorable. Try to keep up, old man. I remember you playing real bad.”

“Oh, is that so?” 

“Pretty bad, yeah.” You grinned, giving his chest a little shove with your racket. "Bring it, counselor. First to five wins and the loser owes the winner any favor of their choosing."

Satoru's smile was slow, wicked. "Any favor, huh? Dangerous words, love. You sure you wanna give me that kind of power? I might make you regret it later."

"Or maybe I'll make you eat those words," you teased, already backing towards your side of the court, adrenaline buzzing through your veins. "Guess we'll just have to see how it plays out."

"Brat.” He shook his head, huffing out a laugh as he moved into position. "Alright, challenge accepted. Just remember—" His grin turned downright feral. "When I win? And I will win, I'm gonna collect on that favor so hard, you won't be able to walk straight for a week."

A shiver chased down your spine, your core clenching at the blatant heat in his gaze. But you just smiled, slow and sure, adrenaline already thrumming through your veins.

This. 

Him. 

The push and pull, the electric charge that always crackled between you — god, it was everything. Invigorating and addictive and so, so right.

"Oh, I'm counting on it, counselor.” You bounced lightly on your toes as you readied your first serve. With a wide smile, you tossed the ball skyward. And then the sharp thwack of the ball as it met your strings, the satisfying smack as it hit the court on his side.

Game fucking on.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

You did win, of course.

And Satoru wasted no time in making good on his forfeit.

"Fuck, don’t stop," you panted, your hips rolling shamelessly against his face, "feels so fucking good."

Satoru’s hands were firmly on your hips as you rode his face. Your core gliding over his lips and tongue, painting his face with your arousal. The obscene wet sounds of him licking and suckling filled the room, mingling with your breathy moans and sighs.

Satoru licked and sucked and nibbled at your clit, alternating between broad, flat strokes of his tongue and delicate flicks over your throbbing nub. He explored every inch, delving into your tight core and fucking you with the slick muscle until you were keening and thrashing above him.

Your hands moved from the headboard to his hair, tangling in the soft white strands, holding him in place as you started to move faster, grinding your clit against his nose, his chin, his lips.

"Satoru," you chanted mindlessly. "God, yes, just like that. Don't stop, don't fucking stop, I can’t—ah."

He groaned long and low, the sound muffled against your core, and doubled his efforts. His tongue delved deep, curling inside you in a maddening motion that made your vision blur at the edges. His nose rubbed your clit with every rock and grind of your hips, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Without warning, he pressed two thick fingers into your clenching heat, curling forward to rub over that spot just how you liked it. At the same time, Satoru sealed his lips around your clit and sucked.

It was too much, too intense. 

Your orgasm that had been building at the base of your spine, in the quivering pit of your stomach, exploded outwards. You bucked and writhed on his face, practically screaming as pure bliss crashed through you, pulsing out from your core in searing waves. Your core spasmed around his fingers, gushing release over his chin and his nose.

Through it all, Satoru worked you mercilessly, his mouth and hand never faltering, wringing out every last shudder until you collapsed forward, clinging weakly to the headboard. Your thighs trembled on either side of his head, shiny and sticky with your spend, the occasional residual clench making you whimper.

"Holy shit," you managed, still panting. "I'm so fucking glad you suck at tennis."

"Ouch," he said with a laugh. "I'd say I scored at least one point there."

"Yeah, because I let you.”

"Double ouch.”

Slowly, carefully, he eased you off his face and back onto the bed, shifting to hover over you on his elbows. His cheeks and chin were drenched, glistening with your release. 

You reached out to swipe a thumb over his slick skin, wiping away some of the mess you'd made. "You've got a little something there.”

"Oh, do I?" He turned his head to nip playfully at your finger, his tongue darting out to lick your arousal from the digit. "Hmm, wonder what that could be. Certainly not the evidence of you coming apart on my tongue. Multiple times, even. But who's counting?"

"Smug doesn't suit you, Satoru.”

He chuckled, low and warm, then sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. You watched as he stood and stretched, the lean muscles of his back rippling under perfect skin. He was completely unselfconscious in his nudity, utterly at ease with your heated gaze tracing over every inch of him.

Satoru padded across your dorm room, his footsteps silent on the thin carpet. He came to a stop in front of your bookshelf, his head tilting as he examined the various trophies and medals displayed there.

"Impressive collection you've got here.” He reached out to pick up a particularly shiny trophy, turning it over in his hands. "This from the championship last year?"

You sat up, hugging the sheet to your chest. “Yeah, that was a hell of a match. Went to three sets, thought my lungs were going to give out on me by the end of it."

He hummed, setting the trophy back in its place with care. "I remember. I was stuck in a conference room, listening to some blowhard drone on about market fluctuations, but all I could think about was you. Must've refreshed the score update page a hundred times, nearly wore out my phone battery."

Your heart stumbled in your chest, your breath catching. "You...you kept up with my matches? Even when you were abroad?"

Satoru glanced over his shoulder at you, his eyes warm and bright in the golden afternoon light filtering through your blinds. “Of course I did. I've always admired your determination and drive, ever since you started college and made it clear tennis was your dream. You think I could focus on anything else when I knew you were out there absolutely crushing it on the court?"

Your heart raced. The idea of him, thousands of miles away, still cheering you on, still invested in your passion, your success—

It meant more than you could ever put into words.

"You know, it was strange for me, seeing you again after so long," Satoru admitted, trailing his fingers absently over a polaroid photo that lay beside your trophies — you, sweaty and beaming, holding a massive trophy aloft. "You'd grown into this incredible, self-assured athlete.” He turned to look at you. “Who would have thought we'd end up like this one day?"

"Not me, that's for sure. But just to be clear, I was always an incredible, self-assured athlete. You've just gotten old, Satoru. I mean, is your hair even more white than before or is it just me?"

"And here I thought I was being sweet."

You smiled slowly. "You are. Kinda."

He raised an eyebrow. "Kinda? Just kinda? Damn, tough crowd."

You grinned, stretching languorously against the pillows. "Can't let that ego get too big, or your head won't fit through the door."

"Oh, I think we both know it's not my head you need to worry about fitting, love.”

"You're ridiculous. Why do I put up with you again?"

Satoru walked back over to the bed, leaning down until he was hovering over you, his face mere inches from yours. "Don't even try to pretend you don't love it.”

"In your dreams.”

He cupped your face in his large, calloused hand, his thumb stroking tenderly over your cheekbone before he dipped his head to press a soft kiss to your mouth and you immediately melted into him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, your body arching up to meet his, before you tugged him down onto the mattress.

The kiss deepened, growing wetter, hotter, more urgent. Satoru's tongue traced the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, and when you parted for him, it was with a low, needy moan that made his lips move even greedier against yours.

His hand slid from your face to tangle in your hair, his fingers twisting in the strands as he tilted your head just right to deepen the kiss. His body pressed closer, heavier, his knees pushing your thighs apart as he settled between your legs.

"Not so fast," you breathed against his lips, your hands splayed across his firm chest. With a deft twist of your hips, you rolled him beneath you in one swift motion, straddling his waist.

Satoru blinked up at you, momentarily stunned. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a knowing smirk, his large hands coming to rest on your bare thighs, his thumbs stroking circles over your skin. 

"Oh, so you wanna take control now, huh? Be the boss?"

"Please, you know you love it when I'm on top." Your hips began a slow, teasing grind against the rigid length of him nestled between your thighs. 

Satoru's breath hitched, his fingers digging into your thighs as you circled your hips just right, the slick drag of your wet core sliding over his aching cock. "You flatter me, love, because I lose my mind in any position with you. But you know, two can play this game."

His hands suddenly shot to your hips, gripping bruisingly tight. With a sharp jerk and a low, purposeful grind, he rocked you against him hard, the pressure on your clit just shy of painful in the most delicious way.

You gasped, your back arching, your nails raking down his sweat-slicked chest. "Fuck, Satoru," you whimpered, your hips moving of their own accord, chasing the delicious friction. "Don't stop." 

"What happened to being in control, hm?"

"Oh, shut up”

Every drag of your slick folds over his thick length made you shiver and gasp, lit you up from the inside. You could see the desperation in his eyes, the way his jaw clenched and his chest heaved with each teasing glide of your hips. 

He looked so needy beneath you, his hands gripping your thighs painfully tight, his hips moving against yours, seeking more of your friction.

"So, when do you want to end this torture?" he asked.

"What, can't you take a little teasing?"

"Oh, I can, but right now, I'm losing my mind here. If you don't let me fuck you already—"

"Then do it," you say breathlessly, your own need reaching a fever pitch.

He didn’t need to hear more.

One broad palm abandoned your hip to notch underneath your thigh, spreading you wider as the other hand delved between your rocking bodies to grasp his shaft, lining the thick head up with your entrance.

With a moan, you sank down onto him, your body accepting the slow invasion inch by thick inch. When he bottomed out, when the coarse brush of his pelvis met your clit, you both groaned low and long, lost to the connection, the perfect completeness of your bodies finally joined.

"God, you feel so incredible," Satoru gritted out, his fingers digging into your hips as he fought the urge to simply buck up into you, to set a bruising pace and chase his pleasure selfishly. "So damn tight and hot and perfect. Never gonna get over how good you take my cock."

"Fuck, Satoru," you panted. "You're so deep like this—"

Your babbling dissolved into a whimpering keen as he moved his hips, grinding the thick root of him against your G-spot. You braced your hands on his sweat-slick chest and started to move, rising up until just the tip of him kissed your entrance before slamming back down, a scream catching in your throat at the maddening stretch of him.

"Just like that," Satoru urged breathlessly, his neck corded with strain, his teeth sunk into his lower lip as he watched you bounce on his cock through a haze of desperate lust. "Ride me, love. Take this dick, milk me fucking dry. Wanna feel you come on me, soak my cock in it, fucking ruin me."

Your movements grew faster, more desperate, your cries becoming higher pitched and broken as you chased your rapidly approaching climax. 

Suddenly, Satoru sat up, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest. The shift in angle made you gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly for balance as he sank even deeper inside you.

"Fuck, Satoru," you whimpered. “Feel so good—"

"Shhh, I've got you." One large hand splayed across your lower back, the other tenderly cupping your cheek, his touch unexpectedly gentle. "I'll always have you, love. No matter what."

Then his hips started moving in a slow, rolling rhythm again, each thrust sending heat straight to your core, making you temporarily forget his sincere words. You clung to him, your foreheads pressed together, your breaths mingling in the narrow space between your lips.

"You're everything to me, you know that?" Satoru murmured softly.

Your heart skipped a beat at his confession. 

But before you could fully process it, his hands slid down to grab your ass, grinding you harder against him. A gasp escaped your throat at the sudden increase in pace as you rolled your hips faster to meet his thrusts, your clit rubbing maddingly against him with every downward motion.

In one smooth move, Satoru rolled you both onto your sides, your back flush against his solid chest, still intimately joined. The new position made you moan out, the angle allowing him to sink even further into you.

"Please tell me we'll never stop doing this," he moaned, his lips on your ear.

“No, never, Satoru. God, please never stop.”

One muscular arm banded across your waist, holding you firmly against him as he started to move. His free hand reached up your sweat-slicked body to tighten around your throat, arching your head back to rest against his shoulder.

"Satoru," you panted, reaching back to thread your fingers through his hair, keeping him close as he trailed open-mouthed kisses along the column of your neck. "God, please never stop fucking me.”

"Never, love," he murmured against your skin, his hand drifting lower, fingertips ghosting over your quivering stomach. "I’m never gonna stop fucking you, wanna feel you come apart on my cock again and again until you can't take it anymore."

He rolled his hips just right, hitting that perfect spot inside you that made your core clench. At the same time, his clever fingers found your aching center. A broken moan tore from your throat, your head falling back against his shoulder.

You were close, so fucking close.

But Satoru, god, he knew your body so well, knew exactly how to keep you riding that sweet, torturous edge without letting you fall. Every time you thought you couldn't possibly handle any more, he would change his angle or vary his rhythm, keeping you suspended in an endless loop of blissful torture that had you shaking and gasping his name.

“God, you take me so fucking good.” His teeth sank into the curve of your shoulder as the thick head of his cock slammed into you at that perfect angle. "You feel so amazing, so perfect around me, fuck, gonna fill you up so fuckin' full—"

His words were your undoing. 

With a sharp cry, your release crashed over you, your body clenching and pulsing around him as wave after wave consumed you. Your inner muscles clamped down on him, rippling and fluttering and milking his cock for all you were worth.

Satoru fucked you through it relentlessly, prolonging your pleasure until it bordered on pain, all while he chased his own release.

Without warning, Satoru flipped you over onto your stomach, his body covering yours as he pushed back inside you with a deep, almost desperate thrust. One of his hands snaked around to grip your throat lightly, his chest molding to your back as he set a punishing pace, driving into you with abandon.

"Oh fuck, love, I'm gonna—shit, you feel so fucking good—" His words dissolved into incoherent moans, his hips starting to lose their steady rhythm as his climax approached.

He pounded into you harder, faster, the force of his thrusts pushing you up the bed, your hands scrabbling for purchase on the sheets. And then, with a guttural groan, he let go, his release flooding you, painting your walls with his seed.

You could feel every twitch and throb of his cock as he emptied himself deep inside you, your own clenching core greedily milking him for every last drop.

For long, blissful moments, you simply shook and shuddered together, his cock still buried to the hilt, hearts pounding in sync. Satoru's arms tightened around you, his face buried between your shoulder blades, his ragged breaths gusting over your sweat-dampened skin.

