#also the Mc is extremely

[anxiousdreamcore]

“Somewhere above the middle of Canadian wilderness, a single-engine plane flies on its way to Alaska, a 14 year old boy it’s only passenger.

Somewhere above the tall pines, it’s pilot has a heart attack mid flight and falls limb in his seat.

Somewhere above the beautiful lake, this plane abruptly falls, crashing through the trees and into the water.

Somewhere in these woods…

Brian Robeson is all alone, with nothing but a hatchet on his belt.”

.

Recently read Hatchet and I’m absolutely obsessed with it 🥰 got really inspired and had to make some fan-covers! The story is extremely tense, keeping you on your toes until the very end, and Brian himself is a very likeable character that not only learns the ways of the forest, but builds a type of spiritual connection with it, respects its power and the power of the creatures that inhabit it.

.

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(Do not repost my artwork on any other platform, with or without credit. I DO NOT give my consent to do so and I will find out🤭)

[celestialrealms]

yeah I'm NOT getting over this card any time soon. Never expected them to just blatantly tell me so many of the extrapolations I made about barbatos's backstory, how alone he used to be, his parental relationship with diavolo being the thing to change that, and how diavolo and mc are the most important people in his life now, were all true in such a cute fluffy card

bonus chat highlights:

[shepherds-of-haven]

Everyone always talks about how awkward and oblivious a romanced Blade is as if the MC romancing him is any better. Girlie will legit say stuff like "huh crazy how Blade keeps lingering his gaze on me and won't leave my side and blushes whenever I compliment him. This can't possibly mean anything though." They truly deserve each other lmao

Sometimes* I like to headcanon that it's less that MC doesn't notice that Blade probably likes her as time goes on, or that the various signs don't mean anything, and more that he gives off extremely mixed and confusing signals about whether he's actually going to do anything about it... 😅 Mr. Blade 'hungrily nuzzles your hand like your touch is water to a dying man but then immediately drops it and removes himself from the situation like you're lawyers adjourning a meeting' Bronwyn

[glitxlipse]

does anyone want to join me on a trip to the eefo dimension

i think we made a mistake

[girl-named-matty]

Professor Weasley: Your child was in a fight. MC: Not again! Sebastian: Did they win??

[shadowtriovibes]

‘til we get the healing done

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow × f!MC

Rating: E

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: 18+, aged-up characters, mentions of blood and injury, explicit sexual content, fingering, unprotected PIV sex

Summary: post-hogwarts AU where reader/MC is a Healer at St. Mungo’s and Sebastian is a Gringotts Cursebreaker ✨ pretty much porn-with-little-plot, but mind the mentions of blood/injury!

“Wiggenweld ought to take care of this, for the most part,” you tell him. “You’ll probably still have a scar.”

“S’alright,” he murmurs. “You witches love wizards with scars, or so I’ve been told.”

You pointedly ignore his comment as you return to your potions cabinet to start assembling a salve.

It’s barely half past nine in the morning when one of your fellow Healers lets you know that you’ve been requested in the reception area.

“Already?” you smirk. “I haven’t even checked on the Dittany stores yet.”

“I’ll take care of it,” she says easily. “Your favorite patient is here, he’s insisting he won’t see anyone else and he’s bleeding all over the floor.”

Bleeding? Merlin.

You curse under your breath as you quickly make your way to the reception area, where a surly-looking Welcome Witch is scowling as Sebastian Sallow leans against one of fellow Cursebreakers for support. He’s drenched in blood, but mercifully he’s still standing.

“Morning, miss,” his coworker says politely. “Apologies for the mess.

You sigh wearily and wrap one arm around Sebastian’s waist so his companion can shift the deadweight of his body onto you.

“It’s not a problem,” you insist. “I can take him from here.”

“Tell them I’ll be right back,” Sebastian slurs tiredly. “She’ll fix me right up.”

“He will not be back today,” you insist sharply.

Sebastian’s coworker chuckles as he wipes his bloody palms against his pant legs. “I assumed as much. I promise, we’ll send him right home if he tries anyway.”

“Thank you,” you murmur. “I sincerely appreciate it.”

The older man pats Sebastian encouragingly on the shoulder before Apparating out of the lobby, and you motion for another Healer to assist you in walking him away from the gawkers lingering in the reception area once it becomes apparent that his left leg is entirely unusable.

“Mister Sallow,” you drawl as you slowly walk him back to one of the examination rooms on the trauma floor. “What in Merlin’s name have you gotten yourself into this time?”

“Classified,” he insists, but you’re sure he’s just being cheeky.

