#a venti sized problem

[katskitoshi]

"A FAVOR FOR A FAVOR," with GENSHIN IMPACT.

synopsis: he helps you with something and it's only fair you pay him back, right? (mondstadt vers.) (liyue vers.) (inazuma part one vers.)

characters: dom! aether, venti, albedo, diluc, and keaya x gn! sub! reader

includes: (nsfw themes) aether's a menace, sweat kink, darcyphillia, rough sex, cumming inside, venti's a menace, fucking in a cathedral, wall sex, clothed sex, size kink, albedo's a menace, spanking, hot/cold play, orgasm denial, fingering, thigh grinding, outdoor sex, diluc's a menace, mister kink, begging kink, slapping, spit kink, deepthroating, blowjob, lmk if i missed smthg.

aether, the outlander.

aether is always doing favors for people, but when it's with you, it's never a chore. you needed help clearing out a domain, and you offered to do something to compensate him sometime. and now that he's finally alone with you, he gets the chance to finally use that favor you owe him.

-- "fuck, you're so hot, [name]." he smiles as his delicate, yet scarred, fingers trace across your tear-covered face. he lays above you, sitting on your torso, pinning your hands down as he admires your beauty. even through through pain and battle, you manage to stay as perfect as ever.

aether was thanked profusely for helping you with this domain, and the challenge was a little hard, resulting in a bit of ripped clothing and a bunch of sweat dripping down your body, while he was only left with a major problem in his pants.

and he just couldn't resist himself. plus, you owed him a favor after all. and you both wanted it, so what's the harm?

his smile is almost maniacal as he drags his tongue across your tears and sweat dripping down your face. the tears from the minutes of torment on your delicate nipples and hole. "you're disgusting aether," you gag despite being turned on. "yes, but you love it, darling."

he had to be quick to fuck you, because you automatically get kicked out the domain after 16 minutes. around 6 minutes have passed already, leaving 10 more minutes of torture to continue.

aether leans down and licks your lips, the salty taste of tears and sweat coming onto your own tastebuds. the kiss is quick, rushed, but still desperate. he finally gets off your stomach, "on all fours." he demands.

this commanding voice he has turns you on to unimaginable extents, and you do as he says. after all, the clock is running and the both of you've still yet to cum.

he pulls his pants down just enough to spring in growing cock out. it leaks milky white precum, and it looks a flushed red, just like his face. you're already prepped, his torture on your hole proof enough. he lines himself up and thrusts in quickly, the strength of it propelling you forwards.

your face smushed into the hard domain floors, and your hips were harshly grabbed by the blonde fucking you. "a-aether slow down!" you wail, using one hand to try to push his hips back, but it's far from enough to stop his brutish thrusts against you.

"can't, darling. there's only --fuck-- 4 minutes left and we have to cum and collect our rewards, remember?" he uses this as an excuse to fuck you harder, his nails digging into your hips and pulling you further back into him. his thrust get faster somehow, and you're used like a fucktoy in his hands.

"aether, i-i think i'm c-cumingg~!" you wail, feeling the high of orgasm quickly approaching. aether can tell, he's about too to, and he only thrusts faster to make the approaching high all the more satisfying. "fuck! me too!"

with a particularly deep thrust, spurts of aether's hot load paint your insides white.

you and aether both moan loudly, the sound echoing throughout the domain. you collapse on the domain floor, aether's cum dripping out of you.

you both pant. he slaps your ass, "get your clothes on and lets get our rewards and i'll take you back to mondstadt so we can finish, 'kay?" you nod, tears still slipping from your eyes. he helps you up, your legs still wobbly from your endeavors.

wait- it finally hit you. he said he can finish when he gets back, right? here, he was bound to 16 minutes, who knows what he can do with endless time on his hands? well, i guess you'll have to be the lucky traveler to find out.

venti, the windborne "bard".

you needed help with getting atop a mountain, and venti was conveniently there for you to make a little wind rift to boost you up. it was a favor, one you'd have to soon repay. although he could have used the nice view of your ass as a reward, he needed something more.

-- "v-venti! you're gonna get us caught!" you quietly wail as he fingers you faster inside a closet at the church of favonius. a service in worship to lord barbatos was going on not too far away, the same lord barbatos who was toying with you.

venti curls his fingers in a particular way that has you release a high pitched moan, quickly covering your mouth in embarrassment. he chuckles, thrusting even faster and curling his fingers even deeper into the spot that makes your vision white.

"for someone so scared of being caught," he places a kiss on your neck, licking the area over, "you sure do make a lot of noise. but let's see how loud you can get, yeah?"

your mind regrets even allowing him to get as far as leading you away from the church but your body is happy it made the decision of letting him drag you away from a holy service in order to make some unholy deeds happen. in most situations, it's mind over body. but for venti, your body's desire outweighs whatever logical thoughts you had.

he removes his fingers and licks them clean, much to your disappointment, resulting in a whine, "don't worry, [name]. this will be much better than what my fingers can do." he chuckles again, removing his pants and jerking his cock to full size. your eyes widen in surprise as you notice his large size despite his small stature.

"venti, there's no way that can fit. you aren't seriously gonna put it in me, right? venti? venti-" you panicked at first, scared of his initial size. he was huge! but you stopped panicking when he finally thrusted inside, stretching you open.

he ignores your concerns, only focused on the feeling of your wrapped around his cock. "you're so cute windblume~ remember, i'm doing this because you owe me a favor. consider this my compensation for helping you that day! plus, i'm sure that even if you hadn't owed me this we still would have found ourselves doing this at some point."

a high moan escapes you lips as you claw at venti's back, careful not to rip his delicate clothing. he continues to thrust into until he's balls deep inside you. pulling out until only the tip is in, he thrusts into hard, fast, and deep. you shake in his arms, quietly moaning out his name in hopes he'd slow down. but there's a slim chance he'll do it.

after all, he's the god of freedom in his own church and you're a consenting traveler who's willing to be a god's plaything.

albedo, the kreideprinz.

albedo has always been one for "if you give, you take." he's a generous soul, but he still must be repaid if he does you a favor. and since he gave you warmth in the freezing cold of dragonspine, it's only right that he takes something in return, correct? and who knows, maybe what he takes could benefit the both of you on this cold dragonspine night.

-- "tell me dear, are you feeling warmer now?" albedo breathes down your neck, one hand toying with your hard nipples and the other using two fingers to loosen you for his cock. you could feel his hard on against your ass, and it felt big.

in his camp, you could feel the warmth of a nearby fire which warmed you up instantly, but it suddenly felt too hot. "i feel too hot, 'bedo." you whine as you feel him pull your nipple a bit too hard.

he chuckles, "you told me you wanted to be warmer, so i made you warmer." he pulls your face close to his, kissing you and only adding to the heat forming between your legs

after striking a nerve deep inside you with his fingers, you moaned out loudly, almost shamelessly arching your back against him. "'bedo, too hot! i think i'm gonna cum!" you start grinding against his fingers and back onto his clothed dick.

"you are? really?" he questions condescendingly. you throw your head back further onto his shoulder as he speeds up his fingers. "cumming! i'm cumming!" and right before you cum onto albedo's pretty fingers, he pulls out, forcing you to not reach your orgasm.

the tears stream down your face switch from pleasure to pain. "albedo, please! wh-why'd you pull out?" you whine, grinding against him in hopes of received some sort of pleasuring friction.

albedo doesn't like this. he removes his hand from you nipple has it join his wet fingers on your hips to stop you from grinding. "i had to pull out because you said you were too hot. i would hate to make you too hot, dear."

you don't even think about what you're doing, only wanting to reach the high that was taken away from you. you try to pry off albedo's hands off your hips, pulling and hitting him. "'bedo, please! just keep fingering me! i'll suck you off afterwards or let you fuck me however you want, just continue please!" despite your fruitless efforts, you continue to try and grind against him.

he stares at you coldly, almost as harsh as the frozen winds that got you in this situation. "that's not very nice, now is it, dear?" he pushes you off him and pats his lap. shit. you just got yourself in more trouble than a single orgasm was worth.

you bend over his lap, mentally preparing yourself for whats to come. "m'sorry 'bedo," he shushes you in return, sliding is cold pointer finger drown your back and onto your ass. he rubs it gently, almost like he wasn't about to ruin you. he gives one harsh smack, demanding you count. and you do, until he reaches 12 and he starts to the knead the sore skin of your ass.

"archons, you're pathetic. i can feel you even through my pants. remember, if give you something, i will take in return. so i'll give you this punishment and i'll take you as i please. it's stupid how you think you have a say in this matter, dear."

diluc, the darkside of dawn.

diluc was a fair man. willing to help to an extent even with nothing in return. but when it came to sweet little you, in need of saving from some hilichurls, he was willing to help in a heartbeat without even needing compensation. but when you offer to do as he pleases, he was more than willing to lose his fairness all in the favor of finally taking you.

-- "m-mister diluc! what if someone from the adventurer's guild sees us? we're in public!" diluc only shushes you with a slow but desperate kiss. it leaves you wanting more, and you only wonder if it's your fault for offering to pay him back in such an unholy way. especially in the middle of windrise when you were supposed to be on a picnic? how shameful.

you whine into his kiss, tangling your hands in his hair and pulling him closer to your lips. diluc only thrusts deeper inside you, kissing you more desperately as you moan into his lips.

he loves this feeling. you being putting in his hands. he loves the control, -- the kind, fair man he's painted himself as is starting fade away as he feels you clench around him, moan into his lips, and pull him closer like a lover.

he relishes in your warm embrace, finally pulling away from your lips to kiss at your pebbled nipples. you moan- a sweet, yet loud out escaping from your lips. he kisses your nipples, licking across your chest before he works his way to your neck to leave hickies.

"thank you, thank you thank you, thank you, thank you!" you babble mindlessly, removing your hands from his hair and to the blanket underneath you, gripping it tightly.

he goes back to your lips, kissing you deeply as he keeps his steady pace of thrusting into you. the kiss is short, and he pulls away to ask you a question. "what are you thanking me for?" he asks. tears stream down your face.

yes, you're greatly indebted to diluc for saving you but you're already sore and you've barely been fucked. "i-" he slaps you across your face, annoyed with your stalling.

"remember, [name]. you're the one who wanted to pay me back. can you not handle your own decision?"

kaeya, the calvary captain.

kaeya isn't really one to help someone out unless it's commanded of him. but for you, his darling subordinate, he'll do anything. but you just can't get something for nothing while dealing with him. with his help clearing out some of your paperwork, you now owe him, and he's sure to not let your forget.

-- "poor slut can't take anymore?" he taunts. you're on your knees in front of your boss sucking him off like some common whore. you're not, you're only giving him whats due. with kaeya, there's not even a point in trying to change his mind. if he wants his cock down your throat, he'll get his cock down your throat.

but luckily you're more willing, and he'll only push you down further on his surprisingly huge dick. "just like that, slut." he groans, leaning his head back with a groan and pushing your head down further. "juustt like that."

you choke on his cock, the spit and precum being barely enough lubrication to make his cock slide easily in your throat. tears stream down your face and kaeya's eye meet yours. he only smiles, pushing your head down slightly further as a tease.

it felt good, the burn of the throat feeling like nothing compared to the satisfaction of pleasing your boss. the more you gag, the more your throat clenches around him, and you can tell kaeya's absolutely losing it.

he moves your head up and down his cock swiftly, pulling you off suddenly and jerking his cock to his release. and when it finally came, warm spurts of white cum ended up all over your face. he pants heavily and looks down at his creation.

before him kneels a desperate, panting, cum-covered slut for him and him alone to use. he uses him thumb to smear some cum over your lips and force you to taste it. the salty taste makes you gag, but it still tastes good. "open." and you open your mouth obediently. he spits in your mouth, "swallow." and you do obediently.

kaeya chuckles at your ruined face and he can only think ow much he can ruin your body. you're still in his debt, afterall.

"now that i've ruined your pretty little mouth, how about i ruin something else?"

(liyue vers.) (inazuma part one vers.)

[sh1-n0bu]

yall this is my first time requesting something from someone so im a bit nervous but

imagine overstimulating venti until he cries 🤭

also can i be 🌊 anon ? PLEASE tell me if anything i asked made you uncomfortable!!

♡︎ 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙚𝙢𝙤 𝙜𝙤𝙙’𝙨 𝙙𝙚𝙫𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 ♡︎

characters: sub!venti x nb!dom!reader

warnings: overstimulation, size kink, dacryphillia, reader’s genitals/pronouns are never mentioned so the cock can be interpreted as a strap on

notes: of course you can be 🌊anon! and yes, i’m slowly coming back to life. man author’s block is hard to beat. also, if this get’s flagged by tumblr when i wake up tmrw, i’ll delete it and post it again so don’t get too scared if it’s suddenly gone bbies

venti, or better yet known as barbatos to his people, was never really much of an archon.

he never plays by the rules, governs over his people nor even tries to abide by celestia’s rules. often, the wind spirit simply prefers to lay back and watch as his people takes care of any problems. they’re strong after all, his children always has been. of course, the windborn bard slurs out words of being the anemo archon in his drunk dazed self but no one ever takes it seriously.

and another thing was that, venti never worships the celestia. the floating island in the sky is full of nothing but liars, manipulators and cowards. besides… why would he worship those pathetic things when you’re right here?

why kneel before them when he can kneel before you?

why worship those who spat venom everytime they open their mouth when ballads and praises, songs of life flow from yours?

why chase after meaningless praises when your words sting like the strongest alcohol, burning his throat, making his eyes water as he becomes more and more addicted to you?

that’s exactly why the anemo archon prefers to worship you instead. when you braid his hair and comb out the knots as he nuzzles against your form, dazed and sleepy.

when you’re there to console him, help him through his darkest days when those wretches of celestia has done nothing.

when you’re kissing away the tears that spill from his eyes, shushing his slurred speeches and sobs of pleasure as you continue to ram into that one spot inside him, making him shriek and spill over his stomach again and again.

the windborn bard could worship you for eternity.

spilling another load into his stomach, the god in your arms spasms and twitches as his legs weakly wrap around your waist to at least try and calm the twitching of his small body.

dear stars above, you felt so big he could almost feel your tip in his stomach in his sex drunken haze. slurred whines of what seems to be your name flowing out of his mouth as he tries to keep his last threads of sanity together but how can he do so when he can just feel your previous loads slipping out of his rim and down to the sheets.

it all felt so hot, the room was so hot, everything was spinning. the warmth of your cum seeping out of his hole, the slight bulge in his stomach, the feeling of your finger wiggling in next to his already stuffed hole and pushing the cum back inside while your cock stays in — venti lets out a weak sound.

“look at you, little bird. you’re leaking out my cum that i worked so hard to put in you. can’t have my hard work being spent, right?” you coo out teasingly, a grin bit too sadistic tugging on your lips as venti writhes under you when you add in another finger. stars above, were you trying to break him?

venti couldn’t respond. he couldn’t even fully understand and register your words. brain too fried from the previous rounds of your just absolutely handling his small body around, pinching, teasing, smacking, leaving marks and hickeys but he loved it all.

as a response, the bard only weakly bucks his hips back into your strap again seemingly wanting more. my, what an insatiable little bird.

throwing his leg over your shoulder, you take out your fingers from his hole and squeeze his tiny waist once in a warning before fucking back into him again. small whines, weak noises and slurred whorish moans spill out from under you, the anemo archon far too fucked stupid to even try to properly say your name anymore.

making a grabby motion with his hands — a silent ask to hold you close while you fuck him full of your cum again — you decide to be nice and lean down, the absolutely filthy wet noises of your cock easily entering him causing venti to dig his blunt nails into your back, pulling you closer to himself.

feeling another orgasm building up embarrassingly quickly, the archon chases after your lips with weak whines, a sob following as you deny him of a proper kiss. instead teasing him by kissing his soft cheek. he didn’t even realize he was crying.

but soon those soft and weak whimpers and slurred words turn into a sharp scream as he feels himself cumming into both of your stomachs again, a sob of your name following along as you chase your high, getting more frantic with your movements.

the archon feels himself getting filled up again when your hips stutter, causing the short man under you to whimper a quiet “[n-nameee…❤︎︎]” in your ears.

after having caught your breath, you pull away from him slightly. pushing his hair away from his face, you couldn’t help but laugh as you wipe away his tears. but that laugh is cut off short as the archon bucks his hips against yours again, a cheeky grin pulling on his lips.

[bk-4-trash-fire]

More giant creator for the win

(chubby giant???? Yes please)

Anyways....

Traveling with the loving bard was a challenge.

A challenge you were losing.

Having a clingy bird wasn't even the worst of the trip

It was when said bird had to do things without you

Normally venti will straight up refuse to do anything without you

Biting onto your hand whenever you try to get him off you

Lil shit won't come off.

Making your way to liyue wasn't the best but it could've been worse...

Wasn't helping that being a giant hurts you ability to move freely..

What seemed to be miles of wide open space looks like a narrow hallway..

And while you were trying to unstuck your ass from the wall

Venti was sleeping on your shoulder

I swear to-

Ok we made it..

Wait.

Liyue is more narrow than mondstadt

Shiiiiiii-

Ok then it's gonna be like twister but lives are at risk...

Yeah no let's not

Better stay near the port

And by near you mean in the waters

Your arrival wasn't unseen

Zhongli was jumping for joy in his head the moment he saw you

So great you now have two old archons clinging to you like their life dependent on it

You were locked out of the main city due to you know....

Your size...

You did try but it led to you having to stay on your toes and pray you don't lose your balance

But on the bright side you got to play with the others near the docks

Having talks and giant riding sessions for the kids or just having tea and snacks

Speaking of which food was also a problem...

Your little acolytes thought the best idea was to make you a dish for your size

But no animal would be big enough to be used as a replacement for the main ingredient

Instead you swam in the sea before diving in and fishing out a whale

Was it cool to see? Yes.

Was it just as scary? Yes.

Sleeping became three times more unbearable

Because you now have

A clingy bird

A very loud purring dragon

And a yaksha who has....alot of issues..

Man hopefully this can't get worse right??

As promised the continueation I of the giant creator series

Just a heads up it's going to be taking longer to get chapters and one shots due to work and grades

So I hope y'all can understand that I'm trying my best to get these out as quickly as I can

Have a great day (or night as I'm writing this)

[seakicker]

☆ My Next-Door Neighbor is an Annoying Older Woman Who Constantly Bothers Me

☆ between: college au!scaramouche x milf!reader

☆ synopsis: scaramouche insists he doesn’t want to fuck the milf living next door, but all his friends think he doth protest too much.

☆ word count: 10.5K words

☆ a/n: like with my venti x milf!reader fic over on ao3, this is supposed to give a sort of doujinshi vibe, hence the embarrassing title and the lunacy of some ideas like milf!reader going outside in a super sheer shirt. hopefully you feel the doujinshi vibe i was going for as i have a lot of fun trying to replicate the style, themes, and flow of doujinshis using only text!

☆ contents: fem + plus-sized reader (reader is explicitly described as chubby, busty, and taller than scaramouche), age gap obviously; scaramouche is a senior in college and reader is in her early 40s, degradation, a couple insults (such as scaramouche calling you a hag/loose/etc.), degradation, exhibitionism (scaramouche fucks you in front of a glass sliding door), sexual frustration, and unprotected sex + scaramouche pulls out

also posted to ao3 with the same title and under the same username!

Scaramouche has a problem.

Well, a problem slightly more irritating than the approximately nine hundred other problems he deals with on a daily basis. These issues include, but are not limited to, the consistent problems he has with the hot water heater in his apartment, his obnoxious group project teammate Ajax who insisted upon being the group’s leader despite his complete and utter lack of intellect, his annoying circle of friends that always seem to find ways to poke their noses into Scaramouche’s business, his frustratingly-dull history professor that always goes off on tangents completely unrelated to the class’ subject matter… and so on and so forth. It’s one issue after another; there’s always something when it comes to Scaramouche.

A matter more pressing than all of those other nine hundred issues put together, however, comes in the form of his next-door neighbor— you.

You’re a divorced woman in your early forties who lives by herself, works during the daytime while Scaramouche is on campus, and always seems to leave and return home at the same times he does. He moved in next door to you a few months ago at the start of his junior year, but you’ve never really gotten the chance to get to know him beyond the curt responses he gives you when you ask how he’s doing or what he did over the weekend. His coldness towards you doesn’t make too much sense— have you somehow offended him without knowing? You like to consider yourself a good neighbor: you don’t party (like a woman your age would ever do such a thing), you don’t blast loud music long into the night (or at all), you take good care of your things and avoid causing trouble for Scaramouche or your other neighbors, and you’re very, very tidy. When you’re in the mood to brag a little, you’ll say that you have the nicest balcony in the entire apartment complex.

…Avoid causing trouble for Scaramouche, huh? He’d beg to differ.

If Scaramouche has nine hundred problems in his life, then maybe it’d be more accurate to claim that you’re the cause of at least seven hundred of those problems rather than claiming that you’re one single, self-contained issue separate from all of those other problems. Maybe it’s the way you insist upon butting your way into his life and, in what must be your way of expressing it, “taking care” of him that irritates him more than anything else. Really, if he had to sum up your advances in one word, he’d have to go with aggravating.

At first, he bitterly wondered if you’re just some senile old hag using him as a replacement for your son, who’s surely moved out by now given your age. All you are is a woman looking to cure her empty nest syndrome by doting on someone her son’s age according to Scaramouche— he viewed your kindness as underhanded and delusional because he can take care of himself, you know. He’s an adult man living on his own; he knows how to navigate the trials and tribulations of young adulthood without some old lady insisting upon knocking on his door and gifting him home-cooked meals, bringing up his mail from the first-floor mailroom, or helping him with chores where you can. It’s not like Scaramouche would ever let you into his apartment, but that hasn’t stopped you from finding ways to help outside by sweeping outside his front door or washing the outside of his front window while he’s not home.

Okay, maybe it’s a little creepy to wash your neighbor’s windows without him asking you to help out, but it’s not like he’s going to do it. You would know— you had once waited a week to see if he’d clean up a spilled drink stain on the walkway in front of his door. As you expected, he never got around to it, so you happily cleaned it up on his behalf. Cleaning up for him doesn’t really put you out of your way either— whenever you sweep his doorway, it’s because you were already outside tidying up in front of your place; why not help out your neighbor in the process?

When you bring him meals you prepared yourself, it’s out of the goodness of your heart and because you can’t help but worry about a college boy’s diet— fast food, pizza, frozen microwave meals, and instant ramen don’t have all the nutrients a hardworking man needs. When you bring him his mail, it’s because he has a tendency to forget about it until his mailbox is, quite literally, overflowing. Whereas you check your mailbox every single day, Scaramouche seems to forget about his until the end of the week, which is certainly no way to live— what if he misses an important bill or notice? As a result, you took it upon yourself to check his mailbox for him whenever you go to retrieve your own mail.

Again, maybe it’s a little creepy to gather your neighbor’s mail, but it’s not like you’re hurting anyone, right? You certainly don’t root through his mail or open any of it. Even though Scaramouche rolls his eyes and mumbles a halfhearted little “thanks” every time you hand him his mail, he doesn’t really seem to mind. Despite his initial reluctance to accept any of it, he still eats the food you prepare for him if the empty containers he returns to you a few days later are any indication of that fact. You figure maybe he’s just a little shy or tired from his long day on campus— it does your heart well to know that he’s working so very hard.

On the flip side of things, Scaramouche considers your… activities a total inconvenience. He’ll admit that your meals taste very good— though he’d never say it to your face— but he doesn’t like feeling indebted to you or thinking that he owes you something even though you’ve told him multiple times that your favors don’t need any payback. You’re just happy to cook for someone other than yourself, you had told him once, confirming Scaramouche’s suspicion that you live alone. It’s not his fault you’re bored enough to make food for someone you barely know, so do you have to rope him into your wiles? He already has groceries and though he doesn’t really know how to cook, what’s wrong with having a bowl of cereal for dinner? It’s none of your business, is it?

Between your constant insistence on involving yourself in his life and the fact that he’s never seen anyone else leaving or entering your apartment, Scaramouche was able to correctly guess that you live alone… a realization that can’t help but annoy him. He figures that if you had someone, anyone else in your life like a spouse or another child living with you, you’d stop pestering him and stick to involving yourself in the lives of your family instead of your neighbor.

Would a pet do? Should he find some stray kitten and leave it on your doorstep? Is that what it’d take to make you mind your own business?

“Hey, Kuni, tell me about your little neighbor lady again,” Venti coos, accidentally knocking over his—thankfully— empty beer bottle when he leans forward to grab his phone. He’s drunk, but that barely makes a difference; he’d still make this request sober.

Glowering around the mouth of his own bottle, Scaramouche rolls his eyes in Venti’s general direction. “Why? If you want to know that hag so badly, go talk to her yourself.”

Venti busts out laughing, an action that his drunken body clearly can’t handle seeing as he falls sideways into Aether’s shoulder, making the latter grimace in response. Venti’s already a handful sober, but when he drinks… it takes the entire friend group to get him home and/or in bed safely. “Don’t threaten me with that, ‘cuz I really will do it— I’ll go steal your hot older girlfriend.”

Glaring up at him from his spot on the rug, Scaramouche has half a mind to shove that empty beer bottle into Venti’s eye for suggesting such a thing. Hey, wait a minute— why is Scaramouche the one sitting on the floor when this is his damn apartment?

“She’s not my fucking girlfriend,” he barks, turning to direct his glare at Kazuha too when he hears him chuckle.

“The more you deny it, the less convincing you are— you talk about her all the time, so I’m inclined to believe you really are dating,” Venti chirps, reaching for a bottle of beer that is most certainly not his.

“That’s mine,” Aether protests, watching as Venti takes a sip from his bottle anyways.

“Oops, my bad.” He doesn’t sound sincere.

“Well… get me another whenever you stand up.”