"I swear it gets better every goddamn time,” he mused against your lips. “Never gonna get enough of you, never gonna stop craving the way you feel around me.”

You huffed, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the sudden tightness in your chest. "Yeah, you've really ruined me for all other dicks, just so you know." You turned your head to catch his eyes.

A slow smile spread across his face. He straightened up, his hands wandering over the curve of your ass before delivering a light, playful spank.

“Hey!" you yelped.

Grinning unrepentantly, he leaned down and playfully bit one of your buttocks. "God, I can't wait to see this ass in your little tennis skirts again," he growled, soothing the sting with a kiss.

"What, that gets you all hot and bothered?"

"Yeah, totally. I'm hard the second you shimmy into one of those tiny things."

"Well, good thing you'll be seeing me in them a lot more often then.”

"I’m counting on it. Can’t wait to see you in those skirts winning matches all over the world.”

You bit your lip, a sudden wave of uncertainty crashing over you. "Dad wants me to have a backup plan, you know? In case the whole tennis thing doesn't pan out."

"And since when do you give a fuck what he thinks?" Satoru challenged, his fingers trailing up your spine, making you shiver.

"Fair point," you conceded, your lips twitching. But the smile faded quickly, replaced by a frown. "I mean, It's a nice dream, but...what are the odds, really? It's not exactly a realistic goal."

Slowly, gently, he slipped out of you, both of you moaning at the loss of contact. He pulled you close, tucking you into the curve of his body like you belonged there.

"Says who?" he demanded, his voice fierce, almost angry. "You're incredible. You have just as much chance as anyone else, if not more so. You shouldn't give up on your dreams just because the path isn't easy."

Your heart clenched, your throat suddenly tight. "You really think I could do it?" you whispered, hating how small, how uncertain you sounded.

"I know you could." He cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking over your bottom lip with a tenderness that made your breath catch. "You're so strong, love. On the court and off. When you set your mind to something, nothing can stand in your way. It's one of the things I lo—" He caught himself, clearing his throat roughly. "One of the things I admire most about you."

Your heart stuttered at his little slip, at the unspoken four-letter-word lingering in the air between you. But you pushed it aside, convinced you must have misheard him. There was no way he was about to say what you thought he was—right?

No, it couldn't be. 

This thing between you, it was just physical. Just a bit of fun, a way to blow off steam. You needed to remember that, needed to cling to that truth like a lifeline.

You swallowed hard.

"I mean it, love," Satoru continued softly, his hand coming up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "You should look at schools with top tennis programs. Places with the right coaches, the right resources to help you improve your skills and get noticed by the pros.”

"Yeah, I should," you said slowly.

"Wherever you want to go, I'm with you. But please, just choose a university with a remotely decent law firm nearby. Otherwise, I'm gonna be bored as fuck.”

Your heart stopped. 

You pushed back from him slightly, needing space, needing air. "What? Why?" you croaked, certain you'd misheard, misunderstood. Because surely he couldn't mean—

God, he couldn't—he didn't really—

Did he?

Conflicting emotions crashed through you, painful in their intensity. Disbelief and wonder, longing and panic, hope and fear, and a strange, bubbling rush that felt dangerously close to—

No. 

No, it was too soon, too much. 

This thing between you, it was just physical. Just a casual affair, a temporary outlet for the attraction that crackled between you.

Wasn't it?

"I thought this was casual between us," you said.

As his words hung in the air between you, a flicker of something raw and vulnerable passed over Satoru’s features before he could mask it with casual nonchalance. For a moment, he looked almost — wounded. 

As if your dismissal of this thing between you had struck a physical blow, knocking the air from his lungs and the hope from his heart.

But you couldn't let yourself dwell on it, couldn't let the ache in your chest sway you from your chosen path. Because this—tennis, your future, your dreams—it was everything. The driving force that had gotten you through countless early mornings and grueling practices, through blisters and bruises and the bone-deep exhaustion that came with pushing your body to its limits day after day.

It was your passion, your purpose. 

The one thing in your life that made sense, that gave you direction and drive.

You had to choose.

And as much as it killed you, as much as it felt like ripping your own heart out with your bare hands—

You knew which choice you had to make. Which path you had to take, no matter how steep and lonely it might be. Because tennis was your future. Your purpose, your calling, the one thing you'd built your entire identity around.

And Satoru — god, Satoru was a beautiful dream.

But he was only a dream.

And you can’t chase two dreams.

God, this was so fucking unfair. So cruel and confusing and utterly, devastatingly unfair.

Because you wanted him. Wanted him so badly it felt like a physical ache, a hollow void in the center of your chest that only his touch, his kiss, his love could fill.

But you wanted tennis too.

Wanted tennis more.

And you couldn't risk it.

Because falling for him, letting yourself want more than stolen moments and secret meetings — it was a distraction. A beautiful, tempting, utterly destructive distraction.

"I need to focus on my training, you know? I can't afford any...complications right now,” you said quietly.

Satoru's eyes closed for a second, his jaw clenching as if he were physically biting back the words that wanted to spill out. When he opened them again, his gaze was shuttered, unreadable.

"Yeah, you're right. You should focus on your career, on getting everything you want out of life.” Satoru cleared his throat, his hand sliding down to grip your hip, his thumb tracing idle patterns on your sweat-cooled skin. "Well then, Now that we've got that settled...what do you say we move on to more pressing matters?"

"Pressing...matters?"

Satoru's smile sharpened. "Mhm. Like round three...or is it four now? I've lost count."

Your breath caught in your throat as he settled between your parted thighs, the thick, heavy weight of his length pressing against your entrance. 

"Satoru," you managed, your hands coming up to grip his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. "I think we—"

"Shh," he interrupted, his gaze so intense that any reply died on your lips. "Don't speak. Just feel."

And then he was pushing forward, the broad head of his cock breaching your entrance, splitting you open inch by maddening inch until he bottomed out.

For a suspended moment, he held himself still, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath mingling with your own. And in that pause, that infinite stretch of time, something shifted between you. 

When he started to move, it was with a desperate urgency, a possessive edge that bordered on rough. His kisses turned bruising, almost punishing, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave marks, to brand you as his own.

It was hot and messy, frantic and almost frightening in its intensity. 

He fucked you like he was trying to imprint himself on every inch of your skin, to make you his in a way that went far beyond the physical. Like he knew, with a brutal, aching certainty, that he would never have the chance to touch you like this again. 

Never feel your heat, your softness, the perfect give of your body beneath his own.

And despite yourself, despite the sickening knowledge that this would only make things harder in the end — you wanted it. 

Wanted him, all of him, in a way that defied logic and reason. 

Even if it was selfish, even if it would hurt him more in the long run, you couldn't bring yourself to stop. Couldn't deny yourself this one last taste of paradise, this fleeting glimpse of a future you knew you could never have.

So you clung to him, your hands scrabbling over the sweat-slick expanse of his back, your legs winding around his waist to pull him deeper, harder. 

You let him take you apart with ruthless precision, let him wring cry after broken cry from your lips as he pounded into you again and again, chasing oblivion, chasing connection, chasing the impossible dream of forever.

Even if it was just for one night.

Later, as you lay tangled together in the sheets, your body aching and spent. He gathered you close and held you like he never wanted to let go. Like he could keep you there, in the circle of his arms, in the warmth of his bed, if he just held on tight enough.

He stayed the night, his face buried in the crook of your neck as you drifted off to sleep. 

But when you woke the next morning, he was gone. 

The sheets were cold beside you, the indentation of his head on the pillow the only sign he'd ever been there at all. 

A note on the nightstand said something had come up at work.

He was a terrible liar.

And could you blame him, really? After all, you'd been the one to set the terms, to draw the lines. You'd been the one to put your career, your ambition, your lifelong dream ahead of your heart. Ahead of him.

So what right did you have to feel betrayed, to feel abandoned, when he was just following your lead?

No right at all. 

But that didn't stop the ache in your chest.

But it was too late now.

You'd made your choice. 

And it wasn't him.

No matter how badly you wished it could be.

Game. Set.

Goodbye.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

In the weeks that followed, life returned to its usual rhythms. 

Classes, practice, the endless cycle of drills and conditioning that made up your days. You threw yourself into your training with a single-minded focus, determined to chase your dreams, to reach the pinnacle of your sport.

But even as you went through the motions, even as you pushed your body to its limits and lost yourself in the familiar burn of exertion — something felt off. 

Different, in a way you couldn't quite put your finger on.

It was like a constant itch beneath your skin, a restless energy that had you tossing and turning at night, your mind churning with thoughts you couldn't seem to quiet. Thoughts of him, of the way he'd touched you, tasted you, the way he'd looked at you.

You couldn't seem to shake the memory of his hands on your skin, his lips on your neck. The way he'd held you, like you were something precious, something cherished.

Like you were his everything.

And god, how you ached for it. How you longed for his touch, his presence. For the easy banter and the heated glances, the way he could make you laugh even as he set your blood on fire.

For the way he made you feel seen, known. Understood, in a way no one else ever had. Like he could look into your eyes and see straight to your soul, to the heart of you. Like he knew you, inside and out.

But he was busy, consumed by his work. 

At least, that's what he told you.

Not that you had a right to complain.

You’d made your choice, and now you had to live with it. Tennis was your dream, your passion, and you couldn't let anything or anyone distract you from that. 

Not even him. 

You buried yourself in your training, in the familiar rhythms of the court. In the thwack of the ball against your racket, the burn of your muscles as you pushed yourself harder, faster. 

As you chased the high of victory, the rush of dominance. The sweet satisfaction of a point well-played, a match well-won.

But even as you poured your heart out on the court, even as you fought for every point, every game, every set — you couldn't escape your own head. The doubts, the second-guesses, the nagging sense that maybe, just maybe, you had made a terrible mistake. 

That in choosing your dream, you had lost something far more precious. And slowly, inevitably, you began to realize.

But god, there were so many reasons why you shouldn't.

He was so much older than you. 

He was your father's best friend.

And then there was your career, your dream. 

The goal you'd been chasing since you first picked up a racket, the future you'd sacrificed so much for. Could you really risk it all, put it all on the line for a man you'd only just begun to really know, to love?

Your head said no. 

Said it was too reckless.

That you had worked too hard, come too far, to throw it all away now. 

But your heart—

Oh your treacherous heart, whispered a different story. Whispered that maybe, just maybe, he was worth the risk. Worth the sacrifice.

And so, torn between your head and your heart, you found yourself at a crossroads. Caught between the dream you had always chased and the love you had never expected to find. 

So with a deep breath and a racing heart, you made your decision.

Heart over head.

For the very first time in your life.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

You stood outside Satoru's office, heart pounding in your chest as you raised your hand to knock on the door. The seconds seemed to drag on forever before you finally heard his voice, muffled but unmistakable, calling out, "Yeah, come on in."

Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the door and stepped inside. Satoru glanced up from his desk, his eyes widening. "Wha—What are you doing here?"

You held up a small, prettily wrapped box. "I brought you macarons.”

"Oh, uh...thanks, that's really sweet. But I've got a meeting coming up soon, and I'm not sure now's the best time, you know?"

You walked further into the room, letting the door swing shut behind you with a soft click. "Yeah, I know. I checked with your secretary about your schedule."

"You did?” 

“Yeah.” You walked towards him, setting the box of macarons down on his desk. "I wanted to talk to you."

He leaned back in his leather chair, his eyes searching your face, like he was trying to read between the lines. "You know your dad's got an office here too, right? If he sees us together, he's gonna be—"

"I know," you interrupted. "That's why I asked for his schedule too. Looks like we’ve got at least 30 minutes to ourselves, give or take."

Silence fell over the room like a heavy blanket, as you stared at each other across the expanse of his desk. Your heart was a wild thing in your chest, your palms clammy with nerves and anticipation.

"I'm going to Stanford," you blurted out.

Satoru blinked. "I thought you were set on Princeton."

"But Stanford's got better law firms.”

His brow furrowed, confusion written all over his unfairly handsome face. "But what's that got to do with—"

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage, your resolve. And then you stepped around the desk, coming to stand before him, so close you could feel the heat of his body, the whisper of his breath against your skin.

"Move there with me," you said.

His brows furrowed. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying...I want you. Want this, want us. Together, for real. Not just for sex, but...but a real relationship.”

His eyes went wide, his mouth falling open in shock. For a second, he just stared at you, like he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. Like he thought maybe he was dreaming, or hallucinating, or—

"Are you serious? You really want that? Want...us?"

“Yes.”

"Are you sure?" he asked again, as if he's genuinely not able to believe it, hesitant even as his hands came up to settle on your hips, to tug you closer. "Because if we do this, if we go down this road...there's no going back.”

You nodded, your fingers sliding into his hair, anchoring him to you. "I'm sure. I'm all in, Satoru.”

He let out a shaky breath, his hands tightening on your hips. And then he was surging up, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that seared your very soul, that branded you as his own. 

You melted into him, into the heat and strength of his body, the desperate clutch of his hands on your waist. Into the slick slide of his tongue against yours, the nip of his teeth on your bottom lip. Into the sheer, overwhelming rightness of being in his arms, of being wholly and completely his. 

Body, heart, and soul.

And as you lost yourself in him, in the taste and feel and perfect inevitability of loving him — you knew.

Knew that this was where you belonged, where you were always meant to be. 

In his arms, in his heart.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, your arms winding around his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair. Tugging him closer, ever closer, until there was no space left between your bodies. Until you were pressed against him from chest to hip.

He walked you backwards, never breaking the kiss, until you felt the edge of his desk digging into your backside. Without breaking the kiss, he lifted you effortlessly, settling you on the edge of his desk.

