#PHEW that really was longer than i expected

[starflungwaddledee]

offering three cookies 🍪🍪🍪

(<< part 1)

[saritawolff]

Phew. This one took, uh… a bit longer than expected due to other projects both irl and art-wise, but it’s finally here. The long-awaited domestic animal infographic! Unfortunately, I didn’t have enough space to cover every single domestic animal (I’m so sorry, reindeer and koi, my beloveds) but I tried to include as many of the “major ones” as possible.

I made this chart in response to a lot of the misunderstandings I hear concerning domestic animals, so I hope it’s helpful!

Further information I didn’t have any room to add or expand on:

🐈 “Breed” and “species” are not synonyms! Breeds are specific to domesticated animals. A Bengal Tiger is a species of tiger. A Siamese is a breed of domestic cat.

🐀 Different colors are also not what makes a breed. A breed is determined by having genetics that are unique to that breed. So a “bluenose pitbull” is not a different breed from a “rednose pitbull”, but an American Pitbull Terrier is a different breed from an American Bully! Animals that have been domesticated for longer tend to have more seperate breeds as these differing genetics have had time to develop.

🐕 It takes hundreds of generations for an animal to become domesticated. While the “domesticated fox experiment” had interesting results, there were not enough generations involved for the foxes to become truly domesticated and their differences from wild foxes were more due to epigenetics (heritable traits that do not change the DNA sequence but rather activate or deactivate parts of it; owed to the specific circumstances of its parents’ behavior and environment.)

🐎 Wild animals that are raised in human care are not domesticated, but they can be considered “tamed.” This means that they still have all their wild instincts, but are less inclined to attack or be frightened of humans. A wild animal that lives in the wild but near human settlements and is less afraid of humans is considered “habituated.” Tamed and habituated animals are not any less dangerous than wild animals, and should still be treated with the same respect. Foxes, otters, raccoons, servals, caracals, bush babies, opossums, owls, monkeys, alligators, and other wild animals can be tamed or habituated, but they have not undergone hundreds of generations of domestication, so they are not domesticated animals.

🐄 Also, as seen above, these animals have all been domesticated for a reason, be it food, transport, pest control, or otherwise, at a time when less practical options existed. There is no benefit to domesticating other species in the modern day, so if you’ve got a hankering for keeping a wild animal as a pet, instead try to find the domestic equivalent of that wild animal! There are several dog breeds that look and behave like wolves or foxes, pigeons and chickens can make great pet birds and have hundreds of colorful fancy breeds, rats can be just as intelligent and social as a small monkey (and less expensive and dangerous to boot,) and ferrets are pretty darn close to minks and otters! There’s no need to keep a wolf in a house when our ancestors have already spent 20,000+ years to make them house-compatible.

🐖 This was stated in the infographic, but I feel like I must again reiterate that domestic animals do not belong in the wild, and often become invasive when feral. Their genetics have been specifically altered in such a way that they depend on humans for optimal health. We are their habitat. This is why you only really see feral pigeons in cities, and feral cats around settlements. They are specifically adapted to live with humans, so they stay even when unwanted. However, this does not mean they should live in a way that doesn’t put their health and comfort as a top priority! If we are their world, it is our duty to make it as good as possible. Please research any pet you get before bringing them home!

[thewickedjazzy]

‟𝓢𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓸𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓭, 𝓝𝓪𝓴𝓪𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓪?”➵ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴍᴅɴɪ

➵𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼: Chuuya x f! reader.

➵𝓢𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂: Enemies to Fuckers Lovers? it's been two years since you joined the port mafia and chuuya still gives you the cold shoulder like you’re some sort of personal vendetta. confused, you finally mustered up the courage to ask him straight up why he’s been acting like a dick? What’s his deal with you?

➵𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽 : NSFW mdni 8.9k of pure filth, smut with plot, oral (both giving and receiving) kinky sex, profanity, taboo sex, hatesex, unprotected sex, multiple creampies, multiple orgasms, standing sex, public sex, impact play, dirty talk, sweaty sex, cum visuals, risky sex, hand bondage/restrains, face-fucking/both of you, reader begging, multiple positions, also small font, I guess that's it? *phew*.

You sat at your desk, arriving earlier than anyone else in the mafia, as was your habit. You needed the quiet, the solitude, to unwind before the day’s chaos began. You held your favourite coffee cup, inhaled the rich aroma, and sighed. How long has it been? Two years, four months, and six days... yeah. When would you ever stop counting the days you've been single?

There was a strange duality to it. You hated and loved being single, a paradox you couldn't escape. You despised how your body ached for physical touch for intimacy, yet you relished the freedom of not being tied down to anyone. Maybe it was the aftereffect of that toxic, possessive relationship you barely escaped. But, oh, how you longed for the warmth of another human’s touch.

You've had your share of one-night stands in the past, long before your first real relationship. They were empty, fleeting encounters that left you feeling hollow. So, you stopped, refusing to return to that endless cycle of meaningless desire. Yet, lately, the thought of going back crossed your mind. But the idea of being satisfied by just any random man no longer appealed to you. It was a dilemma you couldn’t seem to resolve—a yearning for connection that couldn't be fulfilled by just anyone.

As you sipped your coffee, lost in your thoughts, the door to your office creaked open. You glanced up, and there he was—Chuuya Nakahara, the one person whose presence you both dreaded yet expected. He walked in with that usual air of authority, his expression already bordering on annoyance.

He handed you a file, his eyes narrowing slightly as he did so. "Good morning," he muttered, his tone curt, before turning on his heel to leave.

You watched him with irritation and confusion bubbling up inside you. Chuuya was one of the few people in the mafia who didn’t seem to act normal around you. Everyone else kept their distance, thanks to Mori’s strict orders. Your attractiveness had made you untouchable, quite literally. No one dared to look your way, let alone flirt with you. But Chuuya? He was different.

"Why does he hate me so much?" You wondered, frustration gnawing at you. You couldn't recall a single interaction between you two that didn't end in some form of argument or cold standoff. Working with him was a nightmare, a constant clash of wills that left you drained.

You opened the file he handed you, trying to push thoughts of him out of your mind. But it was no use; the way he acted, the way he seemed to go out of his way to be difficult, it all kept nagging at you.

As you tried to focus on the task at hand, you couldn’t help but wonder—was it really hatred he felt toward you, or was there something more hidden beneath that tough exterior?

The day passed in a blur of paperwork and meetings, with no further interactions between you and Chuuya. You crossed paths once, briefly, neither of you saying a word, just a cold exchange of glances before moving on. The tension between you two was palpable, but neither of you made any effort to break it.

As the evening set in, you stepped out of the mafia headquarters and onto the pavement, waiting for your chauffeur. The city was settling into its usual nighttime rhythm, the hum of distant traffic filling the air. You absentmindedly watched the railway, your mind drifting as you pulled out a cigarette. But before you could light it, you felt a few drops of rain on your hand. You sighed as you opened your umbrella with one hand while continuing to fumble with the lighter in the other.

After several failed attempts, you cursed under your breath, frustration getting the best of you. Just then, a flicker of light appeared in front of your face. It wasn’t your lighter. You looked up, surprised to see Chuuya standing beside you, holding out his lighter. His expression was as unreadable as ever, though there was a hint of annoyance in his eyes.

You leaned in, the tip of your cigarette meeting the flame. Taking a slow drag, you felt the warmth of the smoke fill your lungs as you watched Chuuya put his lighter back into his pocket, rolling his eyes as if lighting your cigarette was the last thing he wanted to do. He turned his gaze away, clearly disinterested.

You slipped your useless lighter into your pocket, holding your cigarette between your burgundy lips.

“Thanks,” you muttered, your voice nonchalant before taking another drag.

For a moment, the two of you stood there in silence, the only sound being the soft patter of rain against the pavement. You wondered what had prompted him to offer you a light. Was it just a reflex, a simple act of decency? Or was there something more behind it? Whatever it was, you knew better than to dwell on it.

You stood there under your umbrella, cigarette in hand, your gaze drifted back to Chuuya. He was waiting for his chauffeur as well, standing just a few feet away under his own umbrella. You couldn’t help but admire his features—the sharpness of his azure fox-like eyes, the softness of his lips, the perfect angles of his cheekbones. There was no denying that he was attractive, irritatingly so.

But the admiration quickly turned into something else—annoyance, frustration. Ugh, you hated him. No matter how attractive he was, that didn’t change the fact that you despised everything about him. The way he always seemed to be annoyed with you, the way he acted as if you were a thorn in his side.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize how long you had been staring until Chuuya suddenly turned and caught you. His sharp eyes locked onto yours, and for a brief moment, neither of you moved. Then, his expression hardened, and he glared at you with that familiar look of irritation.

You rolled your eyes, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had caught you off guard. You took another drag of your cigarette, trying to act as if you hadn’t been caught staring. But you could feel the tension in the air, thick and almost palpable.

He didn’t say anything—just continued to glare at you, as if daring you to make the first move. But you refused to play his game. Instead, you looked away, focusing on the rain that continued to fall around you.

As the silence stretched on, you couldn’t help but break it with a hint of annoyance in your voice. “Something on your mind, Nakahara?” His persistent stare felt intrusive, and you were fed up with the unspoken tension between you two.

Chuuya shifted his gaze forward, ignoring your question. His expression remained set in a scowl, the kind that suggested he was as tired of the situation as you were. He didn't bother responding, choosing instead to focus on the approaching headlights of his own chauffeur's car.

The lack of response only fueled your irritation. “Seriously, you’re just going to stand there and glare at me without saying a word?”

He finally turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours with an exasperated look. “I’m not in the mood for conversation,” he said tersely. “And clearly, neither are you.”

You bristled at his words, the tension between you both palpable. “If you’ve got something to say, just say it. Or at least stop making it so obvious you can’t stand being around me.”

Chuuya’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t respond immediately. The rain continued to fall, the noise around you becoming a backdrop to the uneasy silence that had settled between you. Finally, he gave a curt nod, his voice low. “Whatever you think, just… keep it to yourself.”

Before you could retort, his chauffeur's car pulled up beside him, and he turned away, his demeanor shutting down the conversation. “Good night,” he muttered, stepping into the car without a backward glance.

As Chuuya’s car pulled away, you were left standing in the rain, feeling irritated. The brief encounter had done nothing to resolve the tension between you two; if anything, it had only deepened it.

You took one last drag from your cigarette before tossing it onto the wet pavement, letting the rain extinguish its smoldering end. You huddled under your umbrella, watching the darkening cityscape with a sense of disillusionment.

Minutes later, your own chauffeur's car arrived. You slid into the backseat, your mood sour and your thoughts swirling. The car's interior was a stark contrast to the damp chill of the evening—warm, dry, and oddly comforting. But even as you settled into the plush seat, your mind was still fixed on Chuuya.

"Why did he always act like that?" You constantly wondered, replaying the conversation in your head. It was clear he had some sort of issue with you, but what was it? The unspoken animosity between you was as frustrating as it was inexplicable.

The days following your brief interaction with Chuuya fell back into the familiar routine of terse exchanges and cold silences. The only time you and Chuuya spoke was during the occasional meetings or when you had to pass on files or reports. Those interactions were always brief and professional, but the underlying tension remained an unspoken barrier between you two.

The afternoons were typically consumed by paperwork. As one of the most trusted executives in the mafia, you were no stranger to the piles of reports, updates, and various documents that demanded your attention. Yet, there were always certain documents that Mori seemed to insist you stay away from, and despite your best efforts, you never quite understood why. It was an irritation that lingered in the back of your mind, adding to the daily grind.

One afternoon, as you sifted through a particularly dense stack of paperwork, you heard a knock at your office door. Tachihara, one of the trusted members of the organization, stood there with a polite bow. His presence was a welcome break from the monotony.

You looked up from your paperwork, surprised by Tachihara's visit. You hadn’t expected to be summoned by Mori, especially given how preoccupied he seemed lately with various secretive matters.

“Boss is waiting for you in his office,” Tachihara informed you, his tone respectful but direct. You nodded, setting aside the papers and straightening up.

“Thank you, Tachihara-kun” you replied, rising from your desk. You adjusted your skirt and smoothed out your appearance before making your way to Mori’s grand office.

As you walked through the maze of corridors leading to the boss’s office, you couldn’t shake the sense of unease. Mori’s meetings were often shrouded in mystery, and you never quite knew what to expect. When you finally reached his office, you took a deep breath before knocking on the door and waiting for permission to enter.

“Come in,” Mori’s voice called from within, and you opened the door, stepping inside.

Mori sat behind his imposing desk, his demeanor calm and collected as always. The room was richly decorated, with dark wood furniture and a few select pieces of art that spoke to his refined tastes. He looked up as you entered, his expression unreadable.

“My dear, please, have a seat,” Mori said, gesturing to the chair across from him. You settled into the chair, maintaining a professional posture as you awaited his instructions.

“I have a special assignment for you. It’s both simple and complex, and I need someone with your skills and discretion.” he said casually.

You nodded, bracing yourself. “What’s the mission?”

Mori leaned forward slightly, his hands steepled in front of him. “There’s a rising criminal organization that’s been making waves. We need to infiltrate them and obtain some critical information. The task is straightforward—get the information and report back.”

You listened attentively, already mentally preparing for the infiltration process. But then Mori dropped a bombshell. “Your partner for this mission will be Chuuya Nakahara.”

Your heart sank. Chuuya was, without a doubt, the most difficult person to work with in the mafia. The constant friction between you two was practically irritating, and the thought of being paired with him on a covert mission was daunting.

“Chuuya?” you echoed, trying to keep the disbelief out of your voice. “Are you sure about this?”

Mori’s expression remained inscrutable. “Yes. He’s one of the best we have, and his skills will be invaluable for this mission. I trust you both to handle it.”

Before you could voice more objections, Mori continued, “There’s another aspect to this mission. You’ll need to deliver a copy of the information to Dazai.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Dazai? But he’s—”

“—with the agency, yes,” Mori interrupted. “However, the Port Mafia and the Armed Detective Agency are temporarily joining forces for this mission. It’s a strategic alliance, and Dazai will be the point of contact on their end.”

The mention of Dazai brought a flood of questions to your mind. You had heard his name in passing but knew very little about him. The thought of meeting him, combined with the fact that you had to work with Chuuya, was overwhelming.

“Can you tell me more about Dazai?” you asked, hoping Mori might elaborate.

Mori’s gaze turned distant for a moment before he shook his head. “I’m afraid not. What you need to know will be provided as the mission progresses. Just focus on the task at hand and coordinate with Chuuya.”

You felt a surge of frustration. “What about Chuuya and me working together? How do you expect us to manage that?”

Mori’s lips curled into a faint smile. “You both have your skills and abilities. It’s time to put them to the test. Consider this a chance to prove yourselves.”

With that, Mori dismissed you, leaving you with a heavy sense of foreboding. You rose from your chair and made your way out of his office, your thoughts racing. The mission itself seemed manageable, but the prospect of working closely with Chuuya and the unknown variables involving Dazai was already making your head spin.

You headed back to your office to prepare for the mission, the prospect of your new partnership with Chuuya hanging over you like a dark cloud. The thought of dealing with him on top of everything else was more than a little unsettling.

The next day, you met with Chuuya at the designated briefing point. His usual stoic expression never left his face, and you braced yourself for the inevitable tension.

“Let’s get this over with,” he said, barely acknowledging your presence. “The sooner we get in and out, the better.”

You sighed inwardly but kept your expression neutral. “Fine."

The mission went surprisingly smoothly. The criminal organization was unprepared for the level of infiltration and precision you and Chuuya brought. You moved efficiently, gathering the necessary intelligence and completing your objectives with minimal interaction. Chuuya’s demeanor remained as distant and curt as ever, his usual aloofness never wavering. It was almost as if he were a machine, functioning solely to execute the tasks at hand.

By the time you finished, you were both back at the car Mori had sent. It was an extravagant vehicle, a sleek black limousine with tinted windows and plush leather seats. The interior was adorned with rich wood paneling and ambient lighting, making it feel more like a mobile lounge than a mere car. The ride was comfortable, but the tension between you and Chuuya was palpable.

As you settled into the seat across from him, you tried to break the silence. “You did a good job, Nakahara,” you said, aiming for a tone of genuine appreciation despite the usual friction between you two.

Chuuya’s eyes remained fixed on the window, his posture rigid. “Whatever,” he replied curtly, barely sparing you a glance.

You frowned, the audacity!! “Seriously, you can’t even acknowledge a compliment? What’s your deal?”

He turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a defensive glint. “I don’t need your praise. Just doing my job.”

You leaned forward, trying to gauge his reaction. “It’s not about needing praise. It’s about working together and showing a bit of respect. Why do you always act like this?”

Chuuya’s expression hardened, and he seemed to bristle at the question. “You think I’m just going to open up? Don’t flatter yourself.”

The defensiveness in his voice was unexpected, almost endearing in its own way. “I’m not asking you to spill your guts. I just want to understand why you’re so cold with me all the time.”

He shifted in his seat, his gaze still locked on the window but his voice softer. “I’ve got my reasons, alright? Maybe I don’t like dealing with people who make things complicated.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the hint of vulnerability in his words. “And you think I’m the one making things complicated? We’re both part of the same organization, Chuuya. We need to be able to work together without this constant friction.”

He looked at you, his eyes betraying a flicker of something—regret, perhaps, or confusion. “It’s not that simple. I don’t know how to… change things.”

“Change things?” you muttered, and he did not respond but rather shifted his focus on the cityscape beyond the car window.

You watched him from across your seat, trying to decipher the complexity behind his cold exterior.

Despite his stoic demeanor, there was a certain magnetism about him. You couldn’t ignore the effect his presence had on you—irritating, frustrating, but undeniably compelling.

As for Chuuya? he certainly didn't hate you—he’d be a fool to think that! In reality, he was drawn to every part of you. The short black skirt and sheer tights that accentuated your plush thighs seemed to torment him, despite his efforts to ignore it. The struggle was evident in the way his fingers tensed and relaxed, and the subtle clenching of his jaw—it was all a clear sign of the internal conflict he was battling.

That day, when you bent down to pick up the paper that had slipped from your file. As you leaned forward, his eyes couldn't help but follow, and that's when he noticed—today, you weren’t wearing your usual sheer tights. Instead, the lace of your black thong was clearly visible, highlighting the soft, plush curve of your butt. The sight was enough to make his cock semi-hard aching for you, his breath catching as he quickly averted his gaze, struggling to rein in the sudden, intense desire that gripped him that day.