Once you arrive, you and your coworker inelegantly wrangle him onto the sturdy wooden exam table in the middle of the room. He quickly lets himself out once you assure him you’re able to tend to Sebastian alone — you’re always swamped at St. Mungo’s, and you’re sure his assistance is needed elsewhere.

Sebastian, with that ever-present smirk still on his face, manages to hold himself up even as a slow stream of blood trickles down his calf.

“It’s good to see you too, by the way,” he drawls.

You roll your eyes as you pull the exam room door shut, casually turning the lock and pulling the privacy divider across the window. If Sebastian notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“You look positively dreadful,” you tell him.

It’s not untrue. He’s several shades paler than usual and there’s blood smeared all across his chest where his shirt has been sliced to ribbons, and the left leg of his trousers is in a similarly poor state.

However, even what would otherwise be a mortal injury can’t tamper his good-natured expression, nor does it cause his warm brown eyes to sparkle any less when he sheepishly meets your gaze.

“I swear, this time it was not my fault,” he begins.

“You say that every time,” you remind him. “Eventually, I’m going to stop believing you.”

He laughs and then winces, pressing a hand to the deep laceration he must still be concealing beneath his shirt, given the bloodstains.

“Go on, Seb,” you sigh. “You know what I’m going to ask you.”

“Why, are you suggesting I should take off my robes?” he asks teasingly. “A bit forward of you, mind, but I’ll abide.”

“We’re well past modesty at this point,” you remind him.

Nevertheless, you turn your back — ostensibly to prepare a tonic for him — while he undoes the buttons of his shirt and gingerly pulls the tattered remnants of it away from his bloodied skin.

He makes a pained noise when he attempts to do the same with his trousers, so you quickly turn and rest a hand on his thigh.

“Let’s get you fixed up here first,” you offer softly, gesturing to the nasty-looking gash across his ribcage. “Then we’ll get to your leg.”

“You’re sure that I won’t bleed out in the meantime?” he asks, only half joking.

“I’m positive,” you say reassuringly. “But I’ll have you slowly sip this while I take a closer look.”

You pass him the glass of tonic and nudge his free arm to the side so you can dab at his injury. You’ve become quite used to seeing blood in your line of work, but something about seeing Sebastian take slow, careful breaths as you trace your fingertips over his broken skin makes your stomach lurch.

You’ve been practicing as a Healer at St. Mungo’s for several years now, and not a month goes by without Sebastian limping (or occasionally being hauled) into the reception with some sort of bizarre injury he’d earned as a Cursebreaker at Gringotts.

At first you’d worried after him. He’d always been a brilliant student, so you weren’t quite sure how he managed to harm himself so frequently without putting his employment in jeopardy. But eventually you learned that Sebastian was, in fact, an excellent Cursebreaker.

…He just also happens to be the most reckless.

When you glance up at him to check his face for any signs of pain, you catch him staring at you.

“Drink that,” you remind him, nodding at the dark-colored liquid in his glass. “You’ll feel better.”

Carefully, Sebastian lifts the glass to his lips and takes a small sip. Immediately he makes a face.

“That’s foul,” he sputters. “What is that?! It tastes like metal.”

“It’s a tonic for blood loss,” you explain with a wry smile. “It’s packed with iron. Trust me, you’re going to need it.”

He grumbles under his breath as he takes another sip. You wait for him to swallow before you press firmly against the wound — you’ve learned the hard way that neglecting to do so would result in your being sprayed with tonic.

“Wiggenweld ought to take care of this, for the most part,” you tell him. “You’ll probably still have a scar.”

“S’alright,” he murmurs. “You witches love wizards with scars, or so I’ve been told.”

You pointedly ignore his comment as you return to your potions cabinet to start assembling a salve.

“Anything else I should know about your wounds?” you ask him over your shoulder. “Nothing venomous or toxic to be concerned about?”

“No,” he says, pausing to exhale before admitting, “It’s from a dragon.”

You nearly drop your bottle of Wiggenweld. “A dragon?!”

“See, now, I knew you would be upset when I got around to telling you,” he says with a grin that looks more like a grimace.

“What were you doing with a dragon?” you demand. “They’re not supposed to be kept anywhere near you!”

You’ve heard quite a bit about the inner workings of Gringotts since Sebastian joined the Cursebreaking department. The two of you never did seem to be able to keep secrets from each other — ever since you were teenagers, you’ve been nothing but honest, sometimes to a fault.

(…Well. You suppose if you were truly being honest, you’d tell him that you can’t stand hearing about the witches he dates whenever he pays you a visit. But you don’t like to examine precisely why that is.)