Venti waves his hand dismissively before redirecting his attention back to the more important matter at hand— Scaramouche’s complete and utter inability to just admit that he has the hots for his hot MILF of a neighbor and that any protest otherwise is a feeble attempt at hiding the truth.

“They say you’re attracted to things that make you mad,” Venti says. “…Cuteness aggression. Yeah. I saw a video about it once.”

“That’s not what cuteness aggression is, and ‘they’ say that you attract the things you fear,” Kazuha corrects him from his spot in the nearby armchair— again, why is Scaramouche the one sitting on the floor?— before he goes to take another hit off his blunt.

Venti repeats what Kazuha said in a nasally voice in an attempt to mock him, but the gesture only makes Kazuha chuckle again. It’ll be hard to draw any response more eloquent than a single laugh or a sigh out of him for the rest of the night— it’s a very, very stark difference from how he usually is.

“Why the fuck do I ever invite any of you over here?” Scaramouche sighs, taking a long swig from his own bottle. He doesn’t even really like the taste; it’s something Venti found on sale and decided to bring over, but Scaramouche has decided it’s better than spending his Friday night sober. Besides, it’ll take at least four more of these to deal with the impending conversation that he’s been trying so hard to pivot away from since Venti first brought it up.

“Because we’re best friends forever, next question. Why do you deny how much you wanna fuck your sexy neighbor, Kuni?” Venti asks again, pouting when Aether snatches the bottle Venti stole from him. “It’s super obvious. Xiao and Heizou agree with me, and I’m not just saying that because they’re not here tonight and can’t contest me on it. It’s true.”

Kazuha nods, and Aether simply shrugs. Christ alive, do they all think the same thing?

“And why on Earth do I— in theory— want to fuck her? She’s probably loose or something,” Scaramouche argues.

Venti busts out laughing again.

“It’s the opposite, really,” he starts, glancing between Aether and Kazuha when neither of them laugh along with him. “What, have you guys seriously never been with an older lady? They’re the best; the reason I know Kuni wants to get with that lady next door is because I got with the lady next door to me a couple months ago. It takes one to know one, or something. Trust me, Kuni, I know what you’re going through and we are seriously gonna get through this together.” Why is he making it sound like a relative died or something?

“They’re experienced,” Venti sighs longingly, blindly reaching out again for the bottle Aether’s holding, who moves it further away and out of Venti’s reach. “They feel really, really good. They actually know what they’re doing… sometimes the girls—and guys, mind you, I’ve gotten with plenty of both— our age clearly don’t know they’re supposed to be doing, but getting with somebody’s mom…”

“You’re gross!” Aether gasps, though his pink cheeks tell a different story.

“Not as gross as the guy who’s told us the same story about seeing his neighbor lady braless like four times now,” Venti replies, glancing over at Scaramouche with a grin. “Really left an impression on you, huh, Kuni?”

Just like that, Scaramouche finds himself instantly reminded of, well, the time he saw you braless first thing in the morning. A few months ago on some random Saturday morning, Scaramouche was out smoking a cigarette on his porch when you stepped outside to water the plants you keep on your balcony. There were so many of them: a small tomato plant, a pot overflowing with basil that you took to trimming after you finished watering everything, a couple of hanging baskets field with flowers, and a few other vegetable plants and potted succulents. More glaringly obvious than the abundance of plants occupying your balcony was your complete and utter shamelessness— even a quick glance in your direction was enough to draw Scaramouche’s attention to the distractingly sheer fabric of your white camisole.

It’s not like Scaramouche was actively staring at your tits— really, he wasn’t, he swears— because anyone would notice something that egregious. The low, low sweep of your camisole around your ample bust, your nipples beading up against the thin fabric, the constant fucking movement of the top as you shifted and bent over to water the plants sitting on the ground, moved, and walked, all of it. He complained to his friends about your complete and utter shamelessness— What kind of woman steps outside practically naked? he spat, much to the amusement of Venti, who had said that wearing a thin shirt does not, in fact, make one naked.

Worst of all, you had actually fucking caught Scaramouche staring, an action that made you grin wickedly and run your hands down the sides of your soft, plump body as if to try and draw his eyes down along with your hands. Instead, Scaramouche had only whipped his head to the other side, busying himself with tapping the ash off his cigarette as if it were the most important task he’d ever complete in his life. Jesus Christ, he was only staring because he couldn’t believe you’d be so shameless as to wear something like that outside, not because he was genuinely aroused by how low your camisole sat on your chest, how big your tits are, how soft they look…

He thinks he shuddered then, and he insisted to his friends that it was because of a sudden chilly breeze and absolutely nothing more. It was either that or because he was just so shocked by your display that a shiver went down his spine— he can’t even remember the exact reason he gave anymore.

Either way, none of them really believed him.

“Ah, he seems distracted,” Kazuha notes simply, raising a hand to point at Scaramouche before grinning. His words pull Scaramouche from his little daydream, and he groans at the realization that, yes, he spaced out remembering yet another instance of your abhorrent shamelessness and perversion.

“Spaced out thinking about cute MILF boobs, I get it,” Venti affirms, nodding. “Nobody gets that more than me. Not only that, but you’ve also, uh, ‘complained’ to us about seeing her in her swimsuit. Really, Kuni, it’s like you’re biding your time and waiting for her to take her clothes off so you can tell us about it.”

…That’s a story for another time. Scaramouche has had enough of thinking about you for one day; it’s bad enough that you brought him his mail today just mere moments before Venti, Kazuha, and Aether arrived to hang out— what if they saw you?— but to be reminded of the image of your tits underneath that pathetic excuse for a top…

He shakes his head and takes a long, long sip from his bottle.

“And they’re so soft, Kuni,” Venti says, slumping over further into Aether for support. “They feel like absolutely nothing else. I feel like firmness or perkiness or whatever is really, really overrated— the softness of a cute MILF’s boobs is unrivaled!”

“Can you not say things like that right into my ear?” Aether mumbles bashfully, making Venti laugh.

“Why? Am I gonna put the mental image of MILF boobs in your brain, too? Are we gonna become an entire friend group full of MILF chasers? That’d be hilarous. I already know about Xiao’s little crush on his English professor.”

Jesus, Scaramouche has got to steer this conversation somewhere else or he’ll go mad. “Anyways,” he beings, “Where is that pizza you ordered ages ago?”

“I thought Kazuha was taking care of it,” Aether remarks, glancing over at him. Kazuha goes to reply, but nothing comes out— yep, he’s gone for the night. He won’t be able to get out any more than four words max until morning.

As if the universe heard their request, the doorbell rings to signify the arrival of dinner. Before Scaramouche can go to pull himself up off the floor—he really should make Venti move; it’s his couch in his apartment— Venti’s already in the process of skipping towards the door. Aether takes the opportunity to kick his feet up over the other couch cushion, making Scaramouche wonder if the three of them formed some secret pact to ensure that he stays on the floor the entire evening.

However, what stands on the other side of the door is not, in fact, the pizza delivery boy. It’s you, aluminum foil-covered glass casserole dish in hand, leading Scaramouche to believe that while the universe did hear their request for food, the devil answered by sending you to his doorstep while he has three of his friends over.

“Oh! You’re not the pizza guy,” Venti beams, putting on his best ‘polite’ voice possible. Scaramouche groans and looks over towards his other two friends just so he doesn’t accidentally make eye contact with you, but neither Aether nor Kazuha look back at him. They’re looking at you.

Christ, he’ll never live this down. Not only do they know who you are, they now know what you look like.

“I’m not,” you giggle. “I live next door; I bring food to Scaramouche sometimes whenever I get a little too excited in the kitchen and make too much. I can’t eat the leftovers fast enough before they go bad, and I would hate to waste food, you know?”

“You can call him Kuni,” Venti offers. “We all do. It’s less of a mouthful, don’t you think?”

Scaramouche decides that Venti will be leaving his apartment in a body bag tonight.

His cheeks burn with equal parts humiliation and anger, and the realization that his friends’ teasing is only about to get worse now that they know who you are and what you look like more than motivates Scaramouche to devise a plot to kill the three of them.

After introducing yourself to Venti, he smiles and replies that “the pleasure is all his” when you tell him it’s nice to meet some of Scaramouche’s friends. Venti has half a mind to invite you inside for a moment, but he decides that’d be unnecessary— he figures he’s already done more than enough to inspire Scaramouche into action. If Scaramouche won’t act on his feelings himself, then maybe a little shove from his friends will help him along.

“That’s sweet of you!” Venti praises, taking the dish from your hands. “I’m glad Kuni’s eating properly these days. One time, he told us that the only thing he survived off of during finals week was a sleeve of Saltines and some peanut butter. You’re so kind, miss.”

You giggle sheepishly, a sound that Scaramouche would like to claim grates his ears. Miss? Can’t Venti see that you’re, well, old? “Well, I’m glad that he has such kind friends to support him. You all take care, okay? You too, Scara— Kuni!” You call out past Venti’s shoulder, making both Aether and Kazuha chuckle.

After bidding farewell to the four in what has to be the most mortifying moment of Scaramouche’s entire life, you leave, allowing Venti to close the door behind you and make his way back to the others. “Those boobs are huge,” he sighs dreamily, looking up at the ceiling. “If I got suffocated between those, I would die a fully satisfied man.”

“Then go die,” Scaramouche mutters in agreement, cheeks still burning with humiliation. Why does the universe insist upon tormenting him so?

Eyeing the dish in Venti’s hands, Aether pipes up too “She cooks for you? Kuni, you have it so good.”

Scaramouche is amazed that, after all this time, his friends still find it in them to be jealous of him despite all of his attempts at framing you as annoying, invasive, and overbearing. Can’t they see that you’re doing this on purpose?! Scaramouche has half a mind to wonder if you’re psychic— what other explanation is there for your obnoxiously perfect timing? He asks about food and suddenly you appear on his doorstep, dish in hand as if you had heard him through the walls. There’s no way they’re that thin, are they?

Venti moves to set the dish down on the kitchen countertop before turning around to look Scaramouche square in the eye. “Kuni, I’m saying this because I respect you as my longtime friend,” he asserts, tone and gaze both deathly serious in a way that’s genuinely almost out of character for someone as flippant and carefree as Venti. “But you better fuck that lady the first chance you get because, if you don’t, I’m taking her for myself.” That should do it.

Scowling in response, Scaramouche crosses his arms over his chest and sighs bitterly. “Why would I stop you? I don’t care what you do with her. For the last fucking time, I’m not into her.” Despite his words, Scaramouche can’t deny that there’s something… unsettling about the idea of Venti getting with you. Does he really want to watch his friend take four A.M. booty calls in order to fuck the woman living right next door to him? Can Scaramouche truly stomach the idea of his friend fucking the brains out of someone just a few walls away from where he lives? It’s hard to put his finger on why, but something about Venti getting with Scaramouche’s neighbor, despite his insistence that there truly is nothing between the two of them, really, really irks him.

Well, it’s probably just because a lot of Venti’s behavior tends to irritate Scaramouche in the first place, right? Yeah, it’s probably just that. He doesn’t need to hear every last gritty detail of his friend’s sexual trysts.

That characteristically smug grin of his finds its way back to Venti’s face as he reaches over Aether’s shoulder and snatches his beer bottle again. “Fine, I guess I’ll have to take your word for it. How about we forget the pizza and eat what she brought over?”

“Oh, I see now,” Kazuha interjects after having been silent for the past twenty minutes. He turns his phone around to show Scaramouche, Venti, and Aether the check-out screen on the pizza chain’s website. “It seems I failed actually submit the order; it was still waiting for me to pay.”

Scaramouche doesn’t have a hangover the next morning, a blessing he owes to the fact that he only ended up drinking two beers last night. He probably would’ve consumed more if he had the chance to, but Venti blew through the rest of the box quicker than the other three could try to stop him. It took both Kazuha and Aether supporting Venti’s hardly-conscious body to get him down the stairs to the parking lot so they can drive him home— there’s no way Venti would be able to safely get himself home amidst such an awful hangover.

As he pokes through his apartment scooping up empty beer bottles and stained paper plates to toss into a trash bag, the glass casserole dish sitting out on the kitchen counter catches Scaramouche’s eye. Save for a few scraps shoved into the rounded corners of the pan, it’s practically been picked clean— the four boys tore through it easily with Venti, Kazuha, and Aether all fawning over just how good a home-cooked meal tastes after months of campus cafeteria food, fast food, and instant ramen. Venti mentioned that there’s just something about a MILF’s cooking that makes it so much better, leading to a conversation about how, in Venti’s educated opinion, older women just do everything better: sex, cooking, cleaning, caretaking, all of it.

Scaramouche scoffs at the memory. “She’s nothing special,” he mutters to himself, still failing to understand Venti’s obsession with somebody he’s never even met until last night. Scaramouche is the one who’s actually been living next door to her for months now— as his friends know by now, he has plenty more to say about her than Venti does.

Shouldn’t he be the one to comment on things like the size of your bust, the softness of your legs, the plumpness of your ass and belly, and the flavor of your cooking? He’s the one who’s actually seen you lounging in tiny string bikinis by the apartment complex’s pool, watering the plants out on your balcony in a pair of shorts that certainly break publicly decency laws, and retrieving your mail in a shirt so thin he can make out the little bumps of your nipples up against the fabric.

“Christ, what am I thinking?” Scaramouche stops himself and second-guesses whether or not he’s actually hungover. There’s no way his sober mind would drift to thoughts of you, right? Clearly something must be wrong with him— he blames Venti for putting all these thoughts in his head with his never-ending discussion of what makes older women so utterly sexy.

He’s then reminded of what Venti told him right before they all sat down to eat your cooking: that if Scaramouche won’t hurry up and fuck his neighbor, Venti will do it for him. Even now, the idea still bothers him for reasons he just can’t quite put his finger on— Venti’s been with tons and tons of people; why does he want Scaramouche’s neighbor too? Can’t Venti see how awkward that would be?

Setting the trash bag down on the floor, Scaramouche takes to the sink to wash out the casserole dish you brought over for them last night. His mind concocts disgustingly vivid images of you as he scrubs at a particularly stubborn piece of dried cheese, and maybe he’d be shocked by how little effort he’s putting into warding those thoughts away if he weren’t so utterly immersed in them. His mind conjures up the image of you in that tiny black bikini he saw you wearing by the pool while he was out smoking on his balcony— he remembers the little number being so small that you had to readjust it every single time you simply sat up or lied down because every last motion was enough to threaten a nipslip. It makes him wonder if you dress like that on purpose or because you’ve deluded yourself into thinking that clothes and swimsuits you used to wear still fit you despite clear evidence otherwise— are you actively vying for the attention of any man who’ll give it to you, or are you brainless enough to throw something on without caring about how poorly or not it fits?

It’s probably a mix of both; you’re just that shameless.

Scaramouche grits his teeth at the mental image of you straddling him while adorned in that tiny little bikini that seems to only get tinier and tinier the longer he allows his imagination to run wild. Of all the fucking things to imagine you doing…

He pictures what you’d look like with your thick, plump thighs enveloping either side of his hips as you run your hands up and down your ample chest and soft stomach. God, he can see it all now: the little bumps of your nipples beading up against the thin fabric of your swimsuit, the soft hang of your tummy spilling over the tiny, flimsy string keeping your bottoms secured around your wide hips, the way your tits would bounce as you ride him…

“Something’s wrong with me,” he grumbles, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut. The clump of cheese he’d been scraping at finally separates from the pan, and he realizes that if he wants to rid you from his mind for good, he should take matters into his own hands before Venti does.

No, wait, this has nothing to do with Venti— this isn’t about staking claim over you before any of his friends can, this is solely about him finding ways to release the grip you have on him as if you’re some kind of wicked succubus. Scaramouche glances downwards after setting the dish aside to dry and, much to his chagrin, finds that the mere thought of you was enough to fucking get him hard. The eager press of his cock against the confines of his briefs moritifies him solely because of the very reason why he’s like this in the first place; how the fuck did the thought of you in a bikini so tiny your areolas peek around the sides reduce him to such a state? He’d like to believe that he’s only this hard because it’s been a while since he’s jerked off, but that would be an excuse less believable than any of the ones he’s ever given his friends.

He knows that he’s too dignified to jerk off to the thought of you— if he’s feeling horny, then surely he can find things more deserving of his attention than some hag next door. He refuses to give you that kind of satisfaction (despite the fact that you’d never even know unless he told you, so how could you be smug about it?), so he decides that an ice-cold shower is in order before venturing out to settle things with you.

After a shower so cold Scaramouche swears he saw his fingers begin to turn purple, he dries off, gets dressed in something other than the clothes he fell asleep in last night, grabs your clean casserole dish, and leaves to go to the one place he wouldn’t have ever imagined himself stepping foot in— your apartment. If this is what it takes to sever the connection between you and his mind…

God, this is going to be annoying, Scaramouche thinks as he knocks on your door using his foot, casserole dish supported safely by both of his hands. He feels the need to steel himself because he just knows you’ll answer the door in something sheer, skimpy, or some combination of the two and he needs to be ready for that.

Why? Are you hoping for that to happen, Kuni? Venti’s voice whispers from the back of Scaramouche’s mind.

He really is losing it.

“Good morning— oh, Kuni! This is a surprise,” you greet him upon opening the door, flashing him a smile so bright it nearly makes him cringe. Can you spare him the pleasantries so he can just get to the point?

Fucking Venti— why teach her that nickname? Turning his head to look at a faraway bird instead of you, Scaramouche scoffs. “I need to talk to you.” Straight to the point, emotionless, and rude, it’s all so in-character for your neighbor that you can’t help but giggle.

You grin wider. “Of course. Come in; I’ll put a pot of coffee on.”

Scaramouche waits until you’re a good few steps ahead of him before following you inside, glancing around the living room of your apartment as he makes his way to the kitchen table. Your apartment’s clean, impeccably so at that— every book on your bookshelf faces the same direction, the blanket draped over the back of your couch doesn’t have a single crease, and he can’t see even an ounce of dust on any inch of your tables and countertops.

He snorts a little. Rather than viewing the cleanliness as impressive or inspiring, he bitterly interprets it as a testament to your overabundance of free time and lack of other hobbies or pastimes.

“I’m not sure how strong you like your coffee, so I’ll just make it how I normally do,” you pipe up from the kitchen, pulling Scaramouche away from scrutinizing the titles of the books on your shelf. Restless Summer Nights? The Devil’s Mistress? They all sound like bargain bin erotica novels.

It was a mistake to direct his attention away from your novels and to you instead, he figures, because only now does he get a look at what you’re wearing— if one could even call that clothing. You’re dressed in something he wants to call a workout outfit, but anyone leaving the house in an outfit like that surely has goals other than simply exercising— they want to attract attention. A sports bra that sits so low on your chest that a single bounce on an exercise ball would expose you combines with a pair of spandex leggings so tight they reveal the lines of your panties to comprise your “workout outfit,” and to say that Scaramouche is mortified would be an understatement. He can’t help but find the combination of your manner of dress and your collection of novels completely pathetic.

And despite his apparent disgust… he’s been staring at you long enough to pick up the most minute details about your outfit. The indifferent passerby likely wouldn’t notice your pantylines— a certain amount of staring is required to actually notice them; they’re really not obvious from a quick glance. Actually, why can’t he stop looking at you? He writes it off as a simple morbid curiosity at how someone can be so completely and utterly shameless— one could almost liken his sick, cynical fascination with your ample curves and soft body to rubbernecking.

Scaramouche instead stares down into the cup of coffee you’ve set in front of him like it’s the most fascinating object in the entire world. He’s half-inclined to just close his eyes entirely, seeing as the slightest glimpse of your bust still occupies the uppermost part of his peripheral eyesight when you sit down in the chair opposite of him.

“So,” you start, sliding a porcelain dish with a small bowl of sugar cubes and a saucer of creamer his way. “What can I help you with? It’s rare for you to talk to me first, Kuni.”

He adds “drop that nickname” to his mental list of topics to bring up with you. Scaramouche plucks a few sugar cubes from the bowl before him and drops them into his coffee before absentmindedly stirring the liquid with a serving spoon.

“Last night,” He clears his throat. “Why did you come over to talk to V— to my friends?” Why are you always in my business? he really wants to ask, but he feels like you’ll start crying if he presses you too firmly.

And that’d just be obnoxious.

You giggle. “That makes it sound like I came over on purpose because I knew you had people over, and that’s not true. Haven’t we been in the habit of food delivery and acceptance for months now?” Scaramouche’s eyes follow yours to the squeaky-clean casserole dish he placed on your counter.

“I’m glad your friends seemed to enjoy the food just as much as you do,” you add sweetly, pursing your lips and blowing on your coffee to help it cool down.

“It was humiliating,” Scaramouche counters, a statement that prompts you to look up from your coffee and make eye contact with him. “They wouldn’t— they wouldn’t stop fucking talking about you after you left.”

Wait, that’s not the point here, is it? Surely Scaramouche’s main complaint isn’t that Venti practically sweet-talked you right into his bed, it’s that Scaramouche is tired of you invading his business and his space, right? He doesn’t care about Venti’s comments about your soft tits or your wide hips, he doesn’t care about Aether’s bashful confession that he exclusively jerks off to older women, he doesn’t care that he has competition because there’s nothing to compete over and he’s really, actually, truly angry that you always find a way to worm your way into his days and his mind and his free time and his wet dreams and his—

“Oh, I’m flattered,” you reply simply, sipping your coffee and smiling around the rim of the cup. “They’re such nice boys. I’m glad you have such sweet friends, dear.”

What’s warmer: the tips of Scaramouche’s ears or his untouched cup of coffee?

“That’s not— what? That’s not the point I’m making and you know that,” he grimaces, clearing his throat again. “My friends shouldn’t have to put up with a shameless old hag the way I have to.”

You set your cup down. “That’s not very nice. I look good for my age— that charming boy down at the corner mart always asks for my ID whenever I pick up some wine!”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes. “That’s his job. Anyways, I’m telling you to mind your own business.”

“Oh, is that all? Of course I can do that for you.” Your reply comes without a single skipped beat.

“I mean it, that means don’t touch my mail and— what?” Wait, there’s no way you’re making this this easy. A shameless, conniving, lustful, lewd seductress of a woman like you agreeing to just… fuck off at the first request? Scaramouche doesn’t buy it— this is just another phase of your plan to throw him off guard and pull the rug out from under him so you can sink your claws deeper and deeper into him.

“I like cooking for you and cleaning for you, and I was very happy to meet your friends yesterday, but if you want me to stop, of course I will,” you explain. “I wonder who’ll help me eat my leftovers now… your friend from last night gave me his phone number; does he like potato soup? I’m making that tonight.”

Scaramouche almost, almost feels a shiver tear down his spine. He’s starting to believe that Venti’s just as much an antagonist in this situation as you are.

“Why the fuck did you accept his number? Delete it,” he grumbles, crossing his arms and glaring over at you. His coffee’s surely gone cold by now, but that’s alright— he was never much of a coffee drinker anyways.

You shrug, a sly smile forming on your lips. “Oh, I don’t know. He was so sweet I didn’t want to say no… it’d give me someone new to talk to, if nothing else.” Why do you need to talk to Venti when he barely knows you and I’m right fucking here?

“It’s not like you talk to me much despite all my best efforts, Kuni,” you offer him the subtlest of pouts, an action that would look out of place on the face of a woman your age if you weren’t so… if you weren’t so…

Forget it, he’s not saying anything about you that could be interpreted as a compliment. “…Especially now that you and I have agreed to leave each other alone.”

Oh, Scaramouche doesn’t like this feeling. He hates feeling like a situation has spun out of his control, and that’s, unfortunately, exactly what he feels is happening here. You’ve agreed to his terms and you’ve promised to stay out of his way, so why does he feel so… angry?

Yeah, you must have some underhanded motive here. Why else would you be making this so… easy? That’s not like you at all— he was expecting you to fan your eyelashes, pout your lips, push your tits forward, and whimper that you’re sorry and that you’d love to keep talking to him, so will he please give you a second chance?

I’ll do anything, he was sure you’d say.

You clear your throat. “Well, is there anything else you’d like to discuss now? If not, I’ll get back to my yoga. It’s good to be active, right?”

What the hell? You’re ending the conversation? No way, no how— this ends on Scaramouche’s terms, not yours. Who do you think you are?

“No, that’s not it, actually,” he blurts, crossing his arms over his chest. “Staying out of my business means staying away from Venti— from any of my friends. Don’t talk to them, don’t text them, don’t— I don’t know. Don’t be around them.”

You smile a little wider. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sound jealous, Kuni.”

He scoffs, staring you directly in the eye as if to challenge you. “Seriously? Shit joke.”

Of all the adjectives you could have picked to describe him… “It’s just that the thought of you getting with Venti is nauseating, alright?”

You hum. “And why him specifically, hm? You had other friends over last night— are they single?” Jesus Christ, what is this, an interrogation? And where the hell are these sorts of questions coming from— did you already send Venti an invitation to hook up?

Sneering so hard his nose scrunches up, Scaramouche can’t help but feel appalled. “Did you decide I’m not good enough or something? Who do you think you are?”

You go silent.

Scaramouche, somehow, goes even quieter than silent when the weight of his words finally sets in. There it is— the culmination of your grand plan to humiliate, embarrass, and utterly demean him in your own home. You had this outcome planned from the start, didn’t you?

“I didn’t say that,” you stammer, attempting to correct yourself. “Why do you think I’ve been vying for your attention all this time? Of course I like you, Kuni.”

God, how you piss him off. Who do you think you are— some bashful schoolgirl confessing to her first crush?

“I know that I’m just an old woman and that you could certainly find a cute, young, perky college girl whenever you’d like to, but if you’d ever like me…”

Of course Scaramouche could get someone his age from one of his classes— he doesn’t need to settle for some loose old hag— and yet… the thought of you getting with anyone else, Venti or not, pisses him off in a way he can’t quite describe. Maybe he views himself as some kind of hero protecting everyone else from your shamelessness, maybe he views himself as the only one worthy of your attention as the one who has to put up with you the most, maybe he views you as someone actually, genuinely worth being with…

He sits up a little straighter. “You have no idea how obnoxious you are,” he mutters. “Taking up my time and attention even when you’re not around.”