Papers scattered, pens clattered to the floor, but neither of you paid any mind. 

You gasped into his mouth, your legs parting instinctively to make room for him between them. He stepped into the cradle of your hips like he belonged there, like he'd finally found his way home.

Like you were his missing piece, his perfect fit. 

Frantic hands tugged at clothing, desperate for the feel of skin on skin. Your fingers made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, pushing the fabric off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor, baring the smooth expanse of his chest to your touch.

Satoru's own hands were just as busy, slipping beneath the hem of your top and skimming up your sides, leaving trails of fire in their wake. You lifted your arms, allowing him to strip the fabric over your head and toss it aside.

"God, you're beautiful," he rasped, one hand coming up to trace the curve of your cheek, to tangle in your hair. "So fucking beautiful, it hurts to look at you sometimes."

Your heart stuttered, emotion welling up thick and fast in your throat. "Satoru," you whispered, your own hands sliding up his arms, over the strong, solid breadth of his shoulders. "You know we don’t have much time, remember?."

“Yeah, you’re right.”

He claimed your mouth again, his kiss hot and deep and filled with barely restrained need. Hasty hands fumbled with the fastenings of pants, shoving fabric down and out of the way with an almost frantic urgency. 

And then he was stepping between your spread thighs, the hot, heavy weight of his erection pressing against your core, parting you, teasing you. You wrapped your legs around him, hooking your ankles at the small of his back to urge him closer. 

“You know, family dinners are going to be really awkward from now on."

"God, Satoru, don't say that now—" you began, but your words cut off on a sharp gasp as he surged forward, his hard length sliding home in one smooth, powerful thrust.

As Satoru thrust into you, each deep stroke hitting that perfect spot inside you, it struck you just how right this felt. Despite the age difference, despite how unconventional your relationship was, being with him like this — it was like coming home. 

Like your bodies were made to fit together, two halves of a whole.

It wasn't just the physical pleasure, though god knows there was plenty of that. It was the way he looked at you, the way he touched you, like you were the most precious thing in his world. The way he made you feel cherished, adored, safe and wanted and so incredibly loved.

He was your home, your heart, your everything.

"Satoru," you suddenly gasped out. "I love you."

His rhythm faltered, his eyes flying to yours. For a second you panicked, thinking you'd scared him off, ruined the moment. But then a slow, beautiful smile spread across his face, his gaze so full of tenderness it took your breath away.

"I love you too," he rasped. "God, you have no idea how much. I'm so fucking in love with you."

He leaned down to kiss you, messy and desperate, pouring all his love and longing into the press of his lips. You kissed him back just as fiercely, and soon you were both moving again, chasing that peak together.

It wasn't going to be easy, you knew that. 

There would be plenty of people who wouldn't understand, who would judge and condemn. But wrapped up in his arms, lost in the bliss of his body moving with yours, none of that seemed to matter.

This was right. 

This was real. 

This love you shared, it was the kind that could weather any storm, overcome any obstacle. As long as you had each other, you could face anything.

It wouldn't be a conventional life, by any means. But it would be yours. Yours and his, together. And really, that's all that mattered.

Because in the end, love was worth fighting for. And this love? This crazy, complicated, wonderful, once-in-a-lifetime love?

It was everything.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

"You nervous?" 

Satoru's voice pulled you back from your thoughts, his sky blue eyes framed by snowy lashes capturing your attention. For a moment, you forgot how to breathe, lost in his gaze, but then you inhaled deeply, centering yourself. 

Nervous?

You considered the question, searching within for the telltale flutter of butterflies, the icy clench of anxiety. But there was only calm, a steely determination, and a quiet confidence in your abilities.

"No," you replied, a hint of surprise in your voice. "I'm not, actually."

Your eyes wandered back to the court, where the final preparations were underway. The electric atmosphere enveloped you, the excitement of the crowd palpable in the air. This was it — the Wimbledon final, the culmination of years of blood, sweat, and tears. 

Turning back to Satoru, you shook your head. "I should be though, right? I mean, it's the Wimbledon final. Feel like I should be nervous."

Satoru's smile was warm and proud, his hand reaching out to caress your cheek. "You don't have to be anything you don't want to be. If you're not nervous, then that's okay. Trust your instincts, trust all the work you've put in. You've got this."

"Thank you," you whispered, leaning into his touch. "For being here, for always believing in me. I couldn't have done this without you."

"Yes, you could have. You're the strongest, most resilient person I know. But I'm damn lucky I get to be here to watch you shine."

Your lips twitched into a faint smile.

Footsteps approached, and you turned to see your dad, a water bottle in hand and a slightly anxious furrow between his brows. "Hey, champ," he said, handing you the water. "How you holding up? Nerves kicking in yet?" 

Before you could answer, Satoru chimed in, a playful grin on his face. "She hasn't decided yet. But either way, she's got this. Our girl's a champion, through and through." 

You shot him a look, cursing him a little for his choice of words.

Your dad's gaze flickered between you, and for a moment, you braced yourself for the inevitable awkwardness, the unspoken judgment. But then he smiled, warm and genuine, and clapped Satoru on the shoulder. 

"Damn right she is," he agreed, his voice filled with pride. "And we're here to support her every step of the way."

And in that exact moment, looking into their eyes, filled with unwavering belief, you knew one thing for sure — even if you lost today, you'd already won in all the ways that truly mattered. 

And really, what could be better than that?

Then, the announcement came for the players to take their positions. 

Satoru turned to you. "Alright, love, this is it. Time to show the world what you're made of. Get out there and crush it, yeah? You've got this." 

You nodded. "Yeah, let's do this."

Satoru's answering smile was proud and just a little wicked. He pulled you close, his arms wrapping around your waist as he captured your lips in a searing kiss. Melting into him, your mouth opened under his as the kiss deepened, turning hot and hungry. 

His tongue swept into your mouth, tangling with yours in a dance that set your blood on fire, nearly making you moan into his mouth, forgetting, for just a moment, where you were and what you were about to do.

A pointed cough from your dad broke the spell. Satoru pulled back with a roguish grin, wholly unrepentant. 

You were breathing hard, your lips tingling and your heart racing, but there was no nervousness, no uncertainty. Only the bone-deep knowledge that you were exactly where you were meant to be, doing exactly what you were born to do.

Satoru's hands slid down to your hips, his touch lingering, electric. "Go get them, love." 

You flashed him a final smile, then turned to make your way onto the court. Satoru's hand found your ass one last time to give you a playful, proprietary slap as you walked away. You didn't see it, but you were sure your dad gave him a death glare for that.

The sun peeked through the clouds as you strode forward, the place buzzing with energy. 

It was the finale, and you'd be lying if you said it didn't feel like a dream come true. People screaming your name, the realization that you were really here, in this moment, living your passion.

As you took your place on the baseline, racket in hand, stretching one last time, adrenaline singing through your veins, you risked a final glance over to the sidelines. 

Satoru was watching you, his gaze intense and full of so much love and pride it took your breath away. When he caught your eye, he winked.

Your dad rolled his eyes and let out a long-suffering sigh. "Will I ever get used to seeing you two like this?" he asked, the question directed at his lifelong best friend, but also, perhaps, at himself.

Satoru chuckled, his eyes still trained on you. "You're getting better. I remember the first few months, you constantly looked like you were about to lose your shit and murder me in my sleep. But you're managing okay now."

"Yeah, I still can't quite believe it. My best friend and my daughter… I'm not sure I'll ever fully come to terms with it."

"I know it's unconventional. I know it's not what you would have chosen for her. But I swear to you, I love that girl with everything I have. I'd do anything for her, be anything she needs me to be. She's it for me. The one."

Your dad was silent for a long moment, his gaze tracking your progress across the court. "I know you do. And that's the only reason I haven't killed you yet." 

Satoru barked out a laugh. "Well, thank you for your restraint.”

"Seriously though," your dad continued. "She's happy. Happier than I've ever seen her. And that's all that matters to me." 

They both watched as you stepped onto the court, your head held high. You began your pre-match routine, circling your wrists to loosen up. Your eyes were already locked on your opponent across the net.

As you moved through your stretches, reaching down to touch your toes, twisting at the waist, rolling your shoulders, Satoru's gaze never wavered from your form. A slow smile spread across his face as he watched you.

"Will you accept the offer they gave you?"

"Huh?" Satoru responded distractedly, his focus still on you.

"The offer to lecture at Stanford.”

"Oh, right," Satoru said, finally tearing his gaze away from you to look at Suguru. He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, maybe. I haven't really decided yet."

Your dad huffed out a laugh. "You're probably the only person in the world who would even consider turning down an honor like that."

Satoru chuckled, his attention drifting back to you as you took your position on the court. "Ah, you know I never cared about prestige. And to be honest, I'm currently enjoying being a tennis husband. There's still so many places we haven't explored together, you know?"

"You're not a husband yet, though," your dad pointed out.

"Am I not?" Satoru grinned, fumbling with the back pocket of his pants. He pulled out a small case and held it up for Suguru to see, flipping it open.

Suguru's eyes widened. "You serious?"

Satoru's smile only grew wider, his gaze drifting back to you on the court. "I'm gonna ask her after she wins."

"And what if she doesn't win?"

A laugh escaped Satoru's lips. "C'mon, we both know she's got this in the bag."

Your dad was quiet for a long moment, his gaze distant and thoughtful as he watched the shiny ring in the case. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. "I'm damn glad she has you, Satoru. I really am. Even if you are a pain in the ass sometimes."

Satoru blinked rapidly. "Wow. That's maybe the nicest thing you've ever said to me. I'm touched, truly."

"Yeah, well, don't let it go to your head," Suguru grumbled. "You know I'll still kill you if you hurt her."

"Yeah, figured," Satoru grinned, slipping the ring box back into his pocket. "But trust me, that's never gonna happen."

"Good."

Satoru watched you for a moment, then turned to Suguru once more. "By the way, should I've asked you for permission or something? You know, since you're her dad and all."

Suguru rolled his eyes. "Don't make this any weirder than it already is."

"I can start calling you dad from now on, right? Or maybe pops? What do you think?"

"Absolutely not. Don't even think about it."

"Aw, come on," Satoru pushed, his grin growing wider. "We're practically family now, right? I mean, I'm going to be your son-in-law soon."

"Satoru..." Suguru warned, his tone dangerous.

"Ooh, I know! How about father-in-law dearest? That's got a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"I swear to god, Satoru, if you don't stop right now—"

"Okay, okay, fine," Satoru relented, holding up his hands in surrender. "I'll stop. But just so you know, I expect you to give a heartfelt speech at the wedding. Something about how you always knew I was the one for your little girl, even when we were kids."

Suguru stared at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he reached out and clapped a hand on Satoru's shoulder, his grip just a little too tight for comfort.

"Satoru," he said, his voice deceptively calm. "If you don't shut up right now, there will be no wedding because you'll be six feet under."

"Jeez, no need to get violent," Satoru said, wincing under Suguru's iron grip.

"Then not another word about being my son-in-law, got it?" Suguru smirked, releasing his hold on Satoru's shoulder. "Just promise me you'll make her happy."

"Always," Satoru said, rubbing his shoulder. "I swear it."

"Great. Now, let's watch the match, shall we?" Suguru said, returning to his composed self in a split second.

"Please," Satoru agreed, still massaging his shoulder as he turned his attention back to the court, back to you, ready to cheer you on to victory.

Because you both knew that no matter what challenges the future might bring, no matter where this crazy, beautiful life might take you—

As long as you had each other, you could handle anything.

And that? That was a pretty damn beautiful thing.

Game, set, love.

Forever.

<- prev chapter | completed ✓

author's note: wooooaaa here it is, the happy ever after for these two adorable idiots !! hope you enjoyed this fun short little story as much as i enjoyed writing it. so thank you for sticking with me and leaving all those lovely comments and messages, they always bring the biggest smile to my face !!

and please ignore any inaccuracies regarding american universities. i have no clue and just widly came up with things haha.

once again, thank you for reading, and i hope our paths cross again in another story. have the most wonderful day !! <3

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© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or modify my work.

[cosmicanakin]

Hi, can you do an imagine about pranking vinnie, and telling him to try not to annoy you today, please

★ PRANKS.

੭୧ . . . vinnie hacker x female!reader.

ᯓ you prank your boyfriend by telling him not to annoy you and it backfires, which wasn't what you expected.

warning(s) angst┆pranks┆emotional distress┆crying. 𓇼 thank you for requesting anon babe ! i'm sorry if it wasn't exactly how you wanted it but i hope you enjoy <3 mature content!

　✧⠀ ⠀⠀　𓈒　⠀⠀ ⠀૮₍ ´ ꒳ `₎ა⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ꪆৎ masterlist.

you wake up feeling mischievous, plotting a prank to play on your unsuspecting boyfriend vinnie. thinking up the perfect plan to really mess with him, you can't help the smirk forming as he slowly stirs awake.

leaning over, you whisper in his ear "good morning baby." however, your usually sweet tone holds an underlying edge of irritation that has vinnie blinking in confusion. before he can say anything, you continue in a clipped manner.

"i'm already annoyed so don't bother me at all for the rest of the day, okay? i mean it." his eyebrows furrow, clearly taken aback by your sharp words. searching your face for any sign that it's a joke, hurt washes over him as you give no indication you don't seriously want space.