Chuuya had to muster every bit of self-control not to reach out, not to let his fingers trace the exposed skin that teased him so relentlessly. The image of your laced thong was burned into his mind, making it impossible to focus on anything else for the rest of that day. Every time he blinked, he saw you—bent over, completely unaware of the effect you were having on him. It was driving him nuts, how effortlessly you could push him to the brink without even realizing it.

That's why he had always kept his distance, his cold demeanour serving as a shield against both his growing desire for you and the need to comply with Mori's orders—after all, disobedience would mean his head on a silver platter. Yet, the more time he spent around you, the harder it became to resist the pull. Your effortless elegance and the way you leaned forward during conversations, with your shirt casually undone just enough to accentuate your perfect breasts, only deepened his torment, making it impossible for him to focus on anything but you, you—how breathtakingly beautiful you were.

The next leg of the mission was to meet with Dazai. As you arrived at the designated location, a chic café in a quieter part of town well, technically it was below the agency's base exactly, you tried to shake off the lingering tension from your interactions with Chuuya. You were greeted by Dazai, who was waiting with a relaxed yet attentive posture.

The moment you stepped in, Dazai's eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and admiration. He swiftly approached you, a charming smile on his face. “So, you’re the renowned beauty of the Port Mafia,” he said, taking your hand in his and pressing a light kiss to it.

Chuuya, who had followed closely behind, immediately scoffed, his irritation fairly noticable as he growled. “Back off, shitty Dazai.”

You offered a brief, polite smile but said little, your focus on the task at hand. With a practiced ease, you handed over the copy of the information to Dazai. There was no need for further pleasantries or small talk; the mission was complete, and your departure was already on your mind.

After a terse farewell, you left the café, yet you wanted to know more about him. Why did they call him the demon prodigy? He looked like an angel.

Back at the headquarters, you and Chuuya were debriefing with Mori. The atmosphere was heavy with unspoken tension, and as usual, Chuuya was terse and uncooperative. You handed over the details of the mission, and Mori's response was as enigmatic as ever.

"Excellent work," Mori said, though his gaze lingered on you as if gauging your reaction to the assignment. "I trust you both performed to the best of your abilities."

You nodded, and once Mori dismissed you, you left his office and made your way back to your desk. The weight of the day's events still hung over you.

Over the next few days, you threw yourself into paperwork, using it as a distraction. But the nagging thoughts about Dazai grew harder to ignore. When you finally finished your backlog of documents, you decided to act on your impulsivity.

You made your way to the Archive Storage Room on the second floor of the building. It was an area that prohibited from visit, and you were confident that you wouldn’t be disturbed. You took extra precautions, ensuring that no one was following you before entering the room.

Inside, the dim lighting and the smell of old paper greeted you. The Archive Storage Room was filled with rows of filing cabinets and dusty boxes. You approached the computer in the corner, its screen flickering to life as you powered it up.

You typed in "𝙾𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚞 𝙳𝚊𝚣𝚊𝚒" and watched as the search results loaded. The information that appeared was both astonishing and unsettling. The screen displayed details about Dazai’s criminal history—records of his rise in the underworld, his notorious reputation, and an extensive list of crimes.

Youngest mafia executive in history. Counts of conspiracy to murder, extortion, and assorted fraud. The numbers were staggering: 138 counts of conspiracy to murder, 312 counts of extortion, and 625 counts of assorted fraud, among other serious offences.

As you absorbed the details, you felt a chill. The contrast between the man you had seen and the criminal profile on the screen was jarring. Was Dazai truly as enigmatic and multifaceted as he seemed? Or was there something more sinister beneath his charming exterior?

Your thoughts were interrupted by a noise outside the room. You quickly shut down the computer, your heart racing.

You froze for a moment, listening intently to the sounds outside. It was faint but persistent, suggesting someone was approaching.

Suddenly, you noticed a door to a nearby storage room that seemed to lead somewhere different. It was marked as a liquor store room and had a password lock. You hadn't known the combination, but lucky you, the door was slightly ajar. Without thinking twice, you slipped inside, hoping it would provide some temporary refuge.

The room was dimly lit, filled with rows of bottles and crates stacked haphazardly. You stood in the middle of the room, trying to steady your breathing and listen for any signs of movement. Just as you were about to move further into the room, you felt a firm hand grab your arm and yank you backward.

A hand was pressed over your mouth, muffling your gasp. You were pulled into a tight corner of the room, hidden behind a stack of crates. Panic surged through you as you struggled.

"Shhh, you're gonna get us caught," a familiar voice hissed.

Your heart skipped a beat as you recognized the voice—Chuuya?

He kept his hand firmly over your mouth, his breath warm against your ear. You could feel the tension in his body as he pressed you back into the corner, his own form shadowy against the dim flickering light coming from the outside of the archive room.

"Don't make a sound," he murmured, keeping his voice low. His eyes darted towards the ajar door, watching for any sign of intrusion.

“What are you doing here?” you whispered fiercely, trying to keep your voice down. “And why are you hiding with me?”

Chuuya glanced around. His expression was clearly uneasy. “I was following you. I knew you’d be up to something. Mori has his eyes on you, and I didn’t want you getting into trouble. We need to get out of here before someone finds us.”

You stared at him, bewildered by his unexpected appearance and his protectiveness. “I didn’t ask for your help, Nakahara.”

He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze scanning the room. “I didn’t ask to be put in this position either,” he muttered.

As you and Chuuya pressed against the tight corner, the proximity of your bodies intensified the tension. His breath was warm and rapid against your neck, carrying the distinct scent of alcohol—had he been drinking before following you? The dim flicker of light from outside illuminated his azure eyes, half-lidded and filled with a mixture of emotions you couldn’t quite decipher. His hands rested beside your small frame, effectively trapping you in the confined space.

The close contact made your heart race. You could feel his heartbeat pounding in sync with your own, a rhythmic reminder of just how near you were to him. His hot breath against your neck and jawline was almost too much to bear. The sensation made your stomach sink with... pleasure?

It had been a long time since you were this close to anyone, let alone someone as fucking Chuuya Nakahara. The air between you was charged, every movement of his body against yours making your cunt clench around nothing dripping with arousal—fucking get a grip! Are you really that desperate for him?

As the footsteps continued to echo outside, you remained still, acutely aware of every sensation. Then, suddenly, it registered—you felt the unmistakable bulge press against your thighs. The realization hit you like a wave, and a surge of desire took over your whole body.

Your mind was suddenly consumed by a singular, overpowering urge. Despite the circumstances and the years of walls you had both built around yourselves hating each other's guts, the thought of pressing your lips against his beautiful pink ones was almost overwhelming. The attraction, once a mere undercurrent, had become an undeniable urge that you couldn’t ignore.

Chuuya’s eyes fell to your lips, a soft pink tint colouring his cheeks—whether from the alcohol or something more. A few strands of hair stuck to his temple and forehead, damp with sweat, as his breathing grew increasingly erratic. The closeness between you, along with how delicious and obedient you looked beneath him, made every second feel like an eternity. You both knew that one move, one breath too close, could change everything.

You swear to heavens that you tried desperately to focus on anything, but the overwhelming sensation of his twitching bulge against your thighs was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.

"Chuuya.." Your curiosity got the better of you, as you whispered, “Why are you protecting me?”

You shifted slightly, feeling the unmistakable pressure of his bulge growing with each passing second against your thighs.

“Shut up,” he snapped, his voice still low. Before you could react, he crushed his lips against yours, kissing you deeply and passionately, tasting every bit of you as if he wanted to savour the moment completely, to memorise how hot your lips felt between his wet ones.

His lips moved against yours with an intensity that took your breath away, his hand tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer, as if he couldn’t get enough. The tension that had been simmering between you two finally erupted in this heated moment.

You could feel his body pressed firmly against yours, his heartbeat thudding wildly in sync with your own. His other hand slid down to your waist, pulling you against him. The sensation of his hard length pressed against your clothed aching core sent a shiver through you, making you beg for more, how much did you miss this? Not the touch from any other man, but a man like him.

His lips left yours only briefly, his breath ragged as he pulled back to gaze at you. His azure eyes were dark, filled with desire. His cheeks were flushed, and his usually composed demeanor had completely unraveled. “I fucking hate you so much,”

You stared at him, still breathless from the kiss, your mind reeling from the sudden turn of events. The desire that you kept buried for so long surged to the surface, impossible to ignore any longer. The way he looked at you, with such raw need despite his words, sent a jolt of heat straight to your now-dripping cunt.

“Oh...I can tell, but no matter how much you hate me, you still want this.” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but he heard you.

His lips crashed onto yours with a fervent, insatiable hunger. His kisses were wild and demanding, each one more fervent than the last, making your stomach crumble in desire, the way he sucked on your lips, titling your head to deepen the kiss, tongue darting inside your hot mouth and dancing with your own, hot saliva dripping from your lips as he continues his open-mouthed kissing, hot breaths mixed together with low whimpers.

He suddenly pulled away, breaking the intense kiss. He held up a hand, signaling for you to stay quiet as he focused on the sounds outside the liquor store room. The muffled footsteps that had been approaching earlier now moved away, growing fainter with each passing second. He strained to listen, his sharp senses alert. After what felt like an eternity, a distinct thud echoed through the room as the door to the archive storage slammed shut. Whoever had been snooping around was now gone.

“They’re gone,” Chuuya whispered, more to himself than to you, as he released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Without missing a beat, you lowered yourself to your knees before him, your eyes never leaving his. Chuuya tensed, watching your every move, he frowned his eyebrows, eyes half-lidded with desire. His usual confidence wavered for a split second, and he mumbled, “This… this is a bad idea.”

But you didn’t care. The heat between you was too much to resist, and the thrill of what you were about to do only fueled your desire. Ignoring his words, you pressed your face against his clothed cock, feeling its hardness through the fabric. You looked up at him, your eyes locking onto his as he stared down at you, his expression a betraying an overwhelming lust.

"Just let me taste you... please." Wait—did you just beg him? What is wrong with you!

“Fuck…” he cursed under his breath, his voice strained as he clenched his fists, trying to maintain some semblance of control. But the way you looked at him, your lips so close to his aching cock, the heat of your breath making him shiver, combined with your desperate, pleading tone, was more than he could bear, he just couldn't hold back.

His hips jerked slightly, a reflexive response to the heat of your breath seeping through the fabric.

You could feel his length twitch beneath the cloth, and a thrill ran through you at the power you held over him in this moment. Your fingers trailed up his thighs, brushing over the firm muscles hidden beneath his clothes, before finding the button of his trousers. You deftly undid it, feeling the tremor that ran through his body at the simple motion.

“Hmm doll..” he rasped, his voice hoarse with need. His hands twitched at his sides as if fighting the urge to reach out and grab you, to pull you even closer. “Mori would have my head on a platter. Do you really want that? You should stop—mm, fuck…”

But the way his cock strained against the fabric, begging for release, told a different story. You ignored his half-hearted protests, slipping your fingers beneath the waistband of his trousers and boxers to free him. The moment his thick, throbbing length sprang free, you couldn’t help but admire the sight before you—his flushed cock, already slick at the tip with precum, practically pulsing with the need for your touch.

Your lips brushed against the head, tasting the salty sweetness of his arousal. Chuuya groaned above you, the sound vibrating through the small room and setting your nerves on fire. His hand finally found its way into your hair, tangling in the strands as he fought to keep control of himself.

“Argh… doll,” he groaned again, but there was no longer any resistance in his tone. Only raw, unfiltered need.

You licked a slow, deliberate line from the base of his cock to the tip, savoring the way his breath hitched, his grip tightening in your hair. Then, without hesitation, you took him into your mouth, your lips wrapping around him as you sank down, taking him as deep as you could.

“Fuck! Hmmph” Chuuya cursed, his hips bucking involuntarily as you began to move, your head bobbing in a steady rhythm. The gloved hand in your hair tightened, not to push you away, but to hold you in place, as if he couldn’t bear to lose the sensation of your warm, wet mouth around him.

You could feel him trembling above you, the tension in his body coiling tighter with each passing second. His other hand came to rest against the wall, steadying himself as his control slipped further away.

Every time you glanced up at him, you saw the struggle on his face, the way his normally composed expression had completely unraveled into one of pure, desperate desire. His azure eyes, usually so sharp and focused, were now dark and heavy-lidded, consumed by the pleasure you were giving him.

“Doll…,” he gasped, his voice rough as he looked down at you, eyes blazing with more lust. “Stop looking at me like that.”

But you didn’t slow down, didn’t stop. Instead, you doubled your efforts, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked him deeper, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head with every upward stroke. You could feel him twitching in your mouth, the telltale sign that he was close, so close.

“Shit… Haah— doll, I—” Chuuya’s mere warning came out in a choked groan as his hips jerked forward, his control finally snapping. He tried to pull away, but you didn’t let him, keeping him locked in place as you took him to the hilt, swallowing around him as his cock twitched spilling out ropes of hot cum into your mouth with a ragged cry.

The taste of him flooded your senses, hot and salty, and you swallowed every drop, your tongue working to coax every last bit of pleasure from him. Chuuya’s body shuddered with the force of his release, his hand loosening in your hair as he struggled to catch his breath.

Finally, when you were sure he had nothing left to give, you pulled back, licking your lips as you looked up at him. His eyes were half-lidded, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he stared down at you, still breathless and trembling.

You grinned up at him, your heart still pounding in your chest as you savored the sight of him, thoroughly undone and utterly at your mercy. “Maybe next time you’ll think twice before following me,” you teased, your voice laced with playful defiance.

He scoffed as he pulled you up to your feet, his lips crashing against yours in a heated, almost desperate kiss. His hands gripped your hips, holding you close as if he couldn’t bear to let you go. He could feel the remnants of his release still on your tongue, the taste of him mingling with the intensity of the kiss.

When he finally pulled back, his breath ragged and heavy, you thought that might be the end of it. But then his eyes darkened with renewed hunger, and you realized he wasn’t nearly done with you.

“You think I’m finished doll... hmm?” he rasped.

Before you could respond, his hand, now fully beneath your skirt, slid higher, tracing the curve of your inner thigh as he pushed your legs apart with his perfectly toned ones. The rough pads of his fingers met the delicate lace of your panties, and he tugged them down with a swift, impatient movement, letting them drop to the floor.

You gasped as his hand moved back up, fingers brushing over your aching core, slick with need. The sensation was too much, each touch sending sparks of pleasure in your stomach. His breath hitched as he felt how wet you were, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

“Fuck, doll... already s‘ wet from just sucking my cock?” he muttered against your lips as he lets out a shaky chuckle. His fingers circled your clit, teasing, before slipping between your folds, one finger then two and now three? You arched into him, your back pressing against the cold wall. His long neat bare fingers curling inside you expertly to find that spot that made your knees weak—when did he manage take off his gloves?

You bit your lip to keep from crying out, the sensation overwhelming, but he wasn't having any of it. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “Let me hear you, doll face.” he whispered, his fingers moving faster, slipping inside you with a sudden, rough thrusts. The sensation ripped a moan from your throat, and you gripped his shoulders to steady yourself, your nails digging into his white dress shirt shirt.

Chuuya chuckled, his lips brushing against the side of your neck "You smell s‘ delicious. Did you wear that perfume just to tease me, hmm?" His fingers deftly unbuttoned your shirt with one hand, his other hand continued its relentless, fast thrusts inside you. When he finally exposed your laced bra, he paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing with appreciation as he took in the sight of the perfect curve of your soft breasts. "Matching bra and panties—it's as if you're begging for it. Were you scheming something nasty in that pretty head of yours?"

He yanked the cups of your bra down, exposing your breasts to his hungry eyes. His hands were quick to follow, kneading and squeezing as his hot mouth closed around your hard nipples, sucking and nibbling with a soft whimpers indicating that he's enjoying it as well. He continued to finger you, his pace growing more insistent.

You were lost in the sensation, your head falling back as he played with your body, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. His fingers slipped in and out of you, curling just right to hit that perfect spot that made your vision blur with pleasure.

“Chuuya... please,” you gasped, not even sure what you were begging for, but desperate for more. The heat between you was unbearable, the air thick with tension and the scent of sex.

But he wasn’t done with you yet.

Without warning, he pulled his fingers out, leaving you aching and desperate for more. You barely had time to protest before he spun you around, pushing you against the cold wall causing you to gasp from the surprise switch.

His hands gripped your hips, as he positioned himself between your legs and lining himself up with your entrance, his tip pressing against your slick folds.

With one swift thrust, he buried himself inside you, filling you completely. The sudden stretch made you cry out, your head falling back onto his shoulder as the sensation overwhelmed you. He groaned, his grip on your hips tightening as he began to move, each thrust deep and hard, driving you closer to the edge with every stroke.

“Fuck, you feel s‘ good, s‘ fucking tight fuck fuck-” he growled as he kissed and sucked on you exposed neck.

The sound of skin against skin echoed in the small, dimly lit room, mingling with the sounds of your moans and his ragged breathing.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Fuck! I hate you ah— so fucking much.”

His words sent a thrill of something dark and intoxicating through you, the blend of pleasure and pain blurring the line between hate and desire. You could feel him everywhere—his cock driving into you with relentless force, his breath hot against your skin, his hands roaming over your body as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

You were losing yourself to him, the pleasure so intense it was almost unbearable. Every thrust pushed you closer to the edge, every whispered curse and growl pulling you further into the abyss of raw, unfiltered lust.

“I hate how much I want you,” Chuuya hissed, his voice ragged with need. “I hate how fucking good you feel… how your walls tighten around my cock—ahh fuckkk.”

His pace quickened, his hips slamming into you with desperate intensity as he chased his own release, dragging you along with him. You could feel the tension building in your core, your body coiling tighter and tighter until you thought you might snap.

And then, with one final, deep thrust, you did. The orgasm surged through you like a tidal wave, crashing over you with a force that left you trembling and gasping for air.

Chuuya wasn't far behind, his own release following seconds later as he buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he filled you with his hot ribbons of cum shots. He held you close, his body shuddering against yours as he rode out the last waves of his orgasm.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the harsh, ragged breathing of the two of you, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex. Chuuya stayed inside you for a moment longer, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he tried to catch his breath.