“What a forked tongue,” you reply, leaning forward and, much to Scaramouche’s chagrin, pushing your breasts together with your hands. “You know that’s why I like you, right? Mean boys have always been my favorite— ever since high school.”

“You’re not worth the time,” he spits. So fucking annoying. So fucking shameless. What kind of woman your age behaves this way, anyway? So obnoxious, so pathetic, so intoxicating, so impossible-to-keep-out-of-his-mind—

“Venti sure seems to think I am,” you offer with a smug, self-satisfied smile as you rise from your seat. Hooking your thumbs up under the straps of your sports bra, you quickly snap the elastic fabric back against your shoulders to give your tits a little bounce, an action that, of course, does not go unnoticed. Slapping his hands down flat against the perfectly-ironed lacy tablecloth covering your dining room table and standing up so quickly he nearly knocks his knees against the table’s hardwood underside, Scaramouche laughs.

What a time to finally, finally accept that he has the hots for his neighbor— the same neighbor who’s supposedly the cause of so many of his bad days and sour moods. You’ve prompted many a disdainful mutter from Scaramouche after catching a glimpse of you through your drawn curtains, you’ve been the subject of many a snide comment made in the presence of his friends, and, most frustratingly of all, you’ve inspired countless, countless inappropriate thoughts that he cannot believe you’ve been the subject of.

And all it took was one of his friends hitting on you for him to realize that.

“Constantly flaunting a body like this,” he chides in a way that he wants to come off as insulting and condescending rather than sadistically flattering, but the little grin you offer in response gives him reason to believe you interpreted it as the latter. Seriously?

“Other boys your age seem to enjoy the flaunting,” you counter, slipping your thumbs into the waistband of your spandex leggings. As if to tease the act of pulling them all the way down your legs, you flip the fabric of your waistband over its seam to expose the majority of your soft lower belly.

Anger burns hot behind his pale cheeks. “Is this some kind of pathetic hobby of yours? Fucking guys half your age?”

“I like to consider it a lifestyle,” you reply, shimmying your leggings further and further down your thick thighs until your thong’s completely exposed. A black lace thong— how becoming of a nymphomanic like yourself. “I’m fine with trading experience for virility and stamina; do you know how many men my age finish in thirty seconds and call it there because they’re ‘just so tired’? College boys either go until they can’t hold themselves upright or until they have nothing left to pump into me.”

There’s that vulgar nature that’s both irritated and (subconciously) aroused him for months. He wants to believe that your disgusting nature doesn’t make his cock twitch, but the time for pretending has clearly passed. You don’t believe he finds you ugly or unappealing and neither does he anymore.

“And do you find this… lifestyle fulfilling?” Scaramouche challenges, grimacing at the pressure building in the frontside of his tight jeans.

You laugh. “Is that your way of saying you don’t? Are you a virgin, sweetheart?”

“Of course not. Just because some of us don’t fuck everything with two legs and a pulse doesn’t mean we’re virgins.” His clumsy escapades are none of your business— his high school girlfriend and that guy from the concert Venti dragged him to over the summer don’t concern you.

Bending forward to push your leggings down to your knees, you gaze up at Scaramouche through your eyelashes and giggle. “Don’t make it sound like I don’t savor every last cock or strap I ride. You could put every last one of them in front of me and I’d be able to tell you who they belong to with my eyes shut.”

Venti mentioned something about experience, didn’t he? What a sanitized way of calling older women complete and total whores.

The inferiority complex in Scaramouche wants to prove that he’s the best thing a whore like you will ever experience, that he can make you feel better than any of the other bumbling college morons he probably knows can, and that you’ll give up your ways of fucking everyone that looks at you in order to devote yourself to him and him alone. That’d be some nice payback for all the pain and humiliation you’ve subjected him to these past couple of months, right?

No, he has a better idea.

“If you want to show yourself off that badly,” Scaramouche huffs, doing his damndest to ignore the nearly-painful throbbing in his jeans. “Then I’m sure you’d be fine with doing it in front of that glass door, right?”

With your hands still bunched in the fabric of your leggings, you look back at the glass sliding door that leads to your balcony and bite your lip. It’s not likely anyone would actually see you— you and Scaramouche live on the third floor— but it’s still a possibility and an exciting thought nonetheless. Maybe you could give that nice redheaded quarterback boy you fucked a few months ago a nice show; he lives just across the parking lot in the building parallel to yours.

“Now who’s the deviant one? I’ve never fucked anywhere more public than a nightclub’s bathroom stall,” you tease, finally pushing your leggings all the way down and off your legs. He doesn’t believe you, but Christ, those thighs of yours look soft…

You accept his offer nonetheless and make your way over to the balcony door, your thong riding high on your wide hips and your hardened nipples pressing into the flimsy fabric of your pathetic excuse of a sports bra. “You’re helping me wipe off all the fingerprints afterwards,” you scold, inviting him over with a wiggle of your hips and a glance back over your shoulder.

Now, rationally, Scaramouche would never propose the idea of fucking in a place as public as right in front of an apartment complex parking lot. He’s never considered himself an exhbitionist and he’s always been somewhat obsessed with his image, and people who care about their image generally don’t have sex in the potential presence of others. Additionally, there’s probably something to be said about him potentially getting caught fucking the same woman he’s spent the better half of this past year complaining about, but the current irrational, horny, angry Scaramouche wouldn’t listen to better judgement or rationality anyways.

The relief that comes with unbuttoning his jeans and giving his almost painfully-hard cock room to breathe is so euphoric he can’t help but sigh, the throbbing in his crotch more aggravating than any pounding headache he’s ever experienced after an evening drinking with his friends.

“I can’t fucking believe it,” he laughs, incredulous. “To think the hag living next door to me is the reason I’m like this.” Jamming the weight of his bulge into the plumpness of your soft ass, Scaramouche seizes hold of your hips in both of his hands and gives the fat of your love handles a painful squeeze just to hear you suck the air in through your teeth.

“I thought you’d never come around, you know,” you breathe, beyond eager at the prospect of finally, finally getting to fuck the neighbor boy you’ve been actively working at breaking for months upon months now. A guy this mean, this arrogant, and this demeaning doesn’t come around that often, especially when so many of the guys you get with take the polite route by calling you “ma’am” and complimenting you over and over again— which certainly isn’t a bad thing, but cruel has always satisfied you in ways that kind cannot.

The height difference between the two of you means that Scaramouche has to stand up a little straighter than he normally does in order to press his hips against yours, a realization that’s only slightly humiliating. Granted, it could never compare to how humiliating it was for you to show up at his apartment in front of all his friends.

God, does it feel good to put you in your place.

“Spread,” Scaramouche mutters, knocking one of his feet against both of your ankles. He doesn’t tell you that he needs you to spread your legs so your hips will lower a bit, allowing him to reach them a little more easily since you’re a bit taller than he is.

You would tease him for skipping the foreplay and just jamming himself right into you, but you know that you’ve been plenty wet enough ever since your discussion with him first wandered to sex and masturbation. Well, that, and if you had to wait another minute to get the cock you’ve been so desperate for for so long now, you very well may go crazy. It’s taken months, but you can already tell that it was all so, so worth it.

Running his knuckles down the center of your thong, Scaramouche relishes in the smug satisfaction that comes with realizing that you’re wet. It’s equal parts arousing and equal parts pathetic— just how desperate are you for any cock you can get your hands on?

“You’ve already kept me waiting for months,” you say with a pout cast back at him from over your shoulder. “Why make me wait even longer when I’m right here?”

“Shameless and impatient,” he remarks with a frustrated huff. “Can’t you do something good with your life or yourself for once and just be quiet?”

As tempting as it is to make a teasing quip in return to only further rile up your angsty neighbor boy, a frenzied giggle is the only sound you can muster up when you feel the firm press of a cock against your clothed pussy. Even through your flimsy thong, you can tell that he’s hard, which is a reward in its own right. It’s what you’ve wanted to achieve since the very first time he caught you half-naked watering plants on your balcony— is it so wrong for you to want to rile up the cutie next door?

Scaramouche roughly yanks your thong down to hang around your lower thighs, leaving you entirely on display for him when you follow suit by tugging your sports bra up to your collarbone. The cool, smooth glass against your bare tits is an unfamiliar sensation, but it’s certainly not an unwelcome one— especially when you remember that anyone could look up from across the parking lot and get an eyeful of your bare tits squished up against the glass door.

“I wish I could watch you sink it in for the first time,” you hum, reaching down between your legs to part the outer lips of your cunt for him a little wider. “In front of a mirror or something maybe. Wouldn’t that be romantic?”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes. “Yeah, because you’re the spitting image of the romantic type.” There’s no way you consider him the romantic type, is there? He’s not going to hold your hands and whisper in your ear about how cute you are, you know.

Damn it, you’ve got him actually wanting you more than he’s ever wanted you before— this makes all his filthy fantasies about taking you bent over your kitchen counter or being underneath you while you ride him into oblivion look like a cheap, budget porno from a video rental store. His desire has always been real—albeit subconscious, sure—but it feels so much more genuine now that it’s been realized.

“Don’t say a word about this to anyone,” he mumbles in a brief moment of humiliation, biting into his bottom lip as he finally, finally sinks the full length of his cock into you.

Jesus Christ, if there’s anything Venti’s ever been right about, it’s how good a mature pussy feels. You’re soaked all the way down to your inner thighs, you’re so warm Scaramouche nearly feels his knees give out from underneath him, and you squeeze him so well he can feel your pussy gripping the sensitive underside of his tip.

“Why not? I can invite your friend next time,” you propose, squealing with delight when Scaramouche slaps a hand down against the side of your ass. “Venti, right? It’d feel so good to have my ass used while you—“

“Just shut up,” he hisses bitterly, glaring at you hard enough to give himself a stress headache. “Don’t talk about other guys right now. Especially not ones I know.”

“You’re right, it’s rude to talk about other men when I have such a good one right here with me already,” you feign sympathy, pushing your hips back flat against the front of his thighs. “Oh, Kuni.”

There’s that damn nickname again. As much as he hates the idea of you using it to tease him or fluster him, he can’t deny the way his dick twitches whenever you coo it in that soft, sultry tone of yours. It’s like you were custom-made to gobble men up or something— just how many of his classmates have you fucked?

Oh, it doesn’t matter. Not when he knows he can establish himself as the best of the whole damn lot of them. Not when he knows that he gets the privilege of seeing you every single day and nobody, nobody else does. Not when he’s seen your cute nipples peeking at him through that tiny, flimsy pajama top he caught you in all those months ago. Not when he gets to peruse on over to your apartment whenever he wants because you’re right fucking there and nobody, nobody is physically closer to you than he is.

Jesus, this is all starting to sound like some kind of crush.

“How’s that?” Scaramouche taunts, slapping his hips against you so wildly the sound of skin smacking on skin almost drowns out his voice. He’d like to claim that this sort of pace is supposed to be punishing, and he’d be right if he were to say that, but he wants it hard and rough just as much as you surely do. He couldn’t stop his hips even if he wanted to because he knows there’s nothing he’s wanted to do more than fuck your brains out for months upon months now.

You don’t answer him, too preoccupied with relishing in the feeling of his cock pounding into you with everything he’s got. How befitting of Scaramouche to fuck you like he’s angry at you— if he could even claim to be mad anymore. The combined sensations of his hips hammering against yours, his fingernails digging into your soft, plump love handles, and his balls slapping against your ass on each thrust are all far too overwhelming to even attempt a reply.

“Seriously? You run your mouth for ages and now you shut up when I ask you a question?” You’re doing this on purpose— Jesus, you’re insatiable.

Your back arches when Scaramouche digs the tip of his cock into a particularly sensitive spot inside of you, a broken whine leaving your lips instead when you attempt to reply with a dirty quip. He laughs when he realizes what’s just happened— that’s certainly one way to get you to shut that filthy mouth of yours.

“I hope somebody’s watching you, actually,” he admits despite all the jealousy even a single mention of his friend stirred up in him. “That way they can see you’re not worth their time because you don’t value yourself whatsoever. Why would anyone want someone who’s happy to just give themselves away like this and get fucked in a place so public?”

Maybe that’s just a weird, roundabout way of saying I want someone to watch me fuck you so they know a whore like you has been whipped into shape and that you only want me now. Who’s to say?

“You don’t care about getting caught yourself?” You finally pipe up with a grin.

Scaramouche snorts. “Getting caught with the likes of you? I’d transfer universities.”

You pout. “Would I still get to see you?”

For whatever reason, the question catches him off guard. How many times does he need to remind you that you’re not his girlfriend, that you’re not some sweetheart with an innocent crush, that you’re just his fucking neighbor who just so happens to have a hot body and just so happens to feel so, so good around him like this and just so happens to be the subject of his wet dreams and fantasies and—

He’s only able to spit out one word. “Obnoxious.”

His hands reclaim a firm grasp on your ample hips before he takes to fucking into you at a whole new angle— one that’ll surely hit that spot that got you to shut the fuck up moments ago. Your hands clamor for anything you could possibly grab onto to steel yourself, but there’s nothing except for the cool, flat glass beneath your palms.

“Kuni,” you rasp in a broken voice, beyond impressed with his ability to have found your most sensitive spot and target it specially. Call it sheer dumb luck or a testament to how perfectly compatible your bodies are, it doesn’t matter. He won’t let up on it until you’ve collapsed— maybe it’ll be a nice change of pace from your partners being the ones to collapse after an evening with you.

With the task of finding something to hold onto having proven fruitless, you instead slip a hand back between your legs to rub at your clit. Scaramouche snickers at your apparent desperation to orgasm, but he’s not letting you off that easily.

“What a pathetic display,” he remarks, pounding into you so quickly you can barely register the full length of his cock before he’s pulling it all the way out of you again. With your legs trembling and your knees buckling, the possibility of actually collapsing underneath him is becoming increasingly likely— these wild, frenzied thrusts of his prove exactly why you’re so into college guys.

Looking down from the fuzzy reflection of your face in the glass, Scaramouche watches each sink of his cock into your tight, dripping cunt with all the intensity and attention of a virgin. It may as well be his first time— you feel so fucking good he’s starting to lose his train of thought. You take him all the way to the hilt on each thrust so easily that he’d absolutely call you a common whore if he were able to form even a single word.

Despite his inability to form a coherent sentence, Scaramouche finds that he has just enough rationality left to pull out mere seconds before coming all over the swell of your ass, his cock twitching in his hand as he bites back moans. Here he is, coming all over the soft ass of his obnoxious older neighbor lady after spending so many months convincing his friends that he does not, in fact, want to fuck her.

You laugh breathlessly, the hand between your legs still rubbing frantic circles over your clit as you attempt to reach your own orgasm as well. “What’s wrong with coming inside? I’m hurt.”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes. That’d be irresponsible.

“Well, that’s alright,” you chirp, standing upright and turning around to face him. “I can always wring it out of you myself, right?”

“You’re insatiable,” he replies, inching backwards towards the couch as you step forward in time with his footsteps.

“Pot, kettle. You’re still hard, Kuni.”

With the realization that he’ll need some kind of excuse to offer his friends when he inevitably returns to a slew of unread messages a few hours from now, he falls backwards onto the couch just before you make yourself comfortable in his lap.

Well, not that any of them have ever believed any vague, half-baked excuse Scaramouche gives.

[maliciouslove]

𝔼𝕏𝕋ℝ𝔸ℂ𝕌ℝℝ𝕀ℂ𝕌𝕃𝔸ℝ 𝔸ℂ𝕋𝕀𝕍𝕀𝕋𝕀𝔼𝕊

NSFW—college AU, aged up characters (21+) || minors, ageless and/or empty blogs DO NOT INTERACT!

pairing // itadori yuuji x professor!reader 

summary // you’re having a particularly rough week and your student yuuji’s childish and nonchalant behaviour towards his failing grades and missing assignments is simply the last straw, forcing you to snap and teach the brat a lesson. for some extra credit, of course. :)

word count // 5.1k

tags // power imbalance, mean dom!reader, sub!yuuji, dubcon (tagging non-con just in case), forced masturbation (m!receiving), blackmail, recorded masturbation (m!receiving), cockwarming a dildo (m!receiving), little to no preparation penetration (m!receiving) sexual favours for extra credit, oral (f!receiving), dacryphilia, slight degradation, humiliation, praise, use of the title ‘professor’,  hair pulling, spit as lube, cum play, unprotected sex, creampie

AN // and the reposting continues! reading this again reminded me that i love writing submissive men. a very long time ago @/cyancherub beta read this for me, and I am still eternally grateful :) <3

You’ve been having a very shit week so far—your car broke down on Monday and the guys at the repair shop told you it’s going to be at least three days before it’s fixed, and the price they charged for their services also didn’t help with your mood. 

Furthermore, on Tuesday you found out your health insurance claim didn’t go through, adding yet another expense that you have to worry about. Your poor wallet can’t handle all the damage it’s taking. 

You would think you could’ve gotten some peace and quiet when you got home on Wednesday, but no—you walked into your apartment only to find your new couch and all the pillows completely destroyed by your dog. Pillow filling and pieces of cloth scattered all across the living room as your dog was now laying in his bed, looking up at you innocently, as if he didn’t just destroy an extremely expensive couch. 

Thursday was no breeze either, as you started your day by spilling a venti sized caramel macchiato all over your white dress shirt. Walking into your meeting with the dean of the school covered in coffee was embarrassing enough, but when he started chewing you out for the low grade point average in your class, you were just about ready to cry. 

But you clenched your fists and bit your tongue, refusing to show weakness to anyone. It was just a bad week, it too would pass. 

There is only one day of the week left, and after that, you can indulge yourself over the weekend and take time to relax and de-stress. Only Friday left… but boy, you’re not looking forward to this Friday. Why?

Because you have to teach a class with him—Itadori Yuuji, your most annoying student. Yuuji is by no means unintelligent or incapable, no—but he is, however, an asshole. A petulant child that firmly believes he can get away with anything simply because he is handsome and charming. He is the type of guy to enter the classroom 20 minutes late and simply smile and wink at you; no apology, no explanation. Just a cocky 24-karat smile. He talks loud, voices all of his opinions, and doesn’t really care about anyone or anything. 

Now apparently he has decided to stop handing in his assignments, which in turn creates another problem for you. You could, of course, choose to ignore him and simply let him flunk, but that would mean two things: first, he would have to repeat the class, meaning you would have to see more of him, and second, it would give the dean one more reason to be angry with you and punish you for “bringing down the grade average of the entire institution”. 

So this Friday you’re planning on pulling him aside after class and having a serious discussion with him about his grades and work ethic. You have been lenient enough with him over the past few months, choosing to ignore his attitude and simply focus your attention on the students who actually wanted to be there, but that has to come to an end. What you’re less willing to admit to yourself, is that you’re very anxious about the conversation you’ll have with him. What will you say? What if he mocks you? What if he keeps that irritating everything-is-a-joke attitude? But the scariest thought of all: What if I finally snap? Maybe I should teach that little brat a lesson. 

So here you are, laying in your bed awake way past your bedtime, anxiously pondering over the events that might unfold tomorrow. It’s going to be a long day. 

2:37 PM

The days are surely growing shorter and colder. Grey clouds are hanging heavy over your head, ready to rain down on you any moment now. There are 23 minutes left until class begins, so you grab a quick cup of coffee to go and you head on over to the classroom, mulling over what to say to Yuuji, practising different scenarios in your head. For some reason, the majority of these scenarios end up with Yuuji tied up and sobbing, spanked raw and begging for forgiveness. You shake your head, trying to get rid of these thoughts. Trying to shake away the urge to break the strawberry-haired man. He would look so cute crying though. 

By the time class starts at 3:00 PM you’re halfway through your coffee, slightly starting to regret having more than two cups that day because it’s making you antsy. You take a final sip and greet your students, making a mental note of the fact that for once Yuuji is on time. The lesson goes smoothly, but you can’t help noticing that Yuuji never seems to be paying attention; never really even looking towards the big screen behind you where important slides containing assignment details were shown. Almost like he’s avoiding looking at you. 

Finally, class is over, the room filling with the sounds of chairs being pulled and students chatting amongst each other. You call Yuuji over, secretly glad that none of the other students are paying attention and simply rolling out of the classroom one by one. Itadori slings his backpack over his shoulder and saunters over to your desk, hands in his pockets, a certain pep in his step. 

“Whaddup, Y/N?” he grins, not a care in the world.

“It’s miss L/N to you. And I need to speak with you about your last assignment, the one you never handed in.” You don’t even look up from the pile of papers on your desk that you were busying yourself with in an attempt to remain composed. 

“Oh yeaaah, there was an assignment, wasn’t there? Oops.” His stupid smile never falters. The irritation is bubbling in your chest and it tastes bitter in your mouth; the papers in your hands crinkle under the force of your fingers. 

“Yup, there was, and it was worth 40% of your final grade. That means you are facing the possibility of failing this class, Mr. Itadori.” Your voice is cold and calculated, all traces of irritation erased—you’re all business. You are his teacher, you need to keep things professional, no room for emotions, especially emotions that will not improve the situation in any way, such as anger. 

You finally look up at the strawberry-haired boy, only to find him staring, but not at you. His brown eyes were fixated on the collar of your tight shirt, the top two buttons undone, showing off your soft skin and collarbones. The shirt itself doesn’t reveal a lot, but it’s tight, the outline of your bra quite visible up close. He swallows and looks away quickly, but not fast enough for you to not notice his quite obvious interest. 

“I’m sorry Mr. Itadori, are my breasts more interesting to you right now?” You arch an eyebrow, the irritation that was growing inside of you finally reaching your voice too. The audacity this brat has.  

“I- no... I- m’sorry” he stutters. Yuuji Itadori, Mr. Charming and Almighty, was flustered. How interesting. The scenarios your mind conjured earlier are suddenly flooding your brain again and you can’t help but wonder… could you make him even more flustered? 

“Listen here Yuuji, this is basically sexual harassment, you know. I’m trying to help you here, have a serious conversation about your situation, yet all you can do is stare at my tits. Now, what do you think I should do about this, hm?” 

He opens his mouth in an attempt to say something, to argue, to come up with some witty comeback—yet no sound comes out. After a long, uncomfortable pause he finally mumbles a barely audible m’sorry, fixating his gaze on the floor. Some sick, twisted part of you finds this adorable. The corners of your lips curve upwards just barely. 

“What exactly are you sorry for, Yuuji?” There is a teasing lilt to your voice, the use of his first name completely throwing him off guard. He looks at you with big eyes, once again unable to form a response.

“For, uh- … for always staring at you inappropriately.. a-and fantasizing.” He gulps loudly, mouth suddenly feeling all too dry. His little confession is a surprise to you, but you don’t let it show. You maintain a neutral face, studying him closely. You can see him get even more nervous under your gaze. 

“Always?” you pause, eyebrow raised quizzically. “Fantasizing?” tilting your head slightly to the side, your eyes never leave his. Your presence only grows, asserting its dominance over his. The boy that usually towers over you and always has a carefree, happy-go-lucky attitude, suddenly looks very small to you. A blush is creeping up his neck and cheeks, proof that he really is feeling flustered. 

“Huh.. so you fantasize about your teacher?” you smirk, several sinister ideas flooding your brain as you look at the boy in front of you shrink even more. “You can get in a lot of trouble for this… Mr. Itadori.” Gracefully you get out of your chair, moving to sit at the end of your desk, shortening the distance between you and your student. “If word got out, administration would have to remove you from my class—you would lose all credits you’ve obtained thus far in my class and you would have to pick a different course in order to obtain those credits again.” Your eyes travel up his body, slowly, undressing him in your mind. “That would be a lot of work, Mr. Itadori. Don’t you think?”

Not trusting his ability to speak right now, he simply nods. There is apprehension in his eyes, but also curiosity.  

“Perhaps we can work this out? Resolve our… conflict, as to avoid getting administration involved.” 

You hear the gears turning in his head, mulling over all the possibilities, mind racing and his heart pounding loudly in his chest. “Resolve… how?” 

You can barely contain yourself at how small his voice is, how unsure. The boy that usually gleamed with confidence and strides down the corridors as if he owns them is suddenly unable to look you straight in the eye. 

“Well, Mr. Itadori, I am a teacher after all. I think it would be best if I teach you a lesson about how it feels to be objectified. To be seen as nothing more than a pretty face, or hot body.” Your hand darts forward, now toying with the hem of his shirt. Yuuji is holding his breath as if the tiniest movement could drive you away. “Relax, Mr. Itadori, it’s just a lesson. You will benefit from it. Just do as I tell you and this little incident will be forgotten.” You pull him in by the collar of his t-shirt, his face now inches away from yours. A coy smile plays on your lips as you practically feast over the expression painted on his face at this moment. Surprise, desire and fear mixed all together, making his coffee-coloured eyes water slightly. But a breathy okay leaves his lips, eyes transfixed on yours as you push him backwards to sit in a chair. 

“Clothes off. Don’t talk unless I ask you a question. Understand?” 

Yuuji mutters a quick “yes,” fingers already hooking under his sweats, pulling them down as you lock the door to your classroom and make sure there is no way to peek inside the room. Lucky for you, most classes also end early on Friday, so the building is surely almost completely empty by now. 

Yuuji’s heart rate picks up with each clank of your heels against the wooden parquet as you head on over back to the desk, once again sitting on its edge, arms crossed over your chest. Here he is, strawberry hair dishevelled, chest exposed and if you look closely enough, you can see the vibrations on his skin as his heart hammers wildly against his ribcage. All he has left on were his over-the-calf white Nike socks and his banana print boxers. The outline of his dick making your mouth water, already semi-hard even though nothing has really happened so far. 