"okay..." he says hesitantly, hurt flickering in his eyes as he climbs out of bed. part of you feels guilty seeing how your prank is already affecting him, but you're determined to commit fully to the bit. hopefully he'll catch on soon that you're messing with him.

throughout the morning, vinnie keeps his distance as asked, seeming uneasy and unsure what to do to not annoy you further. any attempts at jokes or affection are met with exaggerated irritation, cementing in his mind that you genuinely need space from him.

it grows harder to maintain your façade as his usual cheerfulness fades into guarded silence. by midday, remorse is gnawing a hole in your gut seeing how dejected vinnie appears. when he recoils from your touch with worried eyes, you can no longer take it.

"vinnie, i need to tell you something," you start, grabbing his arm as he tries to walk away. he pauses but doesn't turn, shoulders hunched in defeatedly. "this was all just a stupid prank baby, i don't actually want space from you."

whirling around, hurt and anger flash across his features. "a prank? i thought you were seriously pissed off at me! you had me questioning everything all day," he shouts, hurt turning to rage the longer he processes how badly you messed with him.

"i'm sorry, it was just a joke. i didn't mean to actually upset you,” you scramble to apologize but he brushes past, heading for the door. "where are you going?" panic surges through you, worrying you may have broken the fragile trust between you.

"i just need to be alone for a while, i can't even look at you right now," he spits venomously before slamming the front door behind him. collapsing to the floor, you pull your knees up to your chest as quiet sobs escape your lips.

hours pass with no word from vinnie, your texts and calls going unanswered in a painful silence. night falls heavily, adding to your despair wondering if you pushed him too far this time. just as you're about to give up hope, the door creaks open slowly.

lifting your head, you see vinnie standing uncertainly in the doorway, eyes puffy and red-rimmed from his own tears. without a word, he crosses over and falls into your waiting embrace, holding on for dear life. neither of you speak for a long while, simply taking comfort in being close again.

finally, vinnie pulls back enough to look at you with watery eyes. "i'm still so fucking mad at you but i love you too much to walk away. just promise me no more stupid pranks, okay?" he pleads brokenly.

"i promise, i'm so sorry sweetheart. can you ever forgive me?" you ask, cupping his face gently. he nods, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips in acceptance of your apology. holding each other tightly, you both silently vow to communicate better to avoid such hurt in the future.

your love proves stronger than any misstep could fracture, bonding that transcends fleeting fallouts. here in sanctuary of each other's arms rediscovered, all remnants of shadows melt under floods of forgiveness' warmth. two souls learn as one, growing through missteps refined to blossoms entwining roots anchored in understanding deeper than any sea. this you vow eternally, to cherish the blossoms arising where hearts intertwine.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲 | Part 5

A smile from you is all he needs to feel recharged.

Tags/Warnings: Game Designer!Jungkook, Non Idol AU, established relationship, Angst , emotional kook, suggestive messages, poor Maria pt.1 [Tags will be different for every part!]

Length: 1k Words

There is no taglist for this fic.

Collab with @euphoricfilter ! 💜

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

This is not going to plan at all.

Not only is he behind schedule wise, he's also not thought about the possibility of what this all might look like to you at all. Because why would you even think that in the first place? He'd be absolutely stupid to cheat on you, let alone with a 64 year old married woman of all people!

But then again, you don't know that part- and he also can't really properly explain it as he would surely blow his own cover, and he's just too close to the finish line to give up now. He already almost cried at deleting your face ID and fingerprint from his phone, feeling like he deleted the memory of setting those things up too, but he swore himself it's for a good cause down the line. You'll make so many more memories together for sure, and they'll top those more than by just a little. He'll make sure that they will.

[Alright, I'm so excited! Next time let's do it this way right from the start- no need to make it so complicated!] Maria had wrote him in full, and he reads over it with a bit of worry. Does she really understand what he meant by his worries?

[I'm not sure you understand. I'm planning something big, and I'm also behind when it comes to physical intimacy these days, you know?] He writes the woman, who he's asked prior about the rules and such regarding.. well, sex in the home he's renting out for the upcoming special occasion he's planned. He doesn't want to get locked up for not following some Airbnb laws he overlooked after all. That would just be embarrassing. [And we're very intimate people. I'm taking her pleasure and happiness seriously, if you get the hint.] He texts her as he boils some water on the stove for his absolute accurately made ramyeon.

[Oh trust me, I've been young too! No need to be shy, I can only imagine that emotions will run high most likely!] She responds, and Jungkook pursed his lips for a second, before he starts to play with his piercings deep in thought.

[No, Maria, I don't think you get it-] he begins to type. [-it's been almost two full weeks at this point, that's the longest we've ever gone without any sex, we're talking at least three orgasms a day times fourteen, I've got some major catching up to do..] jungkook sends her, before he puts his phone down for a second as to prepare the instant noodles properly.

[It's fine, really. No need to worry!] The woman responds. But jungkook wants to make sure.

[She's a squirter- you know what that is right? Either way it's gonna get messy so I'm just making sure you REALLY know what you're getting into if you say it's alright because the carpet looked really nice and I'm not sure how to get cum stains out of that] he rambles, not noticing you emerge from the bedroom now as you put your bag on one of the kitchen chairs. [I can replace it too if that happens no problem, you know how my girlfriend gets haha. Well you don't but you will know after we're done with the place-] he taps and accidentally sends out as you call his name, causing him to almost drop his phone into the soup pot on the stove, only barely catching it in time before he can practically throw it into the pocket of his sweatpants. "Yeah?" He asks towards you, and you look at him still way too hostile in his opinion.

He knows you can be a bit of a hot head. It's what he loves about you- how fierce you can get and how you'll always stand your ground. But he also knows that you're a bit of an aklebiter with some serious anger issues sometimes- once you see red, you don't see anything else anymore. So he's got to be careful not to fuck it up any further, because once he loses you, he loses for good.

Because you're stubborn if you've made up your mind.

"The water's boiling over." You mumble, avoiding his gaze as you sit at the kitchen table, arms crossed in defense. He jumps at your words and turns off the stove at that, somewhat awkwardly playing up some food into bowl for the both of you, watching you eat silently across from him with an almost needy gaze.

You're gonna probably try and kick his balls if he asks you to sit on his lap right now, so he swallows down the request to keep them intact.

He's gonna seriously crunch some hours while you're sleeping over at a friend's house so he can still make the deadline, able to pass up on sleep with you not actually home to scold him for it. He hates the fact that the app on his phone constantly reminds him of the lack of intimacy between you two- taunting him with notifications about his streak being broken, his record being topped, his spot up top on the scoreboard being taken. He hates it. He created this app, he should be the one who's best at it too!

God he can't wait to get his hands on you again. He feels like his dick is going to fall off in the next few days.

And it's not just that, either. He doesn't sleep well when you're not with him, he misses all the interactions you usually have during the day, the love, the intimacy of just being close, he misses it so bad. And he kind of doesn't want you to leave right now- he'd love to just call it quits and just cave in, but he's come too far now, and you're also a strong independent woman. You deserve to choose where you want to go or stay, he's got no say in that- or at least he shouldn't try to have it.

"I.. You'll text me when you wanna come back home, right?" He asks as he finishes his bowl, and you shrug.

"Whatever." You mumble. "S' not like you want me home for more than the chores anyways." You huff into your food, and he can't help but feel his eyes tear up. No, stupid Jungkook, don't fucking cry right now. You're gonna ruin it all with your dumb tears and weak heart just like always-

"I do want you home.." he mumbles quietly, blinking harder to avoid you spotting anything off- but you notice. Of course you do.

"...I'll text you." You say, and that at least soothes his mind for the moment as his phone falls out of his pocket, screen cracking and making him cringe.

Fuck. That's the what.. 20th time this year?

But it's all worth it, if it means he can at least see the hint of a smile pull at your lips for once.

The sight alone motivation enough to make him work even harder now.

[lucifers-rubber-duck]

im back with more chaotic modern reader x hazbin crew... 👀👀

just imagine a reader who cannot take things seriously. like, oh you're sad? their response is either "not a slay" or "that didn't eat". oh Angel and Husk are having yet another argument and the rest of the hotel is tense (-Alastor)? reader just obnoxiously sips tea. oh Adam is going on his "I'm better than you all" rant during the fight? reader just obnoxiously chews popcorn.

A/N: I rewrote this a few times because I had too many ideas on what to do but didn't want it to be too long. Anyways, hope you enjoy Anon!

• You just don't get why people make such a fuss about stupid things, they're already in hell, what are they whining about? This place isn't even that bad, it is way different from what you were teached at least, you actually enjoy being here.

• You're not the most reliable person to go to when it comes to having a serious conversation, you just don't give two shits about anything, why should you? Does it really matter in this place, even if some demon gets angry at you, it's not like you can die again.

• You saw Charlie crying or just really stressed out about the hotel, you either tell her to suck it up or don't even bother engaging and go call Vaggie to deal with it, not your girlfriend, not your problem. Sir Pentious says his sinceres sorries to you? You tell him to go fuck himself and still gives him death stares for a week, he destroyed the wall Alastor made you clean up earlier that day and you hold grudges very easily.

• Husker and Angel are having a discussion? You're filming it and whispering “Fight fight fight” in the back, you'll take any drama that happens at the hotel. And when they come back all friendly and even being gross with each other you put your head on the bar's counter and let out a disappointed sigh; “You two are flirting now? For fuck sake, I can't have jackshit in this hotel can I?”

• Lucifer is coming to the Hotel? You cared at first, but then realized he was not as hot as you imagined the king of Hell would be and decided that you won't mind, you only really pay attention to when he and Alastor are fighting. Your eyes did tear up a little bit when Lucifer and Charlie solved things with each other but you won't ever say that out loud.

• When Vaggie finally revealed that she was a angel to everyone, you took it as the biggest gossip of the year instead of and actual emotional moment and did not understand why Charlie was so shocked at this information, like, c'mon, that shit was the best.

• When the final battle is close, the one that you can actually kill you for good, you don't get all emotional, your side has a army of cannibals, Alastor and the princess of Hell, why should you worry? Still, you find yourself drinking with your hotel mates the night before the fight, you find yourself talking happily to Charlie and Vaggie, telling Sir Pentious to just kiss Cherri Bomb already, you congratulate Angel and his future relationship with Husker which makes him laugh.

• This is Hell, you're here because you deserve it, but tomorrow is another day that no one can tell what happens so might as well enjoy it while it lasts, but you totally don't care about the hotel, yeah… Totally don't care.

[1toreyouapart]

What It Cost

****THIS IS A FICTIONAL STORY BASED ON REAL PEOPLE. 18+ ONLY. I DO NOT OWN THE RIGHTS TO THE PEOPLE OR MUSIC MENTIONED IN THIS STORY OUTSIDE OF LILITH AND SADIE AND MAYBE A COUPLE OTHERS. DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE NOT UP FOR FANFIC INVOLVING REAL PEOPLE***

Terrible summary: Five years since she last spoke to him. Since she last saw him. Now his face and his voice is everywhere. She can't escape him.

Five years ago Noah destroyed her and the life they had built. Now he’s back and seeking to make amends. As much as she wants to say that it's too little too late, is it?

CW/TW: Angst, mention of addiction, cheating. Mention of character death. Language. Smut (later on). PinV, unprotected PinV (wrap it before you tap it, friends), oral (f&m receiving). Cyberbullying. All smutty warnings happen later on, so I’ll update TW/CW warning labels as those parts are written and posted. If I forget anything, please let me know so I can fix it! Thank you!

Part 4-Lilith

"Lilly, baby-"

"You don't get to call me that anymore." She interrupted, taking another step back.

She never should have gone to that dinner, knowing he would be there. Everything had been just fine until last night. Sure, she definitely still had some damage to deal with, but she would handle that. Now, here she was, Noah standing in her kitchen, looking like he was crawling out of his skin just being there. Her phone continued to go off, this time with texts and a couple missed phone calls. Why the fuck had she gone to that dinner?

"Lilly, ignore it. It's being handled." He pleaded with her, taking a tentative step towards her.

"Why are you here, Noah?" Her voice shook, everything she was holding back threatening to burst forth.

Noah stopped, his impossibly dark eyes frozen on hers. Lilly watched the silent battle he waged with himself, his mouth opening and closing at each attempt to speak.

"I'm sorry." He sighed, taking another tentative step toward her. "For five years I've thought about what I would say if I ever saw you again, and it all just sounds like bullshit. I don't know what else to say. Just that I'm sorry."

Lilith laughed, unamused. The apology she'd been waiting on, and it rang hollow in her ears when she finally got it. All this time and all he could say was sorry? What the actual fuck? Rage bubbled inside her, drying her tears.

"Fuck you, Noah. Fuck you and your stupid fucking apology." Lilith sniffed, another hollow laugh bursting out of her. "You're fucking sorry?"

Noah flinched, but kept his eyes trained on hers. Swirling in them was an emotion she didn't think she had ever seen before. Shame. But it was mixed with something else she couldn't quite put her finger on. What was he playing at here? And why now?

"What the fuck do you really want, Noah? Why are you really here?" She spat.

"Lilly-"

"Seriously. Five fucking years and you show up here with that bullshit?"

Lilith watched as he rubbed at his chest, his anxiety spiking. What did he think was going to happen? That she would just say all was forgiven and everything would be fine? None of this made any goddamn sense to her. Noah didn't just apologize like this. This wasn't how Noah did things. He always implied he was sorry, something she should have recognized well before things got where they had.

"Noah-"

"I have spent every goddamn day of the last five years wishing I could go back and fix it. That I could just go back in time and never do any of the shit that I did." He interrupted, a single tear slipping down his cheek. "But I can't and I fucking hate myself for what I did to you. None of this, the success, the fame, mean a goddamn thing when at the end of the day, you're not fucking home, Lilly. You're not home and I did that, and I can't fucking fix it."