“Like I said, it wasn’t my fault,” he insists. “They brought in a young one from Romania that’s still in training and it got loose.”

You tut under your breath and mix in your highest concentration of Wiggenweld with a basic topical salve. The scent of Dittany is strong, but you know it’ll do the trick.

“Suppose I’m lucky it was a small one,” he continues. “If it had been one of the fully-grown ones they keep down below, I’d be in a box by now.”

“Hush,” you murmur distractedly. “I don’t want to think about that.”

“No?” he teases. “I suppose you wouldn’t. I’m your only friend in London, you’d be hopeless getting on without me.”

You roll your eyes and return to the exam table with your salve.

“You are not my only friend,” you argue.

“Even so, I’m still your best friend,” he replies, nonplussed. “…What have you got there?”

“This is to close the wound,” you explain. “It will sting, so I’ll count to three and then I’ll go as fast as I can, alright?”

“You’re going to go on one just like you always do,” he sighs.

“Am I getting that predictable?” you ask coyly.

“Actually, ye— Merlin’s bloody beard!”

With no warning, you scoop up a glob of salve and start to paint over Sebastian’s jagged wound, the tips of your fingers glowing a soft, cool blue as you channel a bit of your magic into the gash in his side. Before your eyes the torn skin starts to knit closed. Like you suspected, the reformed skin is pink and tender as is any new scar, but at least it looks completely healed and not at risk for reopening when Sebastian inevitably goes right back to work tomorrow.

“You’re a menace,” he grits out. “Honestly, that was cruel.”

“Come off it, you’re fine,” you tease him. “And it’s always easier if you don’t see it coming.”

“For you,” he grumbles.

You trace your fingertips over his fresh scar a few times to confirm that you’ve fully covered the would in salve. You force yourself to remain professional, but it’s extremely hard not to get distracted by how much muscle he’s built up here in his core since your days at Hogwarts.

“Let’s let that sit while I have a look at your leg,” you eventually say. “Think you can lift your hips up for me?”

Sebastian leans back on his hands and lifts himself up so you can tug his shredded trousers off, letting them fall to the floor in a bloody, rumpled pile.

(Thank Merlin he hadn’t foregone undergarments today.)

“Oh, Seb,” you murmur.

His thigh is mangled. Three long, angry-looking slashes run from below his hip to just above his knee, each still wet with blood.

“It looks worse than it feels,” he says under his breath.

You sigh and reach for his hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Drink the rest of your tonic and I’ll patch you up,” you tell him. “…I’m glad you came to me. This is beyond what a typical Healer is equipped for, Sebastian.”

“I know,” he admits. “But you’re the only witch I’ll see regardless.”

You blush a bit and turn away, reaching for your pot of salve.

The two of you are both quiet while you work. Sebastian occasionally bites back a curse or a low groan while you work the salve into his wounds, forcing himself to chug the rest of his regenerative drink.

(…You feel horrifically guilty for how your body is reacting to his sounds.)

“How are you feeling?” you ask him, your voice barely above a whisper.

“It aches,” he tells you transparently. “But — but like it’s healing, not like it’s getting worse.”

“That’s how it’s supposed to feel, unfortunately,” you explain. “Even healing comes with its own set of aches.”

“Trust me, I’m well aware of that,” he mumbles. “Honestly, it reminds me of how I felt when Violet and I ended our courtship.”

“O-oh?” you stutter.

“Well, I suppose she’s the one who ended it,” he says with a wry grin. “She said she was sick and tired of me showing up on her doorstep with a new injury each week. I don’t blame her one bit.”

“Seb, that’s horrible,” you coo. “How heartless.”

You’re just finishing up applying salve to the last few centimeters of his wound when Sebastian gently tips your chin up so you’ll meet his gaze.

“Do you want to know what else she said to me?” he asks softly.

You swallow nervously and whisper, “What?”

“She said that it’s pathetic that I keep offering to put myself in harm’s way on the offchance I’ll get to visit my Healer,” he tells you.

His gaze dips down your mouth and you inhale sharply as he drags his thumb across your lower lip.

“That’s — that’s not true, is it?” you whimper.

“Of course it’s true,” he confesses. “The thought always crosses my mind. Whenever I offer to take a crack at opening a surrendered vault or unraveling a protective jinx on one of the new deposit boxes, I always think, ‘If I’m hurt, at least I’ll get to see you.’”

Suddenly you feel like you’re the one who’s lost several pints of blood — dizzy, flushed, not quite sure if you’re imagining all this or not.

“Sebastian,” you murmur. “…You have to promise me you’ll stop.”