“Show me what you do when you fantasize about me. Tell me what you think about. I want to know how exactly you objectify me… how often.” Your voice is quiet but commanding, distant yet curious. It takes him a moment to gather the courage to go through with what you ask of him, but he finally palms himself over his boxers, not daring to look at you, but opening his mouth to speak. 

“I- I often imagine what you look like under your clothes. What kind of l-lingerie you wear...” his voice falters at the end, the blush creeping up his face betraying him. But quite visibly, blood isn’t rushing only to his face. His eyes are shut and eyebrows pinched together, but he keeps on talking, just like you asked him to. “I think about you masturbating… Like I do almost every night. I-I think about eating you out and I imagine how you taste, what you look like.” He is gripping his now fully erect cock under the cloth of his boxers, and the whole view is just so delicious. His little confessions go straight to your clit, desire taking you over. You take your phone out and quickly open your camera, switching to video and turning it on.

“Go on, don’t hold back.” 

He keeps his eyes shut, but his hand movements get braver. In an instant, his big calloused hand dives under his boxers to pull out his heavy cock, the elastic band of his underwear resting under his balls. He’s already leaking, a pearly bead of precum sliding down his shaft, right next to a big juicy vein. You zoom in with your camera, making sure to catch all the details. 

“I imagine how tight you’d feel when you cream around my cock.” At these words he squeezes his length harder, a tiny whimper escaping his lips and it makes your heart twist and your insides burn. You just know the stretch of his cock will be delicious. You know he’d feel so good. The thought alone has you clenching around nothing and you slide a hand under your skirt, fingers pressing over your clit as a shudder travels your spine. 

“Yeah? You wanna do all those things to me, Mr. Itadori? You want to see me naked, taste me, feel me? Tell me how much you want it.” You’re focusing the camera on his face now, capturing his face contorting in pleasure and need. Hand stroking his dick faster now, smearing the pre all across his length. He doesn’t really need to say how much he wants that as it becomes evident from the vigour in his strokes, but you want to hear him anyway. “Tell me, use your words, baby boy.” The nickname sets him off, all the moans he’d been staving off finally surfacing. 

“S’much… it’s all I can think about. Every time I come to class my mind… w-wanders, mmgh.” His chest is heaving, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he fucks his fist wishing it was you, eyes still tightly shut. “Even now… I really am imagining that you’re jacking me off… it’s so fucking h-hot.” 

It would be a lie to say that your hands weren’t itching to touch him, to make him writhe and squirm and beg. But that would have to wait. Right now, you just want to see him cum. 

“Mmm, and how do these little daydreams of yours end, hm? Wanna show me?” It takes Yuuji only a few more strokes before his orgasm washes over him, abdomen muscles tightening, hot thick cum spurting over his chest and tummy, some even landing on his chin. His breathing is erratic and his heart feels like it's trying to break a hole through his ribcage. Finally, he cracks an eye open, gaze immediately landing on the phone in your hands. 

Stopping the video and tossing the phone aside, you stride over to him and card your fingers through his hair, slightly pulling his head back to look him in the eyes. Amongst all the emotions he’s feeling, fear is the most prominent right now. His eyes are watering again, and you quiver at the sight. 

“Call it an eye for an eye. One video for me to keep in exchange for all the times you’ve stared at me, imagining how good I would actually feel. If you behave, the video stays in my possession only. So be good f’me Yuuji, yea? Can you do that?” 

He nods his head quickly, too quickly for his own liking, but he dares not to disobey. His submission pleases you so you ease your grip on his hair, deft fingers sliding down the side of his face and tracing his sharp jawline. 

"You know Mr. Itadori, we’re not quite done here yet. I still need to discuss the possibility of you failing my class. I was thinking of assigning you some extra credit work to make up for the assignment you didn’t hand in… if you’d like to stay in my class-" 

He cuts you off. “P-Please… I want to do the extra credit work. Please, I-I’ll do good, I’ll make up for my bad grades, ‘promise.” The puppy eyes he gives will simply be the death of you. You smile and rub soft circles with your thumb on his cheek. 

Straightening up,  you walk away from him heading towards your desk, fingers running through the wooden surface and landing on your briefcase. "I really, really dislike brats, you know. And I absolutely will not tolerate more mistakes like this from you, Mr. Itadori. No more attitude. No more slacking off."

There’s an edge to your voice, a coldness emanating from it, and it sends shivers down his spine. Unconsciously he swallows, tongue darting out to swipe at his bottom lip. Even for him, it’s hard to tell if he’s scared or aroused. Or maybe both. But what he is sure of is that you’re commanding all of his attention right now. He would do anything for your approval.

“To ensure you actually complete the assignment and don’t flunk out of my class, I will be monitoring your work. And you will do it right here, where I can see you.” The briefcase is now open, your hands rummaging in it, fingers wrapping around the object you’re looking for. “You’re going to use some tools to further… motivate you.” Your grin is wicked as you pull out a pink silicone dildo from your briefcase. Smiling at your student, your tongue presses itself flat against the dildo, licking a slow stripe from shaft to tip.

"You said you’ll be good, right? Promised you’ll do the extra credit… Still feeling up for the task?" You're now walking back to him and his eyes grow wider with fear. He's never done this before. He tries to swallow the lump in his throat as you sit down on his lap but to no avail. His mind is going completely blank, but his dick is acting on its own accord, becoming hard again pressed up against your ass.

“I want to do the extra credit, professor. Please?” The words are almost a whisper, the sound of his heart drowning out the sound. You chuckle and present the dildo to his lips in a silent command which he obeys, wrapping his lips around the tip of the dildo. 

"Ah, so you can obey orders, well that's a relief. Because I have a tall order coming for you." You shove the dildo all the way down his throat, tears immediately pooling in his eyes, the only noise coming from him being muffled moans and gagging. "So listen up, brat—you're going to take this dildo like a big boy and cockwarm it for me as you write your assignment right here, right now. Where I can see you." 

He can’t verbally give you an answer with the dildo shoved down his throat, so he nods, trying to hold off his gag-reflex, a single tear rolling down his cheek. 

You don’t even think about it as you lean closer, tongue darting out to collect the stray tear, the salty taste of it making you hum in delight. You remove the dildo from his mouth, a clear string of saliva connecting his lips and the pink tip of the dildo, which you simply hand to him. It’s his extra credit work after all, he should do all the work himself if he wants a good grade. 

This time you drag your chair from behind your desk and position it across Yuuji’s, giving you a perfect view of the show he’s about to put on for you. With shaky hands he positions the dildo on the chair, making sure the suction cup at the bottom is well attached. You could see him think through every move he makes, taking his laptop out, positioning everything so that he could attempt to write while he cockwarms the dildo. 

The strawberry-colour haired man takes a final unsure look at you as if seeking confirmation, but even he can’t deny the excitement he feels deep down. The primal need to please you, show you he can be a good boy too, for you and you only. Lifting one leg over his desk, he gives you a perfect view of his round ass, puckered hole already clenching in anticipation. Two of his long fingers push past his lips, tongue sloppily covering them in saliva that he plans on using as lube. Those same fingers, now covered in a layer of spit, rub soft circles over his puckered hole, lightly teasing and prodding while he gets used to the sensation. 

One finger finally pushes past his ring muscle, a wanton moan escaping his pretty lips. The sound is heavenly and you just want to hear more. To see more. Slightly parting your legs, you let your right hand travel up your thigh and toy with the hem of your lacy panties, enjoying Yuuji’s reaction. The little display you’re making for him is really fuelling him further. Not even a minute later, he’s sinking a second finger in his greedy hole, sounding more and more desperate, each moan and whimper a treasure for you. 

Spitting on the dildo again, this time nasty and unabashed, mind hazy from lust, Yuuji finally positions himself over the pink dildo, the tip resting right over his hole. One more glance in your direction and he sinks down an inch, the tip pushing past his muscle, the stretch immediately filling his eyes with more tears. But he ignores the weird feeling, ignores the pain, and simply focuses on the pleasure. The more he sinks down on the dildo, the more you toy with your pussy, panties now pushed aside to give him a better view. Fingers sliding up and down the slit, collecting your essence and smearing it all over, gentle circles with your middle finger over your clit. 

Halfway down the dildo, Yuuji opts to slide back up, and then down again, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, mouth hanging open in pleasure. He was not expecting it to feel this good, the fullness making him slightly dizzy. One hand gently strokes over his sensitive cock, the feeling making him shiver. 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” In response to his puzzled look you simply nod over to his laptop, reminding him that he is supposed to be writing an assignment. “Just write an essay on any topic that we’ve covered in class… or did you not retain anything from our classes because you were too busy being a pervert?” At these words, you slide two fingers inside you, knuckles deep, pumping them in and out slowly. 

After staring dumbfoundedly for a few seconds, his shaky fingers pull the laptop closer and he begins to type. It’s adorable to watch him struggle to remain concentrated on the task at hand, with the dildo filling him up perfectly and with the sounds you’re making as you fuck yourself on your fingers… poor Yuuji can barely keep it together. Even though he’s sunk all the way down on the dildo and knows he’s supposed to stay still, he can’t help the little thrusts of his hips against the silicone cock. 

Around 10 minutes has passed since Yuuji started his attempt at writing an essay, but it’s becoming more and more difficult for him to focus, not with the tip of the dildo pressing up against his prostate, making his thighs quiver and his breath hitch. He needs relief; he can’t write like this. And you know this all too well, your own desire taking over you completely, temporarily forgetting how you got in this situation in the first place. Screw it.

“P-please, professor.. I need..” 

Before he can finish his sentence you’re already on his lap, lips pressed to his in a heated, sloppy kiss. You can’t hold it in anymore; you want to feel him. His lips feel soft against yours, but his tongue feels sinister as it dances against yours. Moving his laptop to the side, you sit on top of the desk and spread your legs for Yuuji, pussy glistening with your slick and on full display for the boy. 

“An orgasm or two might put you in my good graces?” you suggest and spread your pussy lips with two fingers, watching as Yuuji practically drools over the sight. He doesn’t need to be asked twice, still impaled on the dildo he bends forward, tongue darting out to lick a stripe from your entrance to your clit. The taste of you drives him feral, lips latching onto your clit and sucking hard, mouth hard at work to coax more moans out of you. To taste more of you. To him, you’re truly intoxicating. As his tongue works feverishly against your folds, constant praise falls from your lips. That’s my good boy, fuck yes, right t-there. 

“Move your hips, ride that cock baby boy.” You’re so close to your own release, it’s suffocating you. A few more flicks of his tongue over your sensitive bud and you’re coming undone under him, legs shaking violently as your mind floods with overwhelming pleasure and your pussy flutters. Yuuji’s greedy mouth is ready to swallow all your slick, hungrily lapping at your cunt, the obscene squelch of his tongue against your wetness filling the room. 

Pushing him away just enough to sit back in his lap, your hands wrap around his length, pumping it languidly. His hips slow down but he doesn’t dare stop moving up and down the dildo, he doesn’t dare disobey you. Catching his lips in another kiss you guide his cock to your slit, rubbing it up and down, collecting all your arousal. Slowly you sink down on his cock, eyes rolling back at the feeling of his fat meaty cock stretching you out, your tight hole hugging him perfectly. 

And Yuuji could cum from this alone, from finally feeling your warmth and wetness around him, squeezing him for all he’s worth. You feel so much better than he could ever imagine. With you hovering over his lap enough to give him space to bounce up and down, impaling himself on the silicone cock, and simultaneously drilling upwards into your welcoming heat. The feeling is so overwhelming; his movements are sloppy, and he’s constantly babbling incoherent words, hands gripping your waist tight enough to bruise. And as you look down at him all you can think about is how gorgeous he looks all fucked out.

Your hand snakes down your body, middle finger expertly rubbing tight circles over your clit, pussy immediately clamping down even harder on his dick. A second orgasm was approaching and Yuuji can feel that, the way your walls flutter around him, how much louder you’re getting. All he has to do is hold off his orgasm for a while more. He angles his hips and pistons up into your cavern, the tip of his leaky cock ramming against your cervix in a mixture of pain and pleasure. Right there is all you can repeat, teetering on the edge of your second orgasm, a few good strokes being the last push you need before you stumble over and drown in the pleasure once more. Yuuji follows right after, sinking all the way down on the dildo and pushing you down his length to completely bottom out inside you as he empties his balls, thick cum spurting right against your cervix. You can feel how full of cum you are, the thick sticky substance dribbling down your thigh. 

After a few moments of silence, the two of you just staying close and trying to catch your breath, you finally speak. 

“You know, you will actually have to write at least one essay for me for that extra credit, consider this just your… motivation to actually get it done. At the end of the day, I’d rather you not fail, Yuuji.” 

You did it again, you used his first name. The softness to your voice makes his heart twist, and he knows he has to live up to the promise he made. 

“And this stays between us.” 

You didn’t really need to tell him that, he knows how badly things could turn out if anyone found out, but he gives you his word. He doesn’t dare say anything else out of fear that anything he says might ruin the magic. One wrong move could sully this moment forever, and this is a memory he’ll cherish for a long time. So he tucks his flaccid cock in his boxers and puts on his clothes, gathering his things and heading for the door. He pauses for a second and turns around for one last look. 

“Miss L/N.. uhm, thank you for giving me an opportunity for that extra credit. And uh, I don’t mean the sex. The actual extra credit. I know I can be difficult, so I appreciate this a lot.” 

You smile and wave him off, telling him there’s nothing to be thankful for. You remind him to hand in his essay before the following Friday and you say your goodbyes. 

There’s a slight empty feeling budding inside you, missing the attention of the younger boy, but ultimately you realize you had completely forgotten about the stress of the week; and there was an undeniable pep in Yuuji’s step as he made his way home that night... Today was truly a good day, for both of you. 

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑! I do not own any of the characters or people mentioned in my work. these are works of pure fiction that do not reflect the views, opinions, or actions of any person, real or fictional. Furthermore, all characters I write for [thirsts, drabbles, fics, etc.] are aged up to 21 or older – they are adults with adult characteristics presented and written in adult contexts.

all rights reserved © by maliciouslove. my work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. all fanfics belong to me, please do not copy, translate nor repost the fics or files seen above as this is strictly prohibited.

[silverflqmes]

໒⦂ 𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐈’𝐌 𝐓𝐑𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆.

synopsis. you’ve been having a hard week with your studies, so hajime has taken it upon himself to lighten the load a bit, even if his actions are minimal.

genre. comfort + fluff

tw. discussion of bad eating habits, mentions of starvation and codependency.

for @melukonova <3

hajime iwaizumi x gn!reader.

⌗ the last thing hajime likes to see is you blue. it just hurts his soul to see you distressed and under pressure like you have been as of late.

⌗ so when you’re not taking care of yourself, that’s his cue to step in and make sure you’re getting your daily needs fulfilled, that way they aren’t neglected in a way that can get you sick.. which is the last thing you need.

⌗ when he sees your water bottle or sippy cup empty ( i have a starbucks venti sized one bc ppl often say it encourages you to drink when a straw is in sight, so i use that even if i have to refill it a few times ), he’ll take it ( you probably won’t notice anyway ) and fill it back up for you.

⌗ haven’t been eating enough or depriving yourself until you finish that one assignment / problem you’ve been stuck on? this is your reminder to eat or he’s bringing you to the kitchen because he cooked you a gourmet meal with all the minerals you need to keep you going. do not deprive yourself of food! you need your energy.

⌗ can’t finish it? that’s okay. you eat what you can, even if it’s just a couple bites — so long as you eat, he’s happy! he made or brought it just for you with your needs in mind to be able to work as effectively as you can without forcing your body through it. and if you’re worried about wasting food if you didn’t finish, don’t worry, he’ll take them to stray cats and dogs.

⌗ tough time doing chores? that’s okay, he’s there through it all. even if he’s a voice on the phone or text messages, he’s there until you get through all of them.

⌗ words of encouragement? they might not be the usual ones you hear, but he’s got you covered.

⌗ if it gets too much and you really can’t handle the pressure, he’s rushing over to your doorstep, no questions asked.

⌗ when you open the door, he’s got his arms out already to hug you for as long as you need it.

⌗ and when you truly can’t take it anymore, he’s there to turn off the computer, close the textbooks and notes you left open, and takes you to the bathroom into a warm bath he prepared to wash your worries away before bed.

it’s after eight and you’re already brimming with anxiety. the last meal you had was that half-assed sandwich you threw together this morning before rushing out the door for school.

your stomach was growling, but you had to finish this assignment. it had been put off one too many times already — today was the due date, it had to be done if you wanted a good enough grade to satisfy yourself. even if that sadly meant denying yourself of your essential needs.

having had enough distractions for the day, you silenced your phone with do not disturb, in hopes of finishing your work faster.

unfortunately, you hadn’t considered the consequences of that.

headphones in, blaring your usual study playlists, you hadn’t noticed the knock on your door. hadn’t noticed the fresh air spill into your room from the crack in doorway, and hadn’t noticed your boyfriend in the doorframe.

a tupperware of takeout food in one hand and what looked to be a biodegradable dixie cup of tea in the other. yet he was still invisible.

it wasn’t until he placed the food down to squeeze your shoulders, that you finally acknowledged your his existence.

“oh- haji, i didn’t hear you come in..” you sighed in relief, relaxing your eyes as you removed your headphones to hear him properly. “what’re you doing home early? i thought you had work until late..”

the olive eyed male rose a brow before letting out a quiet hum. “they let me off early today so i got you your favorite and some peppermint tea.” he answered with a smile, averting his gaze to the screen before you. “still at it, i’m assuming?”

a small laugh left your lips. “still at it.” you confirmed, rubbing the building sleep out of your eyes. “got a lot due this week so i wanted to finish quickly to have more time for us this weekend.”

“of course,” he almost wanted to say, as it was expected — given it was your usual reasoning, and a decent argument. spare time was always good, however you deserved rest too, and it wasn’t like tomorrow wouldn’t be a possibility to finish the rest. “i get it.” he responded finally before kissing your temple. “although i think you’re due for a nice meal and some shuteye for working as hard as you have.” he finished tenderly, closing your notebook for you.

it made you whine a little when he did, as you were insistent on finishing, but the kisses and squeezes on your shoulders had you giving in.

you supposed a small change of plans wouldn’t hurt too much.

and so he pushed the container in front of you, sliding the tea closer before pulling up a stool you normally piled textbooks on. perhaps he emptied it while you weren’t looking.

with a soft exhale, and perhaps the growl of your stomach, you pried the lid off, basking in the tempered steam and smell. hajime just knew you too well.

your face heated a little at the thought as you leaned in close with your chopsticks, muttering a soft word of thanks before digging in.

iwaizumi, having eaten already, simply kept you company, rubbing your back gently before leaning in to whisper. “you did amazing today, i’m proud of you.” a warm smile. “don’t forget that.”

notes. hi sky, little late but i tried to write this as quick as i could for you since it felt like an emergency request by the time frame and wording</3 anyway i hope this helps and that you feel better mami, be sure to take care of yourself when you study or i’m sending BALD iwa. let this be your warning because it’s important to eat and drink water and have sufficient rest while studying, cuz how else are you gonna remember😐

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[done-with-the-shit]

A challenge for dandelion wine

Game: Genshin Impact

Characters: Venti, Kaeya, Diluc

Note: GN!Reader

You were working in the tavern since Diluc has some business to do and couldn't leave the tavern with no bartender. Venti enters the tavern, silly and joyful as always. "Oh, I didn't think you'd be the bartender, Y/N! How have you been?" "Fine as always." you replied, "How are you? Anything you'd like to drink?" you questioned the bard. "Well, I am a bard and I may sing and play music all the time, but I was a little bored. So I came here to maybe tease Diluc while having some of my favorite wine!"

"Bored you say?" You smirked while cleaning the wine cup. "Why not a little challenge then?" You sit next to Venti with three bottles of wine.

"What's this, windblume?" "Each of these bottles of wine will give you a different reward. For this small ordinary bottle of wine, each sip you take, I will kiss you. For the medium sized bottle of wine, each sip you take, I'll kiss your neck. And for your very favorite Dandelion wine.." you got closer in his face, almost closing the distance between one another. "Each sip you take I'll grind on you~" Venti's face was pretty red after hearing that "Shall we begin?" you gave him the first bottle.

Venti takes five sips for the start. You pull his face by the chin and shut his lips with yours. He whined in your mouth when you suddenly slip your tongue in his mouth. You pull away as he tried to chase for your lips again, but you put your finger on his lips. "Ahahah! More sips, more kisses." "Well, this is pretty small. So it shouldn't be a problem to drink the whole bottle. I might aswell do that." he did as he said, gulping the wine and letting a small trail of wine go down his chin.

When he put the wine bottle down, you cuped his face and kissed him immediately. The kiss was more passionate as he kissed back with hunger, wanting more then just sweet kisses. You tasted the wine when he wrapped his tongue around yours. As the kiss got more heated, Venti grabbed your thighs and lift you up, placing you on his lap. You both broke the kiss after a few minutes. A trail of saliva come out as you both were breathing heavily while looking at each other deep in the eyes. Round two, Venti grabbed the second wine bottle and took ten sips. You lowered your head down his neck and started kissing it like you said.

Small groans came from his mouth as he grabbed the bottle again and continued drinking. You lost count since you couldn't pay attention, due to kissing his neck, but you continued anyway. "Ngh... Windblume." he groaned. Getting greedy for more, he finished the bottle and let you claim him. His arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you tighter, trying his best to endure the kissing without making much noise. You moved away from his neck noticing the red mark you made. "Don't worry. The collar of my shirt should be able to cover it." he said.

Round three, Final round. Venti took seven big gulps from the dandelion wine. It wasn't to long for his moans to get louder as you started grinding on him. "Y-You're lucky that Diluc isn't here." he stammered, trying his absolute best to not let his moans take over. "Even if he was, you're not that loud, and we're on the second floor. There's nothing to worry about!" you stopped and looked at him in the eyes. He smiled before drinking again. Taking a risk he took twenty gulps from the wine bottle. "Mm~aah~Windblume.." he moaned. You continued no matter what he said as he dig his nails onto your shirt.

You stopped and asked, "You'll be able to continue, right?" He chuckled, "I'll be able to continue on for a while. All of these wine bottles are not even close to my limit. Want me to risk it?" You smirked, "If your ready, go on ahead." He kisses you before downing the whole bottle.

"Aah~ngh...Oh god." You were slowly grinding on him, yet it effected him quite alot. He looked at your lips and couldn't help it. His tongue slipped in your mouth again as he sighs and holds your face. "Windblume." he said between the kisses. You untied his cap and started kissing his collar bone. He held the back of your head while biting his lip to avoid making loud noises. Venti threw his head back and whined loudly. "Windblume, I think I'm...-"

The tavern door opened realizing Kaeya. He closed the door so no one else outside the tavern will see. "My, my. What a scene to witness. Are you claiming your bard instead of working? You don't want to get in trouble, do you?" "Kaeya...I'm sorry you had to see this." Venti weakly looked at him. "It's no problem, Venti. Well, maybe not what you're doing, but maybe as if what I had happen to see. Diluc isn't here, so I might as well grab a bottle." As he went to grab a bottle, you both face each other. "Um... Maybe later?" You give him a long kiss. "Later."

>>MORE OF MY WORKS<<

[emmebearpaw]

Hello. I've worked in a grocery store for a while, I shop for people and take it out to their cars (this is my 3rd summer in a row...). I know lots of weird types of people at the grocery store. Please allow me to tell you what kind of person various characters are at the grocery store. Fandoms: Reverse 1999, Genshin Impact (R1999) Regulus is the Doordash driver who checks in to pick up groceries and then goes MIA. She shows up 5 minutes later to get them with a Dr. Papper and no cart and you just have to look her dead in the eyes with 2 dozen bags around you and say "You need a cart."

(GI) Furina is this one guy at my old store who was always the last one to show up on Saturdays. Tired. Easy. Does not feel like chatting right now. She's here to get Mac and Cheese and some Wine and then she is going to bed. (R1999) Kanjira, Erick, Balloon Party and Mondlicht are the group of unsupervised kids that are causing a Problem. (R1999) Oliver Fog and Eagle are the inexplicably unsupervised kids there at odd hours that ask you where a specific item is and are a joy to have. No problem. Inexplicably looking for a block of good cheese. (GI) Lyney, Lynette and Freminet are the kind of people shopping who employees don't even notice until they get to check out. They are sent to the store with a list. They plan out an ideal route like its a fucking heist. They are in and out of there in 20 minutes with the power of teamwork and planning.

(GI) Baizhu does carside pickup. Only buys organic foods. Qiqi doesn't get goldfish she gets Annie's crackers, that sort of thing. In a seeming contradiction there is a bottle of wine in the order too. (R1999) Ok listen to me. This isn't a customer story. This is my former STORE MANAGER. Constantine is my old store manager that everyone hates, but I have one particular story she is. We had radios in our department so we could communicate items that weren't on the shelf and to ask for assistance from other departments. No one else was supposed to use the radios, however management didn't want to spend money on the radios so they just let other departments steal from us, which usually meant we didn't have any. Our store manager in particular would get upset if we didn't use the radios. He also had a habit of stealing ours, so we didn't give him the code. I left my radio at my workstation to run an order outside as he walks in for the morning. I come back in barely 2 minutes later and the radio I left out is gone. Constantine is stealing my radio. (R1999) The Apeiron crew are this group of 4 or 5 Orthodox Jewish men who would all come in together (unusual, most grocery shoppers are alone or with their significant other + maybe their kids. Additionally we are not an area with a large jewish population) and I always had to inform them that. Yup that's our whole kosher section. No we don't have a kosher frozen section. I wish you luck on finding food for your diet, god speed, I can not find kosher food we don't stock. I do plan on writing something jsut for them because I think i need to, emotionally. 37 would throw a fit in the canned bean section.