When he finally pulled out, you both were left panting and spent, your bodies trembling with the aftermath of your intense orgasm.

he didn't waste a moment. With a swift motion, he lifted you up as if you weighed nothing and placed you onto one of the crates. The cold metal pressed against your hot bare skin.

Before you could catch your breath, he reached up to his neck, unfastening the choker that adorned his neck. Without a word, he grabbed your wrists and wrapped the choker around them, securing it tightly before locking you against another one of the crates behind you.

A wicked grin spread across his face as he dropped to his knees, his eyes dark with hunger while he looked up at you. He spread your thighs wider, his gaze fixed on your glistening core. The sight of you, flushed and dripping with the evidence of your shared passion, seemed to drive him wild. He leaned in, and just as his lips brushed your sensitive skin, he muttered, "Give me another one, I'm not letting you leave without drawing every tiny bit of you sweet cum."

Then, his mouth was on you, hot and relentless. You gasped as his tongue traced a path along your plush folds, teasing, tasting, savouring the mix of you and him. His hands slid up your thighs, holding you in place as he delved deeper, his tongue flicking and swirling in a way that made your head spin.

“Chuuya…t‘ much” you moaned as your hips bucked against his mouth despite your overstimulation. The sound of your own voice, desperate and breathless, echoed in the small room, but you didn’t care. All that mattered was the incredible sensation of Chuuya’s tongue, expertly working you towards another peak.

He hummed in delight, the vibration sending shocks of pleasure straight to your core. His tongue moved with precision now, alternating between soft, teasing licks and deep, penetrating thrusts that left you a trembling mess. He knew exactly how to push you to the brink, then pull back just enough to leave you aching for more.

“Fuck, you taste even better like this,” he growled against your flesh, his voice low and rough, filled with raw desire. He licked a long, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit, before capturing the sensitive bundle of nerves between his lips. The sensation was overwhelming, your body arching off the crate as you cried out in pleasure.

“please Chuu—ahh…” you let out a lewd moan, your voice hitching with every flick of his tongue. The need for release was a burning ache in your core, your body trembling as the pressure built higher and higher.

Chuuya’s grip tightened on your thighs, his nails digging into your flesh as he held you in place. “I want to taste every drop of you. I'm not stopping until you come all over my face.”

His words, coupled with the relentless attention he lavished on your clit as you gasped, your body arching against the restraint as you instinctively pushed yourself against his hot tongue. The crate you were bound to groaned under the pressure, and with a sharp pull, it slid forward, causing a cascade of bottles to crash to the ground. The noise was loud, shattering the stillness of the room as glass broke all around you.

The impact sent you both tumbling to the floor, your body landing hard against the cold concrete. The crate you were tied to was now stuck between the wall and a stack of other crates, trapping your stretched arms above your head in a makeshift prison. For a brief moment, panic flashed through you, but Chuuya didn’t pause. It was as if the crash had only fueled his desire.

He growled, as you flinched and tried to push yourself upward, worried that you might have hurt him or that the situation was getting out of control. But he had none of it. His grip on your hips was iron-tight, and with a fierce pull, he dragged you back down to meet his hot wet mouth once again.

“Don’t even fuckin’ think about moving away,” he hissed roughly. His breath was hot against your sensitive clit as he resumed his assault, his tongue thrusting deep inside you, tasting every inch of your dripping core.

You were helpless to do anything but succumb to the overwhelming sensation. The position was awkward, your wrists still bound to the crate, but it only seemed to heighten the intensity of the moment. The cold floor pressed against your bare legs as Chuuya feasted on you like a man starved, completely pussy drunk, lost in the taste and feel of you.

Your body trembled with each flick of his tongue, and despite the crash and the chaos around you, all you could focus on was the incredible pleasure he was giving you. Your moans filled the room, echoing off the walls as you tugged against your restraints, needing to touch him, to feel his soft ginger locks between your fingers, to touch his utterly hot body.

Your vision blurred, your body straining as the coil of pleasure tightened in your core. “Chuu… please d-don't stop… ” you begged, your voice trembling with need.

Chuuya pulled you up slightly, roughly guiding you to straddle his lap. You were positioned over him, your knees planted on the floor as you faced him. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you steady. Without missing a beat, too overwhelming by your approaching orgasm you roughly sank onto his hard cock with a moan, feeling the intensity of his renewed desire. His cock was impossibly hard again—his third time getting erect tonight, as if he hadn't felt this kind of craving in years.

“Yess haah fuck yes doll... hmm take it, just like that,” he growled, his voice a low rasp. You began to move, riding him with a fervor, squeezing the life out of his thick cock with every thrust.

His cock pulsed inside you, and you could feel every throb as you moved with the crate still precariously lodged above your head and your hands bound, you were completely at his mercy.

"Fuck— I can't get enough of this" he gasped.

His words were a mere backdrop to the sensation of his cock sliding in and out of you. Each grind was powerful, driving you to the brink of madness. His grip on your hips was possessive, pulling you down onto him with a force that made every motion even more intense.

Your legs trembled, muscles aching from the effort, as if you'd just finished a strenuous leg workout. He let out a shaky chuckle, feeling the quiver of your legs against his skin.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, he lifted up a bit thrusting fast enough to make the crates shake, the remaining bottles crashing to the floor. The chaos around you seemed to enhance the wild energy between you. His hands moving to pull you down harder onto him, continuing his relentless assault on your now sore and overstimulated cunt.

You could feel the pressure building within you. The room was filled with the sounds of your desperate moans and Chuuya’s heavy breaths and lewd moans, the chaotic noise of broken bottles and the groaning crate only adding to the fevered atmosphere.

“Chuu—aaah fuck fuck fuck-” you gasped, your voice cracking as you struggled to keep control.

his hands tightening on your hips as he forced you down harder onto him. “Come all over fuckin’ my cock doll ah-,” he demanded roughly with his raspy voice cracking.

The combination of his unrelenting thrusts and the intense friction made your vision blur. You could feel the coiling pressure in your core reaching its peak once again, your body straining and trembling with need. The final push came when Chuuya’s movements grew more erratic, his grip on you tightening as he thrust into you with a force.

“Fuck fuck yes yes fuck me hard like that— don't stop please” you cried out, your voice breaking as the wave of orgasm crashed over you. Your body shuddered violently, the intense pleasure overwhelming every sense. The sensation of release seemed to go on forever, each pulse of your orgasm made your ears muffle with intense.

Chuuya wasn’t far behind. The moment he felt your juicies coat his rock-hard cock and drip onto the concrete beneath you both, he let out a loud lewd moan. His cock pulsed and throbbed inside you, each powerful spasm forcing him into an explosive climax. His grip on your hips tightened as he filled you with a forceful bursts of his cum, his breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps.

Chuuya, breath still heavy, fixed you with a wicked grin. “Seems like you could use a bit of help,” he said, his voice raspy from the intensity.

With a casual flick of his hand, he activated his gravity ability, and you felt the familiar shift in weightlessness and the red glow blinding your blurry eyes as your body was lifted off the ground. You gasped in surprise, feeling a thrill of anticipation as he gently guided you back onto the crate.

He carefully manoeuvred you into a sitting position on the crate. His touch is probably the best thing you've ever experienced in your entire life. As he adjusted you. His choker, which had been used to bind your wrists, was now in his hands. He unfastened it with deliberate, methodical movements, freeing you from the constraints.

“Better?” he asked, his tone a playful tease.

You nodded, catching your breath as you settled back onto the crate. The initial shock of the gravity shift had left you momentarily disoriented, but Chuuya’s presence was surprisingly comforting. He looked at you with a soft gaze, taking in your fuck-out appearance and the satisfied glow in your half-lidded eyes.

Chuuya’s smirk softened into a rare, genuine smile as he helped you off the crate, guiding you as you clambered down, the aftershocks of your climax still making your legs tremble slightly. His eyes remained locked on you, full of a possessive warmth.

"Careful now," he said, his voice soft but tinged with a lingering edge of command. "Don't want you falling over after all that."

You managed a shaky smile, feeling the rush of adrenaline and pleasure slowly ebbing away. Chuuya's hands were gentle as he helped you steady yourself, his touch tender despite the fierce passion that had just unfolded.

"Thanks," you breathed, finally finding your footing. "I didn't expect... well, this."

He chucked moving with a practiced ease as he pulled his pants up. He adjusted his belt, fastening it with a flick of his wrist and adjusting his choker around his neck.

You carefully buttoned up your shirt smoothing out any wrinkles trying to regain some semblance of composure, Chuuya leaned in one last time, his lips brushing against your ear. “This changes nothing,” he whispered, his voice low and rough. “I still hate you.”

You rolled your eyes at his words, trying to stifle a smile. There was no heat in his voice, only a lingering tension that promised this wouldn’t be the last time you found yourselves in such a situation.

Despite his dismissive tone, Chuuya moved with surprising gentleness as he helped you out of the cramped storage room. His hands, wrapped around your waist guiding you carefully, ensuring you didn’t stumble as you both made your way back into the dimly lit corridor.

As you approached the elevator, you whispered, “Never doing this again.”

Chuuya chuckled, a low, amused sound that echoed in the quiet space. “Yeah, never,” he agreed, his tone laced with irony.

But deep down, both of you knew the truth. The words were merely a facade, a way to mask the undeniable reality that this—whatever this was—would indeed happen again. And again. And again.

NOTE: Hi, hi, my lovely pookies!! Since this fic won the poll voting, I started by publishing it first. The next one will be published *finger crossed* maybe by next Friday? if not before then, also I wanted to take a moment to thank you for all of your lovely comments and sweet feedbacks Xx. P.s : chuuya’s photo credit to @pigon_51 on Twitter / X.

➵Want more of Chuuya Nakahara?

©2024 @thewickedjazzy ─── please do not copy, translate, or post on any platform.

[badaseyebags]

private lessons ⋆｡°✩ chapter 2 ⟢

fluffy, suggestive, smut in upcoming chapters

word count: 3k+ (phew)

warnings: very obvious power dynamics, just some making out, a bit of begging, lots of praise, lots of pet names, BADA CALLS HERSELF MOMMY!!!! aaaa

author’s note: i’m back 😳 i’m sorry that this took much longer then i expected, pls don’t block me 😞 i hope this is readable and not too disappointing @-@ i promise there’s actual smut coming soon! feel free to leave some feedback/suggestions! thank you so much for reading ♡ -booger 🍞

with one last glance in the mirror you gathered the remainder of your courage and slipped on your shoes, grabbing your purse with shaky hands. why were you so nervous? it’s not like you’re going over to her house to get bent over. you’re simply going to get tutored. unfortunately you remind yourself why you’re in this position in the first place, due to your lack of concentration during her classes. you sigh shaking your head, applying a second coat your favourite lipgloss nonetheless, just for good measures! was it too much? was it obvious you put in a little more effort than you usually do? would she notice? why would she? and why do you even care so much in the first place? she’s just a teacher after all..

she had texted you the address and you realised she actually lived a bit further, which is probably why she offered to come pick you up in the first place, not wanting to inconvenience her any further you politely refused. maybe you were starting to regret it knowing it’ll take a long time to get there by bus, and you’ll most likely be late.. late to your first ever tutoring class, what a great way to start. woohoo!

you put your headphones on, making your way into the bus and finding an empty seat all the way in the back. that way you could have some privacy to collect yourself before you meet her. actually.. that wasn’t really working and you began getting more nervous so you decided to pull out your notebook to mindlessly doodle for the time being. it turned out quite cute you thought to yourself, staring at the sketch, imagining those two figures kissing were you and her. oh no, you’re doing it again. you and your stupid imagination! and that’s not even the first time you caught yourself doing something so silly. you close your notebook shoving it back into your bag, just a few stops away from your destination. phew. time to actually collect yourself!

with wobbly knees you make your way to her apartment, palms sweaty as you smooth them over your skirt. 10 minutes, you’re 10 minutes late.. would she notice? she’s having a day off that she sacrificed specifically to help you, and you dare come late? oh no, you’re definitely screwed. you start panicking as guilt washes over you, practicing your apology in your head, accidentally ringing her doorbell in the process. fuck. you didn’t mean to do that just yet, you weren’t ready. if you’re fast enough you can just ru-

you heard the door nob turning, soon revealing a tall slim figure in front of you. “oh miss y/n! you decided to show up after all, and here i thought you didn’t need my help anymore” she teases giving you a half smile making your heart jump, not only due to you being late, but because of how effortlessly attractive she looked with her two toned hair tied back into a messy loose braid, complimenting her light blue button up paired with some slacks. not to mention the sound of her half groggy voice calling out your name and the way it slid past her lips so smoothly.

“h-hello mrs. lee i am so sorry for being late! i didn’t”before you could finish your apology she chuckled, shaking her head. “no need to apologise sweetie, i was just teasing a little. come on in, make yourself at home.” you blink up at her, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. you just greeted her and messed up? damn already? was it because she called you sweetie?! god, you’re hopeless.

“i won’t bite.” she chuckled again, walking into her apartment leaving you with no choice but to follow behind her, timidly shutting the door as you entered. you swore you could hear her quietly mumble something under her breath, but you decided it was your twisted mind playing tricks on you once again. for the sake of your sanity. “here here, have a seat. care for some tea? coffee perhaps?” she pulls out a chair for you and this small gesture alone has your heart fluttering for no reason. you look down shyly, taking a seat and avoiding her gaze. “i..uh.. anything is fine, thank you.” you mumble trying not to keep yourself composed. she smiles nodding as she reaches for the jar of instant coffee. “i haven’t had my coffee yet, since i wasn’t sure if you’d like to drink some with me. do you like yours with milk, sugar?” was she calling you sugar or was she asking you whether or not you wanted sugar in your coffee? …and she waited for you to have coffee? yeah, as if. you need to stop being delusional. “miss y/n?” she glanced back at you knocking you of out your prolonged silence. “i-i would like both please.. i like my coffee s-sweet” you close your eyes in embarrassment as another stutter leaves your clumsy lips. you swear you never stutter. she chuckles in response as she prepares your drink. “we are quite the opposite, i prefer mine black.” she gives you a soft smile, sitting down across from you, setting your drink in front of you. you mutter a shy thank you as your hands reach for the spoon, mixing some sugar into the warm beverage. “oh that’s nothing, i usually make really good coffee but my coffee machine broke recently so.. instant coffee will have to do for now.” you nod quickly, fingers gripping the handle and side of the cup. “that’s fine! any coffee is good! i actually prefer instant it’s not like i know much about coffee anyways-” your lips are faster then your brain causing you to blurt out such a fact about you, which only made her smile wider. “oh we really are opposites, maybe i could change your mind once i make you a proper cup, hm?” you blush nodding fast in agreement, did that mean you’d be seeing her more then just this one time? you try to calm your nerves by bringing the cup to your lips, taking a little sip. maybe it’s better to keep your mouth busy so you don’t end up embarrassing yourself even more.

“so y/n… just how much experience do you really have?” she also brings her own cup to her lips, eyes fixated on yours. your eyes widen, the coffee you tried swallowing getting stuck in the back of your throat at her question, resulting you in coughing out loud making her put her cup down and lean towards you in worry. “are you alright sweetie? was it too hot? did it burn you?” you cover your mouth, calming yourself down as you shake your head noticing bada is very professional and calm despite asking such a personal question.

maybe you are too shy after all and you should be more open when it comes to talking about your sex life. people do it all the time, it’s totally natural. you hear others talk about it all the time. but then again why would she ask you such a private question out of nowhere? maybe she’s just a very social person, this is how adults talk and there shouldn’t be shame. it’s not like you ever talked about sexual things with anyone, but you know others do. like with their friends, parents, therapists, lovers.. you just need to get over the embarrassment and step out of your shell, you could learn a lot from her, be as mature as she is, even when it comes to such topics. she sure wouldn’t judge you no matter what, she’s a teacher after all. “i’m fine! i’m just.. not too good at talking about such topics.. but i… well…i don’t have much experience… none at all actually. that’s really embarrassing to admit. others my age have already done so.. many times.. maybe i am really slow or something..” you chew on your bottom lip, struggling to keep your head up to look at her, choosing to look into your cup instead. if you could see your own reflection in the coffee you’re sure your face would be beet red by now. that’s when bada herself chokes a little as your unexpected response.

you totally misinterpreted what she was asking. she was asking about your experience on the subject she was supposed to tutor you on, not your sexual experience. did she give you the wrong impression? was she being too obvious with her interest in you? were her flirting attempts not as subtle as she attempted? no way, with how empty headed you are they probably flew right past you, she thought. well.. it’s not like she wasn’t curious about that in the first place, but she wouldn’t have asked so suddenly. however, she didn’t have the heart to embarrass you like that by correcting you and telling you that you misunderstood her question.

she just cleared her throat and went along with it. was she willing to risk it all? this made her want to corrupt you even more, but she can’t. not yet. you made her lose her composure. she needed to fix that and get back in charge. she won’t let it, let you, fluster her. “sweetie..there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. that’s exactly what i’m here for.” she decided to test out the waters, see if you were as submissive and truly empty minded around her as she painted you to be. her hand was itching to get a feel of your skin, she was struggling to fight it. she needs to take this slow she reminds herself, she doesn’t want to scare you away. but it seems like you’re already falling into her trap. your eyes instantly snap up to meet hers, to make sure weather you heard her correctly.