“I don’t know if I can,” he admits earnestly, tilting his hand to gently cup your face and coax you into leaning closer. “It’s all I can think about anymore — the next time I get to see you, and feel your hands on me.”

Instinctively you reach out your hands to steady yourself, propping yourself up against the tops of his thighs.

“S-sorry,” you quickly stammer. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” he breathes. “Just… come closer.”

He cups both hands around your jaw to bring your face to his, gently pressing his lips against yours.

“Seb,” you breathe against his mouth.

“We should’ve done this so long ago,” he murmurs. “Please, love. Say you feel the same way.”

“I… Sebastian, of course I do, but—”

He hauls you against his chest before you can even steady yourself. You’re thankful your work on his wounds seems to be holding steady as you shamelessly climb into his lap, testing the support limits of the wooden examination table.

“Let me touch you,” he whines against your mouth. “I need it, I need to feel you.”

All this time, it’s always been your hands on him — pressing closed his wounds, extracting nauseating curses and beastly venom from his body, infusing your unique magic with traditional Healing techniques to restore him to himself.

Now he’s begging to put his hands on you, and you find yourself powerless to resist.

“Yes,” you breathe. “Anywhere, just — touch me.”

He desperately tugs on your unflattering lime green robes until they fall to the floor until you’re left with just your fitted blouse and skirt. As far as propriety goes, you’ve never been this underdressed in one of your exam rooms.

“Take this off,” he growls, bunching up a handful of your blouse in his fist.

“We — we shouldn’t do this here,” you weakly protest.

“No one’s going to come in,” Sebastian counters. “We have all the privacy we need.”

(Damn him, now you’re positive that he’d seen you lock the door.)

“I — I shouldn’t,” you whisper.

Sebastian leans in and presses his teeth against your neck.

“How long have we already made ourselves wait?” he reminds you in a low voice. “I could’ve died today and we never would have had the chance.”

“That’s not fair,” you whine. “You’ve been hauled into St. Mungo’s on death’s door a dozen times, it doesn’t mean we should have sex at my place of work.”

“Love,” he croons, and you feel all your resolve melt away.

With a frustrated groan, you hastily tug your blouse free from your skirt and wrestle with the buttons while Sebastian unhelpfully runs his hands all across your body.

Once you’re rid of your shirt, you tug your skirt up so he can slide a hand between your thighs.

“Gods, yes,” he moans. “This is what I’ve been wanting, darling. I needed to feel you right here.”

You whimper softly as he grinds the heel of his palm against your aching core.

“Can I go inside?” he asks softly, and you aren’t sure if he’s merely asking to move your panties aside or if he’s suggesting something more, but either way the answer is a fervent yes.

With one deft hand he tugs the soaked fabric between your thighs to one side and traces two fingertips along your slit. You’re scandalously wet already, just from his ardent confession and his eager hands on your body.

Then Sebastian easily presses those two fingers inside you and you hunch in toward him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“That’s it,” he whispers in your ear. “How does that feel?”

“G-good,” you stutter.

“Just good, hmm?” he inquires. “Should I give you more, then? I need you to feel great.”

It’s no surprise that Sebastian would be a skilled lover, but what really has you trembling in need in his lap is how clearly he wants to make you feel loved, and not just serviced himself.

You can tell that this gets him off; that tonic of yours has certainly done its job, if the rigid hardness between his thighs is any indication.

“I w-want you,” you manage to force out. “Quickly, I just — I don’t care if it’s rushed, I need you inside.”

Sebastian curses against the hinge of your jaw and carefully extracts his hand from between your thighs so he can pull his cock out of his undergarments, stroking himself with his still-wet hand.

“Like this?” he asks you. “I don’t know if I’ve got the energy for much else.”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Just… let me.”

Now that you can properly see him, you realize he’s, er, gifted, and he’ll be a lot to take in this position. But you want him, you want to make him feel good just as badly as he wants the same for you, so you steady yourself as best as you can on your knees as you hover over him. With one hand you keep your panties pulled to the side and your skirt tucked away, and with the other you hold him steady as you sink down.

“Gods,” you whine. “I — I can barely…”

It’s nearly impossible to get the leverage you need on a table this narrow. As you take him in, you feel driven through, practically impaled by him as you cling desperately to his shoulders.

“Go on,” he grunts. “Take me, love, you can.”

“I can’t,” you nearly sob.

But then you realize you’ve done it. The insides of your thighs are flush with the tops of his, the remaining traces of salve on his skin making it all too easy for you to grind forward until you’re completely seated on top of him.

“That’s it,” he groans. “You’ve got it, you’ve taken me so well.”

It’s shameful how little praise from Sebastian makes you squirm and keen in his lap like a simpering fool.