(GI) Venti was this guy who was clearly reselling beer. Ordered 5 40 packs of bud light 3+ times a week. (GI) Yaoyao is every kid I've seen pushing around the tiny kid sized shopping cart they have at my new store. She's not accompanied like the real world kids are though. No she's just shopping by herself. Where are her parents. (GI) Neuvilette is the guy at my old store who would order like. 10 liters of sparkling water. All the same flavor. Made me climb the shelf most days to grab all of the bottles that fell over (the flavor he ordered was on the top shelf too) so I could try to scrounge together everything he ordered. Probably more later lmao

[generic-sonic-fan]

One Ultimate Latte, Please

Summary: This is the story of how Shadow's Starbucks order went viral.

(Crack fic! Inspired by this post made by the lovely @chaos-and-the-emeralds and I!)

3452 words

Emily worked at the Starbucks next door to the GUN headquarters.

To say it was an unusual job would be putting it lightly. During her short time here, she’d learned that anything could walk out of the doors of that government complex and into the coffee shop. Soldiers in full tactical SWAT gear. International politicians. Four-star generals. Sonic the Hedgehog, once, apparently- Emily’s supervisor had printed out a photo of a selfie she’d gotten with the Blue Blur and hung it on the bulletin board in the storeroom. 

It was a Tuesday afternoon. Business was painfully slow at this hour- all of the usual government meetings had finished, but it wasn’t quite the end of the workday. Emily cleaned off the front counter with a rag and spray bottle. She stopped scrubbing when she heard the door chime.

In stepped Shadow the Hedgehog. 

The Shadow the Hedgehog. 

He was. . . shorter than Emily expected. She set the rag and spray bottle aside and stepped behind the till. Only now did she realize that someone else was with him, too. 

“What kind of coffee do you want?”

“We should be going.”

“It’d be rude if I didn’t let you get something too, hun.” The white bat jabbed her elbow into his side. “We’re gonna be late anyway, might as well get something good on the way.”

Shadow the Hedgehog stared up at the menu with a blank expression.

“Can I help you?” Emily offered. 

“Sure!” The bat replied. “I’ll take a venti iced soy caramel macchiato, upside down, with one pump of vanilla and cinnamon dolce syrup.”

Emily entered the order into the register. When she looked back up, the bat was handing her a credit card. Behind her, however, Shadow the Hedgehog stood, eyebrows furrowed, doing the best “Dorothy-landing-in-Oz” expression Emily had ever seen.

Not in Kansas anymore? she thought about saying for a single second before deciding she would never, ever say that under any circumstance. She looked over her shoulder and disguised her laugh as cough. 

“What’s so funny, hmm? Got a problem with my order?”

“Nothing. Sorry.” Emily took the credit card from her and rang up the transaction. “What’s a good name for that?”

“Rouge. Shadow, you decided?”

“How am I supposed to order when I can’t understand half the words on the menu?” Shadow scowled. He then glared straight at Emily. “What kind of establishment is this?”

“Okay, relax, hun, I’ll order for you. He’ll take a honeycomb lavender latte- what size do you want?”

“The small one.”

“He’ll have that tall.” The bat, Rouge, finished. She stepped aside and waved Shadow forward.

The hedgehog gave a cutting glare as he fished a wad of cash out of his quills and slammed it on the counter. Emily waited until he’d removed his hand and stepped back before counting it. She was grateful it was exact change. 

“And what’s a good name for that one?” Emily asked. 

“The Ultimate Lifeform.”

She grabbed the cup and pen, and to her credit, she wrote the title without much hesitation. “Alright, we’ll have that out in a few minutes.” 

The pair walked to the pickup counter. Shadow looked pissed, and remained pissed as Emily prepared his friend’s complicated order. Maybe “friend” was a strong term- Emily certainly didn’t know anything about these two, and the hedgehog didn’t look pleased to be with her right now. 

“One venti soy caramel macchiato with vanilla and cinnamon for Rouge?” Emily called out. 

The bat sauntered up to the counter. “Upside down?”

“Yes ma’am.” 

“Good woman. Mmm.” Rouge sipped her drink. “Perfect.”

Shadow rolled his eyes. 

Emily was able to make his drink much faster, and soon emerged out the other side with the short cup.

“One honeycomb lavender latte for the Ultimate Lifeform?” She set the drink on the counter. 

Maybe it had been a little dumb to have taken their names, since they were the only ones in the store, but Shadow’s face actually lightened a bit when he heard the title called. He walked up to the counter and grabbed his drink, swirling it around in his hand. 

“Well?” Rouge asked.

He took a sip. Then another. Then a long swig. 

“Good, huh?”

He nodded. 

“I told you.”

“This is the Ultimate Latte.” He gripped the cup with determination. 

Rouge gave an agitated sigh. “Sure, weirdo. Watch my drink, I’ll be back.”

She set her drink down on the counter and walked to the bathroom. Shadow watched her go. When the door shut behind her, he covered his mouth with his hand and started shaking. Emily realized he was snickering, and this was enough to get a laugh out of her as well.

“What are you laughing at?” Shadow whipped around to her. 

“Nothing, sir.” She straightened. 

“Are you laughing at me?”

She shook her head before pointing toward the bathroom. “She thought you were serious, right?”

“Don’t ruin it.”

“My lips are sealed.”

“Good.” His glare softened, but not by much. He took another sip of his latte.

The bathroom door opened and Rouge returned. She grabbed her drink from the counter, muttered something about “ultimate vanity”, before the two left the store. 

Emily would’ve had one hell of a story to tell her supervisor, but the last thing she wanted to do was break a promise with Shadow the freaking Hedgehog. . .

—

Two weeks passed. Emily got very good at preparing “upside down” orders, and she wanted to strangle whichever Instagrammer decided to make that popular. Shadow the Hedgehog’s bat friend must’ve been ahead of the trend. 

This meant Emily was prepared when the two walked back through the doors. This time it was mid-morning, and they weren’t the only customers in the shop. Heads swiveled as Shadow the Hedgehog joined the line behind an old woman. 

“My my! Aren’t you one of the fine young men that saved the world from that wicked Robotnik a while back?” The old lady exclaimed. “Why don’t you go ahead of me?”

Before Shadow could answer, his bat friend interjected. “Thanks, lady, we’re in a bit of a rush.”

She stepped up to the counter. “I’ll take a venti iced soy caramel macchiato, upside down, with one pump of vanilla and cinnamon dolce syrup, on the double if you can.”

Emily entered the order. “Name for that?”

“Rouge.” 

“And for you, sir?” Emily asked.

Shadow snapped to attention. 

“An Ultimate Latte for you?”

She didn’t know what possessed her to say that. She really shouldn’t have- she'd promised.

“Are you making fun of him?” Rouge asked. 

“. . . why yes, actually, I’ll take one of those.” Shadow replied. 

Rouge did a double take at her companion as Emily entered the order. She wrote the names on both of the cups before accepting Rouge’s credit card. The transaction completed, and the pair moved along. Emily stayed at the register to take further orders, but she could hear her coworkers making the drinks behind her. 

“One upside down venti soy caramel macchiato with vanilla and cinnamon for Rouge?” One coworker called out. 

The bat retrieved her drink. Emily paid only half attention to the customer in front of her, waiting. 

“One honeycomb lavender latte for. . . the Ultimate Lifeform?”

Shadow waltzed forward and snatched his drink from the person who’d called his order out.

“Say it with more respect next time.” He growled, before returning to Rouge. 

Emily’s coworker looked like he’d just peed his pants. Emily, meanwhile, could only slap a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud to the entire store. 

—

Shadow came alone next time, one week later, in the dead of the afternoon. He had a paper with an order on it. He mumbled halfway through it before throwing it away and ordering two “Ultimate Lattes” instead. 

“If she wanted her stupid frilly drink she could’ve come here herself.” He grumbled.

“I agree. Same name as usual for that order?”

Shadow glanced around to the empty shop around them, before a small grin teased at his lips. “Sure.”

Emily made sure to say it loud and proud.

—

If it was somehow hard to miss Shadow the Hedgehog, it was even harder to miss the giant robot that entered with him. Okay, maybe “giant” wasn’t the most apt descriptor, given that it was only about five feet tall- but that still towered over Shadow and every other mobian in the store. 

And it wasn’t about height, but presence. “WHAT SUSTENANCE DO YOU REQUIRE?”

“Caffeine. Forgot my coffee beans this morning. This will only take a few minutes, you can wait outside.”

The robot stared at the menu, before staring at Emily. 

“The usual?” She asked quietly.

“WHAT IS ‘THE USUAL’?”

“Yes. One Ultimate Latte, please.” Shadow ignored his companion and handed the money to her. 

“I WANT ONE.”

Shadow looked at the robot. “Why?”

“I WANT ONE.”

“Don’t be foolish. You won’t be able to drink it.”

The robot swiveled, then leaned forwards, until its eyes were level with Shadow’s. 

“Fine! Whatever. Two Ultimate Lattes.” He slapped more money on the counter. 

A few minutes later and the drinks were ready. Emily walked them to the pickup counter.

“Two Ultimate Lattes for the Ultimate Lifeform!”

The regulars didn’t turn their heads anymore, but a few newbies did. Shadow retrieved his drinks and handed one to the robot. 

The robot stared at the drink, before stomping back to the counter. Emily fought the urge to hide beneath the counter or take off running.

“I AM NOT AN ‘ULTIMATE LIFEFORM’.” The robot blared. “I AM THE ULTIMATE ROBOT. GET IT RIGHT NEXT TIME, MEATBAG.”

“Sorry, let me try that one again: one Ultimate Latte for the Ultimate Robot!” Emily replied without missing a beat. She’d have to thank whatever ghost of bravery that had possessed her later. 

The robot stared at her, before giving an approving nod. She flashed her best customer service smile as it stomped off. Shadow trailed after it, but before he left, he gave her a tight-lipped smile and a shrug. 

—

The next time Shadow came with company was right at rush hour, when the usual crowd of government agents got off work or were heading to their night shift. Emily wasn’t sure which one applied to the three that stood before her. Shadow, regardless of everything, looked happy to see her. 

He cut in front of Rouge. “One Ultimate Latte, please.”

“Rude!” Rouge chimed. 

“RUDE.” The robot chimed. 

“Sure thing,” Emily finished doodling up the cup. 

She took the money from him shortly after, and he stepped off to the side. The robot stepped forward next. 

“ONE ULTIMATE LATTE.”

“For the Ultimate Robot, right?”

“CORRECT!” The robot pumped its fist into the air. It then turned to Shadow. “SHE REMEMBERED. I LIKE THIS MEATBAG.”

“You’re kind of hard to forget.” Shadow replied. “Emily, you can put Omega’s on my ticket.”

Emily froze. Whatever ghost of bravery or quick thinking or whatever that had helped her last time was completely absent.

“That is your name, isn’t it?” He gestured to the name tag. 

“Right, of course.” Emily turned to Rouge. “And what can I get for you?” 

“Ugh, about time. I think I’ll try something different- how about a venti half white chocolate, half regular mocha frappe with two pumps raspberry and whipped cream?”

“And the name for that?”

The bat pouted. “And here I thought we knew everyone’s names here?”

“Just ‘Rouge’ is fine?” Emily clarified. 

Rouge paused thoughtfully, before grinning. “Actually, how about ‘the Ultimate Treasure Hunter Extraordinaire’?”

“Perfect. We’ll have those right out for you.”

Emily completed the payments, punched everything into the register, and then frowned at the huge line that had formed while the trio had ordered. She caught one of her coworkers walking by behind her, grabbing his shoulder and pushing him behind the till.

“Switch!” She whispered in his ear, before jumping into the order line. 

It was hell to try and figure out what her unfortunate colleague had been in the middle of, but she threw together the orders well enough. Then it came to the three important ones, and she took her time with these. When they were finished, she went up to the counter and readied her best calling voice.

“One Ultimate Latte for the Ultimate Lifeform!”

“One venti half-and-half mocha frappe with raspberry and whip for the Ultimate Treasure Hunter Extraordinaire!” 

“One Ultimate Latte for the Ultimate Robot!”

What followed was a scene out of a movie, slow motion and all. The crowded store parted, bewildered patrons creating the perfect walkway for the three to swagger down. Rouge led the formation, wings spread wide, with the grace of a supermodel on the runway. Shadow followed on her right, a look of cool arrogance in his eyes. Omega followed on her left, practically preening under all the attention, if robots could preen, that was. 

They grabbed their drinks in unison and then walked away in the same formation. Rouge blew a kiss to the crowd before they went out the door. 

Everything and everyone in the store seemed to freeze in place for a moment, as if reality itself was reeling from the amount of “cool” it had just witnessed.

And Emily was beaming. 

—

“It’s only a quick stop.”

“Coffee, Shads? Frou-frou coffee?”

“Shut up. You can wait outside if it bothers you.”

“No no no, I’m not bothered or anything, just weird.”

Being the barista that Shadow the Hedgehog knew by name prepared you for all sorts of unexpected, intimidating things. Emily liked to think that she could handle anything at this point. 

But having THE Sonic the Hedgehog walk into your store was something else entirely. 

“Hello, Emily.” Shadow said. “The usual.”

Really, she should’ve expected this. Shadow the Hedgehog hadn’t saved the world alone, after all. They might even be friends. . . though perhaps that was pushing it, given the way Sonic rolled his eyes. 

“One Ultimate Latte, coming right up.” Emily began writing the name on the cup. 

“You’re kidding.” Sonic said. He then cleared his throat and did a poor imitation. “An ‘Ultimate Latte’?”

“Shut up!”

Emily scribbled out what she’d written on the cup. “And the name for that?”

Shadow gave her a strange look. “Same as always.”

She shot a glance at Sonic, before looking back to him.

“Did I stutter?”

“Got it. Be out with that in a minute.”

Making the drink took only about as long as it took to heat the milk up at this point. The unique recipe was now as thoroughly engrained in her brain as a typical mocha or caramel frappuccino, so she didn’t have to think much about it anymore. She put the lid on and walked up to the counter. 

Her throat went dry as Sonic looked over at her. As usual, no one else was in the entire store, and for the first time in a long time, she felt a little dumb for taking a name for the order at all. 

But then Shadow met her gaze expectantly, and she couldn’t help but smile.

“One Ultimate Latte for the Ultimate Lifeform!” She called out and set the cup on the counter. 

Shadow retrieved his drink and took a sip. “Thanks.”

“Wow. Just wow, dude.” Sonic shook his head. 

Shadow turned around. “What, too afraid to try it?”

“Wha- no, of course not! Gimme a sip.”

Sonic was over in an instant. No, faster than an instant. The wind slapped against Emily’s face and her mouth fell open as her brain failed to register how someone that was over there could now be fifteen feet closer seemingly without taking a single step. 

Sonic, meanwhile, grabbed the cup and took a swig. 

And he immediately spit it out. 

“It’s hot, you moron.” Shadow said. 

“. . . Mhmmm, figured that. . .”

Shadow grabbed the cup back and took a small, reasonable sip. “I’m not giving you any more.”

“Come on. One more taste. I’m not getting defeated by some dumb drink.”

“Order your own.” Shadow turned and gave Emily a look. 

She froze, for a single moment, from the weight of expectation upon her. She then gave her best customer service smile and asked, “Would you like an Ultimate Latte, sir?”

Sonic threw his hands in the air as a look of utter bewilderment crossed his face. Shadow covered his mouth and locked eyes with her, and they shared in the valiant struggle of containing their laughter. 

“Fine. Ring me up.” Sonic zipped over to the till. 

She walked back and punched in the order again. Her customer service smile helped delay the giggles but she knew she didn’t have much time before she totally lost it. 

“What’s the name for that?”

“Sonic. Just Sonic, none of his nonsense.”

“Coming right up.” 

Making the order this time around felt like an eternity, but soon Emily returned to the counter.

“One Ultimate Latte for Sonic?”

She didn’t even set the drink down when it was taken from her hands by a blur of blue. Sonic skidded to a stop next to Shadow. 

“Now drink it. Slowly.” Shadow lowered his hand from his mouth. 

Sonic set the cup down on a nearby table and popped the lid off. He blew on the top of the drink for a minute or two, before picking it up and taking a sip. Then another. Then another.

“Well?” Shadow asked.

“. . . okay, that’s pretty good. Very sugary. Didn’t take you for the type.”

“Rouge got it for me the first time. I didn’t expect it either.”

“But it’s nice.”

“Yes. It’s nice.” 

Sonic took a longer sip, before setting the cup down again. He popped the lid back on. 

“Heh, guess it is a pretty ‘Ultimate’ latte. That’s a good name for it.”

And that’s when Shadow snorted. 

“Hey! What’s so funny?”

Emily laughed before she could help it. She doubled over behind the counter. Shadow’s own quiet giggles floated in from above. 

“I said it’s pretty ‘Ultimate’! That’s the name, right? Why are you two laughing?”

Giggles turned into guffaws. Emily stood up behind the counter again to see that Shadow’s smile spread wide out from behind his hand as he laughed uncontrollably. Sonic smiled and put a hand on Shadow’s back. It took him minutes to calm down enough to speak again. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you laugh like that before, dude.” Sonic said. “You should do it more often!”

“Tsch.” Shadow brushed his hand off.

“I’m going to assume this is some kind of inside joke?”

“Maybe?” Emily said. 

“Maybe.” Shadow repeated. 

“You can’t tell anyone.” Emily said.

“Oh really now?”

“Don’t ruin it.” Shadow pointed at him. 

“Sure won’t- if you can beat me back to your stupid boss’ office!”

“But we’re carrying drinks!” “So? What’s wrong, Shads, don’t know how to not spill everywhere?”

Emily dug out a pair of coffee cup stoppers. “These might help.”

Sonic ran back and stole them from her hands, before sticking them in his and Shadow’s drink. He then disappeared, the door slamming shut giving the only indication of where he’d gone. 

“Bastard!” Shadow shouted. “Chaos control!”

There was a huge flash of light, and a shockwave strong enough to shake the glass of the windows. Emily flung her hands in front of her eyes. When she lowered them again, he was gone. 

—

One week later, in the thick of rush hour, Sonic the Hedgehog came tearing into the store. He weaved and dodged his way around the line, sliding to a stop in front of the till just as the last customer walked off. Not that anybody minded, and if anybody did, they weren’t going to say it.

“Hey, Emily, is it? How’s it hanging?” He grinned.

She could only give a shy smile. “Can I take your order?”

By this point, multiple patrons had gotten their cell phones out and were videoing the whole exchange. 

“Sure! One Ultimate Latte, please.”

“And the name for that?”

“You know the one!”

Sonic slapped a wad of cash on the counter and took off to the pickup line. Emily counted the cash, only to find that he’d way overpaid, but any attempt to get his attention again was fruitless- he was busy taking selfies with a group of kids waiting with their mom. She threw the extra change in the tip jar. She then waved the next customer forward, a teenager with her phone out. 

“What’s the ‘Ultimate Latte’?” The teen asked. 

“Uh, it’s a honeycomb lavender latte.” Emily said. 

“Sure, I’ll give it a try. Make it a grande, please.” 

By the end of Emily’s shift, the coffee bar had run out of lavender syrup. 

By the end of the week, so had the storeroom. 

[definesanity]

Their Grace(-Given Sovereign).

"...Unworthy Archons."

Venti flinched; at the words of their Creator, or from that one word. Unworthy. As if they were nothing. Although, at this point...

"What is thy business with these thrones...?"

The 'Thrones', while falling to pieces and lost its sheen, in the approach of The Creator, the sheen returned and, with it, people upon them.

"Ah..."

The furthermost right had a royally dressed individual, their face not betraying anything of their thoughts on a blue throne. "Leviathan the Just."

Next, were twin thrones, one purple and the other green. On them, a cloaked figure with closed left eye and another hidden figure with a closed right eye. "The Twin Archons, Demiurge and Yaldabaoth."

Next was a familiar face, on a golden throne, his face unexpressive. "Morax."

On an emerald throne, another face recognisable, a small grin on his face. "Barbatos."

On a crimson throne, a smirk gracing their expression, "Bahut."

And, finally on a smaller, light blue throne, an innocent smile on their face, "Horaois."

Venti and Zhongli looked away.

They tsk'd. "Loyal to thy cause, to Their Creator..." they slammed their staff into the ground, with the thrones with Barbatos and Morax returning to its broken state. "...Albeit two."

Slowly, they turned their hand around, and grasped their staff backwards. "Thy kind are all of a piece..."

They looked through them, golden eyes meeting an array of colours. "Mere Demons: Emboldened by the Flame of Ambition!"

They crushed the staff and, underneath it, a curved sword was held aloft, before being swung down.

"Have it writ upon thy meagre graves..."

They looked down, in rags, but more holy despite their disgusting appearance.

"Felled, by Morgott the Grace-Given: The Last of All Sovereigns!"

---------------------------

With a gasp, Venti shot up, clutching his heart.

"...Thou appear restless, Venti."

Snapping their neck towards the speaker, Venti saw them: The Creator.

Dressed in rags, despite many wanting them to replace them, You, or 'Morgott', as Mother Queen Marika the Eternal named you, looked down at him.

"We-E-ell, you know?" his voice cracked in the middle, but he attempted to push on. "Songs and wine do tend to make anyone feel like they got hit by a Mitachurl in the morning, ya know?"

"...I am afraid I cannot feel thy pain, but I can say that Zhongli wishes to speak to you, post haste."

Now that was curious. "Oh? Lil' ol' me?"

"Indeed. He appeared rather... shook, as it were." You turned to exit the room. "And Venti?"

"Yes, Your Grace?"

"Please, pick up your bottles after drinking them."

----------------

Getting up and going to where Zhongli was wasn't the problem.

The fact that the Archons, yes, all of them, were there really unnerved him.

"Barbatos." Zhongli's smooth voice spoke.

Yep, this was definitely gonna be a doozy, isn't it?

-----------

You leaned on your staff, allowing the odd sensation of teleporting to come over you.

The world of Teyvat is immensely different from that of the Lands Between, and not just from the simple fact that people weren't either insane or mentally unstable.

It also came from how colourful their personalities were.

From Amber's endless enthusiasm, to Klee's childish yet dangerous tendancies, to Albedo's calm observations of the land to even Yae Miko's smooth and mysterious nature, it caught you by surprise.

Not only that... but you resembled more of a human than on Omen.

While you were still tall, your skin had changed from a horrific grey to a more natural, pale colour. Your horns had receded, too; while not fully gone, you could finally see our if you left eye again without it obscuring it.

And, while your height hadn't gone down, your overall size had. At least now, you were 'convinced' to wear boots.

Curses be to temperature. And to those who defied the Erdtree.

...But now, without the Erdtree...

...Where does that leave thee?

[lady-maria-the-wolf225]

How Donnie would have his first starbucks:

Donnie always needed something to wake up all day and all night despite feeling super tired all the time. He has his own coffee maker, but the problem is, no coffee. Instead, he tries some of Leo's caffeine tea. Sadly though, it didn't help much. Sometimes Donnie would sleep on top of his keyboard and suddenly something random pops up from his computer screen like Bill nye the science guy, a British cooking show, or hell. Even his favorite Hentai videos he keeps in his folders....with the volume all the way up. Poor Donnie couldn't catch a break from all the science stuff. That is until you came into his life. Donnie loved everything about you. You were full of energy and curious about everything he does. You and Donnie have been dating for over 2 years now, and one day, you then notice he starts to feel exhausted. Eyes red like peppers, and noticeable eye bags underneath. "Donnie. Sweet pea. You look awful. You forgot to sleep again?" Donnie gives a small nod with a tired smile. You then decided to give him something. so you take him to bed to let him rest, and you headed back out to go get some starbucks. By the time you got back, you softly woke Donnie up. He sat up yawning happy to see you. He then noticed you got the Starbucks drinks with you. "What's that?" He examines it and spoke scientifically. " looks like a specific type of liquid that keeps a person up all day filled with sugar, caffeine, isn't it?" You giggled and nodded "it's called coffee silly." You give him his Venti sized drink "it's a vanilla latte, with two extra pumps of vanilla, 4 creams, 4 sugar, and three shots of espresso. It should help you get the boost you need." Donnie examines it more, and decides to give it a try. He was hesitant at first, but after taking that first sip, he was wide eyed, and was instantly hooked. "Mmm! This is amazing! Where did you get this beverage?" His energy suddenly boosted up making you realize that he was actually a light coffee drinker, which basically means that he can actually be wide awake within less than 10 seconds. You were surprised and spoke. "Oh! It's from starbucks." Donnie then asked you what else they had. You then explain that there was more than just coffee there. There was Frappuccinos, teas, refreshers, baked goods, and paninis and breakfast sandwiches. Donnie suddenly kissed you and was happy you gave him something to give him the energy that he actually needed. Despite that, now more than ever, every single day, he would always ask you to go to Starbucks to get him more of that delicious coffee that you would always give him. In about a couple weeks later, he would then ask you to bring in a frappuccino. And when he found out about the secret menu options that they have, he would call you and request you to give him one of those with a screenshot of the recipe that he ends up sending you of course. You couldn't help but smile at your Terrapin boyfriend that the fact that he now loves Starbucks. And he knows that since you work every single day and get paid every friday, he would always beg and beg you to bring in Starbucks. And since you knew that he has a coffee maker, you went to the store and ended up buying him some actual Starbucks Coffee bags. so that way he can make his own coffee. Thankfully you managed to solve what he needed. And as for his brothers however, you can tell he does not want to share the Starbucks with them at all.

@raisin-shell @kawaiibunga @donnies-icing @angelcatlowyn @nittleboo @nikitaboeve @tmnt-lover-forever @turtle-babe83 @raphsweapondealer @raphslovemuffin80 @fyreball66 @roxosupreme @meeplovestmnt @post-apocalyptic-daydream @thelaundrybitch

[thewidowsghost]

Seeing the Beauty (Piper McLean x Fem!Jackson!Reader) - Chapter 11

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

They continue to fly west and Jason becomes lost in his thoughts – all of them bad. He isn't sure how much time passes before the dragon dives through a break in the clouds, and below them, glittering in the winter sun, is a sixty at the edge of a massive lake. A crescent of skyscrapers line the shore. Behind them, stretching out to the western horizon, is a vast grid of snow-covered neighborhoods and roads.