“it would be such a pity if you left without learning anything.. wouldn’t that make me a bad teacher, hm?” she furrows her brows in faux sympathy as her hand finally reaches out, gently cupping your cheek making you look up at her. you gasp at the sudden contact and your current situation. “oh y-yeah… i’m here to be tutored-“ you try to avoid her gaze, once again looking down in embarrassment. your nervousness made you think of studying again, which is the reason she invited you over. right? you must be totally misunderstanding this. you’re just being delusional, you tell yourself.

despite you both sitting down she visibly towered over you, not just in her height, but in her presence alone. you could feel her knees ever so gently pressing against your own if you weren’t trying so hard to distract yourself.

was she sitting so close to you from the start?

she scoffs in amusement, her lips forming a fake frown. “oh you poor little thing.. you really thought i wouldn’t notice the way you look at me during class? that i can’t see right through that pretty little head of yours? you’re a smart girl y/n, we both know you don’t actually have a issue with learning..” your cheeks heat up as you’re forced to meet her gaze that looks more intimidating then ever. she just exposed you. she knew it this whole time. you didn’t think your crush on her was that visible. your lips part to speak but no words come out making her grin. her thumb slides past your bottom lip ever so gently, almost knocking the air out your lungs. “i think.. you could do so much better, all you need is just a little motivation.” she hovers over you, her thumb now reaching the corner of your lips, collecting the remainder of coffee and bringing it up to her own lips. her eyes flutter shut momentarily, licking her thumb clean and savouring the flavour with a hum. “so sweet indeed..” she hooks her pointer finger under your chin, making you look up at her. chuckling softly she leans in further, her thumb stroking just below your bottom lip as her eyes trail from your eyes to your lips and back. “are you gonna let me have a taste, doll?”

you gulp, your own eyes focused on her lips, slowly nodding as you look up at her. “now now, wouldn’t that be too easy?” she leans in closer, lips near your ear. “you’ll have to be a good girl and ask for it.” your mouth goes completely dry as you gulp. your hands clutch a fist full of your skirt, tension so thick it could cut air separating you two. you mutter under your breath, scared your voice will betray you. “mrs. lee.. could you.. umm.. can you kiss me?” you shut your eyes tight, hoping she would kiss you then and there. instead you only hear a dry chuckle.

you open your eyes, attention on her as she tucks a stray hair behind your ear, confusion painted on your face. “thats not how a good girl asks. not even a please? now that’s not very polite, is it? i’m starting to think you don’t deserve it.” you whine shaking your head. “no no i’m sorry! please… please kiss me?” you look up at her desperately. “aww you want a kiss that bad?” she coos cupping your cheek, smirking at the heat of it against her hand. you nod fast, leaning into her touch, totally submitting to her.

“use your words, tell mommy what you want.” she raises her brow, waiting for you to finally say it. your cheeks feel like they’re on fire now, heart beating faster then before as you stumble over your own words. “m-mommy?” you shyly repeat after her, eyes widening, cheeks painted red. you could see the shift in her eyes, and the way it affected her.

she closes her eyes for a little, biting her lip almost as if she’s savouring the sound of your voice calling her that. “how fucking cute.” she rests her thumb against your bottom lip, softly pulling it down. “doing such a good job begging mommy for a kiss…” you close your eyes tightly at her praise, almost whining from such a small action. she leans in, her lips just a few millimetres away from your own. you could feel her breath against your lips, covering your skin in goosebumps. she keeps one of her hands against your cheek, while the other rests against the top of the chair you’re sitting on. she gives your cheek a soft stroke before finally connecting both of your lips.

her soft plump lips smashing against yours felt like a reward. it felt like they were on fire, the way your lips burnt when she pressed her own against them. her fingers against your skin were so gentle, tracing the outline of your cheek, barely touching your skin as if you were made of glass. her lips were telling a different story as her kisses only deepened. you didn’t know what to do with your hands so you loosely griped the fabric of her blouse. she felt you fidgeting and decided to slide one of her hands down to reach for your hand, giving them a soft squeeze before wrapping them around her neck. this gave her the opportunity to drag her hands down your body as she scooped you up in her arms. without breaking the kiss she lifted you and placed you on the table next to her, making you wrap your arms around her tighter. she experimentally dragged her tongue against your bottom lip so gently, your lips parted in surprise. she smirked sneaking her tongue inside your parted lips that granted her access. you let out a little whimper at the feeling of your tongues gliding against each other. you could almost taste the bitterness of the coffee aftertaste mixing with your sweet one and for once, it was delicious. you were everything she wanted and she wanted.. needed more. eager to be closer to you, one of her hands slid down your thigh, slightly parting them as she pushed herself in between, she just couldn’t get enough. with one of her large hands hand stroking the outer side of your thigh, and other one playing with your hair you couldn’t help but shiver in her touch. it was like she was devouring you whole. your body feeling so soft and tiny pressed up against hers. it was driving her insane. she pulled away breathing heavy, admiring your flushed face and slightly messed up hair, remainders of your lipstick smeared all over your lips as you look at her with what she could only describe as hearts in your eyes.

fuck, she’s so screwed. she knows it’s over for her. you wrapped her around your pretty little finger and you didn’t even know about it. heck, you didn’t even have to do anything. you submit to her so easily and that was more then she needed. there’s no way she could just return to just being your teacher, she had to make you hers. you pout slightly as she pulls away, already reaching for her, wanting to feel her lips against yours again. you got her heart beating as hard as she made yours. subconsciously shivering in her arms. as she leans in placing gentle pecks on your lips followed by your cheeks, so much more gentle and affectionate then she was just moments ago. “mommy has to stop before she gets too greedy..” she breathes out as she cleans your messed up lips with her thumb, knowing what she meant you nod, still leaning into her touch. she pressed a final kiss to your lips before pulling you into her embrace, your head in her chest, hands soothing your back.

“let me drive you home precious, it’s way too late for you to be going out on your own.” she gently pats your head, before she realises. “you didn’t bring any jacket with you?” you shake your head at her question, once again fidgeting with your skirt, slightly swinging your feet back and forth as they dangled off the table. “i’m not letting you leave like this.” you blush looking up at her as she brings you her sweater that is much bigger on you then it is on her. she taps your arms signalling you to raise them which you do, making her smile as she dresses you up. “how cute..” she admires you for a moment, fighting back the urge to squeeze you in her arms before offering you her hand which you accept as she helps you off the table. unable to keep her hands off you, she’s smoothing her hands over your clothes in attempt to fix them. “are you ready to go, pretty girl?” she pecks your nose, grabbing her keys as she grabs your hand. you giggle nodding as your heart flutters at her treatment, clinging onto her arm, letting you guide you to her car.

of course she opened the door for you and closed it after you sat down before she got in herself. of course she told you to keep the sweater because she wants to see you in it more often. of course she told you to keep this a secret as she pecked your forehead goodbye. of course your head was filled with nothing but her as you laid in your bed, wearing nothing but her sweater as you drifted into slumber, hoping you could see her even in your dreams, the scenes from earlier on repeat. you were starting to really look forward to these private lessons..

[billskeis]

HEASIAIZIA HAI

CAN YOU MAKE LIKE BILL BEING A POLICE OFFICER AND THE READER DOING SOME STUFF THAT COULD GET HER IN JAIL BUT LIKE ok LISTEN she does the "everybody knows that im a good girl officer" thing (song by Lana del rey playing dangerous) and he lets her go but like the next day they meet again and go on a date and HOOKUP but he punishes her for doing that stuff (perhaps if it could be spraying on like stores if you get me) like punishes her not letting her release TYING HER WITH THE HANDCUFFS UGHHHHahhshshsHAJDSJS

ᡣ𐭩 police officer bill

police lights flash behind as you attempt to catch your breath in an alleyway. on the run, you’re currently hiding from the police as they’ve caught onto you and a couple of fiends vandalizing public buildings with vulgar graffitis.

as you hide your body behind a garbage chute, you kneel down to make yourself less known to the open world.

shouts boom across the street seeming as though a few of the cops have already caught onto your other friends.

bless the heavens that you weren’t caught.. yet.

“haah.. phew..! i think, i think i made it out alive!” speaking to yourself as somebody else was there.

“i don’t exactly think so, schatz.”

“oh sh—”

in your feeble escape, you try to make a run for it until a pair of arms latch onto your shoulders and push your body up against theirs.

“fuck! ow..”

“you really thought that you could get away..?”

you turn to look at the body that’s pressed up against yours. he was tall, and really pretty, actually you wondered why he didn’t just work as a model instead of being a police officer.

black locs adorned his face, with an eyebrow piercing accompanying his right, are they allowed to wear those on duty?

whatever, it makes him look hot.

“well.. i’ve been such a good girl officer.”

“my ass, you’ve been vandalizing the streets and these buildings for weeks and you know it.”

“it adds a little.. character! what can i say, this city could use a little colour to it.”

“as much as i love art, princess, what you’re doing is ILLEGAL.”

“no, what’s illegal is how hard you have this gun pressed into my backside, it hurts.”

“..?”

“um hello?? officer—”

you turn to find his name tag attached to the right side of his uniform. bill. officer bill.

“officer bill, can you at least move your gun to—i don’t know—the side more??”

“oh my sweet little thing.. that isn’t a gun.”

…

“oh.”

your eyes meet his, dark brown irises highlighted in the sunny light, his lips curled into a downward smile although his voice stern. it seems as though this police officer enjoys having you up against him.

you feel a rush of heat go to your cheeks, so you turn your body around. embarrassed, why? fuck if you’d know..

well maybe it’s the fact that the officer that currently has you captive in the back of an alleyway is not only super fucking gorgeous but he’s PACKING.

“i.. i—”

“i’m going to let you go.”

he releases his grip on you and you turn your full body to meet him once more, truly relishing in how tall and slim fit his figure is built. you have to look up at him to make eye contact.

“although under one condition,”

“and that is?”

“you go on a date with me,”

“fuck no. i’d rather be caught dead than go on a date with a police officer.”

truth be told, you did wanna go on this date, but your stubborn nature wouldn’t allow you to say yes so easily. you really wanted to test the waters and see how persistent bill was in getting that date.

“fine then, i am obligated to then turn you in.”

“waitwaitwait nevermind i’ll go on that date with you.”

fuck yourself for being this easy..

this little shit, how dare he pull the authority card on you after you had done something illegal and he do his job?? his face once emotionless now held a smirk on his lips before he slipped you a small paper.

“good girl. now stay here for a little longer, i’ll let the others know i couldn’t find you.“

“..kay, but i’m expecting a lot from you just so y’know..”

you wave him off goodbye as you see his figure disappear from away the alleyway. hearing voices chatter, you can only assume he came up with an excuse to let you off the hook in exchange for a date with you.

“oh trust me princess, i will exceed those expectations.”

“i—um..”

“use your words f’me princess,”

“how is this a date!?”

you’re currently on his bed, the tight little number that you wore is currently riding up your thighs as you clench them together.

prior to this, bill took you out to a restaurant that was AMAZING, and insisted that you go back to his house to drink a bit more.

to your naivety, bill had other intentions underlying his silver tongue words.

with your cunt hovering right above the tip of his dick, you cannot find the words to speak. how is this even possible?? how dumb could you be to sleep with a cop?? stupid stupid y/n.

with each hand on the side of your waist, the soft pads of bill’s fingertips graze over your skin sending a shiver up your spine.

“you’re leaking onto me schatzi, sure you don’t want this?”

“shut up..”

with a harsh slam, bill pulls your hips flush to his, bottoming out. you let out a surprised squeak as your walls molds to his shape.

now you’ve had sex before but not with someone this big, the stretch is something you gotta get used to.

if you were to fuck him again.

“you better watch your mouth, maus.”

“f-fuck.. a little warning would be nice, no?”

“hm, nah..”

bill uses his hands to grasp each side of your ass before lifting you up to slide you up and down his length, the stretch burning a bit but it quickly subsides as he makes you ride him.

electricity sparks from within your body and you feel your stomach starting to clench. every time he brings your butt down to touch his thigh your clit rubs his abdomen momentarily.

with your orgasm coming close, you don’t even care about the noises that fall out of your mouth. you sound like a total slut. not that bill even cares.

“i-i’m close..”

he stops.

“bill..!”

“i don’t think you deserve to come yet.”

you grind your hips in circles in an attempts to release but he brings a hand to spank your ass.

“o-ow..”

“gimme a reason to let you release, hm? you been acting up for weeks, plus the multiple warnings the force has given you just hasn’t stopped you from committing crimes has it..?”

you bite your lip in a remains of silence. no way in hell were you going to beg bill to let you come.

he wraps his arms around your waist to bring your torso closer to his, now bringing his mouth to your bare chest to lick a stripe up from in between your breasts.

a moan in approval slips out of bill’s mouth as he then brings his tongue to lick around your right nipple swirling his tongue around it.

he bites on the bud eliciting a wince out of you. your hips still on his, an achy feeling still felt in your cunt as you yearn for more.

“so? what’s it gonna be maus?”

“please..”

“please what?”

“let me come.. bill,”

“okay, but i have another condition for you.”

you cock your head to the side in confusion, wondering what he’s up to now. that is until he releases an arm off you to reach for something on the bedside table.

oh fuck no.

“you kinky shit, handcuffs?”

“it’s apart of my get-up what can i say?”

“n-no.. i’m not wearing those.”

“well then i guess you can’t cum! i can sit and wait here all night baby.”

tears begin to well from your eyes, all you want is the sweet bliss of release and the man who wanted a date with you in the first place clearly isn’t give it to you unless you put your pride aside.

well, fuck it.

you present your wrists pressed together in front of bill, looking around the room in shame. a smirk falling down on his face as he clicks the metal gadget around your limbs now connected with one another.

“good girl.”

again with no warning, bill pistons his hips up into you at a harsh and fast pace. without falter, he keeps his rhythm to which you cannot catch up to.

choking on your words, all you can do is hold onto him for stability, the pressure brought to your g spot by his tip feels amazing.

“b-bill..”

“gonna be good f’me?”

“yes..!”

your legs begin to shake and quiver as your orgasm washes down on you but bill is nowhere near done with you, never stopping his hips.

“shit, looking at how you’re sucking me in..”

“gonna cause more trouble for me and my friends?”

you’re panting so hard and your brain and legs have become so mushy only small whimpers and whines fall out of your mouth. bill clearly isn’t satisfied with your behaviour, biting into your shoulders.

“answer me.”

“ung! n-no! ‘m sorry. hic ‘m so sorry billy i won’t c-cause you anymore trouble just—hic—please slow down..!”

your cunt all sensitive and sloppy, only squelching noises can be heard in bill’s bedroom as be fucks his dick into you. body so sensitive and overstimulated you let him do you as he pleases.

he leaves sloppy kisses all over your neck and chest calling you dirty names but you can’t help but clench around him even more, milking his cock as if its asking for his seed.

your words fall onto deaf ears, clearly, as all bill does is go even faster at an inhumane pace you didn’t even know was possible.

“a-ah.. i can’t.. ‘m done, bill.. no more..”

“almost done baby, okay? just be a good girl for me and let me do the work..”

“a-ah nooo..”

it hurts. the pressure hurts. but its hurts so good.. with a final thrust, bill finally comes, releasing into your walls with his dick all nice and pressed up into your cervix.

“s-shit, coming..”

his moans are low and nasally. mouth agape and hands still on your hips with a grip so tight his nails dig into your skin leaving a trail of red marks.

your tummy feels warm and full, and bill’s thrusts in riding out his orgasm becomes all sloppy and sticky with how wet your cunt was.

you’re a hot mess, hair falling everywhere and body all sweaty. mouth lolled out as your head rest atop bill’s shoulder drool falling out.

he taps your shoulder and you raise your head to look at him, unable to open your eyes with how bill fucked the energy out of you.

“you okay maus?”

“mhm..” you nod at him as he places a sweet and gentle kiss onto your lips. all you can do is blush and smile, taking in how pretty bill is for a cop.

he shifts while still inside you, grabbing a key to unlock the handcuffs that left little marks of bruising on your wrist.

you rub your hands to smooth over the irritation. bill taking note of this swiftly grabs them and places a kiss on top of the marks. your cheeks burn red as he burn a gaze into your eyes, not looking away.

“did so damn good schatz, hope i fucked all that crime committing business outta ya.”

a/n : i hate this. i’m so sorry anon i feel like i disappointed you 😔😔😔

[vampykween]

Okay all I can think about is toxic ex husband Simon actually trying to get you back. Like he sees another man talking to you and you smiling and laughing and he sees red and just realizes how awful he's been. He needs you and his girls back in his life. Or maybe he says he misses the kids so you let him come over, and yes he misses the kids but he also misses you. Brings flowers and stays off his phone and actually pays attention to you and your girls.

Also thinking about toxic (heavy on the toxic) ex husband simon not accepting things. Maybe he has a recruit stage a break in at your house, get you scared and running right back to him. Maybe he didn't actually let the divorce papers get filed, just let you think they did. You think he's letting you go that easily?

Or or orrr he is over to see the girls (and you) and he overhears you (is very sneakily eavesdropping) while you're on the phone with a friend talking about the divorce. You say something about think he was probably cheating on you since he was so disinterested in you. He is so disappointed in himself, just thinking like 'was I really that horrible that she thinks I did that?'

Lol I have so many scenarios bouncing around up there

anon phew omg! you’re feeding me with these ideas. hell you could take over! i adore your mind. feel free to send me any and all scenarios you have. i’m obsessed truly and welcome it all! <3

i know i’ve made toxichusband!simon an absolutely douche, but i do love the idea that he’d be sitting alone in an empty house realizing he’s wasting his life away when he could be putting in the work to get in your good graces and try to show you he’s capable of changing. whether you believe him or not hmm i don’t know, but but but i do believe you’re a hopeless romantic and secretly you’d love for time to turn back and for everything to go back to how it used to be. you’d try not to give too much of a reaction when simon shows up on your doorstep each time with little gifts for you, but internally you’re swooning and falling for him again. there was always going to be a part of you that loved simon especially when you saw him everyday in the faces in your daughters.

-

adding in his eavesdropping simon would definitely beat himself up over the idea that you think he’d be capable of infidelity. not that being a borderline absent husband and father was any better, but he would never do that to you! simon was more just checked out of life in general, marriage and kids always seemed out of the realm of possibility and then suddenly it was and he didn’t handle it as gracefully as he promised he would. (not to be a simon sympathizer but…)

-

extra toxichusband!simon would absolutely do something shady to get you to rely on him. what are you thinking trying to have a life outside of him? he’s no rookie and can lie through his teeth so easily it even fools you, and you know him inside and out. oh the divorce papers? already filed, love. although, let’s not hold our breath if the process takes a little longer than expected (he definitely shredded them in his office. what an insane idea you had thinking you could ever leave him!) he’d also be such a manipulator omg! constantly reminding you that going through with the divorce will tear the family apart and that the girls will resent you forever. he’s got two little daddy’s girls wrapped around his finger, you wouldn’t sever that precious bond, now would you?