Right before her she watched him crumble. Lilith watched as he dropped to his knees, clutching his chest, his breath coming in short spurts. She didn't know what to do. He had always been so calm unless he was yelling. So stoic. Now here he was, on his knees on her kitchen floor, unable to keep up the facade any longer. And as angry as she was, her heart hurt for him. It felt like it was shattering to pieces right inside of her chest and she couldn't stop it.

"I can't fucking fix it, Lilly. And I'm sorry. I'm fucking sorry."

Trembling she approached him, reaching for her phone. Never before had she seen him like this, and she was helpless. What was she supposed to do here? What was she supposed to say? Should she even say anything? Do anything? Tears blurred her vision as she dialed Jolly's number, glancing up to see Sadie stepping back into the kitchen, eyes wide at the scene in front of her.

"What's happenin', Thumbelina?" Jolly's voice cut through the panic.

"Jolly? Come quick. He's snapped."

She didn't bother to wait for a response before she hung up, tossing her phone on the floor next to her. Swallowing the lump in her throat she did the one thing she could think of. Slowly, still shaking like a leaf, she dropped down in front of him, throwing her arms around him and squeezing as tightly as she could. If she were to be honest with herself she needed it just as much as he did. Something to keep her grounded and together.

"Noah?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Breathe, okay? Just breathe. Please. Sadie? Water, please?"

"Yeah. On it."

Lilith sat back on her heels a bit, taking his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. His dark eyes were unfocused, looking everywhere but at her. As angry as she was, she didn't want him feeling like this. Because as much as she shouldn't, she still cared. And seeing him like this absolutely terrified her.

"It's gonna be okay, Noah. Jolly's on his way. He'll be here soon, okay?"

Sadie's hand appeared, holding a glass of water. Grateful she took it from her, offering it to him. When he didn't respond, she set it next to them, wrapping her arms around him again. This time she scooted closer, practically crawling into his lap, burying her face against his neck. If nothing else she could do this, even if it felt a little too much like coming home to be this close to him. She could bury that deep down later.

Noah's impossibly long arms slowly slid around her, crushing her against himself. Lilith squeezed tighter, praying Jolly got there soon. This was far too comfortable, and the realization that she could easily fall right back into him was more terrifying than anything.

"I'm sorry, Lilly. I'm so fucking sorry." He muttered, his breathing finally starting to slow down.

Jesus, fuck.

Tags: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @haylaansmi

[comebackali]

top five figure skating routines of all time? not necessarily the best executed or scored but the ones that hit you the hardest <3

oh lmao this is gonna out me as a fake fs fan who's really only been following the sport for the last like... 8 years. there is not gonna be anything on this list before the 2010s, and these are all gonna be the most basic takes. we don't care. we like what we like. i don't know sports, but i think there must be smth about the first athletes you really follow that just makes them a cut above the rest and makes them stay with you forever. so here's that, for me.

allie's top five comfort figure skating routines:

1) tessa and scott's "moulin rouge" at the 2018 pyeongchang olympics:

nothing will ever be this, no one will ever be them. truly the greatest moment in Sport History. the greatest in choreography, in presence, in chemistry. the greatest warhorse, the greatest team of all time. and the best they've ever been!! being able to watch this routine get better and better and then have them preform it the best they ever had when the stakes could not have been higher. the music starts and i get chills over my whole body. also the hugs and kisses after, the moment they find out they win. nothing will ever top this moment for me. you truly had to have Been There Gandalf, that season, their comeback, to understand the euphoria of that moment. literally bottle it and sell it as crack tbh. (also scott mouthing along to "come what may" always makes me fucking EMO lol)

2) evgenia medvedeva's "anna karenina" also at the 2018 pyeongchang olympics:

imma be real with you bestie, this is not even close to the greatest ladies fs routine of all time, and yet it is the routine i end up rewatching the most. something about it. i think to myself, "it's time to rewatch evgenia medvedeva's anna karenina again" a few times a month. and like, it is beautiful. no matter how many times i watch it i am entertained and engaged the entire time by the weird ass swirly swirls. but the emotion, the stakes, the drama. it just makes everything better and more poignant. i watch the whole thing with my heart in my throat. the way she's full sobbing by the end of it, and knowing how it all turns out, just gets me man. 2018 was such a blessed, cursed time.

3) tessa and scott's 2008 world championship "umbrellas of cherbourg"

oh hey look, something from before 2010. in all seriousness all this list is telling you is that i am an ice dance fan first and foremost, and a tessa and scott fan before that. as far as comfort programs go this is probably my number 1. i've watched it so many times. i used to tell people it was my favorite figure skating routine, and watching it again now i'm like, based?? there is something so intoxicating about this routine. they are just little babies!! and the near kiss at the end always sends me into a tizzy. this routine has cast it's spell on me. i am it's humble servant.

4) piper and paul's "hitchcock" routine from 2014 world's:

i can't believe i almost forgot this one. THE CUNT!! THE CUNT!! who the fuck else doing it like these PSYCHOS??! paul's face at the end. literally no one has ever served more face. face card carding or whatever the kids say.

5) yuzuru hanyu's prince routine from 2017 world's:

i can't believe i'm picking (1) yuzu routine and it's this one. i oscillated so much between this one and "hope and legacy" which is obviously gorgeous and iconic, yet here we are. it was my first instinct so i'm going with it. but i have no explanation. he fucks up his quad sal and very nearly falls, adding a double on the end and still managing to serve absolute cunt. at some points you can barely hear the music over the sound of the screams. truly, performance of all time!! the stupid lil vest/pants combo. his cunty lil dance moves. he is truly in his element here. i love him sm.

honorable mentions: elizaveta tuktamysheva's "toxic":

many lesbians were created here

the shib's "that's life" from the 2016 grand prix final:

1000/10 for being hot and turning me bisexual

[lemon-russ]

Today's parade of fleas comes with a complementary/ optional musical accompaniment

BABY SAID - Måneskin

Lots of this was written at 3am on my phone and deep in my Unwell (tm) brain land. I love putting them in situations.

Part 5/ ???

1 :: 2 :: 3 :: 4 :: 5 :: 6 :: 7 :: 7.5 :: 8

Cato Sicarius x F!Reader

(Cato POV 3rd person this time though)

CW: Talks about sex, Cato being a bully (verbally)

Summary: Cato does not want to talk about the events occurring from the discovery of the new emotion of horny

word count: 2,096

He couldn't even begin to explain to himself why he just did that. He sits on the floor of the cave, staring ahead with a blank, tense look, thinking about how sometimes, he does things, and sometimes, they have consequences. Like this awkward, confused silence.

The ambassador sits a few feet away, sharing a similar look. She was flushed still, hair a mess, dress barely holding on after the rock wall of the cave shredded the back of it. By the throne she looked good like this- No, stop that, doesn't he learn? This whole thing was insane and now he's going to have to live with it, and yet he's still sitting here daydreaming of how she'd look on her back and fully naked next time.

But there isn't going to be a next time, because that was a moment of insanity. They had been arguing, why did he kiss her? Okay, he knows why, but he doesn't want to actually think about that, because it's a stupid reason. She'd been insisting he didn't care about her- which is correct- but for some reason some sort of madness overcame him and he wanted her to think he did care. Okay, maybe he cared like, a little. Not anything weird, it's not sentimental to not actively wish death on someone. He'd go so far as to say it wasn't even overly familiar to wish someone does not die.

But that feels like a long leap between I'd be displeased if you perished and pinning her to a wall and fucking her mindless. Which he will admit, he did do. And he was excellent at it, of course. Cato Sicarius is the greatest at all feats of combat, and what is sex but really sticky awkward combat? He smirks to himself a bit. Another grand mastery to mark down, even if it was one he might prefer to keep to himself. But, unfortunately, unlike regular combat, your fighting partner here stays very much alive- hopefully- and can do things like ask you what was that about and what the actual fuck was that about Cato, no, seriously, what was that. He grimaces and takes a deep breath, letting it out tiredly. Not physically tired of course, he was superior in all things, including this, and was not so weak as to tire so fast- not that that matters, because, again, it won't happen again. But if it did, it could happen right now. Theoretically. Space marine stamina was second to none.

She glances over at him, expression mirroring his internal conflicts. “So….” She says softly, a small frown tugging the corners of her mouth. He clears his throat. “So.” He returns, frowning back. Emperor this was awkward. Truly a fitting punishment, to be forced to endure such banal things like talking about feelings after sex. He shudders to himself.

She frowns a bit deeper. “Are we going toooo…. Talk about that or….” She asks in a nervous voice.

Ah, excellent, she was giving him a choice. He sighs in relief, smiling genuinely for the first time in what feels like a week. “No, thank you.” He says politely, standing and brushing off his pants. What a weight off his mind, maybe he could do this sex thing more often-

“Cato.” She says, displeased. He frowns. He didn't know it was a trick question, but apparently he'd gotten it wrong. He groans. “Can't we just, pretend it didn't happen?” He pleads with an exasperated look. “What happens on dirt rock planet stays on dirt rock planet or something?” He grumbles, checking outside for the armies. Night had fallen, but he didn't see anything new at least.

“You seriously aren't going to explain what that was about?” She says, growing more frustrated. His eye twitches. This, this is why astartes are not supposed to take women to their beds. They can't move on from things and need to talk about unimportant drivel like motivations and futures and labels. Uhg. He rolls his eyes, giving her an annoyed look. “What's there to say? Your face when you got angry was attractive and I fell to baser reactions after a long and stressful day of saving you from perils.” He said dryly, crossing his arms and leaning against the cave wall, facing out and keeping watch.

She groans, “That's your excuse? You just, decided today was the day to grow a heart and feel human needs and you take it out on me?” She says tiredly.

He huffs out his nose, frowning over his shoulder at her. “I have two hearts, actually. Maybe you should read up more on the superior anatomy of an astartes and spend less time droning on about weather with nobles.” He frowns back out at the landscape. Was that a light…?

She growls in frustration. “Unbelievable. No, actually, very believable. It's my fault, really, for fucking you and thinking maybe you were having some sort of emotional breakthrough-” he hushes her, making her fluster in anger, but his eyes are trained on the light outside, and she catches the hint and just huffs out her nose a little. She quietly scootches over to see what he's looking at. Daft woman, a mortal's eyes can't see that far in the dark.

“I don't see anything…” she murmurs. No shit. Maybe he shook the last cobwebs of intelligence from her skull when he slammed her against that wall. He just hushes her again, making her pout. He glances at her annoyed little face and briefly considers repeating his misstep- no, focus Cato, there's enemies around. And he's pretty sure she can't take being fucked any dumber before she loses her ability to form speech. He smirks to himself at his little internal diss as he scans the landscape again.

He sees a search party now, combing the area back and forth in lines. Fuck. That is very, very bad for them. “Time to go” he says quietly, scooping her up onto his shoulder, making her squeak as air was knocked out of her a little. He frowns a little and glances at her kicking and annoyed little form. Well, maybe there was a few minutes before that party found them- no, no she cries like a banshee when she comes, they'd find them in minutes.

He sighs, moving her onto his shoulder upright. “hold onto my armor” he instructs, standing with her clinging to the neck of his armor, sitting on his power pack like he's giving her a piggy back ride. He puts his helmet on, “We're going to be running and calling for a pickup.” he says, ducking out of the cave and into the cold desert night. She shivers and he grimaces. Right, she barely has clothes on. Not that he cares if she's cold, but, it’s probably not great for their cover if her teeth chatter. He sighs and reluctantly tugs his cape off its holds on his back. “Here. Your ridiculous outfit choice once again forces me to do everything for you, wrap yourself in this.” He grumbles. She blinks at him, expression something he couldn't read, and takes the cape, using it like a blanket and tying it around herself. She smiles a little at him and he grimaces. “Stop that.” He demands. “Don't look at me like that. It freaks me out.”

She raises her brow and sighs. “Lets just get home.” She says, rubbing the bridge of her nose, mumbling something about mixed messages. That's stupid. His messages were very clear. He never mixes them. He huffs and starts heading away from the search party into open dark desert.

He moves at a light jog, and after a few minutes, she makes a sharp noise, making him stop and look up at her. Shes frowning, “ah- sorry, don't mind me, I'm just sore from… well… the power pack is a little hard to sit on right now.” She mumbles, glancing away awkwardly.

He sighs. “squishy, breakable mortal.” He says tiredly, pulling her off his back with a squeak. “Aren't you meant to push children out of there? How could I so damage you by doing what nature intended for it.” He grumbles as he moves to cradle her bridal style instead.

She's surprised a moment as he holds her, then frowns a bit. “I don't think astartes count as things nature intended to happen to it…” she grumbles, pink staining her cheeks as she glances away. He chuckles to himself as he starts jogging again, “Ah yes, nature could not predict the perfection of the space marine. Maybe we should create genetic enhancements for women, allowing them to not break the moment they are touched in any capacity.” He speculates to himself. “The basics, really, hardened bones, healing, sturdier flesh, some spare organs. Maybe increased pelvic capacity so an astartes lover doesn't rend you more useless than usual.” He says, smirking down at her behind his helmet. “Then I wouldn't have to work so hard this whole trip to just keep bullets out of you. It has been a huge trouble for me, you know.” He says with slight annoyance.

She groaned and rolled her eyes. “Are you seriously still doing this? You admitted to me already that you care about me and didn't like seeing me hurt.” She says with a tired scowl.

He nods, “Yes, which is also deeply disturbing. Now I have to keep you free of holes and breaks, because if I don't-” he stuttered in his gait, taking a small breath. He was thankful for the helmet, it was hard to school his expression right now, and it hid the terrified grimace that assaulted his face muscles at the thought of her becoming injured. He let out a tense sigh. “Well, it is quite annoying that for some reason I will be the one to suffer if great harm comes to you.” He grumbles a bit.