"Chicago," (Y/n) says.

Jason thinks about what Hera had said in his dream. His most mortal enemy is waiting here. If I'm to die, it will be by her hand.

"One problem down," Leo says. "We got here alive. Now, how do we find the storm spirits?"

Jason sees a flash of movement below them. At first, he thinks it's just a small plane, but it's too small, too dark, and too fast. The thing spirals towards the skyscrapers, weaving and changing shape – and, just for a moment, it becomes the smokey figure of a horse.

"How about we follow that one," Jason suggests, "and see where it goes?"

Jason is afraid they'd lose their target. The ventus moves like . . . well, like the wind. "Speed up!" he urges.

"Bro," Leo said, "if I get any closer, he'll spot us. Bronze dragon ain't exactly a stealth plane." (Y/n) laughs.

"Slowdown!" Piper yelps.

The storm spirit dives into the grid of downtown streets. Festus tries to follow, but his wingspan is way too wide. His left wing clips the edge of a building, slicing off a stone gargoyle before Leo pulls up.

"Get above the buildings," Jason suggests. "We'll track him from there."

"You want to drive this thing?" Leo grumbles, but he does what Jason asks.

After a few minutes, Jason spots the storm spirit again, zipping through the streets with no apparent purpose — blowing over pedestrians, ruffling flags, making cars swerve.

"Oh great," Piper says. "There're two."

She's right. A second ventus blasts around the corner of the Renaissance Hotel and links up with the first. They weave together in a chaotic dance, shooting to the top of a skyscraper, bending a radio tower, and diving back down towards the street.

"Those guys do not need any more caffeine," Leo says.

"You could say they had a large," (Y/n) grins stupidly at her joke.

"I guess Chicago's a good place to hang out," Piper said, glancing back at (Y/n) and rolling her eyes teasingly. "Nobody's going to question a couple more evil winds."

"More than a couple," Jason said. "Look."

The dragon circles over a wide avenue next to a lake-side park. Storm spirits are converging — at least a dozen of them, whirling around a big public art installation.

"Which one do you think is Dylan?" Leo asks. "I wanna throw something at him."

But Jason is focused on the art installation. The closer they get to it, the faster his heart beats. It's just a public fountain, but it is unpleasantly familiar. Two five-story monoliths rise from either end of a long granite reflecting pool. The monoliths seem to be built of video screens, flashing the combined image of a giant face that spews water into the pool.

Maybe it's just a coincidence, but it looks like a high-tech, super-size version of that ruined reflecting pool Jason and (Y/n) has seen in their dreams, with the two dark masses jutting from either end. As Jason watches, the image on the screens changes to a woman's face with her eyes closed.

"Leo . . ." Jason says nervously.

"I see her," Leo replies. "I don't like her, but I see her."

Then the screens go dark. The venti swirl together into a single funnel cloud and skitter across the fountain, kicking up a waterspout almost as high as the monoliths. They get to its center, pop off a drain cover, and disappear underground.

"Did they just go down a drain?" Piper questions. "How are we supposed to follow them?"

"Maybe we shouldn't," Leo says. "That fountain thing is giving me seriously bad vibes. And aren't we supposed to, like, beware the earth?"

(Y/n) feels the same way, but they have to follow. It is their only way forward. They had to find Hera, and they now only have two days until the solstice.

"Put us down in that park," (Y/n) suggests. "We'll check it out on foot."

Festus lands in an open area between the lake and the skyline. The signs say Grant Park, and Jason imagines it would've been a nice place in the summer. The dragon's hot metal feet hiss as they touch down. Festus flaps his wings unhappily and shoots fire into the sky, but there was no one around to notice. The wind coming off the lake is bitter cold. Anyone with sense would be inside. Jason's eyes sting so badly, he can barely see.

They dismount , and Festus the dragon stomps his feet. One of his ruby eyes flickers, so it looks like he is blinking.

"Is that normal?" Jason asks.

Leo pulls a rubber mallet from his tool bag. He whacks the dragon's bad eye, and the light goes back to normal. "Yes," Leo says. "Festus can't hang around here, though, in the middle of the park. They'll arrest him for loitering. Maybe if I had a dog whistle . . ." He rummages in his tool belt, but comes up with nothing. "Too speciallized?" he guesses. "Okay, give me a safety whistle. They got that in lots of machine shops."

This time, Leo pulls out a big plastic orange whistle. "Coach Hedge would be jealous! Okay, Festus, listen." Leo blew the whistle. The shrill sound probably rolls all the way across Lake Michigan. "You hear that, come find me, okay? Until then, you fly wherever you want. Just try not to barbecue any pedestrians."

The dragon snorts — hopefully in agreement, (Y/n) thinks. Then he spreads his wings and launches into the air.

Piper took one step and winces. "Ah!"

"You're ankle?" Jason felt bad he'd forgotten about her injury back in the Cyclops factory. "That nectar we gave you might be wearing off."

"It's fine." Piper shivers; she took a few more steps with only a slight limp, but (Y/n) can tell she is trying not to grimace.

"Let's get out of the wind," (Y/n) suggests gently.

"Down a drain?" Piper shudders. "Sounds cozy."

They wrap themselves up as best as they can and head towards the fountain.

The four step into the center of the pool. The drain hole is easily big enough for a person, and a maintenance ladder leads down into the gloom.

(Y/n) goes first. As she climbs, she braces herself for horrible sewer smells, but it isn't that bad. The ladder drops into a brickwork tunnel running north to south. The air is warm and dry, with only a trickle of water on the floor.

Piper, Jason, and Leo climb down after her.

"Are all sewers this nice?" Piper wonders.

"No," Leo says. "Trust me."

Jason frowns. "How do you know —"

"Hey, man, I ran away six times. I've slept in some weird places, okay? Now, which way do we go?"

Jason tilts his head, listening, then points south. "That way."

"How can you be sure?" Piper asks.

"There's a draft blowing south," Jason says. "Maybe the venti went with the flow."

It isn't much of a lead, but nobody offers anything better.

As soon as they start walking, Piper stumbles, and (Y/n) catches her. "Stupid ankle," Piper curses.

"Let's rest," Jason decides. "We could all use it. We've been going nonstop for over a day. Leo, can you pull any food from that tool belt besides breath mints?"

"Thought you'd never ask. Chef Leo is on it!"

Piper, (Y/n), and Jason sit on a brick ledge while Leo shuffles through his pack.

"It's not your fault," Piper tells Jason.

He looks at her blankly. "What?"

"Getting jumped by the Cyclopes," she says. "It wasn't your fault."

He looks down at the coin in his palm. "I was stupid. I left you alone and walked into a trap. I should've known . . ." He doesn't finish.

"Hey." Piper nudged his arm. "Cut yourself some slack. Just because you're the son of Zeus doesn't mean you're a one-man army."

A few feet away, Leo lights a small cooking fire. He hummed as he pulled supplies out of his pack and his tool belt.

In the firelight, Piper's eyes seemed to dance. (Y/n) had been studying them for days now, and she still can't decide what color they were. She'd gone with kaleidoscope.

Jason glances between Piper and (Y/n), and then he gets to his feet, walking over to Leo.

"I'm sorry," (Y/n) turns to meet Piper's gaze.

"For what?" Piper looks bewildered.

"I know this must suck for you," (Y/n) replies. She sighs softly before she continues. "Not just the quest, I mean. The way I just appeared on that bus and the Mist messing with your mind." She pulls Tsunami out of her pocket, fiddling with the pen.

Piper drops her gaze. "Yeah, well. None of us asked for this. It's not your fault." She tugs at the little braids on each side of her head. With the makeup and the dress and the perfect hair, she'd looked beautiful with the blessing of Aphrodite. But, (Y/n) argues with herself, she looks more beautiful now.

Before (Y/n) can say anything, however, Leo announces, "And bingo!" He and Jason come over with four plates. (Y/n) has no idea where Leo had gotten all the food, or how he'd put it together so fast, but it looks amazing: pepper and beef tacos with chips and salsa.

"Leo," Piper says in amazement. "How did you —?"

"Chef Leo's Taco Garage is fixing you up!" he says proudly. "And by the way, it's tofu, not beef, beauty queen, so don't freak. Just dig in!"

. . .

After Piper eats, (Y/n) encourages her to get some sleep. Without another word, she curls up and puts her head in (Y/n)'s lap. In two seconds, she's snoring.

(Y/n) looks up at Jason and Leo, who are obviously trying not to laugh.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, drinking lemonade Leo had made from canteen water and powdered mix.

"Good, huh?" Leo grins.

"You should start a stand," Jason says. "Make some serious coin." But as he stares at the embers of the fire, something begins to bother him. "Leo . . . about this fire stuff you can do . . . is it true?"

Leo's smile falters. "Yeah, well..." He opens his hand. A small ball of flame bursts to life, dancing across his palm.

"That is so cool," Jason says. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Leo closes his hand and the fire went out. "Didn't want to look like a freak."

"I have lightning and wind powers," Jason reminded him. "Piper can turn beautiful and charm people into giving her BMWs. (Y/n) can talk to horses and survive landing in water from hundreds of feet in the air. You're no more a freak than we are. And, hey, maybe you can fly, too. Like jump off a building and yell, 'Flame on!"'

Leo snorts. "If I did that, you would see a flaming kid falling to his death, and I would be yelling something a little stronger than 'Flame on!' Trust me, Hephaestus cabin doesn't see fire powers as cool. Nyssa told me they're super rare. When a demigod like me comes around, bad things happen. Really bad."

"Maybe it's the other way around," (Y/n) offers, meeting Leo's gaze. "Maybe people with special gifts show up when bad things are happening because that's when they're needed most."

Leo clears out the plates. "Maybe. But I'm telling you . . . it's not always a gift."

(Y/n) and Jason fall silent. "You're talking about your mom, aren't you?" Jason asks. "The night that she died?"

Leo doesn't answer. He doesn't have to. The fact that he's quiet – not joking around, tells (Y/n) and Jason enough.

"Leo, her death wasn't your fault. Whatever happened that night — it wasn't because you could summon fire. This Dirt Woman, whoever she is, has been trying to ruin you for years, mess up your confidence, take away everything you care about. She's trying to make you feel like a failure. You're not. You're important."

"That's what she said." Leo looks up, his eyes full of pain. "She said I was meant to do something important — something that would make or break that big prophecy about the seven demigods. That's what scares me. I don't know if I'm up to it." Leo pokes at the remnants of his fire, turning over red-hot coals with his bare hand. "You ever wonder about the other three demigods? I mean . . . if we're four of the ones from the Great Prophecy, who are the others? Where are they?"

(Y/n) sighs, glancing down, seemingly just now noticing she'd been running her fingers subconsciously through Piper's hair. "I -" she pauses, looking back up to see Leo and Jason watching her closely. "I don't think I'm part of the main prophecy." Both Jason and Leo's eyebrows knit with concern. "Rachel mentioned another prophecy to me the night of the campfire – Child of the Sea will accompany the Seven. And drop into endless darkness."

"It can't be you though," Leo says. "They're might be another –" but then he falters, for there's no one else it could be.

And the only thing that either Jason or Leo thought 'dropping into endless darkness' could possibly mean, would be death.

(Y/n) had unconsciously stopped running her fingers through Piper's hair, and Piper had let out a sleepy murmur of annoyance, snuggling deeper into (Y/n)'s lap.

"You guys get some sleep," (Y/n) says. "I'll take first watch."

Jason and Leo exchange uncertain looks, neither wanting to let their friend stay up alone to think about her own fate, but they finally give in.

(Y/n) leans forward slightly, pulling off her jacket. She throws it over Piper's sleeping form before she allows her head to fall against one of the walls, falling deep into another surfacing memory.

Annabeth, (Y/n), and Percy stand at the top of Half-Blood Hill. They watch the buses and vans pull away, taking most of the campers back to the mortal world. A few old-timers would be staying behind – and a few of the newcomers – but (Y/n) and Percy were heading back to Goode High School for their sophomore year.

Then (Y/n)'s gaze falls on Rachel Elizabeth Dare, who was walking up the hill towards the trio. "Good-bye," Rachel says as she shoulders her bag. She looks nervous, but she's keeping her promise to her father and attending Clarion Academy in New Hampshire.

"You'll do great." Annabeth hugs her.

Rachel bites her lip. "I hope you're right. I'm a little worried. What if somebody asks what's on the next math test and I start spouting a prophecy in the middle of geometry class? The Pythagorean theorem shall be problem two. . . . Gods, that would be embarrassing."

Annabeth laughs, and to (Y/n)'s relief, it makes Rachel smile.

(Y/n) meets Rachel's gaze; Annabeth notices, taking Percy's hand and pulls the Son of Poseidon down the hill.

Both (Y/n) and Rachel sit down, and Rachel automatically starts drawing on (Y/n)'s arm with a pen.

"I'm going to miss you," Rachel says, focusing on her drawing.

"I - me too," (Y/n) replies, pulling Tsunami out of her pocket and fiddling with the pen with her free hand.

Rachel looks up from her drawing. "I'm sorry I didn't talk to you about it before. The Oracle stuff."

"I was upset at first," (Y/n) admits. "But I also knew that it was something you had to do. There's nothing you have to apologize for."

Rachel smiles at (Y/n), "Friends?"

"Friends." (Y/n) replies, smiling in return.

Someone shaking her arm jostles (Y/n) out of the memory.

"Are you okay?" Piper blinks sleepily, looking up into (Y/n)'s face.

"I - yeah," (Y/n) replies.

Piper yawns, moving out of (Y/n)'s lap to sit beside her against the wall.

"Piper," (Y/n) begins, and the daughter of Aphrodite looks over at her. "Is your dad in some sort of trouble?"

Piper stares at her for a moment; she takes a shaky breath. "(Y/n) . . . I can't talk about it."

"We're your friends. Let us help."

This seems to make her feel worse. "I wish I could, but –" Jason and Leo had stirred awake, and Piper quickly stops talking.

(Y/n) keeps a careful watch on Piper as the four demigods break camp.

Piper is grateful for (Y/n)'s silent support on her left as they start down the tunnel. It twists and turns and seems to go on forever. Piper isn't sure what to expect at the end – a dungeon, a mad scientist's lab, or maybe a sewer reservoir where all Porta-Potty sludge ends up, forming an evil toilet face large enough to swallow the world.

Instead, they find polished steel elevator doors, each one engraved with a cursive letter M. Next to the elevator is a directory, like for a department store.

"M for Macy's?" Piper wonders aloud. "I think they have one in downtown Chicago."

"Or Monocle Motors still?" Leo says. "Guys, read the directory. It's messed up."

Parking, Kennels, Main Entrance: Sewer Level; Furnishings and Cafe M: 1; Women's Fashion and Magical Appliances: 2; Men's Wear and Weaponry: 3; Cosmetics, Potions, Poisons & Sundries: 4

"Kennels for what?" Piper says. "And what kind of department store has its entrance in a sewer?"

"Or sells poisons," Leo adds. "Man, what does sundries even mean? Is that like underwear."

(Y/n) grabs hold of her pen in her pocket.

Jason takes a deep breath. "When in doubt, start at the top."

. . .

The doors slide open on the fourth floor, and the scent of perfume waft into the elevator. (Y/n) and Jason step out first, swords ready.

"Guys," Jason says. "You've got to see this."

Piper joins them and catches her breath. "This is not Macy's."

The department store looks like the inside of a kaleidoscope. The entire ceiling is a stained glass mosaic with astrological signs around a giant sun. The daylight streaming through it washes everything in a thousand different colors. The upper floors make a ring of balconies around a huge central atrium, so they can see all the way down to the ground floor. Gold railings glitter so brightly, they are hard to look at.

Aside from the stained glass ceiling and the elevator, Jason can't see any other windows or doors, but two sets of glass escalators run between the levels. The carpeting is a riot of oriental patterns and colors, and the racks of merchandise are just as bizarre. There are too much to take it at once, but Jason sees normal stuff like shirt racks and shoe trees mixed in with armored manikins, beds of nails, and fur coats that seem to be moving.

Leo steps to the railing and looks down. "Check it out."

In the middle of the atrium a fountain sprays water twenty feet into the air, changing color from red to yellow to blue. The pool glitters with gold coins, and on either side of the fountain stands a gilded cage — like an oversized canary cage.

Inside one, a miniature hurricane swirls, and lightning flashes. Somebody had imprisoned the storm spirits, and the cage shudders as they try to get out. In the other, frozen like a statue, is a short, buff satyr, holding a tree-branch club.

"Coach Hedge!" Piper says. "We've got to get down there."

A voice replies, "May I help you find something?"

All four of them jump back.

A woman had just appeared in front of them. She is wearing an elegant black dress with diamond jewelry, and she looks like a retired fashion model — maybe fifty years old, though it is hard for Jason to judge. Her long dark hair sweeps over one shoulder, and her face is gorgeous in that surreal super-model way — thin and haughty and cold, not quite human. With their long red-painted nails, her fingers look more like talons.

She smiles. "I'm so happy to see new customers. How may I help you?"

(Y/n) glances at Jason like, All yours.

"Urn," Jason starts, "is this your store?"

The woman nods. "I found it abandoned, you know. I understand so many stores are, these days. I decided it would make the perfect place. I love collecting tasteful objects, helping people, and offering quality goods at a reasonable price. So this seemed a good . . . how do you say . . . first acquisition in this country."

She speaks with a pleasing accent, but Jason can't guess where from. Clearly she isn't hostile, though. Jason starts to relax. Her voice is rich and exotic. Jason wants to hear more, but glancing at (Y/n), Jason can tell that the daughter of Poseidon couldn't care less.

"So you're new to America?" he asks.

"I am . . . new," the woman agrees. "I am the Princess of Colchis. My friends call me Your Highness. Now, what are you looking for?"

Jason had heard of rich foreigners buying American department stores. Of course most of the time they didn't sell poisons, living fur coats, storm spirits, or satyrs, but still—with a nice voice like that, the Princess of Colchis can't be all bad.

Piper pokes him in the ribs. "Jason . . ."

"Urn, right. Actually Your Highness . . ." He points to the gilded cage on the first floor. "That's our friend down there, Gleeson Hedge. The satyr. Could we . . . have him back, please?"

"Of course!" the princess agrees immediately. "I would love to show you my inventory. First, may I know your names?"

Jason hesitates. It seems like a bad idea to give out their names. A memory tugs at the back of his mind — something Hera had warned him about, but it seems fuzzy. On the other hand, Her Highness is on the verge of cooperating. If we can get what we want without a fight, that would be better, right? Besides, this lady doesn't seem like an enemy.

Piper starts to say, "Jason, I wouldn't—"

"This is Piper McLean," he said. "This is Leo Valdez. (Y/n) Jackson. And I'm Jason."

The princess fixes her eyes on him and, just for a moment, her face literally glows, blazing with so much anger, Jason can see her skull beneath her skin. Jason's mind is getting blurrier, but he knows something doesn't seem right. Then the moment passes, and Her Highness looks like a normal elegant woman again, with a cordial smile and a soothing voice.

"Jason. What an interesting name," she says, her eyes as cold as the Chicago wind. "I think we'll have to make a special deal for you. Come children. Let's go shopping."

. . .

Piper wants to run for the elevator.

Her second choice: attack the weird princess now, because she is sure a fight is coming. The way the lady's face had glowed when she'd heard Jason's name had been bad enough. Now, Her Highness is smiling like nothing has happened, and Jason and Leo don't seem to think anything is wrong.

Piper is unsure what's going on with (Y/n), but she seems to be resisting whatever spell Her Highness had placed on Leo and Jason, though her forehead is beading with sweat.

The princess gestures towards the cosmetics counter. "Shall we start with the potions?"

And (Y/n)'s mental block shatters. "Cool," she says, following Jason and Leo.

"Guys," Piper interrupts, and (Y/n) stops in her tracks, "we're here to get the storm spirits and Coach Hedge. If this – princess – is really our friend –"

"Oh, I'm better than a friend, my dear," Her Highness says. "I'm a saleswoman." Her diamonds sparkle, and her eyes glitter like a snake's — cold and dark. "Don't worry. We'll work our way down to the first floor, eh?"

(Y/n) nods eagerly. "Sure, yeah! That sounds okay. Right, Piper?"

Piper does her best to stare daggers at her: No, it is not okay!

"Of course it's okay." Her Highness puts her hands on Leo's and Jason's shoulders and steer them towards the cosmetics. "Come along, boys."

Piper didn't have much choice except to follow, especially when (Y/n) glances eagerly back at Piper before she bounces after Leo, Jason, and the princess.

Piper hated department stores — mostly because she'd gotten caught stealing from several of them. Well, not exactly caught, and not exactly stealing. She'd talked salesmen into giving her computers, new boots, a gold ring, once even a lawn mower, though she had no idea why she wanted one. She never kept the stuff. She just did it to get her dad's attention. Usually she talked her neighborhood UPS guy into taking the stuff back. But of course the salesmen she duped always came to their senses and called the police, who eventually tracked her down.

Anyway, she isn't thrilled to be back in a department store — especially one run by a crazy princess who glows in the dark.

"And here," the princess says, "is the finest assortment of magical mixtures anywhere."

The counter is crammed with bubbling beakers and smoking vials on tripods. Lining the display shelves are crystal flasks — some shaped like swans or honey bear dispensers. The liquids inside are every color, from glowing white to polka-dotted. And the smells — ugh! Some are pleasant, like fresh-baked cookies or roses, but they are mixed with the scents of burning tires, skunk spray, and gym lockers.

The princess points to a blood red vial — a simple test tube with a cork stopper. "This one will heal any disease."

"Even cancer?" Leo asks. "Leprosy? Hangnails?"

"Any disease, sweet boy. And this vial" — she points to a swan-shaped container with blue liquid inside — "will kill you very painfully."

"Awesome," (Y/n) says, her voice sounds dazed and sleepy.

"(Y/n)," Piper said. "We've got a job to do. Remember?" She tries to put power into her words, to snap her out of her trance with charmspeak, but her voice sounds shaky, even to her. This princess scares her too much, making her confidence crumble, just the way she'd felt back in the Aphrodite cabin with Drew.

"Job to do," (Y/n) murmurs, meeting Piper's kaleidoscope gaze. "Sure. But shopping first, okay?"

The princess beams at her. "Then we have potions for resisting fire —"

"Got that covered," Leo said.

"Me too," (Y/n) replies. "One time I got exploded out of a volcano." And she simply moves closer to the potions counter.

Piper blinks, looking bewildered.

"Indeed?" The princess studies Leo's face more closely. "You don't appear to be wearing my trademark sunscreen . . . but no matter. We also have potions that cause blindness, insanity, sleep, or —"

"Wait." Piper is still staring at the red vial. "Could that potion cure lost memory?"

The princess narrows her eyes. "Possibly. Yes. Quite possibly. Why, my dear? Have you forgotten something important?"

Piper tries to keep her expression neutral, but if that vial can cure Jason's memory . . . Do I really want that? she wonders. If Jason finds out who she is, she might not even be her friend. Hera had taken away her memories for a reason. (Y/n) might come out of her amnesia and decide that she hated Piper. She might have a girlfriend back home.

It doesn't matter, Piper decided, which kind of surprised her. (Y/n) always looked so anguished when she tried to remember things. Piper hates seeing her that way. She wants to help her because she cares about (Y/n), even if that means losing her. And maybe it'll make this trip through Her Craziness's department store worthwhile.

"How much?" Piper asks.

The princess gets a faraway look in her eyes. "Well, now . . . The price is always tricky. I love helping people. Honestly, I do. And I always keep my bargains, but sometimes people try to cheat me." Her gaze drifts to Jason. "Once, for instance, I met a handsome young man who wanted a treasure from my father's kingdom. We made a bargain, and I promised to help him steal it."

"From your own dad?" Jason still looks half in a trance, but the idea seems to bother him.

"Oh, don't worry," the princess says. "I demanded a high price. The young man had to take me away with him. He was quite good-looking, dashing, strong . . ." She looks at Piper. "I'm sure, my dear, you understand how one might be attracted to such a hero, and want to help her," the princess glances at (Y/n), who is studying all the labels on the potion bottles.

Piper tries to control her emotions, but she probably blushes. She gets the creepiest feeling the princess can read her thoughts.

But Piper also finds the princess's story disturbingly familiar. Pieces of old myths she'd read with her dad start coming together, but this woman can't be the one she was thinking of.

"At any rate," Her Highness continues, "my hero had to do many impossible tasks, and I'm not bragging when I say he couldn't have done them without me. I betrayed my own family to win the hero his prize. And still he cheated me of my payment."

"Cheated?" (Y/n) frowns, as if trying to remember something important.

"That's messed up," Leo says.

Her Highness pats his cheek affectionately. "I'm sure you don't need to worry, Leo. You seem honest. You would always pay a fair price, wouldn't you?"

Leo nods. "What were we buying again? I'll take two."

Piper breaks in: "So, the vial, Your Highness — how much?"

The princess assesses Piper's clothes, her face, her posture, as if putting a price tag on one slightly used demigod.

"Would you give anything for it, my dear?" the princess asks. "I sense that you would."

The words wash over Piper as powerfully as a good surfing wave. The force of the suggestion nearly lifts her off her feet. She wants to pay any price. She wants to say yes.

Then her stomach twists. Piper realizes she is being charmspoken. She'd senses something like it before, when Drew spoke at the campfire, but this is a thousand times more potent. No wonder her friends are dazed. Is this what people felt when I use charmspeak? A feeling of guilt settles over her.

She summons all her willpower. "No, I won't pay any price. But a fair price, maybe. After that, we need to leave. Right, guys?"

Just for a moment, her words seem to have some effect. The boys look confused, and the glazed look leaves (Y/n)'s gaze.

"Leave?" Jason asks.

"You mean . . . after shopping?" Leo asked.

Piper wants to scream, but the princess tilts her head, examining Piper with newfound respect.