[yuikomorii]

Happy Birthday to the BEST BOY!!🥳🏀❤️

// You have the ability to accomplish everything you set your mind to, and we all know you’re the apple of Yui’s eye. Thank you for never giving up on others and for making Yui the happiest girl alive while letting her feel like a normal teenager! (*＾ワ＾*)

Love you, Ayato! 🫶🏻

Since you guys asked for a new scenario, I decided to deliver it uwu. I’m still not very confident in my writing skills and I’m aware some parts sound really cheesy but I truly hope you will enjoy it! 💖

~Ayato’s Birthday short story~

Yui: Phew… it’s finally done!

( It took me three fails to make his cake but thankfully I finished it on time! )

Uuh… It was supposed to look better though but maybe the good result lays in the taste?

— Yui tries it —

Just like I thought, the taste didn’t deceive me! I tried my best not to make it too sweet, therefore I truly hope Ayato-kun will like it.

Speaking of Ayato-kun, I wonder if he woke up. It might sound a bit childish but I really want to be the first to congratulate him~!

— Place shifts to Ayato’s room —

Yui: Eh? The door is open…? Could it be that he’s awak—…! He left?

???: Nfu, what’s with the long face? Did you and Ayato-kun have a fight~?

Yui: L-Laito-kun! Gosh, don’t just whisper in my ear like that!

Laito: Why not~? Is it because it arouses you? As expected from you, Bitch-chan, you really grow into that nick—

Yui: E-Enough…!

Look, Laito-kun… do you happen to know where exactly Ayato-kun went?

Laito: And what if I do?

Yui: Well… in that case, where is he?

Laito: Bold of you to assume I’d tell you. You’re always so naive~

Yui: Eh? That’s…—

( Of course this guy wouldn’t help me! I can’t believe I really thought asking him would be a good idea… )

Laito: Nfu, I know that face, Bitch-chan, you were judging me in your thoughts, weren’t you? How rude~

Yui: W-Wait, you got the wrong idea! I just—

Laito: And I was merely trying to do you a favor, but I suppose you don’t appreciate such things from any man, am I right?

Yui: I don’t really get what you mean…

Laito: Well…~ all I’m going to say is that if you tried using your head a little, then maybe you would be able to guess where Ayato-kun is.

Yui: Hmm…

( Now that I think about it, the weather is beautiful today, neither too hot nor too cold. As far as I recall, this is Ayato-kun’s ideal type of weather for playing basketball. In that case… could he really be outdoors? )

Ah, I might actually know the place!

Laito: See? Making use of those brain cells once in a blue moon wasn't all that difficult, was it? Now hurry up or else you won’t be the first one to wish your precious boyfriend a “happy birthday” ~

Yui: …!

( Did he eavesdrop on me today!? )

( G-Geez… It’s a bit embarrassing knowing that he listened to such things. Despite this, he truly managed to be helpful in some way. )

Y-Yeah, I’ll leave right now. By the way… thank you, Laito-kun.

— Yui walks away —

Laito: ( Nfu, I wonder if she really guessed that place right. Too bad that desperate face didn’t last any longer, otherwise I might have truly taken advantage of it.~ )

— Place shifts outside the mansion —

Yui: Hoh— that’s a bit heavy!

( I tried to fit everything for his birthday in this basket but it weighs more than I expected! )

( Uuh… I really hope Ayato-kun is around here. )

???: Tsk, damn it!

Yui: That voice—! Ayato-kun!

Ayato: Huh? Yui?

— Yui jumps into his arms —

Yui: Happy Birthday, Ayato-kun…!

Ayato: Hah? Ah… Yeah…

So you remembered it, huh?

Yui: Obviously, there’s no way I would forget such an important day!

Ayato: It wouldn't have made a difference anyway. Birthdays have never been a reason to celebrate for vampires; they are just like any other day. Basically, we couldn’t care less.

Yui: Well… that might be so, however I do care about it. It’s true that humans and vampires have distinct points of view and mindsets, but this still won’t stop me from considering this day special. After all, that’s when Ayato-kun was born and I’m grateful for that, as a result I want to celebrate your birth.

Ayato: …

Yui: ( He suddenly went silent… Ah, did I really exaggerate with that confession? )

Ayato: Yui…

Yui: …!

( He’s smiling so brightly! )

( I would have never thought those words to make Ayato-kun so happy but seeing him like that… my heart can’t help but fill up with so much joy too…! )

Ayato: Geez, I’m supposed to be indifferent about my birthday but look at me grinning like a fool due to a Chichinashi such as yourself. Now you better take responsibility or else—

Yui: ( He says it in such a threatening way but that blushy face proves exactly the opposite, fufu. )

Ayato: Oi, what’s up with that basket?

Yui: ( Oh, right! )

I got something for you!

Ayato: Heh, only for me?

Yui: Yup!

( Although, I truly hope nothing got crushed. )

— Yui opens the basket and serves cake —

Yui: I know it doesn’t look perfect but I’m confident the taste is on your liking. I remembered that you aren’t too fond of very sweet food, therefore I tried avoiding adding marzipan and focus more on the fruits instead. Do you… like it?

Ayato: Haa… there’s no need for those useless explanations. You made that whole cake for me, so yeah, isn’t it obvious that I’d like it?

Yui: Ayato-kun…

— Ayato tastes it —

Ayato: Mm… as expected, it’s good! To be honest, Takoyaki would have been a far superior choice, but I can't deny that the cake Chichinashi made is also quite tasty.

Yui: Fufu, I knew exactly that you were going to say that, so I prepared this for you!

— Yui serves him Takoyaki —

Ayato: Hah!? Are you a magician or somethin’?

Yui: N-not at all! I just know Ayato-kun loves Takoyaki so much that he would eat them everyday, hence they couldn’t miss out on his birthday, right?

Ayato: You…

— Ayato pins her down —

Yui: Eh—?

Ayato: Bet you weren’t prepared for this, were you?

Yui: ( Is he going to suck my blood? )

— Ayato kisses her —

Yui: Nn…!

Ayato: Now I am the one catching you off guard. How does that feel, eh?

Yui: Good…

Ayato: Oh? What happened to “Ayato-kun, that’s so embarrassing!” ?

Yui: I-I mean… it is a bit yet I can’t deny that Ayato-kun’s gentle kisses are the best.

Ayato: Tsk… Why not so cute and honest all the time? Is it ‘cause of my birthday or what now?

Yui: I just felt like it…

( He’s just getting cuter and cuter! )

By the way… there’s one more thing I have to give you.

— Yui starts searching —

Ayato: A photo frame?

Yui: That’s so. I asked the school photographer to take this photo exactly when you scored and brought victory to your team. The happiness you felt in that moment… that’s something I always wish for you to experience.

— Ayato slightly blushes —

Yui: I also tried to decorate the frame myself based on what you like the most b-but if it’s too childish, then I will try to——

( He’s hugging me! )

Ayato: “What you like the most” she said, but how come I don’t see her there too then?

Yui: T-That’s—!

( Was that an indirect confession!? )

Ayato: Pfft… haha, that’s exactly the reaction I expected!

Love you, idiot. You really are the best~!

— Ayato stands up and starts walking away —

Yui: W-Wah—! Hey, d-don’t make fun of me like that!

Ayato: Can’t hear you~! If you wanna tell me something, catch me then!

Yui: You meanie!

— Yui stands up and starts running after him—

Yui: ( I can’t help but feel like a child once again when playing with him like that. It’s such a nostalgic feeling that somehow feels so distant... )

( As we run around the mansion, Ayato-kun is showing me his genuine smile… that’s the face that makes me fall more and more for him each and every day. )

( I love you Ayato-kun, thank you for being born. )

[rinriya]

BG3 ending (spoilers)

I finished BG3. And I.. I'm so devastated right now. Not in terms of relief or "oh, such a good game has come to an end, idk what to do next", I just don't understand what happened. I am disappointed. I need to speak out. Otherwise I feel like I can burst into tears because of indignation.

And I beg DON'T READ THE POST FURTHER if you haven't reached the end. There will be plenty spoilers. DON'T READ IF YOU HAVEN'T FINISHED THE GAME.

So. Is this really the end? Is this… what we've been so actively waiting for 3 years? Maybe there will be DLCs no less than another full-fledged act? Otherwise, I cannot understand what was the point MC to do all of this?

I.. damn, this is hard. I waited so long for this game, but now I criticize it. Okay, phew. I'll get myself under control. Phew. Sorry.

We were promised different outcomes, different endings, many choices. But what did we actually get? You either save Orpheus (the Emperor becomes an enemy), or help the Emperor (Orpheus dies), or you/your companion turns into an illithid. And like.. who cares if you continued to refuse the powers. It's unavoidable in any case. You cannot form an alliance, you cannot win without a tadpole. You are linear in your final choice.

Your companions?

Wyll leaves to Avernus. Karlach returns to Avernus. Astarion can no longer stay in the sun, he begins to burn and therefore runs away. That moment… it broke my heart. My MC romanced him, couldn't he followed Star? Was it not possible to add some extra scenes? It doesn't matter to anyone. He ran away? Well meh who cares. Only Shadowheart says something like "oh, how sad, he can no longer walk in the sun."

I wanted to help him damn it! Both him and Karlach. And Lae'zel too, but game not allowed me to do so, forcing to choose: either the giths fate, or your ally. Choose.

I wanted my friends to live happily even without tadpoles! Why the hell I was saving the world, if my companions can't be happy? For the sake of a good ending, I should have let Stari to perform the terrible dark ritual? Or turn Karlach into a squid? Minsc and Jaheira are just fanservice for old fans. More or less good end has Gale (still with bomb inside him), Shadowheart and the Emperor himself.

And what about all my decisions? Where are their consequences? What happened to the vampire spawns? With a grove? With the forest? With Hell, where we killed a mighty devil?! With the Ironhand clan, who now have a new leader? Larian Studios, was it really so hard to write at least in text about everything that happened? Like in DOS2 at least? Or about our companions future life. At least about them!

It feels like even if I decided to play as pure evil.. there would be no difference, because I just don't know what my actions led to. But I can't play evil, I just can't hurt anyone. Yes, I'm boring person who loves happy endings and when everyone doing great.

BG3 received its fame, glory, attention. Obviously will receive a bunch of awards, because its ratings beat all records, but inside me.. there is just emptiness. I can headcanon a happy ending with Astarion, truly free Lae'zel, who will be no longer chased by Vlaakith's servants and Karlach with repaired heart. But it will all be in my head. Not in the game. Baldur's Gate 3.. is like a beautiful (really beautiful) wrapper, but the candy inside turned out to be simple and not very different from the others.

I'm sad. Very sad. And I'm sorry for this flow of words. I had to speak out. Now I feel a bit better. I really want to hear your opinion, because now I'm mentally hurt. I obviously triggered the high expectations for this game and get a painful kick for that.

[ddarker-dreams]

Based on how you wrote some genshin yanderes i was really surprised to see Scaramouche being somewhat manageable! (Yandere standards, not normal ones) I expected him to be the opposite! He turned out to be the one who ‘looks like will be difficult, but is manageable’ in the end! (Which is really well written!)

Your Albedo…on the other hand… terrifying. Would never want him as a yandere, (this is a compliment to you, he’s really well written!) thank you for the painkiller tho i guess?? He’s definitely someone who looks manageable but is terrifying

scara's darling giving advice on how to manage him to a group of note taking fatui trainees: basically, want you need to do is give him three head pats a day and one kiss on the cheek minimum. i consider this the formula to success. 

how i've characterized yan scara has changed a lot overtime, he went from being the most bastard of bastards to this clingy feral creature who yearns for your attention 24/7 and has an attitude about it. albedo though... PHEW... what you said made me think who the least manageable yanderes would be. here are my two cents.

alhaitham has this way of getting under your skin without ever really trying. he never raises his voice, the intonation of his words are always steady, and he just gives this overall impression that he knows better than you. he never comes right out and says it, but he doesn’t need to. he doesn’t belittle your intelligence so much as he makes it feel inferior to his. there are no masterful plans or complex webs weaved by alhaitham to ensnare you, his methods are always simple, which serves to infuriate you further. if questioned on this, he’ll say he doesn’t see the point in putting in more effort than necessary if he can keep you where he wants using some well-placed coercion and threats. like... be more creative about it at least? damn. to make matters worse, him saying this isn’t even intended to rile you up. he just kinda responds to your question and then asks what you want for dinner. you can’t stand him. 

albedo knows you uncannily well, to a degree you did not expect. albedo is a well-known enigma in mondstadt, so, chances are you’ve heard of him in passing before getting scooped up. after the initial shock wears off and your scheming begins, you’ll have this preconceived notion in your head that albedo is this out-of-touch, emotionally stunted alchemist who prefers seclusion over interacting with the populace. you figure you can use this to your advantage. imagine your surprise (and disappointment) when you realize that oh, he’s very emotionally intelligent for a guy who shuts himself in his laboratory for days on end. you’ll discover this the hard way after a few attempts at manipulation. he kinda plays along, your confidence builds, then he unceremoniously pulls the rug from beneath you at the end. gives you an A for effort though. the man has multiple files about you, including your behavioral patterns, organized in alphabetical order. good luck trying to pull one over on him. 

cyno cognitive dissonance is genuinely impressive and could be subject to extensive study. he’s running through mental gymnastics to explain to you (and himself) how what he is doing is not at odds with his belief system. no, this is an exception, because... because it is! sometimes extreme measures need to be taken to achieve desirable results. cyno explains that he’s just keeping an eye on you because of how dangerous it is out there. why would he risk letting you be the victim of a crime when he can instead ensure no crime will ever take place? he seems oddly content with himself after voicing this line of reasoning, as if he’s given it extensive thought. and he has. he has to convince himself that what he’s doing isn’t wrong before he can go about convincing you. no argument on your behalf will ever chip away at his ironclad defenses, he’s spent months if not longer mentally justifying everything he was planning to do.  

diluc has this odd savior complex that nobody asked for and imposes it on you. requests that you remove the rude term ‘kidnapper’ from your lexicon when speaking about him. really though, you think the infantilization is the worst part about it. it’ll be time to eat a steak and the man gives you a spoon. who does that? your living quarters have essentially been childproofed, he’s taken precautions in ways you weren’t creative enough to dream up beforehand. want to take a walk? a servant must accompany you. want to take a bath? a servant must be present ‘just in case’ you’re in danger of drowning (you really didn’t know what to say when hearing this one). it’s so suffocating and the frustration of being constantly belittled builds. then he has the audacity to wonder why you glare at him the second he enters your peripherals. for shame. 

[charonsferry]

A Volunteer Musters In

Decided to write something longer for a change. Vaguely inspired by another post I saw.

The door opens to a witch's office on a quiet urban street. It's late at night, but today she has an appointment which will likely last until the next day.

"Welcome! Please come on in so we can verify some details."

In steps a young man, at most twenty years old, who bears a neutral expression yet a face that only shows a troubled life. The reader surely understands that this "man" is simply incapable of comfort with her body, and this is the nature of her appointment.

The witch closes the door behind them and guides her client upstairs to her office desk.

"I have yet to actually ask," said the witch, "Is there a reason you have come here in particular? There are certainly other witches who work specifically for people who need their bodies refined-"

"That's the thing, miss," replied her client, "I just don't want to be a person anymore. It has simply been... too much." A faint tear builds on the corner of her eye. Instinctively, the witch reaches for a handkerchief to wipe it off for her, but she moves back in rejection.

"A hesitation like that makes me wonder if you'll be a good fit, but... oh well, I guess I could just..."

Reaching back into her desk, she pulls out an object the client does not recognize - but soon places her in a state of tranquility. The tears fade and a resolve she has almost never felt to speak her mind builds within.

"My life as a person has simply been one form of torture after another. I had thought about transitioning, I had thought about domestic dollmakers, but my heart is simply too cold. I need a life as cold as it."

The witch was now satisfied with her response. "That certainly seems like what my dolls go through. I myself don't treat them as poorly, but war is indeed a cold and bitter thing. I had initially put in some requests after losing some dolls on a tour, but I certainly didn't expect a request from a volunteer. It's been a while..."

"Where do you normally get them from, anyways?", asked the client.

"Well, it's not a pretty matter normally," the witch sighed. "Only a few types of people can be legally made into dolls without consent. Most are actually infants and children who perished before baptism. Some criminals are sentenced to it from time to time - I don't do that, personally. Which is why I'm quite thrilled by this, really. You will be a perfect fit for us."

"So, are you ready to do it tonight?" the client said with as much impatience as the spell would let her have.

"Yes, I just have some waiver you'll need to sign. Just paperwork, really. You'll need to sign with your legal, by the way."

The client was now concerned more than the spell could withhold - could her deadname be the last thing she ever writes? Or worse, would this not fulfill her desires at all?

She asked the witch this, to witch she replied "Of course I'll make a girl of you! Or at least as much of a girl as a doll can be, even though I doubt you'll care much once it's all done."

"Of course I'll care," the client said as she took a pen and signed the waiver that she felt she'd already seen before, "It's the only thing I've ever wanted."

But as soon as the ink with her now truly dead name was on the paper, a strange chill filled her body, soon followed by numbness, and then - she couldn't move a muscle!

"Phew, I did that right!" the witch said, "With your new Stillness you are now technically a doll already, but there will certainly need to be some work done from here on out. Let me start with shaving your face and, uh... actually I'll do that later..."

The client - apparently now the doll - began to slip into some different form of consciousness. A flurry of thoughts were dancing about in her mind. I'm really becoming a girl! I'll finally be everything I want to be!

But... what do I want? Do I specifically want something for myself? Maybe my desires lie in...

Minutes passed into hours, and the witch continued to work away at the new doll's unnecessary flesh, swapping atrophied tendons for rigid balljoints, fully removing the source of those years of dysphoria to leave another barren plate.

She... Miss... She did it! I wish I could thank her right now! But, I don't know if... Maybe this one should ask Miss before using that word again...

This one must follow Miss's every command. Miss is this one's lifeblood. Miss is this one's Purpose.

The doll opened its now porcelain eyes. Its witch sat before it with an anxious expression.

"M... Miss? Thank you, miss..." said the doll with a voice at least an octave higher than the one it had earlier that night.

"You're welcome, my new doll! You turned out perfectly! I made sure to put extra effort into your hair, if it still matters."

"What should this one do now, Miss?"

"Follow me downstairs to where your quarters will be and be Still where the other dolls are. I need to go to bed, and you need to be up at 6 for training."

"Understood, Miss."

The doll stood up on its new legs, and walked in a pace already resembling a march to a room right next to the witch's where four dolls were seated side by side. The doll sat down, and again dipped into Stillness.