She blinks up at him- ah, there's that stupid puzzled look again. It'd be cute almost if it wasn't so agitating that she could apparently not comprehend simple thoughts at random. He sighed. “What is that face for? Shall I say it slower with smaller words?” He asks dryly.

She frowns and knits her brow, but was still looking at him like he'd grown another head like a chaos spawn. “You are possibly the most stubborn or most dense man I've ever met, and I can't decide which it is. Maybe both.” She says, shaking her head. The action makes some of her hair fluff around her face and he scolds himself when he thinks it's cute. “What in the Emperor's name are you on about now, you senseless creature?” He asks in exasperation.

She rolls her eyes. “I don't think I have the time or crayons to explain the entirety of the concept of interpersonal relationships and emotions to you right now, Cato.” She says tiredly, laying her head against his chest plate. He smiles at her cuddling to him- wait stop that she insulted you, do not smile- he forces a frown. “You do not need to explain these things to me. I know them well.” He huffs indignantly. “I am Cato Sicarius, master of many things, including psychology.” He says, pouting under his helmet. He already solved psychology this morning.

She chuckles for some warp damned reason, actually laughing at emperor knows what. He frowns down at her as she giggles herself into a fit. “I fear your mind may have sustained one too many hits, knocking what's left of your brain against the inside of your ceramite skull.” He says with a small scowl. “You seem to be losing more and more of your senses every passing moment. Perhaps it is good I did not actually render you unconscious to make you easier to handle. You probably wouldn't be able to speak again.” He says with an annoyed tone as he picks up the pace and voxes an SOS signal with their location up to the flagship.

She laughs more, snorting a little and shaking in his arms. It makes him crack a smile himself against his will. “You are mad, Woman.” He grumbles, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice. That's what it all comes down to, he decides. Women are simply all completely mad. Boom, he solved women, the eternal enigma. He smiles to himself. He was on a roll today, but that's expected. He's Cato Sicarius, there is no mystery he cannot unravel.

[mixterglacia]

THIS IS THE PART WHERE LOGAN BITCHES ABOUT CARTOONS

WARNING: VIVZIEPOP CRITICAL, STOLITZ CRITICAL

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. I don't like this show, and I don't pretend to. Full transparency, I'm meaner in this then any before now. This is also slightly more disjointed than normal because I was directly reacting to the episode it's self.

"I swore I wouldn't dwell on the divorce." MAYBE WE SHOULDN'T BE RUSHING THESE THINGS BECAUSE IT FEELS LIKE HE'S WAITED TWO DAYS. EVEN IF IT'S BEEN MONTHS IT DOESN'T FEEL LIKE IT.

"I'll hear him and not the voice that says I'm not enough" Oh boo hoo bitch. You've seriously done nothing to convince me to feel bad for this stupid fucking asshole. His writing is full of holes and contradictions. It makes him feel like two different people.

"I'll set us free!" Are you quite sure that means what you think it means you stupid fucking ass.

Framed adoption certificate is a nice touch. Very cute.

Blitz is immediately not coming off how they want. I think they're -trying- to imply he has some deeply buried feelings too, but it comes off as "i didn't want this and i still don't want this, why can't it just be normal hookup shit."

"I'll die alone if this goes wrong!!" You have the emotional depth of a teaspoon and are about as interesting as one. Boo fucking hoo. BAD.

NGL this really made their wealth difference hit home. Why the flying fuck is blitz still bordering on abject poverty dude? You should be able to help him advertise send something IDK man, if you really gave a shit, why aren't you trying to actually help him in a genuine way? I'm sure he wouldn't say no if you slipped a hundred bucks or so into the book every so often. I fucking hate it here.

"Would he want me if he was free?" No. Next question. (You've done very little if anything to prove Blitz actually wants strings attached in this.)

"If he's only here as a prisoner what kind of monster does that make me?" Little late to have this realization but I'll take it. Also can we seriously stop downplaying how awful this is for BLITZ to go through? Stolas is severely over represented in Blitz's own fucking show. Why is Blitz so underdeveloped??? Why, dude? The episodes that mainly focus on him are pretty okay, but once Stolas shows up it's all fucking stupid.

If Blitz rejects him (which he should. Look how fucking anxious he is just THINKING about this.) he could lose his entire way of life. No more apartment, probably gonna get Loona taken away. Probably has to resort to prostitution or return to clowning. Stolas just gets to go about his life of luxury.

Why is Blitz's emotional well being such an after thought in this duet? THIS IS NOT STOLAS' SHOW.

"He showed me that I could choose" ...Dude. You have given no weight to swing that line at us. This isn't much of a choice in the grand scheme of things. Stolas and Stella already had the kid. The marriage never had to last. Not from the impression you've given us. He's a toddler deciding he wants chocolate milk instead of regular. We have never been shown he's actually going to lose anything of real value. He's still a prince. He's still got his money. Like are they trying to have him killed, sure but lets be real he's A PRINCE OF HELL. Assassination attempts are like...Tuesday for him.

GOD THIS SONG IS ASS. I will not allow Blitz to be painted as the bad guy here. Fuck Stolas, and fuck the team for trying to make it seem like we should feel bad for him. They both suck. BUT STOLAS IS OBJECTIVELY IN THE WRONG.

Ah yes, The Helluverse special of "let's yeet a stupid ass joke in the middle of plot, completely derailing anything." it has only been a few seconds and it's already going on for too long. Go learn from Bojack or RvB.

...........This cherub bit is throwing your entire lore off. If these idiots are having to do this shit to get by, why are they acting like heaven bound can do whatever they want in Hazbin? If all you meant by that line is the human souls in heaven, you totally screwed up the message there. Your points are murky at best, and you're contradicting yourself at every turn.

...............Are the cherubs mortal now? Like they're flying and glowing but they have to eat???? Huh? I don't think I've ever realized you're showing they eat a lot, but surely you don't actually have to eat as an angel or demon? Surely it's just a choice???? That's genuinely so fucking stupid???? WHY IS THAT EVEN A THING?

WE DON'T NEED FIVE ANTAGONISTS IN A CHARACTER DRIVEN EPISODE YOU FUCKING IDIOT. YOU ARE LITERALLY RUINING YOUR MAIN PUNCH. YOU ARE TAKING AWAY TIME THAT SHOULD BE USED TO ACTUALLY PROVE BLITZ HAS SOME KIND OF FEELINGS FOR STOLAS. BAD.

Honestly the stuff with these five would have been a fun standalone minisode. NOT IN THE MIDDLE OF ONE OF YOUR SINGLE MOST IMPORTANT EPISODES.

Bloody alleyway was a phenomenal cutaway gag. Points.

You really are not making it sound like Blitz likes this at ALL.

"If someone wants to see you less and less? Big red flag." NOT IN A HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP, DUH. He's literally a prince of hell in an affair with a """childhood friend""" who was literally PURCHASED for him. The whole thing is a red flag. Not just this!

You are making it exceedingly clear Blitz's just in it because he think's he'll lose the book. I don't give a rats ass about what micro-development you're going for. You take away time needed for showing that Blitz is conflicted on more than one level to do stupid ass tertiary character shit. YOUR CAST IS OVER BLOATED. BAD.

If you wanted me to feel bad for Stolas, maybe don't show that Blitz has an Angel-esque box of sex toys because he thinks he has to impress him. Stolas should have made it very clear AGES ago that he just wants Blitz. If Blitz is this hung up on needing to impress the damned bird, something very VERY wrong is happening in the bedroom.

If you seriously want us to think Blitz has feelings/cares about Stolas (Not that he HAS to), this sex candle shop would have been a perfect place to do it. "Well, he really likes it when I do this-" "This is his favorite colour." "This is his favorite scent." Blitz clearly knows nothing about Stolas, and both of them are to blame. This relationship is never EVER going to work if they know this little about each other when they've been regularly boning for ages. He should know more about what he likes. "What's the mood!?" "I don't know!" Woof. Full stop. This is never going to work in a real scenario. Womp Womp Move on.

HOW DOES BLITZ NOT KNOW HIS MEASUREMENTS. HOW CAN HE NOT JUST HELL-GOOGLE HIS MEASUREMENTS. STOLAS IS A PUBLIC FIGURE IT WOULD BE KNOWN. HE DOESN'T CARE, ERGO WE DON'T CARE. BAD.

Like he seems to MILDLY know what Stolas likes but this should be WAY clearer. Especially if you want us to think Blitz secretly cares too.

Love Fizz's new outfit. Very cute.

Gonna be real, Fizz and Blitz are seriously adorable. Can Ozzie pick him up too and actually show Blitz what being sexually valued is like? Because clearly he pulled it off with Fizz. Because he clearly enjoys sex and it feels like Stolas is just...using him. Not enjoying him. It's gross and SHOULD feel gross, because it FUCKING IS.

This whole bit with the cherubs makes it feel like we aren't supposed to give a damn about the main plot. That it's just a silly background to TERTIARY CHARACTER NONSENSE. BAD.

So far this confrontation is good as far as the pit of dread it opened in my stomach. I still really don't feel bad for Stolas. I feel bad for blitz. Him begging tore my soul out. It's so obvious how bad this power imbalance has gotten. I refuse to entertain these two any longer. This show needs to GROW UP and get over them, leave it here and I will forgive it.

Stolas should have 100% consulted Blitz before OFFICIALLY PUTTING HIM UNDER OZZIE'S JURISDICTION THAT'S NOT OKAY. Even if he leaves him alone, that can absolutely be weaponized.

"Am I not fucking you good enough?" Doesn't come off as him wanting more. Blitz feels like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the love of the gods stop stringing this POORLY WRITTEN. BADLY RETCONNED. PATHETIC ATTEMPT AT A WELL DONE TOXIC RELATIONSHIP ALONG. BAD. MOVE. THE FUCK. ON.

"I care very deeply and have for a long time" You sure as shit never showed it.

To Those in The Back. ONE GRAND GESTURE DOES NOT FIX A TERRIBLE RELATIONSHIP. This is Mr. Peanutbutter with the library thing. This is Not ROMANTIC. This IS EMBARRASSING.

If he really cared, Blitz would not be living in poverty. If he really cared, he'd make an effort to engage beyond sex. IF HE REALLY CARED HE WOULD HAVE DIVORCED HIS WIFE THE PROPER WAY AND NOT TRAUMATIZED HIS FUCKING DAUGHTER OVER AND OVER AGAIN.

Stolas is a godsawful woobified piece of shit that doesn't have the decency to acknowledge he's the problem, and when he does, has the fucking AUDACITY to behave like a pathetic child. This I was wrong speech is DOGSHIT and has no punch to it because more than half of the episode was TERTIARY CHARACTER BULLSHIT.

Blitz has EVERY RIGHT to see this as a joke. I immediately burst out laughing because YEAH. WHEN HAVE YOU GIVEN HIM ANY IMPRESSION YOU CARED BEYOND GETTING YOUR FREAK ON?

"Thank you for being here for a little while." Oh boo fucking hoo. Get over yourself. "It's just about sex" BECAUSE YOU NEVER MADE IT ANYTHING ELSE YOU FUCKING BOZO.

I am immediately cheering Blitz on in his retort. He's fucking earned it. You're not going to make me feel bad by making them show up in the room from their childhood. Blitz is completely in the right here.

If Stolas really thought so highly of him, he'd be putting in more of an effort. Stolas treats Blitz the way he treats Octavia. Like they're dolls from his childhood. If he wanted to do right by them, he would. He is FUCKING ROYALTY. There is NO reason he can't put in more effort for the people he supposedly loves. You don't love them. You love the idea of them. You can't accept that they aren't the idea in your head. This isn't love. It's abuse.

Fuck you. Blitz has NOTHING to apologize for.

It's like Stolas doesn't seem to think he's the problem. No shit, of course Blitz isn't going to react the way you thought he would. Why are you just THROWING HIM OUT RATHER THAN TALKING TO HIM? BECAUSE YOU DON'T WANT TO ACTUALLY WORK FOR YOUR RELATIONSHIPS YOU STUPID ASS OWL. YOU WANT EVERYTHING TO BE HANDED TO YOU ON A PLATE YOU RICH DUMBASS.

Fuck everyone trying to paint Blitz as the bad guy.

FUCK. YOU.

He's just trying to survive! He has a fucking daughter! A found family! EVERYTHING to lose!

Stolas just gets his fucking feelings hurt. He is the architect of his own undoing. Suck my entire ass. This was easily the worst episode bar none.

The tone was ALL OVER the place, and not in an effective way. The plot moved at a halt and go pace and all the fun bits were BOGGED DOWN by the supposed point of the episode! You can't tell me this shit took all that time, unless you were constantly saying "OOOO YOU KNOW WHAT'D BE COOL/FUNNY?" and shooting your production scheduled in the foot!

The rest of the portraiture being covered up is a very nice touch.

I can't believe you've gotten me to defend BLITZO of all people. But here we are. I guess I'm on his team. (He's an abusive dick, but NO ONE deserves this.)

[the-fo0l]

Heya! How's your day going? Good I hope! ^^

Anygay (🏳️‍🌈), I was wondering if I could request a kidnapped reader. Like somehow someone was stupid yet also smart enough to break in and just yoinked reader up? How long would it take 47 to know and how long until he retrieves reader? Would he be merciless or would he spare a few people? Like there are bound to be a few people who don't know what's going on. Would he spare them or are they...expendable?