"Impressive," the princess says. "Not many people could resist my suggestions. Are you a child of Aphrodite, my dear? Ah, yes — I should have seen it. No matter. Perhaps we should shop a while longer before you decide what to buy, eh?"

"But the vial —"

"Now, children." She turns to Jason, (Y/n), and Leo. Her voice is so much more powerful than Piper's, so full of confidence, Piper doesn't stand a chance. "Would you like to see more?"

The film slides back over over (Y/n)'s brain, and she nods excitedly. 

"Sure," Jason says.

"Okay," Leo adds.

"Sounds fun," (Y/n) chirps.

"Excellent," the princess says. "You'll need all the help you can get if you're to make it to the Bay Area."

Piper's hand moves to her dagger. She thinks about her dream of the mountaintop — the scene Enceladus had shown her, a place she knew, where she was supposed to betray her friends in two days.

"The Bay Area?" Piper says. "Why the Bay Area?"

The princess smiles. "Well, that's where they'll die, isn't it?" Then she leads them towards the escalators, Jason, (Y/n), and Leo still looking excited to shop.

. . .

Piper corners the princess as Jason, (Y/n), and Leo go off to check out the living fur coats.

"You want them shopping for their deaths?" Piper demands, following (Y/n) out of the corner of her eye.

"Mmm." The princess blew dust off a display case of swords. "I'm a seer, my dear. I know your little secret. But we don't want to dwell on that, do we? They are having such fun."

Leo laughs as he tried on a hat that seems to be made from enchanted raccoon fur. Its ringed tail twitches, and its little legs wiggle frantically as Leo walks. Jason is ogling the men's sportswear. (Y/n) is studying a rack of shield, some of them looking as though they'd been burned with acid.

Piper glares at the princess. "Who are you?"

"I told you, my dear. I'm the Princess of Colchis."

"Where's Colchis?"

The princess's expression turns a little sad. "Where was Colchis, you mean. My father ruled the far shores of the Black Sea, as far to the east as a Greek ship could sail in those days. But Colchis is no more—lost eons ago."

"Eons?" Piper asks. The princess looks no more than fifty, but a bad feeling starts settling over Piper — something King Boreas had mentioned back in Quebec. "How old are you?"

The princess laughs. "A lady should avoid asking or answering that question. Let's just say the, ah, immigration process to enter your country took quite a while. My patron finally brought me through. She made all this possible." The princess sweeps her hand around the department store.

Piper's mouth tastes like metal. "Your patron –"

"Oh, yes. She doesn't bring just anyone through, mind you — only those who have special talents, such as me. And really, she insists on so little — a store entrance that must be underground so she can, ah, monitor my clientele; and a favor now and then. In exchange for a new life? Really, it was the best bargain I'd made in centuries."

Run, Piper thinks. We have to get out of here.

But before she can even turn her thoughts into words, Jason calls, "Hey, check it out!"

From a rack labeled distressed clothing, he holds up a purple T-shirt like the one he'd worn on the school field trip — except this shirt looks as if it had been clawed by tigers.

Jason frowns. "Why does this look so familiar?"

"Jason, it's like yours" Piper says. "Now we really have to leave." But she wasn't sure he could even hear her anymore through the princess's enchantment.

"Nonsense," the princess said. "The boys aren't done, are they? And yes, my dear. Those shirts are very popular—trade ins from previous customers. It suits you."

(Y/n), who had joined Jason at the rack, pulls out an orange Camp Half Blood t-shirt, shredded much like the one she'd been wearing on the Grand Canyon field trip.

She looks up at the princess, and the princess nods. "I'll throw that one in with the storm spirits and your satyr."

"Really?" (Y/n) looks more excited than Piper had ever seen her – a child-like excitement.

"Mhm," the princess smiles.

"Your Highness," Piper said, trying to control her nerves. "Why don't you tell the boys how you betrayed your family? I'm sure they'd like to hear that story."

Her words don't have any effect on the princess, but the boys turn, suddenly interested. The film slides back off (Y/n)'s brain, and Piper catches the momentary look of fury that had slid across (Y/n)'s face, but then it slips back into a dazed grin.

"More story?" Leo asks.

"I like more story!" Jason agrees.

The princess flashes Piper an irritated look. "Oh, one will do strange things for love, Piper. You should know that. I fell for that young hero, in fact, because your mother Aphrodite had me under a spell. If it wasn't for her — but I can't hold a grudge against a goddess, can I?" The princess's tone makes her meaning clear: I can take it out on you.

"But that hero took you with him when he fled Colchis," Piper remembers. "Didn't he, Your Highness? He married you just as he promised."

The look in the princess's eyes makes Piper want to apologize, but she doesn't back down.

"At first," Her Highness admits, "it seemed he would keep his word. But even after I helped him steal my father's treasure, he still needed my help. As we fled, my brother's fleet came after us. His warships overtook us. He would have destroyed us, but I convinced my brother to come aboard our ship first and talk under a flag of truce. He trusted me."

"And you killed your own brother," Piper says, the horrible story all coming back to her, along with a name — an infamous name that began with the letter M.

"What?" Jason stirs. For a moment he looks almost like himself. "Killed your own—"

"No," the princess snaps. "Those stories are lies. It was my new husband and his men who killed my brother, though they couldn't have done it without my deception. They threw his body into the sea, and the pursuing fleet had to stop and search for it so they could give my brother a proper burial. This gave us time to get away. All this, I did for my husband. And he forgot our bargain. He betrayed me in the end."

Jason still looks uncomfortable. "What did he do?"

The princess holds the sliced-up toga against Jason's chest, as if measuring him for an assassination. "Don't you know the story, my boy? You of all people should. You were named for him."

"Jason," Piper said. "The original Jason. But then you're — you should be dead!"

The princess smiles. "As I said, a new life in a new country. Certainly I made mistakes. I turned my back on my own people. I was called a traitor, a thief, a liar, a murderess. But I acted out of love." She turns to the boys and gives them a pitiful look, batting her eyelashes. Piper can feel the sorcery washing over them, taking control more firmly than ever. "Wouldn't you do the same for someone you loved, my dears?"

"Oh, sure," Jason says.

"Okay," Leo adds.

But (Y/n) doesn't reply, and she sneaks a glance at Piper.

"Guys!" Piper grinds her teeth in frustration. "Don't you see who she is? Don't you —"

"Let's continue, shall we?" the princess says breezily. "I believe you wanted to talk about a price for the storm spirits – and your satyr.

Leo gets distracted on the second floor with the appliances. "No way," he exclaims. "Is that an armored forge?"

Before Piper can stop him, he hops off the escalator and runs over to a big oval oven.

When they catch up with him, the princess says, "You have good taste. This is the H-2000, designed by Hephaestus himself. Hot enough to melt Celestial bronze or Imperial gold."

Jason flinches as if he recognizes that term. "Imperial gold?"

The princess nods. "Yes, my dear. Like that weapon so cleverly concealed in your pocket. To be properly forged, Imperial gold had to be consecrated in the Temple of Jupiter on Capitoline Hill in Rome. Quite a powerful and rare metal, but like the Roman emperors, quite volatile. Be sure never to break that blade . . ." She smiles pleasantly. "Rome was after my time, of course, but I do hear stories. And now over here — this golden throne is one of my finest luxury items. Hephaestus made it as a punishment for his mother, Hera. Sit in it and you'll be immediately trapped."

Leo apparently takes this as an order. He begins walking towards it in a trance.

"Leo, don't!" Piper warns.

Leo blinks, "How much for both?"

"Oh, the seat I could let you have for five great deeds. The forge, seven years of servitude. And for only a bit of your strength —" She leads Leo into the appliance section, giving him prices on various items.

Piper doesn't want to leave Leo alone with her, but she has to try reasoning with (Y/n). She pulls her aside and raises an arm to slap her across the face to try and wake her from the spell.

(Y/n) however, flinches violently, and Piper's heart clenches. Her expression softens, and she simply rests her hand on (Y/n)'s arm. "Hey," her tone is gentle. "You gotta snap out of it," Piper puts as much force into her words as she can without raising her voice.

The film slides from behind the daughter of Poseidon's eyes, and she focuses on Piper.

"We gotta help the boys," (Y/n) says, following Leo and Jason with her eyes.

. . .

Ridiculous," Medea says, and Piper can hear the power charged in every syllable. "(Y/n), Jason — my price is so simple. Why don't you two fight? If you get injured, or even killed, no problem. We'll just throw you into the fountain and you'll be better than ever. You do want to fight, don't you? You resent each other!"

The sorcery washes over the two demigods.

"Zeus's kids are always the stars," (Y/n) snarls. "They always get the attention."

"You're annoying, (Y/n)," Jason replies. "You never take anything seriously."

"Stop!" Piper pleads, but both draw weapons – Jason his gold sword, and (Y/n) her bronze sword.

The ancient rivalry between Zeus and Poseidon was about to be finished by their children – first it had been Percy and Thalia, and now by (Y/n) and Jason.

"Let them go, Piper," Medea urges. "I'm doing you a favor. Let it happen now, and it will make your choice so much easier. Enceladus will be pleased. You could have your father back today!"

Medea's charmspeak doesn't work on her, but the sorceress still has a persuasive voice. Her father back today? Despite her best intentions, Piper wants that. She wants her father back so much, it hurt.

"You work for Enceladus," she says.

Medea laughs. "Serve a giant? No. But we all serve the same greater cause — a patron you cannot begin to challenge. Walk away, child of Aphrodite. This does not have to be your death, too. Save yourself, and your father can go free."

(Y/n) and Jason are still facing off, ready to fight, but they look unsteady and confused — waiting for another order. Part of them had to be resisting, Piper hoped. But fighting – especially children of Poseidon and Zeus – is in their nature.

"Listen to me, girl." Medea plucks a diamond off her bracelet and throws it into a spray of water from the fountain. As it passed through the multicolored light, Medea said, "O Iris, goddess of the rainbow, show me the office of Tristan McLean."

The mist shimmers, and Piper sees her father's study. Sitting behind his desk, talking on the phone, is her dad's assistant, Jane, in her dark business suit, her hair swirled in a tight bun.

"Hello, Jane," Medea says.

Jane hangs up the phone calmly. "How can I help you, ma'am? Hello, Piper."

"You —" Piper is so angry she can hardly talk.

"Yes, child," Medea replies. "Your father's assistant. Quite easy to manipulate. An organized mind for a mortal, but incredibly weak."

"Thank you, ma'am," Jane says.

"Don't mention it," Medea replies. "I just wanted to congratulate you, Jane. Getting Mr. McLean to leave town so suddenly, take his jet to Oakland without alerting the press or the police — well done! No one seems to know where he's gone. And telling him his daughter's life was on the line — that was a nice touch to get his cooperation."

"Nfes," Jane agrees in a bland tone, as if she is sleepwalking. "He was quite cooperative when he believed Piper was in danger."

Piper looks down at her dagger. The blade trembles in her hand. She can't use it for a weapon any better than Helen of Troy could, but it is still a looking glass, and what she sees in it is a scared girl with no chance of winning.

"I may have new orders for you, Jane," Medea says. "If the girl cooperates, it may be time for Mr. McLean to come home. Would you arrange a suitable cover story for his absence, just in case? And I imagine the poor man will need some time in a psychiatric hospital."

"Yes, ma'am. I will stand by."

The image fades, and Medea turns to Piper. "There, you see?"

"You lured my dad into a trap," Piper said. "You helped the giant —''

"Oh, please, dear. You'll work yourself into a fit! I've been preparing for this war for years, even before I was brought back to life. I'm a seer, as I said. I can tell the future as well as your little oracle. Years ago, still suffering in the Fields of Punishment, I had a vision of the seven in your so-called Great Prophecy. I saw your friend Leo here, and saw that he would be an important enemy someday. I stirred the consciousness of my patron, gave her this information, and she managed to wake just a little — just enough to visit him."

"Leo's mother," Piper realizes. "Leo, listen to this! She helped get your mother killed!"

"Uh-huh," Leo mumbles, in a daze.

"So . . . I just attack Jason? That's okay?" (Y/n) interrupts, glaring daggers at the son of Zeus.

"Perfectly safe," Medea promises. "And Jason, strike him hard. Show me you are worthy of your namesake."

"No!" Piper orders. She knows this is her last chance. "Jason, (Y/n) — she's tricking you. Put down your weapons."

The sorceress rolls her eyes. "Please, girl. "You're no match for me. I trained with my aunt, the immortal Circe. I can drive men mad or heal them with my voice. What hope do these puny young heroes have against me? Now, kill each other!"

Piper doesn't even see (Y/n) move, but the bronze sword moves so fast that Jason just barely raises his sword to block the blow.

The two metal sword clang together, locking each other in a standstill,

"Jason, Leo, (Y/n), listen to me." Piper puts all of her emotion into her voice. For years she'd been trying to control herself and not show weakness, but now she pours everything into her words — her fear, her desperation, her anger. She knows she might be signing her dad's death warrant, but she cares too much about her friends to let them hurt each other. "Medea is charming you. It's part of her magic. You are best friends. Don't fight each other. Fight her!"

They hesitate, and Piper can feel the spell shatter.

Jason blinks. "(Y/n), was I just about to stab you?"

"Something about my mother . . . ?" Leo frowns, then turns towards Medea. "You . . . you're working for Dirt Woman. You sent her to the machine shop." He reaches into his toolbelt and pulls out a hammer. "Lady, I got a three-pound hammer with your name on it."

"Bah!" Medea sneers. "I'll simply collect payment another way."

She presses one of the mosaic tiles on the floor, and the building rumbles. Jason swings his sword at Medea, but she dissolves into smoke and reappears at the base of the escalator.

"You're slow, hero!" She laughed. "Take your frustration out on my pets!"

Before Jason can go after her, the giant bronze sundials at either end of the fountain swing open. Two snarling gold beasts — flesh-and-blood winged dragons — crawl out from the pits below. Each is the size of a camper van, maybe not large compared to Festus, but large enough.

"So that's what's in the kennels," Leo says meekly.

The dragons spread their wings and hiss. Piper can feel the heat coming off their glittering skin. One turned his angry orange eyes on her.

"Don't look them in the eye!" Jason warns. "They'll paralyze you."

"Indeed!" Medea is leisurely riding the escalator up, leaning against the handrail as she watches the fun. "These two dears have been with me a long time — sun dragons, you know, gifts from my grandfather Helios. They pulled my chariot when I left Corinth, and now they will be your destruction. Ta ta!"

The dragons lunge. Leo, (Y/n), and Jason charge to intercept. Piper is amazed how fearlessly they attack — working like a team who had trained together for years.

Medea is almost to the second floor, where she'd be able to choose from a wide assortment of deadly appliances.

"Oh, no, you don't," Piper growls, and took off after her.

When Medea spots Piper, she starts climbing in earnest. She is quick for a three-thousand-year-old lady. Piper climbs at top speed, taking the steps three at a time, and still she can't catch her. Medea doesn't stop at floor two. She hops the next escalator and continues to ascend.

The potions, Piper thought. Of course that's what she would go for. She was famous for potions.

Down below, Piper hears the battle raging. Leo is blowing his safety whistle, and Jason and (Y/n) are yelling to keep the dragons' attention. Piper doesn't dare look — not while she is running with a dagger in her hand. She can just see herself tripping and stabbing herself in the nose. That would be super heroic.

She grabs a shield from an armored manikin on floor three and continues to climb. She imagines Coach Hedge yelling in her mind, just like back in gym class at Wilderness School: Move it, McLean! You call that escalator-climbing?

She reaches the top floor, breathing hard, but she is too late. Medea had reached the potions counter.

The sorceress grabs a swan-shaped vial — the blue one that caused painful death — and Piper does the only thing that comes to mind. She throws her shield.

Medea turns triumphantly just in time to get hit in the chest by a fifty-pound metal Frisbee. She stumbles backward, crashing over the counter, breaking vials and knocking down shelves. When the sorceress stands from the wreckage, her dress is stained a dozen different colors. Many of the stains are smoldering and glowing. "Fool!" Medea wails. "Do you have any idea what so many potions will do when mixed?"

"Kill you?" Piper said hopefully.

The carpet begins to steam around Medea's feet. She coughs, and her face contorts in pain — or is she faking?

Below, Leo calls, "Jason, help!"

Piper risks a quick look, and almost sobs in despair. One of the dragons has Leo pinned to the floor. It is baring its fangs, ready to snap. Jason is all the way across the room battling the other dragon, much too far away to assist.

(Y/n) vaults over the dragon's back, and stabs it in the side, pulling it's attention off Leo.

Suddenly, a loud bark shatters the sounds, and a monstrous shape bowls over the other dragon and bites off a leg.

"Good dog!" (Y/n) exclaims. Ms. O'Leary lets out another earth shattering bark, and she attacks the dragon.

"You've doomed us all!" Medea screams at Piper. Smoke is rolling across the carpet as the stain spreads, throwing sparks and setting fires in the clothing racks. "You have only seconds before this concoction consumes everything and destroys the building. There's no time —"

CRASH! The stained glass ceiling splinters in a rain of multicolored shards, and Festus the bronze dragon drops into the department store.

He hurtles into the fray, snatching up a sun dragon in each claw. Only now does Piper appreciate just how big and strong their metal friend is.

"That's my boy!" Leo yells.

Festus flies halfway up the atrium, then hurls the sun dragons into the pits they'd come from. Leo races to the fountain and pressed the marble tile, closing the sundials. They shudder as the dragons bang against them, trying to get out, but for the moment they are contained.

(Y/n) leaps onto Ms. O'Leary's back, and the dog charges up the escalator. She vaults off the dog's back, sliding over to Piper.

Medea curses in some ancient language. The whole fourth floor is on fire now. The air fills with noxious gas. Even with the roof open, Piper can feel the heat intensifying. She backs up to the edge of the railing, keeping her dagger pointed toward Medea.

"I will not be abandoned again!" The sorceress kneels and snatches up the red healing potion, which had somehow survived the crash. "You want your girlfriend's memory restored? Take me with you!"

Piper glances behind her. Leo and Jason are on board Festus's back. The bronze dragon flaps his mighty wings, snatching the two cages with the satyr and the storm spirits in his claws, and begins to ascend.

The building rumbles. Fire and the smoke curls up the walls, melting the railings, turning the air to acid.

"Let's go!" (Y/n) grabs Piper's hand, and the two jump over the side.

They plummet only for seconds, when Leo and Jason grab (Y/n)'s arm, hauling them aboard the dragon.

"What about your dog?" Piper looks around to find that the massive, mountainous dog had vanished.

The dragon soars through the broken roof and over downtown Chicago. Then the department store explodes behind them.

Word Count: 8934 words

[babychoko]

𝔸 𝕤𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕣𝕖𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥

Part 16

Hi everyone, I can hardly believe that after almost a year I'm actually posting something again😳. So as not to throw you all in at the deep end, this chapter will be about togetherness. I'm not going to drop a bomb after a hiatus. So, no worries^^ and I am very sorry.

“And when are you actually moving out?" My neighbor, who lives right below me, asked me with a worried look. I only saw her in the stairwell from time to time. Nevertheless, we somehow had a good bond.

"Still this year. I actually wanted to move out straight after graduation. But we're bringing that forward a bit." I replied to her question.

"With the nice little young man?" She asked delightedly and laughed. "Oh, two people can't bear to live so far away from each other!" Embarrassed, I just smiled. Because what she said was true.

"I'll be very sad when you're no longer my neighbor. Not everyone your age is so calm. That makes you very worried about new neighbors." She sighed and held her granddaughter's hand tightly. The little girl looked very bored. She must have found a conversation between two adults very boring. That's how I felt back then too. I waited for ages until my mother had finished chatting to neighbors or friends in the store. I would have loved to lie down on the floor.

"I hope you get very nice new neighbors." I wished her.

"Oh dear, what am I going to do without you? Well, have a nice day. Say hello to him for me, will you? I'll miss him."

"I will."

He hadn't realized until today that he had quickly become the darling of my neighbourhood.

I carried the small box that I had fetched from my apartment outside with me. There were tubes of acrylic paint. I was planning to use them today. But not to paint any paintings. I wanted to embellish some furniture and white candles with motifs.

Flowers, birds..

But no cats. Venti swore to me that even the sight of cats would give him a sneezing fit. Besides, there were a hundred other things that could be painted. He even offered to recite the hundred things to me. Luckily for him, I had no intention of painting cats on dressers. I was thinking more of plants.

My bus arrived at the minute and I got on. I used the bus ride to get some rest after my work. There hasn't been much going on recently, but just being at work makes you feel tired. Yesterday I also arrived home late because my work colleagues invited me for dinner. It was still draining on some level to be somewhere that wasn't my home. I checked my cell phone after a few minutes. It still took me a long time to get to Venti, of course.

The thought of him made me think of my last encounter in a dream, but I didn't mention it to him until today and kept it to myself.

Maybe I should talk to him about it today and be honest with him. Because I can't lie to myself anymore, I've been clueless since last year.

That's true... I had been aware for a long time that there was much more to his past. But there was a problem.

When I think about it, I get headaches and dizziness. It hasn't gone away yet. I'd better find a tactic to communicate with him about it.

After the long bus ride, I walked along the small wooded area to his house. The trees were no longer bare, but very green - full of leaves. It looked very peaceful when a few rays of sunlight peeked through the gaps. The small daisies also embellished the pebbled path.

I rang the bell once before opening the door. And before I opened the door all the way, Venti fell in my arms. I almost dropped the little box of acrylic paints on the floor.

"Why didn't you call me! I could have picked you up!"

"I can stand it on a bus. Besides, you're not my chauffeur." I countered as I took off my boots and put the box in the living room.

"Buhh...! I'm so bored!"

After resting for a while with a cup of tea, we started putting the pea-sized acrylic paints on a pallet and placing old newspapers under the chest of drawers. This allows the floor to be unharmed by the paint. If we're going to use paint, then let's do it properly. Even our shirts were ones that we no longer wore and were allowed to get dirty.

I tied my hair up and only now realized how much longer it had become compared to then. Venti smiled at me. "It suits you!"

"Do you think so?"

"Mhm!" Maybe I should let them grow a little longer?

As soon as I grabbed a small brush and dipped them in the green paint a little, I started on the motifs. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary that I painted on the brown wood. It was just herbs or garlands. When I looked over at him, I saw him painting a little white bird. It was holding a clover leaf in its beak. I thought the bird looked cute.

We spent the rest of the evening decorating more furniture with little patterns and then some candles with flower patterns. When we got bored - I mean, when HE got bored, Venti attacked me with paint. It started small and innocent with a few little strokes on my cheeks, hands or shirt. Then with much larger spots and at some point the fun stopped before we should have washed ourselves off completely.

As a peace offering, Venti drew a little heart on my cheek. Judging by the look on my face, this was apparently not enough. So he lifted my chin and pressed a kiss to the heart he had drawn. Now he had a red mark on his lips. With a slight grin, I wiped his lips with my thumb. Of course, the stain didn't go away.

"What stupid ideas you come up with sometimes..." I sighed and looked at us in the mirror. "We should go to the bathroom."

Fortunately, the acrylic paint came off very easily and we walked out of the bathroom clean. I'm sure there's no more paint on us. I hope so.

As it got darker, the clouds gathered a little. I looked at the ceiling as I lay on the sofa. All the lighting in the living room was a certain shade of blue. It fell more on the darker, more grayish area. Then I looked at the window. What did they call it again?

When the sun went down, there was the golden hour... so is it the blue hour now?

Anyway, it looked very... calming. A touch of mystery. Especially because the branches of the trees were no longer green and brown, but looked more like a silhouette.

I turned onto my side and my gaze fell on Venti's naked back. He hadn't moved for a few minutes and was lying quietly on the sofa. Fortunately, this sofa could be converted into a bed, which I had only recently learned. He wasn't aware of this either.

I watched quietly as he breathed in and out softly. Then I stroked his back with my index finger. This caused him to contract his body. He murmured slightly.

"Mhm..."

"Venti, are you asleep already...?" I whispered in wonder. He answered me by shaking his head slowly.

As the window was open and the cool evening air was fresh, I moved over to him and put my arms around him. He seemed to have noticed.

"(Name), are you cold?"

"Yes... but only a little." I replied meekly. Venti turned around and pulled the woolen blanket up to my waist. Then, with a tired smile, he put his arms around my upper body.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk... of course you're cold when you're lying there without a blanket - better?"

I nodded. "True enough. You're sweet."

I played a little with the strands of his hair, some of which came undone as a result. Venti said nothing and closed his eyes, reassured.

"You are tired, aren't you?" I realized and stroked a strand of his hair behind his ear.

"I've used up my stamina, that's why." He replied with amusement, which then silenced me. Instead, I then placed my hand on this large turquoise mark that was between his chest. He opened his eyes and turned onto his back. I then lay over him with my upper body. The ends of my hair fell on his face.

I continued to inspect that turquoise mark he was born with. "I think it's beautiful." I whispered honestly. Venti smiled and closed his eyes as I placed a kiss right on the center. As I looked at him again, I wondered how long I would get to experience this sight of him. It was the way he always beamed at me or looked at me calmly, the way his hair fell in his face and his eyes lit up. A tinge of sadness flooded over me briefly. Venti noticed it.

"(Name)..." I took the coming words out of his mouth by pressing my lips to his. He placed his hands on my upper arms and we slowly changed positions. Now he looked down at me from above.

"What were you thinking about just now? You just looked unhappy." He asked me. I shook my head.

"Don't you want to talk about it?"

I wanted to, but I couldn't. How could I tell him that sometimes I felt like I wasn't going to see this sight forever?

"You can just tell me." He encouraged me. "Yes?"

I exhaled slightly. All right then.

"Are you planning... to stay with me forever?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know... but I want you to stay with me." I said, looking at him in a slight blur. Venti wiped his thumbs across my eyes.

"I want it too." He whispered, resting his forehead on mine.