Just across from it was a small mirror that reflected a beautiful facsimile of a woman, but the doll closed its eyes - it'd prefer to just see Miss for now.

[crowleysgirl56]

Wildest dreams wishes for Good Omens Season 3 which will probably not come true but I can still hope hey!

Number 11.

I cannot tell you how desperately I want some kind of post-Second-Coming-Aziraphale-and-Crowley-are-finally-together interaction with Mr Brown.

Whickber Street. Our heroic duo head towards the bookshop. Crowley breaks off to grab coffees from Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death. Aziraphale continues onto the shop. Suddenly out of nowhere he’s accosted by Mr Brown.

“Morning Mr Fell! I thought that was you, we haven’t seen you in such a long time, pleasure to have you back on the street again!”

“Ah, y-yes, good t-to be back”. Supreme Archangel Aziraphale, who faced down the combined hoards of Heaven and Hell and won, destroyed the Metatron*, and saved Earth against the second coming, still finds himself a nervous and stuttering prisoner of Mr Brown’s presence.

Eyes darting from side to side, and fiddling with his signet ring, Aziraphale attempts to conjure a polite escape. Quite impossible when he can’t get a word in edgewise as Mr Brown prattles on and on about the politics of the Whickber Street Shop Keepers Association, how business is so poor lately, youths today are such trouble, and just how lovely Aziraphale’s jacket is today, is it new?

Crowley finally emerges from Give Me Coffee, drinks in hand, and spots his angel down the street, the familiar look of “please get me out of here” stricken across his face. Crowley takes Mr Brown into his sights and with a devilish smirk quickly strides down the footpath.

He reaches the pair in time to hear Mr Brown describing a lovely new little bistro down the road, loudly interrupts him mid sentence proclaiming, “Coffee Angel!” and thrusts one of the cups into Aziraphale’s hands.

“Ah Crowley! Thank-mmph!” Aziraphale is slightly taken off guard as Crowley plants a long and hard kiss on his mouth. It is certainly not unwelcome.

“-you dear” Aziraphale continues once the kiss is broken. For a brief moment no one speaks, Crowley staring at Aziraphale, who in turn darts his eyes back and forth between the other two men. Finally Aziraphale breaks the silence, “Mr Brown here was catching me up on everything that happened while I was away.”

Crowley finally turns to look at Mr Brown, as he snakes an arm around Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Hellooo!” he drawls in a not too dissimilar fashion to the time he greeted a certain someone in the pub after they had stolen his chair.

Mr Brown can do nothing but stare, mouth ajar slightly as he attempts human speech again. “Uuuhhh…”

Aziraphale pipes up before Mr Brown can recover, “Well it was lovely catching up but we must really be getting on!”

“Byeeee!” Crowley bares his teeth just a little longer than necessary as he bids farewell and Mr Brown blanches at the sight. It will be quite a while before he even casually greets Aziraphale in the street again.

“Well that was one way to scare him off. You certainly have a way with people my dear” Relieved at the rescue, Aziraphale wraps his free arm around Crowley’s waist.

Crowley, very pleased with himself, rumbles back, “I didn’t hear you complaining Angel.”

Sensing a moment for playful banter Aziraphale replies, “Perhaps I should be accosted more often”.

Crowley arches an eyebrow, “Now that would be tempting”.

They reach the bookshop doors arm in arm, and pause out the front a moment gazing and grinning at each other.

“So we going in or what?” Crowley finally asks.

A wicked grin crosses Aziraphale’s face, “Get behind me foul fiend” as he unlocks and opens the door.

“Anything you want Angel”.

*here’s hoping!

Phew, that was longer than expected! But I’m glad I got that out of my head. I hope you enjoyed it too!

[everygame]

"One of the finest of his generation of critics"—Kieron Gillen (Die, The Wicked + The Divine) Fifty-two essays composing the very best of veteran video game developer and writer Mathew Kumar's "Every Game I've Finished" project, published for the first time in print with commentary from the author. Releasing October 21st, 2024 in print, and available for pre-order now for Kindle or as epub/pdf. Games covered include legendary icons (Wizardry: Proving Grounds Of The Mad Overlord), indie darlings (Papers, Please), beloved obscurities (Attack of the Friday Monsters!), Triple-A franchises (Mass Effect) and modern classics (The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild). Essays take the form of everything from straight critique to strategy guide, and represent an overview of the state of the art in video games across its history distilled into ten years of highs and lows. A book that takes video games as seriously as any art form and as deserving of collected criticism. “Mathew’s project, to finish the games he plays, and to write about those he finishes, can be simply stated but it represents a noble act of critical commitment. When taken in concert, these reviews –– unflinchingly acerbic, truthfully stated, and deeply unconcerned with external factors of fashion or consensus –– provide both a diary of criticism, and a long view of the judders and lunges of this still-evolving medium; A charter, too, for what we might cherish, and what we might disdain, in this emergent art form.”–Simon Parkin (A Game of Birds and Wolves, Death By Video Game)

---

Phew! When I announced exp. 2601 I mentioned it was the ten year anniversary of Every Game I've Finished in 2024 and that it might be important, and here it is, a celebration of my last ten years of writing that you can buy as a book that you can own in your house. I didn't originally plan it this way! I intended to release Every Game I've Finished 14>24 as a (somewhat) quick and dirty ebook release, and I did the majority of the work at the beginning of the year pre-exp. 2601, but after realising it would only take a "little" more work to self-publish the book physically I decided if I was going to vanity press, I might as well do it for real.

Of course, it's taken a lot longer than I expected, but I finally have a proof in my hand that I'm satisfied with, and it really does look very nice. 

Vanity press or not, there are a few vectors to this release. Firstly, if you've ever enjoyed any of my writing of the past ten years, here's a nice way to support me and either get a lovely physical or handy digital edition. Secondly, if you haven't, here's a way to immediately get fifty-two of the best articles I've written which you can peruse at your leisure.

Thirdly, I just honestly think that there should be a culture of criticism around games just as there is for literally every other art form, and I think that this book existing makes as much sense as, say Clive James On Television, so I'm just fucking going for it.

That all said, Every Game I've Finished 14>24 is being released on October 21st 2024, and is being released in print on Amazon. I'm no happier about this than you are, but it's the simplest method. I would love to offer copies here on Ko‑fi for launch day, but they (sneakily) give author copies a long lead time and (of course) it's impossible to compete with Amazon's postage rates.

Amazon also--for bafflingly unclear reasons--won't allow me to offer a pre-order of the print edition, so please mark the date in your calendar or follow me on Bluesky or (spit) Twitter if you want to get a copy.

However! If you're just looking for the ebook, you can pre-order it on Kindle or epub/pdf right now! Subscribers will receive their shop discount on the digital edition, so don't forget you can support me for just $1 a month. This release has been, and I know it's a cliche, a real labour of love, just as Every Game I've Finished has been a labour of love for video games (even if it doesn't always read like it.) I can't wait for you to get your hands on it, and I'm so thankful for all of you who have joined me on this journey.

[umlewis]

The Real Deal

Silverstone, 11 June 2006. With England in the grip of World Cup fever, the crowd for the British Grand Prix is expected to be down on recent years. There is little likelihood of any home success in the main event. Still, the stands and spectator banks are starting to fill up slowly as the GP2 race starts at 9 AM. Lewis Hamilton has started down in eighth place, but he is working his way through the field with characteristic aggressive driving. He is soon closing on the squabble for second place. Brazil's Nelson Piquet, Jr. and the Monegasque driver Clivio Piccione go through Copse side by side at around 140 mph, but, as they accelerate out of the corner, they are suddenly three wide as Hamilton draws alongside. Into the five sweeping bends that make up the daunting Becketts complex they go, with Piquet on the inside. Hamilton carries huge momentum around the outside of the first left-hander to claim the racing line and second place as the road goes right then left again; Piquet drives straight through a temporary advertising hoarding. The cheers from the crowd are by far the loudest of the weekend as the young driver, then known only to hardcore petrolheads, picks off the leader and cruises to victory. Unknown he no longer is: 'Lewis Hamilton + Silverstone' is now one of the most popular searches on YouTube. Had Britain's latest sporting hero-in-waiting heard the excitement of the crowd? "I didn't, no," he said afterwards. "It all went silent at that point because we were so close, and I don't know if my body was preparing for something. You know when, if you're going to crash, your body gets ready to protect itself? I felt my body and the adrenaline all building up ready for something, and when I came out it all relaxed, kind of saying, "Phew, thank God for that.'" "I'm working my arse off," he continued, "not only to do the best job possible, but also to get that seat at McLaren. I really want that. It's an opportunity not many people get. If I can get that seat then I think - and I feel very confident - that I can make best use of it.'

A little under a year later, Hamilton not only has that seat at McLaren but, when we meet soon after his second place in the Spanish Grand Prix in Barcelona, he is leading the Formula One drivers' championship. Today, however, he is back doing the unseen graft of testing. Along with the other 10 teams that contest the world championship, McLaren have moved on from Barcelona to the Paul Ricard circuit near Marseille in the south of France. The former home of the French Grand Prix is now simply a test track, albeit about the most sophisticated in the world - as you would expect from a facility owned by Bernie Ecclestone, the billionaire ringmaster of Formula One. Everything is of the highest standard and, just as the proprietor would like, the team vehicles are lined up so precisely they would do justice to the contents of David Beckham's fridge.

At the back of a grey McLaren bus, sheltered from the warm Mistral wind, sits Lewis Hamilton. It is 12 hours since testing began and he has driven 98 laps, posted the fastest time by more than a second and been through a two-and-a-half-hour debrief with his engineers. For a short while he is alone, staring at a computer screen with a diagram of the circuit and a screed of data on it. Not all his work is at 190mph and in front of 140,000 people.

After the excitement of a grand prix, testing must seem like a chore. Does it make him a better racer?

'I don't think so,' he says, preparing to close the laptop. 'You get that crafting from karting, the wheel-to-wheel racing you have there.' Karting is where most successful racing drivers first turn a wheel in anger; the competition is ferocious.

'The more racing you do the more you learn,' Hamilton continues. 'I'm a racer naturally, so that's why I believe I'm good in the races. In the race it's all about consistency, and to get consistency you need to learn about the car and that comes from testing. But the test is mainly to build your awareness of what is around you, that you are understanding the car and to fine tune the car and yourself. Sometimes I don't make any changes to the car and I find half a second in myself. Some people find it really difficult, like the engineers, they say, "What can we do?" and I say, "Don't do anything. I quite like the car as it is, I just need to improve myself."'

Hamilton is seeking to improve skills that have seen him make a record-breaking start to his F1 career. He finished third in his first race, the Australian Grand Prix, then second in Malaysia and Bahrain - a record run on the podium for a rookie, which he extended in Spain to become the youngest driver to lead the world championship.

At last Sunday's Monaco Grand Prix, Hamilton finished second yet again, this time behind his McLaren team-mate, double world champion Fernando Alonso. But there were signs of frustration from the young Englishman at a victory missed, as he slipped to second in the title race. Hamilton was called in for his first pit stop earlier than he expected, just as he was preparing to put in some really quick laps to extend his advantage over Alonso, who had already stopped.

'I was actually quite surprised because I was fuelled to do five laps, maybe six laps, longer than Fernando and they stopped me with three laps to go,' Hamilton said after the race. 'There wasn't much time to pull out a gap or improve my time; I wasn't really given much time for it. I came in two or three laps after him [Alonso]. That was unfortunate, but that's the way it goes. I've got number two on my car, I am the number two driver, it is something I have to live with.'

McLaren's team principal, Ron Dennis, rebutted allegations of team orders and race manipulation, strictly against F1 rules since 2002 when Ferrari instructed Rubens Barrichello to allow Michael Schumacher past to win the Austrian Grand Prix. 'We are scrupulously fair at all times in how we run this grand prix team,' he said. 'We will never favour one driver, no matter who it is. We don't have team orders, we had a strategy to win this race. There will be places where they will be absolutely free to race, but this isn't one of them.'

That last line attracted the attention of the FIA, the sport's governing body, who started investigating 'incidents' concerning the McLaren team during the race.

Since his debut in Melbourne on 18 March, Hamilton has transformed the popularity of grand-prix racing, not least because he is young, British, good looking and thrillingly fast. He is also mixed race in a sport that is overwhelmingly white; inevitably, he has been compared with Tiger Woods. 'I've never seen a rookie as good as him,' says Damon Hill. 'Nobody has. He's coped with everything he's faced. He's been superb.'

Triple world champion Sir Jackie Stewart is equally impressed. 'I think Lewis is going to rewrite the book,' he said recently. 'We'll see a new generation of what I call properly prepared, professional racing drivers. I'm talking about fully rounded; [Michael] Schumacher became that, but even Schumacher wasn't as good as he should have been, not in terms of the driving but the total package. I believe Lewis will create the benchmark for a whole generation of drivers. Niki Lauda and James Hunt changed the culture of racing drivers, but they weren't role models. They said nothing, didn't give a damn. Lewis Hamilton can become a role model.'

Even the unflappable Bernie Ecclestone is excited by Hamilton. 'He's got a lot of talent,' he says. 'The guy's a winner. It became clear pretty quickly that he will win a grand prix some time - sooner rather than later. He'll win the championship - but I don't think this year. It would be asking a bit much and be a lot of pressure to expect that. It would be fantastic if he did, but I don't think we should talk about that at this stage.'

It is impossible when meeting Hamilton not <to be impressed or struck by just how young and fresh-faced he is, even when dressed up in McLaren T-shirt and jacket. He is courteous, intelligent, engaged and never loses eye contact, even if you sense that, as we talk, he would rather be getting on with some hardcore data analysis. He speaks of his time on the practice circuit with relish. 'It is quite satisfying when you go out and you know that you needed to brake 10 metres later … building up the courage to brake those 10 metres later, not lock up the tyres, and really pull it off. Sometimes you go into a corner and you think, "I'm not going to make it," but you say, "OK, we're going to do it." And you do it and you think, "Shoot, what was the big fuss in the first place," but you think about the advantage you've gained when you exit the corner - you're like, "Yeah, that was good." It's an amazing feeling.'

A grand-prix team can take more than 100 personnel to a race and that doesn't include the test team who work away from the public gaze. Hamilton is eager to acknowledge that there are others who contribute to his success. 'Sometimes you don't even notice the changes the engineer has made,' he says. 'My engineer is so smart and he understands what I say and the way I communicate - that's a great feeling. When someone understands what you're talking about and is able to translate that into your car, it runs better.'

Hamilton has been supported by McLaren since Ron Dennis recruited him into the team's driver development programme as a 13-year-old in 1998. The team contributed as much as £5m to his career, and offered technical support and advice as he worked his way up to the junior formulas. He graduated to racing cars in 2001 and has won the championship in every series he has driven. The step to F1 was a natural progression and everything was done - including keeping him distant from the media - to ensure that Hamilton was as prepared as possible. He has appeared at the obligatory press conferences, but has never before done an interview.

'I am amazed and proud to be here,' he says now, 'and I'm learning all the time. As soon as I signed for the team they sent a steering wheel round to my house so I could learn all the controls and the sequences for the start. I just kept it in my lap. When I got to the first race, I wasn't nervous about the start because I knew everything.'

McLaren made sure Hamilton was physically prepared and it is hard to imagine anyone looking fitter. Countless trips to the gym ensured that he would develop the strength and stamina to cope with the rigours of racing an F1 car for up to two hours in extreme heat.

'It was extremely exciting to do all the training,' Hamilton says. 'There was a point where we were doing all the same things over and over again, but then we started changing things and it became exciting again. You wouldn't believe what it's like in the car, the forces that are on you. I finish every race with a black …' - he pauses, half smiles and then continues - ' …a darker line down my side where I've been pushed against the seat. But the race is the most exciting part, the first corner, the first pit stop. I am just going to get stronger and stronger. I'm not yet at my best.'

Hamilton, who was born on 7 January 1985 in Stevenage, Hertfordshire, has been immersed in motor racing since the age of eight. His parents, Carmen and Anthony, separated when he was two, and he lived with his mother until he was 10, before moving in with his father and stepmother Linda. A day out with his dad to Rye House kart track, a few miles south of Stevenage, changed the path of his life. He had already been karting and proved to be a natural, soon lapping his father, but now he decided that racing was what he wanted to do. A deal was struck between father and son: if Lewis worked hard at school, Anthony would support his son's karting.

Anthony was working as an IT manager as Lewis began making a name for himself on the kart circuit. Taking time off became a problem as his son's racing and testing took him all over the country and overseas. Eventually Anthony took redundancy so he could spend more time at the track. He did contract work and was sometimes doing two or three jobs at a time, including putting up estate agents' signs. In time, he set up his own computer company, which now employs 25 people, but his main role in life is working as his son's manager on a daily basis.

This article is more than 17 years old The real deal This article is more than 17 years old Oliver Owen Sat 2 Jun 2007 19.08 EDT

Silverstone, 11 June 2006. With England in the grip of World Cup fever, the crowd for the British Grand Prix is expected to be down on recent years. There is little likelihood of any home success in the main event. Still, the stands and spectator banks are starting to fill up slowly as the GP2 race starts at 9am. Lewis Hamilton has started down in eighth place, but he is working his way through the field, with characteristic aggressive driving.

He is soon closing on the squabble for second place. Brazil's Nelson Piquet Junior and the Monegasque driver Clivio Piccione go through Copse side by side at around 140mph, but, as they accelerate out of the corner, they are suddenly three wide as Hamilton draws alongside. Into the five sweeping bends that make up the daunting Becketts complex they go, with Piquet on the inside. Hamilton carries huge momentum around the outside of the first left-hander to claim the racing line and second place as the road goes right then left again; Piquet drives straight through a temporary advertising hoarding. The cheers from the crowd are by far the loudest of the weekend as the young driver, then known only to hardcore petrolheads, picks off the leader and cruises to victory. Unknown he no longer is: 'Lewis Hamilton + Silverstone' is now one of the most popular searches on YouTube.

Had Britain's latest sporting hero-in-waiting heard the excitement of the crowd?

'I didn't, no,' he said afterwards. 'It all went silent at that point because we were so close, and I don't know if my body was preparing for something. You know when, if you're going to crash, your body gets ready to protect itself? I felt my body and the adrenaline all building up ready for something, and when I came out it all relaxed, kind of saying, "Phew, thank God for that".