(Also sorry for the reader being able to turn into a cat request idk wtf I was thinking. Seriously I can't apologize enough. Dude my 11-year-old self fucking possessed me and forced me to write that one I sweeeeaaarrr- 😭😭😭😭 [again really sorry it won't happen again unless this request is also too out of the box then pls feel free to ignore it. 🫠] anygay Imma go die in a hole sorry for bothering you again-)

47 rescuing his darling hcs

Notes: whaatt nooo please don't apologize, i just had absolutely no inspiration/motivation/life, I feel so bad😭 hope you like these headcanons, had a lot of fun writing them

Warnings: violence, 47 goes crazy, also he's really emotional which may feel out of character but it's how I see him being

47s heart began to pound frantically when he received news of your abduction. The thought of one of his old enemies daring to use you against him sent waves of unbridled fury through his veins.

He goes about retrieving you with a steely resolve, his mind already calculating every move necessary to bring you back to safety.

He allows the heat of his anger to fuel him, driving him forward with a single-minded purpose- saving you.

He digs into every availableresource, gathering information on your whereabouts and meticulously scrutinizing every detail of your kidnappers operation.

They will pay for what they had done, every last one of them.

His normally calm demeanor begins to crack. Anxiety gnawing at his heart, the mere thought of you being hurt tearing him up inside.

Yet, with a calm determination, he quickly packs his gear and leaves; he will get you back, that is now priority number one, above all else.

Everyone he perceives to get in his way is considered expandable

And whoever is responsible for taking you better hope that every single hair on your head is unharmed, cause that's the only chance they have of a somewhat quick death

47s instincts run wild as he fights his way to you. His entire life has been about killing, it's what he was made for after all. But for the first time, it's not just about finishing a job, it's personal.

Honestly, they never stood a chance, and were quickly overwhelmed by the sheer ferocity of 47s onslaught.

47 moved with deadly precision, his eyes fixated on his goal. You had been taken from him, and he would stop at nothing to get you back.

One by one, he'll take out those who stood in his way. His movements fluid and efficient, without any hesitation.

He moved quickly down a dimly lit corridor, his senses on high alert. He could feel your captors presence, the subtle rustling of fabric, and the faint sound of faint breathing.

As he approached the door, he paused for a moment, steeling himself for the fight ahead. This was where you were being held.

Your kidnappers were fools to think they were ready for him, for 47 has never been more ruthless or determined.

After the last one of them dropped, a shaky breath caught 47s attention. He looked back and found you huddled into the corner of the room, your eyes wide as you gazed at the corpses around you, and 47, standing there with obsession in his eyes.

47 felt a pang of regret and sadness seeing you so shaken. He rushed over to you, pulling you into his arms, softly whispering reassurances to you until you calmed down.

You were safe in his arms once again, only now could he himself begin to relax. You were safe, that was all that mattered.

Looking down at you, he knew that he would do anything to keep you safe, to protect you from all harm. Nothing would ever take you away from him ever again, nothing.

Btw, you're not gonna be left alone for a while, and Diana isn't getting him to go to work either, 47's taking his first vacation.

[cecedownbad]

Been on my mind for sometime (call it stupid but let me have a moment). I wrote this with Vendetta Leon in mind.

How pissed would Leon be in an isekai trope? The reader (you) opens up to him about what this world is in your original place, sure it's still Earth but not the same thing. He obviously would be stunned, beyond words would laugh at you for even saying, "we're in a...videogame....you are a videogame character....", Cause you're joking, right? A videogame? His life is a....videogame? You're fucking serious?

And that's when you try and explain to him that it isn't a lie, and he can't accept it, understandably. I would imagine he then processes it all little by little, letting it all simmer in his mind before the anger and disbelief takes a hold, "So, you, whoever the fuck you are," Uh Oh, "You don't belong to this 'world', you're from a different Earth that is normal, doesn't have any B.O.Ws, the dead stay dead, no evil corporation trying to make monsters to support the military and you somehow, with some shit luck, managed to make it to our Earth, a bit more fucked up and this Earth ends up being from a known Videogame you've played before?" He said it, phrasing the end like a question, oh but he knew he didn't need an answer to what he listed out.

"This whole place, this mess we're in, the people we lost are what? Entertainment to you? As if learning that there will always be assholes who make B.O.Ws wasn't enough, our world is nothing but a videogame to you fuckers to play around with huh?" This doesn't sit right with you, now all you feel is utter regret for even opening your mouth. You knew Leon, thought of him like a person even before this whole thing went down. He was a person in your mind like most of the characters save for a few. You couldn't say anything to him, what could you have said that made him feel better? Feel less...this?

"Why did you bother telling me all this, should have just shut up, should have told me to stop asking questions! This is.... ridiculous, you waltz in here, acting like you had amnesia, but you had an uncanny knowledge for all the B.O.Ws we've fought with in the past. Not to mention how you knew, exactly what shit I went through, how I grew up and it all boils down to us being a part of some, what? Over millions of people's entertainment?...I need you to leave."

"Wait, Leon—"

"I said leave, goddamit!"

Quietly you get up from the chair, placed by a rounded table. Walking away from all this but it never does sit right with you. Having no idea of what Leon could be thinking sends you into a panic, but that felt selfish to you. To be thinking about the toll it would take on you compared to the blow it would be on him, his whole life is a lie at that point. But you slowly felt it sit in that puddle of rotting emotions, how long would he be pissed at you for his life?

This is unfair, an agreement falls on that but what does it take for him to take your words seriously ever? Scoffing at every remark you make, every suggestion, every idea you place on the table, with all his responses being along the lines of, "Let me guess? A videogame taught you that?" Believing that all of this, was your fault?

"Leon—you know what? You were right, I really should not have told you anything—"

"Guess we're on the same page then,"

"—I'm not finished, I shouldn't have told you anything because it seems like you want to understand the situation in your own fucking terms of ignorance. I didn't make this fucking game!"

The two of you sat in silence, Leon's expression leaving a trail of bitter annoyance. "I didn't make you, I didn't do any of this, fuck, you think I wanted to be here? You think for a fucking second that hey, maybe I shouldn't put the blame on you for finally being trusting enough to open up to me about this. It's a shitty situation, you don't want to be here, well, neither do I!" It was so insanely stupid, why were you even yelling at him? What was this conversation supposed to lead to? A happy ending of accepting your differences? Holding your hands together in understanding?

This was it, maybe this is where the two part ways. Not having to see your face would make his days a little better, although the idea of all this still sits on him, at least your presence won't further the thought. This was what you needed, it was a horrible few months, being here, trapped, opening up about any of this only lead to your string of regrets making an entrance.

Without a word, you walked away. There was no call to make you stop, no rushing footsteps to hold you back, nothing.

I'm sorry, I got carried away here, got invested in my thoughts so quickly. Just an idea that I dragged on to be honest, but honestly, I would imagine this would piss all of the characters off, not only Leon. Imagine Chris? Damn.

[emoani]

Pairing: anakin!modern x f!reader warnings: mention of depression, emotional health, self-harm, antidepressants and other medications

n/a: I don't know if anyone will like this story, but I write it with a lot of affection and feeling since it's all very personal to me. in a way anakin/hayden also "saved" me like with reader, and has been saving me every day. just remembering that english is not my first language, so sorry for the mistakes. Good reading!

ps: can you imagine ani like in that factory girl movie, only older

Sea: Prologue

It was a Wednesday. The day was too cold for the season, and the icy wind ached against my body. Maybe that happened because my body was hurt and full of bruises... Which I made myself.

I was looking at the sea, and the waves that seemed to move kind of slowly. Maybe they weren't moving that slowly, it was just my brain messed up because I had taken more meds than my shrink ordered.

I wasn't sure what I wanted. I took the medicine hoping to get back to reality, just control myself and not get to where I am now.

I really didn't want to die, but I didn't know if I wanted to live either. I didn't want to live like this, always suffering.

I didn't know who I was anymore. What do I want to study? What do I want to work with? Do I like the way I look this way or should I make a radical change?

Thinking is exhausting. The thought of continuing here is exhausting. Sometimes memories are the worst kind of torture. That was why I found myself here on this beach, in a different country (which I had moved to study, but after so many absences I had to drop out of college).

Without looking at anything beyond that blue immensity, which seemed to be as big as my sadness, I started to take my first steps. I shivered with the icy water, and as soon as the first wave hit me, my tears began to fall out of control.

I didn't even know that from afar he saw everything. In a situation so different from mine, a little away in that calm and empty place, a celebrity trying to escape the hectic life and the paparazzi, smoked a cigarette while looking at the sea (until saw myself in that situation).

I only realized that I wasn't alone when I heard his footsteps in the water, catching up with me so fast that my weak, sad body couldn't even respond in time to pull away.

He grabbed me by the arm and started dragging me towards the sand.

- Who are you, you crazy? Let go of me - I screamed completely out of control feeling my body tremble.

- I'm just a guy trying to prevent a woman from doing something stupid! He answered me firmly, his eyes looked at me seriously as if he were a father scolding a daughter. And anyone looking from afar might even think it was, since he was certainly older than me. Older and very handsome too.

- Go mind your own business and let me go! – I complained.

But as soon as we got out of the water he let go of me and I ended up on the ground, looking at him indignantly because of his ignorance. But I couldn't complain, I had asked him to let me go. I straightened up still sitting and could observe him better: all in black, a cap hid his face.

- Are you a famous or a thug? – I grumbled loudly.

This situation was so stupid that it was funny. All this time I was here, I had only been able to see an artist if I paid for a show, like anywhere else in the world. But it was somewhat ironic, well now in this situation find a possible celebrity.

- Is this important now? – He asked looking troubled, as if I were, I don't know, a fan of his – Tell me, did you take any drugs?

- Yeah, I'm a drug addict. Can not you see? – I scoffed, as I got up and cleaned all that sand from my clothes. I hated the beach.

He took a few steps back, avoiding contact.

- I'm serious. I need to take you to the hospital. You can't even stand up straight.

He was right. I was high on drugs.

- What a fucking hospital – I denied it without bothering to show politeness – Do you see any injuries here? I don't have money to go to the hospital for anything.

- Yes, I do - he replied, looking me up and down. But not in a malicious way, he seemed to analyze me in a sinister way.

- And is? Where? – I asked, looking at my own body.

- You're very hurt... Inside.

next chapter: coming soon

[jodjuya]

I'm officially a hater. Every Halo game since the very first one is full of bullshit.

My many problems with Halo 4, as I experience them:

FOUR VIDEO GAMES IN A SERIES! FOUR DIFFERENT CONTROLLER MAPPINGS!!! MICROSOFT WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU???

What is the compass needle even pointing to on 117's assault rifle? we're adrift in open space...

WHY ARE THERE MOTHERFUCKING QUICK TIME EVENTS IN THIS GAME? FUCK YOU!

"these Covenant seem more fanatical than the ones we've fought before" - how the fuck can you tell??

Why did they give Cortana baby-face and big tits?? Pick a direction, Microsoft!! She can be prepubescent or postpubescent but not both of them simultaneously!

Why am I supposed to feel any sort of emotional attachment to Cortana anyway? She's just a Microsoft Clippy with blue boobs stuck on 🙄

"I'm the only AI generated from a clone" I'm vibrating with rage at how goddamn stupid that is.

I THINK YOU LITERALLY HAVE MORE PRESSING PROBLEMS THAN RETURNING TO HALSEY TO FACTORY-RESET YOUR AI WAIFU, MASTER CHIEF! YOU ARE EVADING HOSTILE ALIEN FORCES ON A RANDOM PLANET GOD KNOWS WHERE! JUST GET A NEW AI WAIFU WHEN YOU GET HOME! FUCK

"[Unknown alien transmission]'s behaviour is odd!" - how the fuck do you know that Cortana??? This is your first time encountering this transmission, how do you know it's not supposed to be like that?

Maybe the reason all these aliens are so hostile to you, Master Chief, is because the very first guy you saw you punched in the jaw and threw down an elevator shaft! Would it kill you to just try saying "hello" first?

Lmfao @ Cortana calling out the Chief for the exact same thing literally seconds later

"Requiem! At least we know where we are now!" - my guy you have no fucking idea where you are

WHY THE FUCK DOES HALO HAVE CINEMATIC 3RD-PERSON MELEE ATTACKS NOW?! JUST CLOBBER THE FUCKING GUY AND MOVE ON!

This is something I really disliked in Halo 3 too, but those invisible barriers that hard block you from taking vehicles indoors, even if you do manage to scrape them past the non-invisible barriers. Let me drive a Ghost indoors!

Why can't they maintain my weapon loadout on either side of a cutscene? Halo 3 handled this really well.

But here in Halo 4 I take my lovely SAW and my lovely Fuel-Rod Cannon into a cutscene and come back out of it with an assault rifle and pistol. 😒😒😒

• Seriously, why does Cortana have the face of a nine year old child and the body of a twenty-nine year old woman?! Am I taking fucking crazy pills here??

I can forgive video game developers being horny, but not when it's this gratuitously bullshit

(and the voice of a 59 year old woman, going by the game's opening cutscene of Dr Eugenics' interrogation lmao)

The new forerunner enemies are cool enough, but it really feels like they copied Borderlands' homework with their design.

Why is Cortana so blithely confident with all her info-dumping about these random alien creatures she's never seen before in her damn life? And why is master chief taking anything she says seriously when he knows she's going through AI-Alzheimer's???

The Didact is bullshit. Who the fuck is this guy? why does he call himself a "Forerunner" when that's 'our' word for them? and how does he indentify us as "human"? Also why's he so mad at us for freeing him? This is all so very stupid.