Sometimes I wished moments like this would never end and I wanted to make the best of it. It hadn't been long since I'd even gotten intimate with him. Somehow it worries me what it will be like when we live together. This boy has the energy of a kindergarten child.

But at least I don't live alone anymore.

For this reason, I was grateful for every nice experience and wrote them down in a notebook. I hoped so much that I hadn't forgotten my notebook at home.

So where did I put the notebook?

"Mhmpf...!"

Venti rolled back on his back away from me, giggling.

"What was that about..." I grumbled and looked at him in confusion. Just then, he squeezed my cheeks tightly and pressed a kiss to my lips, leaving me breathless for a few seconds.

"You looked too peaceful. I had to help you out."

"Weren't you the one who didn't have any strength?" I asked.

"Yup, had!" He sat up once and stretched. Then he got up from the sofa and walked out of the living room.

"Don't you want to wear anything? You'll catch a cold." I remarked.

Venti just looked into the living room with his head. His big eyes glittered at me.

"Want a shower... you can come with me." He smiled innocently.

..

When I flung a pillow at him, he dodged it, giggling, and left.

"You can take a shower yourself. I know damn well how this is going to end. I'll go in after you."

"You meanie...~" I heard his voice from the hallway. I turned back on my heels and scrolled a bit on my phone. Seeing how much I missed on the internet, it actually meant I spent a lot less on my smartphone.

Internet dramas, discussions that went on for hours in comments.

No. I will never want to waste my free time like that. I actually only used the internet for inspiration, for university or to watch some stupid videos. Lately, more for university.

I then put my phone aside and sat up.

Maybe Venti really did feel lonely in the shower? But if I get into the shower with him now...

After a few scenarios from him, I had to sigh slightly. What a clingy boy. Oh well. You should enjoy any time you have, right?

I grabbed a shirt and pulled it over me and immediately took the other clothes with me before making the short walk to the bathroom. A little steam was already billowing out of the bathroom and I could hear Venti humming softly to herself. I leaned against the door with a smile and listened to him for a little while. He had the voice of an angel and harmonized every note of a song.

After a few seconds, he sang so quietly until there was nothing left to hear.

"Eheheh, do you want to keep peeping or come in?" Ahah, gotcha. I peeked my head in.

"I'm not peeping... I figured you might be feeling lonely or something. But it looks like you're fine."

Venti shook his head. "I don't feel lonely. But I'd feel better if you could be with me. We haven't bathed together for a long time, (Name)."

"Well, I'll come in then." Actually, I didn't mind at all. I left the door open a crack, threw our laundry into the laundry basket and took a hair crab from a small basket by the sink to put my hair up. I kept telling myself I would have to cut my hair again. But somehow it never happened... I was already enjoying wearing new hairstyles. Even if it was more work.

When I was about to take off my shirt, which I had on effortlessly, I could still feel Venti's eyes on me, even though I had my back to him. I undressed very slowly and still had the shirt practically in front of my front body, almost acting as a curtain.

"You're staring..." I mumbled, a little embarrassed.

Venti, who was now leaning against the edge of the bathtub with his upper body, giggled amusedly. "I think you have a very nice body." This comment made me wonder what he found so beautiful about my body anyway. I was never really satisfied myself. Was it my legs? Maybe my shoulders? I knew so many ideals of beauty that made me wonder.

"What do you find so beautiful about me?" I asked curiously, yet with uncertainty. I then put the shirt in the laundry basket and fixed my hair in front of the oval mirror that hung on the wall above the sink. Next to each mirror was a lamp on the side that glowed a warm orange. The whole bathroom was dimly lit, but you could still see everything clearly. I looked at myself in the mirror and had a self-image up to my décolleté. I could still see Venti in the background, looking up at the ceiling and thinking.

Ah, so he must be thinking?

"Hm, since you ask... what I like is that I feel secure when I'm near you."

I looked over my shoulder at him in amazement. Oh... so that's one way Venti perceives bodies? Like how it makes him feel? Normally you hear that your partner likes your thighs or prefers your hips... but something like that? That's the first time I've heard that.

"I'm not lying when I say I'm attracted to you. The way you look at yourself now, unclothed in front of the mirror, with this lighting - it reminds me of a portrait. If I were a painter, I would have fetched my materials quickly!"

Oh... I could clearly feel my cheeks warming up. I think that's one of the nicest compliments I've ever received.

"So don't get shy and turn around." He said normally.

"Now that you mention it, it's even harder... best look away when I get in the bath, okay?" I hid slightly with my arms around my bust. Venti giggled and leaned back.

"Well good! But it's not like I've never seen you without clothes..like now."

"T-That's different!"

"And you me! You've seen it a lot, haven't you?" He looked at me with a sideeye, amused.

"You mean... uh, yes. A lot, actually." I sighed and got into the tub. The water was still nice and warm, very pleasant. It was like being enveloped in a warm hug and never wanting to take it off. It may still be spring, but it's certainly not going to be very pleasant in summer.

"How's your driving lessons going?"

"It's all going well so far. I'm still worried about the practical part of the test." I confessed and leaned against his shoulder. He smelled good.

"Mhm, I've also heard that it's supposed to be more difficult than back then." The way he spoke, he sounded like an older man. But if my assumption was correct... then I wasn't surprised.

"Back then... when did you actually get your driver's license, Venti?"

"Let me think for a second... five years ago? Huh- why are you looking at me like that?"

Over the next few days, we continued to take care of my move to his place. We replaced furniture or improved it. Fortunately, I hadn't had very much in my old apartment. I can still live there because my tenancy agreement is still valid. It's not easy to move out of an apartment, but if the move to the new surroundings is nice, then it's certainly much easier to settle in. I have to admit that I'm already excited about living with him. But first we had to get through the stress of moving.

Heavy furniture such as my bed, closet and anything else that doesn't fit in his car will be brought here by a transport company in the near future. As soon as I get my driver's license, the journey into town won't be any more complicated. Everything seems to be well planned so far. A little too perfect to be true. It almost worries me when I tell him about my 'dream'. I didn't want to ruin anything. But many questions were running through my mind.

Would I really ruin everything if I confronted him? But knowing Venti, he would never get angry. I never saw him angry either. He was a person who could filter out a lot.

But a person as resilient as Venti must have experienced a lot of grief.

He never voluntarily talked about his family or mentioned his childhood. All I knew was how he got back on his feet a few years ago.

What actually pushed him into alcohol abuse? From someone who liked to live like a nomad and let his future fall on him unplanned, who could now pull it together?

I copied this train of thought from my mother. Sure, we had our arguments back then, but .

...when she asked me if Venti had a difficult past without really knowing anything about him, I didn't doubt her knowledge of human nature.

My mother liked to write novels all her life, which she never published. She preferred to stick to correcting other works to keep us afloat. In her spare time, she translated children's books into Braille, providing opportunities for children with disabilities. Out of my father's love, she learned the language. I still respect her for that.

And for these reasons, I'm sure I wouldn't be wrong if I asked Venti about it. A feeling tells me that I should do it as soon as possible.

One afternoon, I approached him as he was watering some herb plants on the windowsill in the kitchen. He didn't take his eyes off them.

"Are you taking a break from your thesis? How is it going? I might be able to help you."

"All good, thanks. I thought I'd give my eyes a rest for a few minutes." I went to the fridge and took out a carafe of homemade iced tea. I immediately took two glasses. It was only natural for me to pour a glass for him too.

"How sweet of you!"

"Mmm..."

I then put the carafe back in the fridge.

"Venti... have you ever had a twin?"

He jerked in surprise and let out a confused sound. Then he looked at me, frozen. Oops.

"Twin, you say? May I ask how you came up with that?"

I picked up the glass, but I didn't take a sip. I was a little too nervous for that. This question must have really surprised him.

"I had a dream not long ago about someone who looked exactly like you. He was just there."

"That's funny...I'm an only child." He scratched the back of his head, perplexed. "Nothing else was there?"

Before I could tell him anything, my mind seemed completely blank.

"(Name)?"

"No. Nothing at all." I whispered, holding my forehead. "I think I just saw you in my dream..." That headache again.

"Oh... I see." Venti then walked up to me and held a hand on my shoulder comfortingly. "Maybe you'll remember it later and you could tell me more about it."

"Yeah... maybe." If only I didn't have this block. If only I could figure out a way to-

..

Weird. Wasn't there something I wanted to ask him? I grabbed the iced tea and sat back down to work on my thesis. And even though I tried my best, I couldn't shake this restless thought. He seemed to have noticed it himself, because I couldn't find peace to sleep at night. No matter how often I changed my sleeping position. It wasn't too dark in the room. The curtains were closed and a night light gave us a little illumination, but not so much that it was disturbing. I then sat up to turn my pillow over to the cool side.

"Are you in pain?" He whispered.

"You're still awake- ah, no. I just can't fall asleep." I then turned to his side. Venti had a few notes in his hand that he had been reading over and over again. Apparently he hardly slept either. He then put them back in a drawer of the bedside table and turned to me as well.

"Hehe, me neither."

We're in the same boat.

We both turned back onto our backs at the same time and looked up at the ceiling, sighing.

"Why can't you sleep, Venti?"

"Because I slept a lot during the day. And how about you?" Okay, that makes sense.

"Don't hold it against me, but somehow I've been worried for a while. Although I'm actually happy with the current situation." I confessed, fixing my hair so that it didn't fall in my face.

Venti looked at me in surprise. Of course it's not nice to hear your partner say something like that.

"Are you scared?" He asked.

"What should I be scared of?"

"Maybe of me?"

"Nonsense. Why would I be afraid of you?"

I smiled at him. He may be a person with unique abilities. It still doesn't change my view of him.

"I think it's more about the future. Things have been going a little too perfectly lately, you know. The thought that this can't be forever.... Is just awful."

I paused and looked at Venti's gentle face. He put his hand on the mattress. I then placed my hand on his.

"(Name), I don't want this to get lost either. What we can do is continue to be there for each other and make the best of life."

"Yes, that's true."

"But maybe something is actually missing in our lives... ah! More plants? Maybe a pet...?"

"What makes you think that?" I said with a laugh.

It's not uncommon for us to have late-night conversations like this.

"You're right. But what if we suddenly had a pet? Completely by accident, of course."

I raised an eyebrow at this comment. He was definitely up to something.

"It definitely won't be a cat." I reassured him.

"Nope... it's out of the question! Not even a cat would dare stray here. What's more likely is a child." He said, shrugging his shoulders. "With the amount of time we've spent being so productive, it wouldn't be surprising- eh? Are you asleep yet?"

I was already turned around with my back to him. The best way to reduce this chance is to just sleep now and do nothing.

He nudged me a few times.

"No goodnight kiss?"

Reduce chance..reduce chance...

"(Naame)." I turned only slightly and halfway to face him. Venti looked at me teasingly. "I know you can't fall asleep that fast."

I lifted a finger. "Okay... but just one."

"Mhm... Okay!"

Our lips touched gently once. I closed my eyes and tried to take in the moment. When we parted, I opened my eyes halfway.

Venti looked at me doe-eyed.

"Again..." I whispered, already admitting defeat.

Again and again, our lips found each other. Sometimes longer, sometimes shorter... after each kiss, I could clearly feel how weak I actually was after him. And I was the one who set the limit. After all, I'm a joke.

At one point, I turned completely onto my back because otherwise my back would ache. Venti clasped his hands in mine and I did the same.

I have no idea how this happened again. Once it got to the point where we were sharing kisses, it took time to stop. They were often gentle, innocent and soothing.

And yet sometimes.

We breathed a sigh of relief when we broke away from each other. Slightly out of breath, we looked at each other. He brushed away the thin thread of saliva from the corner of my mouth with his thumbs. Perhaps we were already feeling guilty because we hadn't just had one kiss, but several. As always, we took this with humor.

"Well then - good night!"

"Mh?"

Venti threw himself back on his back and closed his eyes. He then snored softly.

Confused, I sat up and looked at him. He's really asleep..?

I burst out laughing and covered him up properly. An he said, he had slept a lot during the day? I lay down next to him and hugged him tightly. I made sure not to let him go.

Fate can be a mean traitor.

It wasn't long before that day actually came.

The day the universe betrayed me once again. And I stared motionlessly at the dark sky with dull eyes.

You'll live only once..? What a lie.

Is my contract already over?

Part 17 (coming soon)

Masterlist

[avgvst-h]

Quickie

Xiaoaether

occurred during Lantern Rite

smut

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aether sits down in the restaurant after the exciting events of Lantern Rite. Hu tao hosted dinner. As he sat down, people he knew entered ; Xinqiu, Chongyun, Zhongli, Venti, and Xiangling. He picks at his food as people around him talk. Then, a familiar face walks in.

"Xiao, good to see you." Zhongli announced. Aether immediately lifts his head, making eye contact with the amber eyed adeptus.

"I heard that the Conquerer of Demons and the Traveler are pretty close, no?" Hu tao teases.

Xiao and Aether's faces go red, remembering the events the night before...

17 hours before

"Nghh-Ah, Xiao, please..." Aether pleads. The two fuck on a cliff watching the fireworks. Xiao thrusts into Aether at an ungodly speed. Xiao moans above him, digging his teeth into his shoulder. Aether whines at the pleasuring pain...

Back to present

"Hey, X-Xiao," Aether Stammered.

He nods his head in a greeting, "Traveler." His eyes softened. Aether's stomach fluttered.

Everyone sits down as conversations start up again.

Hu tao announces, "So where did you and Aether go after the bar last night?"

'Ah, that's what happened last night, I got drunk, and Xiao offered to take me to his Inn. That's when we stopped and I kissed him then... things went too far. I can't remember what happened after that.' Aether thought, Recollecting the events.

"I took Aether home." Xiao looks over at Aether, smirking at him. Aether chokes on his food. Chongyun, Xinqiu, and Xiangling look at each other and giggle. Just looking at Xiao made him nervous and a little excited, a heartbeat formed in his member. He quickly covered his problem with a napkin. He could deal with it later... or...

"Xiao? Are you done eating? Would you care for a walk." He asks the man sitting beside him.

"Sure." Xiao smiles, taking Aether's hand leading him out of the restaurant.

As they leave, everyone chuckles to themselves.

"Are you alright?" Xiao asks, then glancing at Aethers... problem, "Oh, Traveler..." He steps forward, gripping Aether's hips, "Let's go somewhere more private?" He whispered in Aether's ear. Xiao grabs Aether's hand, taking him behind the building.

"Xiao? Don't you think this is a little too out in the open?" Aether panicked.

Xiao pushes Aether against the wall and immediately begins making out with him. All of Aether's worries disappear. Xiao slides his tongue along Aether's bottom lip, Aether parts his lips, and Xiao urgently slips his tongue inside. Aether melts, resting his hands on his chest, messing with the folds of his slightly transparent shirt.

Xiao slides his hand down to Aethers bulging member. Aether gasps at the suddenness. Xiao begins palming him through his pants, Aether disconnects the kiss to moan quietly. Xiao covers his mouth,

"Shh, Aether... You have to be quiet for me, okay?" Xiao then kisses the corner of his mouth, to his jawline, down to his neck. He plants soft, passionate kisses on his neck and then starts sucking on the surface. Aether's eyes roll back at the pure pleasure. Xiao stuck two fingers in Aether's mouth, Aether sucked on the gloved fingers, tongue twirling around the ring and middle finger.

"Mfhh ssshh phhh mph," Aether tries to say, Xiao removes his fingers,

"What are you trying to say, Traveler?" Xiao asks, as he stops palming and kissing Aether.

Aether pleads, "Please, Xiao fuck me." Xiaos eyes widen.

"Aether..." Xiao whines, staring Aether in his golden eyes. He slowly pulls his pants down just below his ass, unzips his fly, his dick jumping out, then picks his legs up so Aether is straddling Xiaos waist. Xiaos Dick lines up with Aether's hole.

"Please, I'm begging you. Fuck me into another dimension." Aether pleads, digging at his shoulders. Xiao smiles, slowly lowering Aether on his dick. Aether winces slightly, already used to the size from the night before.

Xiao thrusts into Aether quicker and harder, Aethers eyes roll back, tougue lolling out of his mouth. Xiao gazed at the scene in front of him, getting closer just by the sight. Xiao begins thrusting at the same speed as the night before, maybe even faster. Aether becomes a horny mess, his legs trembling, moaning, and grunting as if he were in pain. On the other hand, Xiao's eyes squeeze shut as he edges on climax. Aether cums in his pants, causing an even worse problem. Xiao then cums into Aethers stretched out asshole. After they both finish their orgasm, they pant complating what just happened.

"Fuck, I'm a mess..." Aether sighed, looking up at Xiao whose staring at the blonde infront of him. Aether feels something stiffen in his ass.

"Xiao, you're not... hard again, are you?" Aether gasps.

Xiao smirks, "How about we head home and finish this off, hm?"

[fictionkinfessions]

its weird being kin with a character who is so commonly headcanoned to have NPD (while not having npd), and then having NPD now like man i Didnt have npd i was riddled with a whole other set of mental health issues lol

"omgg leo isnt DEPRESSED he has NPD and just needs support from his family to validate himself!!" like good for you live your life but also No i Didnt i acted as the "face man" because a) i didnt have a Niche in the team and b) nobody else really Was the face man like i didnt have a *role* aside from just being The Fourth Turtle like, donnie had his tech and raph was built like a tank and also Is Raph i mean cmon, and mikey had his fucken Razzmatazz and i was just sorta There Leo, blue guy, red eared slider, liked instant noodles and cold drinks and warm blankets and sorta just not really A Part of it like why do you think i took up being the fucking medic? so id be like!! useful!!! so id have something to do to say i was helping!! do you know how taxing it is to go and set bones and be the one to help your brothers after they have their shit rocked by like. meatsweats or something? fuck like im not MAD at them but it was like. a stressful thing. but i HAD nothing else! i wasnt leader until way later on and no matter what raph would always be the Unofficial Leader. my portals didnt compare to any of the shit my brothers could do. like "oh yeah hey i can make fucking portals" meanwhile raph can a) FUCKING DUPLICATE HIMSELF and b) make a projection of himself thats like 5 times his size mikey can a) THROW BOATS??? AND BUILDINGS???? WITH HIS FUCKING NUNCHUCKS???? b) yk. make inter-dimensional portals so not even my PORTALS are unique c) FLOAT. EVENTUALLY. d) like. pyro-related stuff i guess. and donnie's so fucking smart he doesnt even NEED mystic shit!! his tech-bo is like, yaknow, EVERYTHING YOUD WANT out of something called a "tech-bo", he set up all of our lair's tech, he made the heaters, he made AI's with the same capabilities of a human brain, and then add on MYSTICS to that???? holy SHIT. then theres dad who can just Kick Ass apparently despite being a tiny rat-man. april is the most resourceful person i know, casey and casey jr. are both STUPIDLY good with hand-to-hand combat because of fucking course they are. barry is a) physically capable somehow, b) has his stupid fucking vines and c) is an ALCHEMIST. even fucking sunita is more interesting than me!!! like what the shit! the most I contribute is being a fucking pest!!! my unfunny-streak has CONTINUED into Now, and im just as uninteresting and all this is stupid because draxum made all of us WITH A PURPOSE. the tank, the strategist, the analyst and the mediator. raph, me, don and mikey. i know, factually im not "without purpose". im part of our stupid, biologically-designed unit. but i cant fucking help myself. what the point of a strategist if the analyst is smart enough to fix everything if something goes wrong. what good is a strategist if the mediator can, again, THROW. BUILDINGS. what fucking GOOD is a STRATEGIST if the TANK can protect everyone!! "oh but leo! you trapped Him in the prison dimension" it wouldnt have been a PROBLEM if I hadnt let them out in the FIRST PLACE. it doesnt MATTER that i didnt know what it was! it still happened BECAUSE OF ME. donnie had to fucking, idk, INTEGRATE with THE FUCKING TECHNODROME cause of me! mikey fried himself cause of ME! dad and april got hurt cause of me! raph got fucking kidnapped and infected BECAUSE OF ME! if i wasnt a factor, the invasion wouldnt have happened at all, and my whole "planning to trap Prime in the prison dimension + self sacrifice" thing wouldnt have even HAD TO HAPPEN, so that point is WORTHLESS! i am a """strategist""" that only serves to hurt his unit. and what kind of fucking strategist is that.

-leo (probably from Lemonade Leak i guess) 🔷⚔🌌. sorry for this ask, mpc. probs more venty than you bargained for.

🐸

[englass]

You know what I want (that I don’t think has been done but please correct me if it has)–

Genshin Impact, but School– like a Twisted Wonderland AU sort of school thing.

Now, I’ve not played TW (*cries in EU*) but from what I know I don’t think it would actually affect potential story stuff too much; it’d be a relatively clean merger. I’m literally more just thinking in terms of: the elements or countries are different houses, the Archons are their respective Head of House and MC/Reader has been Isekai’d here via wishing means despite lacking a vision (means of enrolment?).

Now just some random brainstorming thoughts because the idea consumed me–:

As a general thing, either GI is already a TW sort of game in MC’s world or it’s not changed from how it already is and this is just an alternate world to the one MC and we know and remember. Maybe they play both games and this world is a weird merger of the two (not that MC is imagining this or has any influence over it; it’s just a weird coincidence, but that would probably muddy the waters so likely not)?

Because of Zhongli being a hidden/retired Archon I could see the dorm being more so run democratically, maybe having Ningguang being voted/recommended for the position by her fellow classmates while Zhongli chills out (read: slacks off) in the local gardens (boi still probably gets straight A’s in everything except Business & Personal Finance/Economics).

In regards to the Fatui and how they’d fit into this… I think it’d depend on how the Houses are set up. If the Houses were represented via Country then they could just be fellow students, but aged down where appropriate. If the Houses were represented via Element then I’d be tempted to make them teachers, or students from a rival school. The problem with the Element option is the Tsaritsa; I wouldn’t know how to keep their connection with her while keeping her as the Head of House. Something to think about maybe.

Aether and Lumine could be transfer students? Or just not in the story at all? Or maybe from a different school? Up for debate; depends on how much you’d want them there I guess so it’d be up to the writer. Paimon could literally just take Grim’s spot regardless lol, but again that’d be up to the writer.

Acts/Chapters wouldn’t change much, both games are similar in that each Chapter and Act is set in or revolves around a different Country/House (to my limited understanding of TW at least). So A/C1 (not constellations) is to do with Mondstadt, A/C2 is Liyue and so on and so forth. How you’d transfer the actual story to this world’s format though is… ehhhhhhhh—

- For Mondstadt, the idea of Dvalin being a little chibi version of himself is too adorable to pass up and so maybe the stuff with him still happens, being corrupted and saving him before he goes on a massive rampage (either the stuff with the Abyss/Khaenri’ah isn’t a thing here, or it’s one of two options: 1. Rival school that dabbles in the “darkness” element or 2. Is the old school that the current school was built on top of (what the story would be here though I don’t know; I’d need to brush up/know more about the lore)) and by the end he continues to be a sort of cute familiar to Venti that occasionally makes an appearance. Should note that he’s still normal sized/a big boi when corrupted, but after MC frees him he takes on a smaller and more approachable form (please don’t ask me how that works in this world, I don’t know—)

- Liyue would be… not too different from the original? Actually, maybe this is how Ningguang becomes the new Head of House? The whole of Act 2 was orchestrated by Zhongli wanting to see if Liyue could continue without him in canon, so maybe this is the same? Maybe the identity of this Head of House is a secret that only other HoH know about (as well as Childe; he and Zhongli are maybe surprisingly good friends and so the latter gets Childe to help him “step down”). So they do something really stupid and summon Osial— which could be an obnoxious rival of Zhongli’s from another school that’s come to ruin the House’s reputation or something, or is straight up some sea monster they’ve summoned to up that stakes. I kinda like the first idea, especially if you did a twist of him owing Zhongli for whatever reason so he’s only here to help in order to remove Zhongli from his long-standing position (I’m thinking just keep the fact that Zhongli is actually a dragon a thing and that he’s only still here because he can be, likely because of ageing differences or because despite him being a great student he deliberately flunks the important exams to get held back; fully up for debate though)

- For Inazuma… I don’t know dude, it’s just a dictatorship? Maybe something happened with Makoto and she either left or sadly passed and Ei has no idea how to run her House so just straight up takes full control of it in a negative way? And MC shows her the power of friendship or something— I don’t know, I really don’t know. All I do know is that Yae Miko would be a menace; personal space? What’s that, she’s never heard of it. Girl be overtly flirting with MC every step of the way regardless of gender; fingertips trailing across their shoulders as she circles behind them, tipping their head back with a gentle pressure against their skin, leaning way too close to their ears and space as she talks to them… yeah, other students would not be too happy about that (tbh Yae got me bad lol; not my favourite character, but she’s fun and I’d definitely give her the waifu title– anyway!)

Is it too late to mention this is intended to be a “romance game”?

And considering my love of yandere’s— fuck it, throw a load of them in here too if you want; take your pick.

- Sumeru— I don’t know, going through these is kinda exhausting. All I will say is that this is the tech House and that Dottore has to be involved with whatever happens here. Maybe it’s still an experiment he’s running and has roped the kids into (if he’s a teacher, though I doubt it’d be much different if it was a student either) or something else, but he has to be there. My bias for him is really showing lol, but he has to be; he needs to be the villain of this Act/Chapter. Plus it’d be kinda funny to see him the next time MC went to class and have them freak out as to why he’s still here when he should probably be in jail (man totally either has some sort of dirt on the headmaster (Heavenly Principles?) to keep him in the school or he’s kept as a teacher to better monitor him and his movements).

Naturally we can’t talk about Fontaine at the moment, so I won’t go into it (—except for the fact that I am weak for Neuvillette; what is it with tall, sophisticated dragon (alleged/theorised) men that completely knock me off my feet 😭 urg, I want him and Zhongli to passively-aggressively battle for the right to court me, is that too much for a girl to ask??)

Anyway, I don’t think there’s anything else I want to add right now. Just throwing thoughts out into the aether, so to speak--