'I'm working my arse off,' he continued, 'not only to do the best job possible, but also to get that seat at McLaren. I really want that. It's an opportunity not many people get. If I can get that seat then I think - and I feel very confident - that I can make best use of it.'

A little under a year later, Hamilton not only has that seat at McLaren but, when we meet soon after his second place in the Spanish Grand Prix in Barcelona, he is leading the Formula One drivers' championship. Today, however, he is back doing the unseen graft of testing. Along with the other 10 teams that contest the world championship, McLaren have moved on from Barcelona to the Paul Ricard circuit near Marseille in the south of France. The former home of the French Grand Prix is now simply a test track, albeit about the most sophisticated in the world - as you would expect from a facility owned by Bernie Ecclestone, the billionaire ringmaster of Formula One. Everything is of the highest standard and, just as the proprietor would like, the team vehicles are lined up so precisely they would do justice to the contents of David Beckham's fridge.

At the back of a grey McLaren bus, sheltered from the warm Mistral wind, sits Lewis Hamilton. It is 12 hours since testing began and he has driven 98 laps, posted the fastest time by more than a second and been through a two-and-a-half-hour debrief with his engineers. For a short while he is alone, staring at a computer screen with a diagram of the circuit and a screed of data on it. Not all his work is at 190mph and in front of 140,000 people.

After the excitement of a grand prix, testing must seem like a chore. Does it make him a better racer?

'I don't think so,' he says, preparing to close the laptop. 'You get that crafting from karting, the wheel-to-wheel racing you have there.' Karting is where most successful racing drivers first turn a wheel in anger; the competition is ferocious.

'The more racing you do the more you learn,' Hamilton continues. 'I'm a racer naturally, so that's why I believe I'm good in the races. In the race it's all about consistency, and to get consistency you need to learn about the car and that comes from testing. But the test is mainly to build your awareness of what is around you, that you are understanding the car and to fine tune the car and yourself. Sometimes I don't make any changes to the car and I find half a second in myself. Some people find it really difficult, like the engineers, they say, "What can we do?" and I say, "Don't do anything. I quite like the car as it is, I just need to improve myself."'

Hamilton is seeking to improve skills that have seen him make a record-breaking start to his F1 career. He finished third in his first race, the Australian Grand Prix, then second in Malaysia and Bahrain - a record run on the podium for a rookie, which he extended in Spain to become the youngest driver to lead the world championship.

At last Sunday's Monaco Grand Prix, Hamilton finished second yet again, this time behind his McLaren team-mate, double world champion Fernando Alonso. But there were signs of frustration from the young Englishman at a victory missed, as he slipped to second in the title race. Hamilton was called in for his first pit stop earlier than he expected, just as he was preparing to put in some really quick laps to extend his advantage over Alonso, who had already stopped.

'I was actually quite surprised because I was fuelled to do five laps, maybe six laps, longer than Fernando and they stopped me with three laps to go,' Hamilton said after the race. 'There wasn't much time to pull out a gap or improve my time; I wasn't really given much time for it. I came in two or three laps after him [Alonso]. That was unfortunate, but that's the way it goes. I've got number two on my car, I am the number two driver, it is something I have to live with.'

McLaren's team principal, Ron Dennis, rebutted allegations of team orders and race manipulation, strictly against F1 rules since 2002 when Ferrari instructed Rubens Barrichello to allow Michael Schumacher past to win the Austrian Grand Prix. 'We are scrupulously fair at all times in how we run this grand prix team,' he said. 'We will never favour one driver, no matter who it is. We don't have team orders, we had a strategy to win this race. There will be places where they will be absolutely free to race, but this isn't one of them.'

That last line attracted the attention of the FIA, the sport's governing body, who started investigating 'incidents' concerning the McLaren team during the race.

Since his debut in Melbourne on 18 March, Hamilton has transformed the popularity of grand-prix racing, not least because he is young, British, good looking and thrillingly fast. He is also mixed race in a sport that is overwhelmingly white; inevitably, he has been compared with Tiger Woods. 'I've never seen a rookie as good as him,' says Damon Hill. 'Nobody has. He's coped with everything he's faced. He's been superb.'

Triple world champion Sir Jackie Stewart is equally impressed. 'I think Lewis is going to rewrite the book,' he said recently. 'We'll see a new generation of what I call properly prepared, professional racing drivers. I'm talking about fully rounded; [Michael] Schumacher became that, but even Schumacher wasn't as good as he should have been, not in terms of the driving but the total package. I believe Lewis will create the benchmark for a whole generation of drivers. Niki Lauda and James Hunt changed the culture of racing drivers, but they weren't role models. They said nothing, didn't give a damn. Lewis Hamilton can become a role model.'

Even the unflappable Bernie Ecclestone is excited by Hamilton. 'He's got a lot of talent,' he says. 'The guy's a winner. It became clear pretty quickly that he will win a grand prix some time - sooner rather than later. He'll win the championship - but I don't think this year. It would be asking a bit much and be a lot of pressure to expect that. It would be fantastic if he did, but I don't think we should talk about that at this stage.'

It is impossible when meeting Hamilton not <to be impressed or struck by just how young and fresh-faced he is, even when dressed up in McLaren T-shirt and jacket. He is courteous, intelligent, engaged and never loses eye contact, even if you sense that, as we talk, he would rather be getting on with some hardcore data analysis. He speaks of his time on the practice circuit with relish. 'It is quite satisfying when you go out and you know that you needed to brake 10 metres later … building up the courage to brake those 10 metres later, not lock up the tyres, and really pull it off. Sometimes you go into a corner and you think, "I'm not going to make it," but you say, "OK, we're going to do it." And you do it and you think, "Shoot, what was the big fuss in the first place," but you think about the advantage you've gained when you exit the corner - you're like, "Yeah, that was good." It's an amazing feeling.'

A grand-prix team can take more than 100 personnel to a race and that doesn't include the test team who work away from the public gaze. Hamilton is eager to acknowledge that there are others who contribute to his success. 'Sometimes you don't even notice the changes the engineer has made,' he says. 'My engineer is so smart and he understands what I say and the way I communicate - that's a great feeling. When someone understands what you're talking about and is able to translate that into your car, it runs better.'

Hamilton has been supported by McLaren since Ron Dennis recruited him into the team's driver development programme as a 13-year-old in 1998. The team contributed as much as £5m to his career, and offered technical support and advice as he worked his way up to the junior formulas. He graduated to racing cars in 2001 and has won the championship in every series he has driven. The step to F1 was a natural progression and everything was done - including keeping him distant from the media - to ensure that Hamilton was as prepared as possible. He has appeared at the obligatory press conferences, but has never before done an interview.

'I am amazed and proud to be here,' he says now, 'and I'm learning all the time. As soon as I signed for the team they sent a steering wheel round to my house so I could learn all the controls and the sequences for the start. I just kept it in my lap. When I got to the first race, I wasn't nervous about the start because I knew everything.'

McLaren made sure Hamilton was physically prepared and it is hard to imagine anyone looking fitter. Countless trips to the gym ensured that he would develop the strength and stamina to cope with the rigours of racing an F1 car for up to two hours in extreme heat.

'It was extremely exciting to do all the training,' Hamilton says. 'There was a point where we were doing all the same things over and over again, but then we started changing things and it became exciting again. You wouldn't believe what it's like in the car, the forces that are on you. I finish every race with a black …' - he pauses, half smiles and then continues - ' …a darker line down my side where I've been pushed against the seat. But the race is the most exciting part, the first corner, the first pit stop. I am just going to get stronger and stronger. I'm not yet at my best.'

Hamilton, who was born on 7 January 1985 in Stevenage, Hertfordshire, has been immersed in motor racing since the age of eight. His parents, Carmen and Anthony, separated when he was two, and he lived with his mother until he was 10, before moving in with his father and stepmother Linda. A day out with his dad to Rye House kart track, a few miles south of Stevenage, changed the path of his life. He had already been karting and proved to be a natural, soon lapping his father, but now he decided that racing was what he wanted to do. A deal was struck between father and son: if Lewis worked hard at school, Anthony would support his son's karting.

Anthony was working as an IT manager as Lewis began making a name for himself on the kart circuit. Taking time off became a problem as his son's racing and testing took him all over the country and overseas. Eventually Anthony took redundancy so he could spend more time at the track. He did contract work and was sometimes doing two or three jobs at a time, including putting up estate agents' signs. In time, he set up his own computer company, which now employs 25 people, but his main role in life is working as his son's manager on a daily basis.

'If I didn't love it, I'm sure I wouldn't be as good as I am today because I'd have put half the effort in and just have done the races,' Lewis says, recalling the time he spent testing in his early karting days. 'I think you find drivers who just rely on their racing ability and don't do the hard yards. When you're young you don't really understand that philosophy: work hard and see the result. You think, "I can't be bothered to work hard now," and when you get there you struggle and complain. But if you really put the effort in you see the result. Even if you don't do well you know you've done the work, so next time you can improve on it.'

As soon as Hamilton started competing, the results were spectacular. Adam Jones, a journalist and ex-racer who now runs 100ccPR, an agency that deals in public relations for kart racers, remembers meeting Hamilton in 1994. 'Martin Howell, who owned the Playscape indoor kart track in Clapham, introduced us. He said, "Adam, this is Lewis - he's going to be a Formula One world champion." I shook his hand and said, "You're going to be a grand-prix champion, eh?" and Lewis looked at me and said, "Yes, I am." I thought, "Yeah, right." What struck me wasn't Lewis's steely determination but Martin's tone. He wasn't patronising Lewis or me; he meant what he said. Every magazine or newspaper article about Lewis mentions his karting background, but what they fail to say is just how good he was back in those days. Lewis hasn't just suddenly arrived; he's been around a long time.'

Michael Eboda is editor of the New Nation, the newspaper aimed at Britain's black community. He recalls arriving at Buckmore Park kart track in Kent to interview Hamilton and his father for The Observer in 1997. 'I got there and asked someone where I could find Lewis Hamilton. They said, "He's the only black kid here and he'll be about three laps ahead of everyone else." He was.' Eboda remembers the 12-year-old Hamilton as being polite and assured as they chatted in the back of a beaten-up old Peugeot hire car. He didn't want his father with him as they talked, but Eboda was more than a little surprised by the answer when he asked how Hamilton drives a kart so fast. 'I don't know why I'm so quick,' Lewis had said. 'When I come to a corner the answer just comes. I take what the answer says and it makes me take it as quickly as possible.'

He has always gone as quickly as possible. Kieran Crawley is boss of M-Sport, one of Britain's leading kart teams, and worked with the Hamiltons as Lewis made his way up through the karting levels. He remembers a race in Belgium, when Lewis was competing in the Junior Intercontinental A class, that proved just how quick he could be. 'Lewis was always stalling the kart, but you were allowed to wait by the side of the track with an engine starter. As they rolled on to the grid I could see Lewis looking for me. I thought, "Oh no, he's stalled it." I got the starter into the side pod just as the lights went to green. Lewis went off from the back of the grid and was already half a lap down. He caught the pack and went through it to finish fourth. He was up against some very good drivers - including Robert Kubica, the Pole who is now an F1 driver for BMW - and beat them. In F1 we haven't seen him come from the back, but that's when he's at his most dangerous. When he makes mistakes, just watch him go. I want to see him make some mistakes - then you'll see just how good he is.'

Does Hamilton relish the thought of charging through from the back after a mistake? It must happen one day soon in F1, as it did in Istanbul last year, in GP2, when he spun and worked his way up from 16th to second.

'I rarely make mistakes in races,' he says. 'In Istanbul that was one of the few mistakes I've ever made.'

But surely it was worth it?

'It was,' he says, smiling. 'It was great, but I was struggling in the car. The rear end was not right. Straight after that [the spin] I somehow extracted a little bit more from the tyres and I had this boost and everything's right, the car was great and things need to be …'

Momentarily he is lost in the memory of that epic drive. 'Look at Kimi [Raikkonen] in Japan in 2005, when he came from the back. Everything was right, the car was fantastic and he got out of trouble when he did some of the most amazing moves you've ever seen. He was buzzing, he enjoyed it and he won. I love those experiences. I love coming from the back.'

Hamilton's physical gifts don't just belong behind the wheel of a racing car. He took up karate after he caught the eye of the school bully. By the age of 12, he was a black belt. He was also a more-than-useful footballer at John Henry Newman School in Stevenage and played in the same team there as Ashley Young, the England under-21 midfielder who joined Aston Villa from Watford in January for £9.65m. 'I was quicker than Ashley Young, stronger than him, so I had that with me. But he was very skilled and very neat and would dribble the ball round people very nicely. I was very powerful in the team, I was always a midfielder and in my team I was the fittest by far because of my racing and the training I did. I'd run up and down and up and down and if someone tackled me I'd get them back. I'd always get them back because I never gave up, whereas a lot of people would get tackled then just leave it for the next stage of the game. I'd never let that happen.'

Like all top sportsmen, Hamilton is hugely competitive, whether in a racing car or out ten-pin bowling with his mother. Do all the fun things in life involve keeping score?

'I think at a young age everything I did competitively I wanted to win, and I hated not being the best at any sport I did. When I competed against anyone I thought, "I've got to win." But I've got to a point now that I play golf and I lose, and I can deal with it. It's not a negative energy, I can control that energy.'

So does he let his mother win at bowling?

'I don't ever let anyone win if I'm honest,' he says. 'I should let my brother win at some things, but it's very hard for me to do that.'

He is referring to his half-brother, Nicholas, who is 15 and has cerebral palsy. The two are extremely close. 'I always wanted a brother and I remember when my parents [as he always refers to his father and step-mother] first told me they were going to have a boy, I was well excited. It's quite a cool feeling to watch someone grow up, to see the difficulties and troubles he's had, the experience he's had. To go through them with him and see how he pulls out of them. I think he's just an amazing lad and I really love to do things for him. This weekend we're going racing remote-control cars. We bought him a new one, then I bought one so we can race together. I've been a couple of times and I get hassled a little bit now, but I had my dad to take me and he doesn't have time, so when I do have time I love to just take my brother down to the track. He loves a challenge and he's got a lot steeper challenges.'

The future for Lewis Hamilton has limitless possibilities. He will win many grands prix and world championships, perhaps even more than the seven titles that Michael Schumacher won before he retired at the end of 2006. He will very soon be improbably wealthy, even if, for now, his salary is reported to be £500,000 a season (team-mate Fernando Alonso is rumoured to earn 20 times as much). Dominic Curran, a director of Karen Earl Sponsorship, believes Hamilton has the potential to earn hundreds of millions of pounds. 'He has arrived with about as big a bang as possible,' Curran says. 'He's got something different - he's the first black F1 driver - which opens up a whole new market for him. Plus, he has charisma and star quality, he's a good-looking guy who speaks well, which is attractive to sponsors. And he's clean-cut.'

What does Hamilton think of all this? How does he see himself in the future? 'I think when I'm done I'd just like to go back to living a normal life and have a family and no worries,' he says. 'Just enjoy doing things with my brother. There's a lot of experiences in life which I haven't had yet, and doing that with him and doing that with my friends and not having the worries, just enjoying. It's such an important thing.'

How does he account for being so calm and grounded?

'It comes from my parents, yeah, and being taught to appreciate things. I was like every kid, you know. You get in trouble … I liked living life on the edge but I was always taught to appreciate things and say "thank you". I got that from my dad but also from my mum. A lot of my personality comes from my mum. It's a real half and half.'

At McLaren there is nothing but praise for their record-breaking recruit. 'I could launch into a whole range of eulogies,' says Ron Dennis. 'You just need to look at the history of F1 to see how his debut compares. How could anyone expect a start like this? And it's not just what he does on the track but it's what he says and how he says it. You have the impression that here is a guy who will keep his feet on the ground. He has enough Brownie points to avoid criticism if something goes wrong - which it will. It's inevitable for any driver. But you have the feeling that Lewis will be able to cope with that too.'

The team's chief executive, Martin Whitmarsh, knows exactly just how good Hamilton is. 'Since I joined McLaren in 1989, I've worked with a lot of great drivers, including [Alain] Prost, [Ayrton] Senna, Mika Hakkinen and now Fernando Alonso. It's pretty clear that Lewis ticks all the necessary boxes. It's too early to analyse, but if the trend continues there is no reason why he could not become the greatest driver ever.'

Hamilton's influence is extending far beyond the insular world of F1. Michael Eboda, of New Nation, can already see the impact he is having on black Britons. 'He's incredibly popular and, for the want of a better expression, he's a fantastic role model, as is his dad. It sends out a message to people that that is the way to bring up a kid.'

McLaren are excessively protective of their new star, in a manner reminiscent of how Alex Ferguson once chaperoned the young Ryan Giggs at Manchester United. This interview took many months to negotiate, and there were many stipulations on what I could and could not ask Hamilton - such as about race and ethnicity or indeed whether he intended, like most F1 drivers, to become a tax exile. At the Spanish Grand Prix meeting last month Hamilton had mentioned that he might one day have to move to Switzerland for tax reasons, but his father quickly killed the story.

McLaren need not worry excessively, because Hamilton will not let the team down. He has not been fazed by what he has achieved so far in his career, let alone in F1, where he has placed the superstars, including his team-mate, the double world champion Fernando Alonso, under intense pressure. The Lewis Hamilton story is much nearer the beginning than the end and the world is still waking up to just what is possible.

Is this what worries McLaren then, that they fear their new superstar might start to feel and act like one?

Perhaps Hamilton should answer that for himself. 'I've never read about something I've said, because I know what I've said,' he says before we part. 'My parents might say, "There's a good piece in the paper, do you want to read it?", but I won't read it. It's a good way of keeping your feet on the ground because when you read stuff like that you think, "Wow, it's great," and you feel yourself floating. As I don't read the stuff about me, I don't feel like a superstar. I don't understand people who do have that mentality, "I'm a superstar!" It's just a job. It's a fantastic job, and people just perceive you for some reason as a superstar, but at the end of the day I'm just Lewis. I've always been Lewis, and it's important to me to stay like that because people will take me like that.'

[sabo-has-my-heart]

Holding You Again

Okay, I lied, the smut isn't going to be in this part, it's going to be in... PART 3!?!?!?! I got so carried away writing what happens next, I didn't have enough words for the smut, lol 😅. I guess after being so sick for 2 weeks, I had a lot of pent up creativity. I should have part 3 out later today.