Wow. ANOTHER escape sequence involving driving fast through some exploding superstructure? Come on, Microsoft, it's all very well and good to rest on your laurels but this is just masturbating with them... I swear to you on my mother's life that having an original idea isn't nearly as painful as you seem to think it might be...

Even more being stripped of my good weapons and reset back to basic bitch assault rifle + handgun

"the greatest enemy ever faced by the forerunners: you" - bitch you've been extinct for like 100,000 years what the fuck are you even talking about???

"the Prometheans, they're human" what the fuck are you even talking about?? Who the fuck are the Prometheans??

Genesong, evolutionary acceleration, thousands of lifetimes' worth of planning? What in the flying fuck is all this nonsense? When and why did Halo become "What If Star Trek Was About Using The Power Of Friendship To Kill God"?!

Look, Microsoft, this shit isn't fucking rocket science. I shouldn't have to take an undergraduate degree in Halology to understand the fucking story of a video game. I shouldn't have to go read god knows how fucking many spin-off novels there are just to know basic facts about your game like who in the flying fuck are all these goddamn Elder God alien species you're name-dropping. I should just play the game and have knowledge of the game from playing the fucking game. Jesus fucking christ pull your head out of your arse and stop jerking yourself off and start making some goddamn sense!!

Why can this Space Orc Big Bad use The Force like Darth Vader anyhow??

Why is defeating Space Orc Big Bad a fucking quicktime event???

Lol get vaporised, idiot

Why was nuking his spaceship another quicktime event? Just make the whole thing a cutscene, christ 🙄

Master Chief finally makes it to The Waifu Dimension (via nuclear bomb?????) and his first thought is "how do I escape from here?" instead of "oh cool I can finally kiss my holographic waifu"

And now he's just, like, chilling out in orbit around earth, perfectly fine and unharmed?? after setting off a nuclear bomb in his lap with his own two hands?????

Hey, so why was I fighting digi-struct robots for the entire back-half of this game anyway? Isn't Halo supposed to be about fighting The Covenant and The Flood?? 😒

Also, didn't the Covenant have an internal schism/civil war last game?? Like, that was the whole plot of the whole game. Why are the Elites back in the Covenant again; are we just not going to bother with explaining that?

Holy fuck I hate this fucking game. Really glad I only paid seven bucks for it.

Things I liked about Halo 4:

It looks pretty

No more dual-wielding. Fun concept, sure, but it made the games' control scheme fucked to shit. Really felt like Bungie made all of the enemies into utterly gratuitous damage-sponges to compensate for MC's higher DPS too, and that sucked.

The weapon rebalancing, in general. The new Needler kicks ass.

No more dragging around a giant posse of allies with me everywhere. I feel like that was another big contributor to the enemies needing to be so heavily-buffed with sponginess.

Really glad the Brutes aren't in this game. Those guys were the fucking worst.

The items from Halo 3 were mostly useless and just served to clutter up the game. Forgot they were there most of the time, and kept activating them by accident when trying to reload. Glad to see they've been fucked off/heavily retooled. The new active-camo gadget is useful and fun without being overpowered; I really like how well they've balanced it. All of the other gadgets are fairly middling though.

The new machine gun is great! (SURE WOULD BE NICE IF I WAS ABLE TO KEEP IT FOR MORE THAN HALF OF ONE LEVEL THOUGH)

I laughed when I saw a grunt sprinting at my Ghost with a lit grenade in each hand. Some real Serious-Sam-type nonsense right there 😂

Stomping around in the Mantis mech was extremely fun

The sticky-bomb handgun was pretty fun.

Final verdict: Microwaved Slop.

I'll eat it if I'm hungry enough, but I won't enjoy it.

[time-to-write-and-suffer]

why did I play wayhaven chronicles book 3

A list of grievances and observations as I played this heck of a game

Spoilers for all of it because I don't care and you shouldn't either

How is the writing getting worse. HOW IS THE WRITING GETTING WORSE. DON'T YOU HAVE EDITORS? BETA TESTERS? AUGH.

there's so much stage direction it's unbearable. people smile, smirk, chuckle, roll their eyes, shrug, scoff, groan, all of it, always, often for no reason, often to just fill word count, often so unnaturally it reads like they're all robots.

descriptions and dialogue are repetitive as fuck, and the prose quality is so poor. i feel like you could write a better game faster if you just had a better editor. or AN editor, really.

It really is a game that bit off more than it could chew so it didn't chew anything at all and just spit this back out.

I encountered like 3 major bugs in my first playthrough that would've broken the plot/game, if any choice actually mattered and the vampires didn't just swoop in to save my ass no matter what I did, so I guess no harm done ????

MAKE A SMALLER GAME THAT YOU CAN ACTUALLY BOTHER TO PLOT OUT AND CODE

You can't keep bragging about how much you loooove adding variation when seemingly no or very few options actually impact anything

No seriously, the amount of times player agency is discarded just because nothing is allowed to matter is staggering (why couldn't the detective confess their love for Mason? well because it would change the dynamic uwu!)

Speaking of Mason, look how they slaughtered my boy!

I refuse to believe M is this fucking stupid, they clearly know enough about romance to realize that some other people might want more than they can offer (in fact they say this exact thing if you reject sex in book 2) so like ?? why wouldn't they be able to recognize or even entertain that that's what's going on? sorry i get not realizing initially but the longer it goes on the more annoying and less realistic it becomes

But that's a non-issue right? Because the romance develops in this book? Sure, it does, and that's one of the few good things about it, that there's visible romantic development with M at least, but it also just completely doesn't care how you approach the romance at all. If you try to approach M's romance as a slow burn, it's not taken into account. Because the game doesn't seem to track which kiss is actually your first, ANY of them could be, so they're all written as equally important, meaning none is allowed to be more important than the others

Same goes for the sex scenes. You're waiting until the best in-character moment to fuck M? Well fuck you. it'll be the same as any other. This was the first time? cool cool, the game doesn't care. headcanon your own emotional weight of the moment, asshole. first time my detective had sex with Mason was written with pretty much the same weight as any previous ones I read, and we didn't even get a morning-after scene when Mason ditches their ass. I'm sure your slow-burn, slow-to-trust, emotionally motivated detective is tottally chill with their lover leaving in the morning after they finally brought their guard down and let Mason in, right? no? well fuck you. it's a week later now and they have no comment to make.

"oh but it's sooo hard to code alll of these variations! you can't expect the writer to take your headcanons into account!" they're not headcanons. i can reject Mason's advances at every step of the way, but the game doesn't care about this beyond the next page where the rejection actually occurs. anything else plays out like it does regardless of whether it's your first time doing anything or not.

Here's a simple, cure-all solution to writing choices that are too complicated for you to handle: don't! just don't put them in if you don't honor them! DON'T FUCKING PUT THEM IN IF YOU DON'T HONOR THEM.

Speaking of fuck you, if you're playing as a nonbinary detective and you have sex with M? congrats on having ghost genitals. your "detailed" intimate scenes are so vague and noncommittal that it's difficult to tell who's doing what with what body part. it's all so vague and bland that there's really no point in picking the option at all. Pro tip, cissies: nonbinary people have genitals, too. I know! Wild, right?

What's funnier, you always get to pick if you "initiate" or not (I assume this is code for topping). But if you're NB, regardless of what you pick, you don't really find out what your character is doing, even though Mishka gave herself a perfect out to write player-based variation. Everyone's got holes, man. It's not that hard.

Basically the game insists you have sex with M ASAP because there's no material reason not to, but if you dare to be nonbinary and fuck M, good luck on figuring out that sex scene, bitch!

Rebecca is still getting so many excuses and second chances that it's getting genuinely triggering to read at times. Your character keeps having to confront her about their relationship and it's like it wants you to forgive her because it's #feelgood. Plus, if you decide not to work with her at one point, you get a shorter climax where you're a cringefail idiot who can't do anything right. If you work with her, everything works without a hitch and you get to waltz out being all cool and badass. huh? huh ? huh ???? i hope this is just something me and my pals who played this are missing and maybe there's more variation??? but man oh man the Rebecca stanning going on in the narrative is so uncomfortable :')

We really peaked with Falk. This new villain is barely a presence and doesn't even get named until like halfway into the story. We meet him once and then he's defeated.

Sin, who got a lot of hype and buildup ... is not of any consequence. He just leaves.

You don't even find out what his deal is if you go the combat training route. Oh you thought this was vital info that would be delivered to you regardless of your personal character choices? fuck you.

Addie, the face of the victims of these gruesome kidnappings? comes back at the end as a non-speaking character you never even talk to personally.

The whole entire kidnapping+human/supernatual trafficking thing is just so ... bad. It's all so poorly constructed and not thought-out at all. Why would you go here with your silly vampire detective romance? Who thought this was the place to do that?

The detective's emotional breakdown is triggered by a random nameless victim who never comes back into the story again

The detective's emotional breakdown involves them being naked in a shower with their LI. This is (in M's case, at least) never brought up again and barely has any impact on the romance (because you can avoid it, so it can't matter too much<3)

The blood drive that was set up as being a potential major issue and would maybe tie back into the alleged "main plot"? Easily avoided, explicitly in-universe boring, and literally of no consequence

After all this, after three books of being dumb as shit for no reason other than idk cringefail cheap angst? Mason confesses his love for the detective via a NEVER-HAVE-I-EVER DRINKING GAME.

NO REALLY. I'M FUCKING SERIOUS DON'T WALK AWAY FROM ME I AM 100% TELLING YOU THE TRUTH RIGHT NOW

This is, of course, not touched upon at all and the detective (who, at this point, is pretty much aware they're in love with M) barely reacts at all

THE FAMOUSLY EMOTIONALLY IMMATURE HORNY SLUT CHARACTER, WHOSE REALIZATION SHOULD ALLOW FOR SO MUCH ANGST AND JOY IN ANY GOOD ROMANCE, CONFESSES THEIR LOVE VIA DRINKING GAME

honestly it wouldn't be so bad if it were acknowledged or discussed afterward or if it had any fucking effect on anything ever but it's barely even played as a joke so we can't have that! Why????

Because the book is over. if you're an M-mancer the book ends with a drinking game indirect love confession and you don't get to react to it at all

But here's a cheap stinger about the detective's relative who's totally evil and will totally be a main antagonist eventually!

did you have fun??? no?? well fuck you.

[feverdreamsanddelusions]

20

inspo by @whumpshaped

[tw unhealthy bottled up romantic feelings and masochism, honestly whumpee just wants to get wrecked by their friend ok, mild self-harm thoughts, emotional whump]

"Oh, you like this?" Caretaker asked with a mischievous grin, pressing just a fraction more against Whumpee's back. They were helping them with dicing, showing off the correct and safest way to hold a knife and how to avoid unfortunate accidents — which included basically hugging Whumpee from the back and holding their hand. "Who knew?"

"I don't– come on," Whumpee almost whined, face as red as the bell pepper on the cutting board. "Just, just go on. I just wanna learn this shit properly."

"Mhm. You should be paying a little more attention, then."

"I am! I'm trying to! Stop derailing this!"

Caretaker laughed softly, without any malice. It was so clearly just a harmless joke to them. And it wasn't... an unwelcome one, it was just... a touch too real. It was too hard to ignore. It was impossible for Whumpee not to imagine what it would've been like if Caretaker had been serious about these things, and it made their cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Caretaker would never see them in that way, they knew that. They should've spoken up about this; they should've told Caretaker that it made them feel a little like they were being led on, and it wasn't good for anybody. At the same time, the idea of never getting teased in this silly way again made them unreasonably upset.

It was too enticing to be able to delude themself.

Caretaker walked them through the process, only making one joke about how Whumpee seemed a little zoned out. And they were, truly, they wouldn't have been able to recall a single part of the explanation with a gun to their head.

"Got it?" Caretaker asked at the end, and Whumpee nodded mutely. They didn't trust their voice. "Go ahead, then. Show me what you learned." Caretaker let go of the knife and snaked both arms around Whumpee's waist, resting their chin on their shoulder.

"I can't if you keep clinging to me like a leech," they exclaimed suddenly.

"I wanna see."

"You can– you can see it from, from the other end of the kitchen as well."

"You're just stalling, love." Their voice was but a low murmur right next to Whumpee's ear, and they couldn't handle it. It was so ridiculous to feel so helplessly attracted to someone's voice, but Whumpee felt like they would've done anything for Caretaker just on account of how they sounded whenever they'd asked. "Don't get all self-conscious on me now. Would I ever judge you?"

Not seriously, never. But Whumpee remembered all the good-natured teasing they'd been subjected to over the course of the past months, and Caretaker's playful tone was definitely an indication that they were planning on making fun of them for not listening.

Whumpee was just about to tell them to knock it off when Caretaker stepped back, leaning against the counter to their left. "I don't want to distract you to the point where you injure yourself," they said with faux-overconfidence. "I know I'm a painfully seductive presence, and with great power comes great responsibility."

"You're ridiculous."

"But in a hot way, right?"

"In the least hot way possible."

Caretaker burst out laughing, and Whumpee's heart fluttered. Fuck, they loved making them laugh way too much. It made them feel like they had a chance, like Caretaker actually liked them.

"You wound me. But really, don't be nervous. I just wanna see."

If only their stupid, deep-seated sincerity could bleed over to their flirting. If only they saw Whumpee as anything other than a burdensome roommate to take care of. If only they kept going, just once, no matter how much Whumpee insisted they wanted none of it.

Whumpee started dicing the remaining bell pepper, their hand still tingling where Caretaker had held it. Maybe they should cut themself on purpose, so their friend could make fun of them some more.