Part 1, Part 3

Warnings: suggestive

Word Count:1410

     It was a sudden thing, how the two of you went from having never seen each other to seeing each other everywhere. Instead of spending meals with the rest of the nurses, you’d often wander to eat with the rest of the crew, Ace in particular. Any time off that had previously been spent reading, was now spent up on deck talking with him or, more often than not, flirting with him, and nights spent staring up at the stars thinking about him, were spent talking to him about stars and constellations. 

     While you had no problem striking up a conversation with Ace, the poor fire user was quite the opposite, not quite sure how to talk to you. The boy was nearly bursting at the seams in excitement at seeing you again and wasn’t quite sure how to proceed without scaring you off. He wanted to simply pull you into a kiss, hold you tightly, and make up for lost time, but at the same time he was terrified that you didn’t remember him, that he’d be moving too fast for you. It tested his patience as he tried not to move too fast for you, particularly when you flirted with him. Were you actually flirting with him or was he seeing what he wanted to see? Did you remember him and were trying to give him hints or did you just find him attractive? Did you even realize how crazy you were driving him? How much he longed for you, longed to hold you close? Should he ask? Maybe if he brought it up, he’d at least know where he stood. At the same time, did he want to know? What if he didn’t like the answer? What if it was all just coincidence? He was tearing apart and he didn’t know how much longer he could take it.

     You, on the other hand, were enjoying the teasing, enjoying watching his internal struggle as he tried so hard not to do something that might drive you away. It wasn’t that you enjoyed torturing him, only that you found it sweet that he was trying so hard for you, trying so hard to not drive you away, to make sure you cared for him. Despite the years, despite how he was part of a different crew, despite everything, he was still the same sweet man who’d stolen your heart that night as he held you close, whispering sweet nothings in your ear as he brought you to your climax again and again. Another division commander had approached you, Izou, inquiring about who you were and where you were from, chuckling when he heard you were from Wano as well, revealing that Ace had asked him to talk to you, to see if it was really you. You’d told him the truth but asked the man not to say too much more, you wanted Ace to take that step naturally, without somebody’s interference. Even if that interference was simply telling him that you remembered him. As an oiran, it had been easier for him, all he had to do was literally buy your time, pay for an afternoon and night with you, but as a Whitebeard nurse, things were trickier. He couldn’t just go up to you and say “Hey, I want to pay to spend time with you.” and not expect to get slapped. Not that he thought he could ‘buy’ a woman, you were a person, not property that he could just buy and own. It was just easier when he could pay for your time. 

     Taking a few deep breaths, he stared at himself in his bedroom mirror.

     “Y/n, I was wondering, do you remember me? No, no, no, that doesn’t make sense, we’ve been talking for weeks. Phew, okay. Y/n, This is gonna sound a little weird, but I actually met you a few years ago. No, that sounds so… forced. Uhhh…. Y/n, I… damn it.” Ace growled to himself as his head fell to rest against the mirror. He couldn’t take it anymore, he had to know if you remembered him, had to know if he needed to start courting you from scratch or if he had some sort of foundation to work with, “Y/n, I- fuck! Thatch, what the hell?! Knock next time!” Ace shouted, spinning around to glare at the man who stood in his door, doubled over in laughter.

     “What? Does the newly appointed commander think he’d got a shot at the cute little Wano nurse?” Thatch teased, making the boy glare.

     “As a matter of fact, yes, I do. And unlike the rest of the crew, I’ve got an advantage. She might have turned everyone else down, but you don’t know her like I do.” Ace boasted, making the man raise an eyebrow.

     “Oh? Do share. What exactly makes you different from all the rest of the guys she’s turned down?” Thatch asked, crossing his arms, leaning against the doorframe.

     “Simple. She and I have history. I… I don’t know if she remembers, but the first time I met her wasn’t on the Moby Dick, it was back in Wano. Back when she was an oiran. I promised to pay off her debt back then, to free her from that life. She ran away before I had the chance, but I promised her I’d see her again, it might not be in Wano, but I’m not going back on my promises to her.” Ace said, readjusting his hat, glancing back into the mirror as he took a deep breath. Turning back around, he shoved Thatch out of his room before heading out himself, closing his door behind him as he went in search of you. 

     It didn’t take long for him to find you, bumping into you not even 10 seconds later as he rounded a corner to literally bump into you, arm wrapping around your waist to stop you from falling.

     “Y-Y/n! I… I was just about to go looking for you, actually.” Ace said, surprised at how quickly he’d run into you. He’d wanted to find you quickly, but he’d thought he’d at least have a couple more minutes to mentally work things out in his head before running into you. You giggled, your mouth hidden behind your hand like it so often had back in Wano, a fact he hated. He loved seeing the smile on your lips when you laughed, always pulling your hand away from your mouth so he could see your smile. 

     “What a coincidence, I was looking for you as well.” you said softly, smiling up at him. His cheeks flushed pink, quickly and gently pulling you into his room; he didn’t want any of the crew seeing him stumble and blunder his way through his confession to you. 

     “Y/n, I… I know this is going to come off as strong and weird and confusing, but it’s been driving me crazy and I really need to know… Do… Do you remember me? From, you know, Wano?” Ace asked nervously. It wasn’t exactly what he’d hoped, but with you in front of him in his bedroom, he didn’t have time to make sure it was perfect. Giving him a soft smile, you placed your hands on his freckled cheeks, pulling him in for a soft kiss. Your lips were still as soft and smooth as when he’d first felt them on his own.

     “I was starting to wonder if you’d ever approach me about our time in Wano. I need to know, did you ever go back for me? I know I ran away before you got the chance, but did you still try to keep your promise?” you asked, Ace just nodding dumbly as he stared at you, his hands finding a place on your hips as his heart threatened to pound out of his chest.

     “Yeah, I did. Even paid off all your debts even though you weren’t there anymore. I… I made a promise to pay off all your debts and free you from that life, whether or not you were there, I wasn’t going to break that promise.” he whispered, leaning back in for another kiss. After so much time apart, he needed to feel you against him again. Ace had you nearly melting in his hold as he pulled you closer, your arms wrapping around his neck, fingers tangling in his soft, black locks. It felt so good to hold each other again, to feel each other again.

[mugram]

[opens door, Es enters]

Es: Good afternoon, prisoner.

: Ah, you’re sitting in your seat as well–

Shun: Oh, hey, Warden!

: Well, I heard everyone else was giving you a hard time, so I’m giving you a break! 

: You’re halfway through these interrogations as well, right?

Es: Yes, that's true. 

: [Es exhales and sits down. Placing his hat on the table, they rub their head.]

: Thank you… for the break. 

Shun: Of course! Everyone needs a break.

: Even Prison Wardens.

: I hope you’re having a good day now. 

[A few minutes pass in silence as Es thinks to themselves before they finally speak.]

Es: Now, then… [clears throat]

: MUGRAM exists to reveal the sins of you prisoners. In order for me to do so, I must interrogate you. Let's talk.

Shun: Oh! It's just a conversation? Phew, was really worried there. I thought we were about to do one of those police investigations, haha.

Es: Eh, sort of, I guess. I do have to ask you questions…

Shun: Oh, then it's an interview! Okay, okay, ask away!

Es: Well, then… Name, age, and occupation.

Shun: I’m Minami Shun. I’m 25 and what do I do for work? Well, that’s a secret I’ll tell you later, okay~? 

Es: A secret–

: I thought you were going to give me a break. What is this?

Shun: No, no! I'll tell you! I promise! Just… not right this moment, okay? 

: I want this nice conversation to last a little longer.

Es: …Ah, fine. Since you were so nice to meet, we'll move on. 

Es: How has your life in MUGRAM been?

Shun: Hmmm…

: MUGRAM is pretty interesting, I’ll be honest. I like talking to everyone. 

: Keisuke has some interesting stories. 

: Sometimes, I hear Iwai-kun mutter some interesting stories while everyone eats. 

: Oh, Sora-san is really tired, too.

: I guess I should probably tell you this… Um…

: Be careful, okay?

Es: Be… careful?

: Why?

Shun: I feel like some people really don't want to talk about what they've done… Or are really strong and can beat people up.

Es: …

: Thank you for the tip.

Shun: Yeah, no problem!

: Ah… What else can we talk about…

: Oh, yeah! 

: What types of movies do you like?

Es: What…?

Shun: I'm serious! What movies do you like?

Es: Ah… I guess… mystery…? Drama…? I'm not sure… 

: Comedy is nice.

Shun: Oh! I never expected that from you.

: To be honest, I thought you were going to say, "I don't like movies. They're so fun and I'm not like that." [laughs]

Es: Eh?! 

: I'm not that serious, you know–

Shun: Well, that's good! I'm glad, phew. I was really hoping you weren't one of those big, scary Wardens.

: Then, again, you're seventeen? I don't really think I could see you as big and scary…

Es: Hah?!?

Shun: Anyways!

: In particular, do you like action movies? 

Es: Eh, what sort of question is that…?

Shun: Y'know, I'd love to be an action hero.

: Saving the world and infiltrating stuff.

: That's so much cooler than what I do.

Es: Eh?

Shun: [whistles theme song]

: Coming through the roof window as I land onto the ground. Guns firing.

: I load a gun, shoot.

: Bam, bam! Everyone’s down.

: Have you thought about how exciting that is?

Es: Eh... I guess. I'd much rather be the person behind the scenes than a person running around. 

: It would get very tiresome.

: Ah, wait!! This isn't about movies.

: What is your murder, Shun?

Shun: Seriously, you really want to know?

: My goodness. [sigh] Fine, fine~

: It's not that action-packed compared to Mi– 

Es: Get on with it!

Shun: I'm a contracted killer.

Es: Eh–??

Shun: I know, I know. You wouldn't expect someone like me to do that, right?

: It’s easy to do the stuff no one else wants to do, including stuff like this.

: Plus, I apparently have the skills for it, or whatever.

: It gives me money.

Es: ...

: How many?

Shun: Well, just one... [unintelligible mumbles]

: ... 

: I really feel bad for that guy.

: His wife asked to... for me to–

: It's sickening.

Es: …

: Why?

Shun: Money, Warden.

: That’s all you need to know, okay~?

Es: What kind of…

: Why would someone like you turn to murder just for money…?

: What…

Shun: Some people have to do the unnecessary jobs in the world.

: I just so happened to do one that involves murder.

: It… [sigh]

: Nevermind.

: You don’t care about that stuff, right?

: I’m already guilty in your eyes, so…

Es: No–

: No. I can’t accept this. You—

: You can't have done that.

: [stands up and slams the desk]

: You're the only person so far in this entire prison who has decided to give me any sort of break. You can't have done something like that!

Shun: Eh? Whatever happened to everyone here is a murderer?

Es: No, I still– I still believe in that.

: You just can't have done something like that.

: I refuse to believe it!

[mechanical noises]

Shun: Hey, Warden?

: I hope you judge me appropriately, okay?

: I trust what you have to say about my crimes.

Es: Why are you so laid back about this…?

: You can't have…

Shun: You're here to judge my sins, okay?

: So, let's get on with this extraction so you can.

Es: Yes…

: Shun…

: You…

: [exhale]

: Prisoner number five, Shun, come now. Sing your sins!

Scene Transcript - Paid Reaper

[aria0fgold]

Flufftober day 1 prompt: Lost pet meet cute

Characters: Cressida, Elyanore, and Diana

Cressida sat on a bench, her hand fiddled with the helm of her blouse as her other gently pets the head of an auburn husky laying beside her. She's not really her dog.

Cressida was taking a leisurely afternoon walk by the park when a dog ran by her legs, fast enough to make her stumble forward, and had she not been nearby a lamppost to hold onto, would've fallen face first in the pavement.

That dog turned out to be named Diana, she still had her leash attached to her collar. Now, Cressida wasn't good with both large animals and phone calls, but she mustered up the courage to do both for the sake of returning the dog to her owner. Thankfully, Diana was smart and kind, and just as thankfully, the phone call went smoother than expected.

So now here they are, sitting on the bench by the park while waiting for Diana's owner to get there. They seemed out of breath when Cressida called, so she wouldn't mind if they took a little longer by resting a bit.

She looked at the street while swaying her legs to and fro, scanning the people passing by just in case one of them is Diana's owner.

One minute passed and then two, finally, Cressida's gaze landed on a woman. She wore a simple yet beautiful dress that matched her perfectly, adorning her already beautiful appearance. She looked absolutely gorgeous with the setting sun shining behind her, like an angel that descended or a goddess that came down to earth. It was such an ethereal sight, Cressida hadn't yet realized herself already holding her breath.

The woman walked closer to them, it was only then when Cressida's brain finally continued to work again.

Wait… is that… Diana's owner?

Cressida can feel her face heat up the closer the woman got.

“Excuse me.” She spoke, tucking a loose strand of her red hair behind her ear, her ponytail seemed to have loosen and yet despite having a slightly messy appearance, the woman still looked as beautiful as ever, “You're the one that called me, yes?”

“Y-yes…” Cressida squeaked out, clutching the helm of her blouse tighter, as if her life depended on it.

The woman smiled at her, it was the most gorgeous smile Cressida had ever seen, “Thank you so much for finding her! I was starting to get so worried.” She sighed before turning to Diana and playfully poked her nose, “You naughty naughty girl! Why did you run off like that? I was just fixing your leash.”

Diana whimpered and started making small howls, as if she were making her own excuses, all while Cressida tries her best to not melt on the spot, she started to think of anything else other than the beautiful lady beside her.

“What would my brother think if he knew about this?” The woman spoke in a seemingly contemplative and sad tone as Diana's howls increased in volume, “He'd be so sad and disappointed!”

Diana's whimper increased in volume then too.

Cressida turned her gaze to the other side, focusing intensely on the lamppost nearby instead, she can feel her heartbeat calm down enough.

Phew… I'm calm again…

Unfortunately, that calm didn't stay long.

“Thank you again.” The woman turned to her, causing Cressida to jump a little.

“Ah! N-n… N-no… No p-problem!” She managed to answer, she can feel the heat rushing to her face as her heart began to beat fast again.

“May I ask for you name? If it's alright with you, of course.” She took Diana's leash now, placing it on her wrist all while holding it too, she seems to be holding it much securely now.

“O-oh… It's… It's Cressida…”

Calm down, my heart!!!

“Cressida…” The woman spoke so softly and slowly it made Cressida's heart skip a beat at the sound of her name spoken like that, “What a fitting name for one as cute as you!”

The gears in her brain that had went into overdrive froze then.

“If you don't mind, may I also save your number?”

“P… p-pardon???” It feels as though her brain stopped working entirely.

“I'd like to thank you properly, so it would be great to have something I can contact you on. It doesn't sit right with me to just say thank you after the trouble you've been to.”

Cressida put her hands in front of her, flailing it slightly as she attempts to explain herself what with her brain currently processing everything so slowly as it had yet to recover from the previous hit she took, being called cute by a woman this pretty proves to be quite deadly, “It's okay! It's really okay! I-it wasn't a bother at all! I was just walking around anyway so it's really okay!”

“Hmm, well, if you're really sure!” She paused, seemingly thinking about something, “It still doesn't feel right for me to not give you something. Will money be—”

“No!” Cressida immediately cut her off, “It's reaaally okay! You don't have to give me anything, really!”

Otherwise I'd be the one next that'd feel too bad!

The woman pouted a bit, her green eyes glistening in the darkening sky as she looked at Cressida with puppy dog eyes.

Even her pouting face is so beautiful… In fact, why is she looking at me with such puppy dog eyes! This is unfair!

The more Cressida spends time with her, the more her adoration for such a pretty face turns into a slight frustration at the very fact that such a person exists who is not only gorgeous in many ways, but just as cute.

“F-fine!” Cressida caved in, “How about… your name? And…” She trailed off as she took a glance at her, the woman's eyes widened momentarily while she waited patiently for what Cressida wanted to say, truth be told, she doesn't know what else to add, but just in case the woman is still unsatisfied with that, perhaps Cressida can take something low in value like…

“Your hair tie…”

That should be fine, right?

The woman smiled then, she giggled softly. Making Cressida want to scream.

Everything is so pretty, and beautiful, and gorgeous with her and now she's just so cute too?! This is unfair! Everything is so unfair!!!

…Maybe I should've said yes when she asked to save my number…

“Right, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Elyanore, you can just call me Ely though.” She moved to take off the hair tie barely holding her ponytail together, it was a simple purple hair tie, with a singular small pearl as its decoration, Ely combed through her hair with her hands to fix it a bit before handing Cressida the hair tie.

It was a wrong move on Cressida's part, because now, with Ely's hair down, she looked far more mesmerizing. She wanted to cry then.

Why did I ask for her hair tie of all things…

Cressida reluctantly took it, her fingers lightly brushing on Ely's hand, it was surprisingly rough. In fact, having looked at her hand now, there were callouses on it.

“It's from sword training.” Ely answered, she must've noticed Cressida staring.

“Sword training?”

“I like swords! It's just exciting handling different kinds!”

“Can I save your number, after all?” Cressida blurted out before her brain can even catch up to process what she was about to say. It took a solid 3 seconds of silence when she finally realized it.

Cressida gasped loudly, she flailed her arms in front of her while trying desperately to explain herself, “I! I mean! That wasn't! It! I! What I meant to say was!”

Ely let out a small laugh, “As long as I get to save yours too!”

Cressida weakly nodded as she looked away, far too embarrassed to meet Ely's gaze, “O-okay…”

Diana loudly barked then, as if having reached her limit of waiting. Her barks were accompanied with a series of falling and rising howls, like she was saying several complaints for being forced to wait that long.

“Hehe, I got it girl.” Ely bent down a bit to pet her head, Diana moved away though, seemingly pouting, “Hmm… Ookay, I won't tell my brother about what happened today.”

It was only then when Diana happily placed her head on Ely's palm, making a slightly long howl to show her happiness at that.

Cressida couldn't help but laugh at the sight of them.

“Well then, we'll be taking our leave. It was nice meeting you, Cressida!” Ely did a curt bow reminiscent of a knight's, before waving Cressida goodbye.

“I-it was nice meeting you too… And take care!” Cressida waved back in a rather shy manner and when the two were out of view, she bent down to scream into her hands.