He leans in close to your ear and asks you, “Do you think you can ride me?”

“Y-yes,” you whimper. “Yes, I want to.”

As soon as you start to move, the filthily wet sounds of your skin smacking against his makes you blush all the way down to your chest. It’s lewd and raunchy in a way you’ve never felt with any man with whom you’ve been intimate.

(Those men weren’t Sebastian, you think helplessly.)

“Fuck,” Sebastian growls in your ear. “Don’t stop, please, love.”

There’s absolutely nothing that would stop you now, you think. The Minister of Magic himself could come in and fire you on the spot and it simply wouldn’t matter. You feel incredible — it’s been so long since you’ve been touched like this, and never by a man who you’ve truly loved like Sebastian.

He seems similarly overwhelmed, his hands mindlessly traveling over your waist, your breasts, and even up to your face so he can pull you down and messily kiss you into delirium.

“Please,” you whisper. “Please, please…”

“What?” he pants. “Anything, love, tell me.”

“Touch me,” you plead, and then his hand is between your legs right where you need it. His thumb grinds against that sensitive spot that brings you to the edge, over and over in tight, determined circles until you’re burying your face in the crook of his neck to dampen the desperate sounds you let out as you climax.

“Perfect,” he breathes. “That’s — you’re perfect, fuck.”

Sebastian’s undoubtedly weakened and exhausted, but he nevertheless manages to find the energy to grind up into your wrung-out, languid body until he finds his release. He stays buried inside you afterward, fighting through his sensitivity to keep you close and murmur soft words of praise into your hair.

When you finally summon the strength to climb off of him and tug your skirt back into place, you mumble, “We cannot let this happen again.”

“Just at St. Mungo’s, right?” he asks with a suggestive smirk. “Because I, for one, would very much like it to happen again.”

You say nothing as you button up your shirt, but you eventually allow yourself to be pulled into a slow, fervent kiss that lets him know he’ll be getting his way.

[arttsuka]

I know the mouthwashing fandom doesn't like saying Jimmy's name but they use other names ('Jambalaya', 'Jabortion' etc) when 'Yimpy' is right there

[aballadforbarbatos]

mc falls hard and fast

specifically, out of the sky.

you were looking for a gift for mammon, originally. something sparkly and shiny- he seemed down in the dumps, last time you saw him

and since you’re back in the human world for an undisclosed amount of time, this is the best time to go searching for a surprise gift!!

thinking back on it now, this whole set up was a bit suspicious… maybe you should be a little less one track minded next time?

i mean, saying the item’s worth is well over ten thousand dollars and then selling it for only $200? what were you thinking?

and it only got worse! they apparently had it hidden in a secret place where you needed to take a helicopter, and they needed your driver’s license and passport? MC, what is WRONG with you?

well, they told you they were going to steal your identity, taken your documents, and pushed you out of the helicopter. they’ll probably be back later to collect your body.

so here you are. falling out of the sky.

you screamed when you first got shoved, sure, but you can’t keep doing that or else you’ll go splat on the ground and the entirety of devildom might break down and also some shady guys will steal your identity.

and you’ve done a lot to have this identity, so that definitely can’t happen

pacts! you can get a demon to come rescue you!

as soon as the idea pops into your head, you know exactly which demon you want, even before you see his pact mark on the back of your hand, the same hand that you always, always use to pull out your wallet.

but, uh… you’ve never actually used the pact from so far away. will it even work if you order him from here, now?

you reach into your pocket for your D.D.D.

with the needy demon boys you’ve collected, you can barely go anywhere without it

you tap his name…

and wait while the phone rings??

meanwhile, in devildom, the demons are having a student council meeting, completely unaware that you are currently hurtling towards the ground, and your death, at an incredibly fast pace.

mammon’s phone rings.

he tries to ignore it and play it cool, but it’s so obvious it’s him

“mammon. what have i told you about keeping your D.D.D. on silent.” mammon does not look at lucifer and instead decides to investigate the table until he remembers-

“no, wait! i did put it on silent, which means-”

which means that the caller has to be you, because he fiddled with his settings so that you were the only one that could reach him while his D.D.D. was off.

he digs his hand into his pocket and pulls it out, eagerly answering your call and putting it close to his ear

…and then immediately holding it at arm’s length as you shout into the receiver, trying to be louder than the wind

“MAMMON! MAMMON OH MY GOD, MAMMON!”

“uhh…”

he genuinely has no idea what to say. what’s going on in the background? why’s it so loud? and it’s nice hearing you say his name, don’t get it wrong, but you sound panicky and he’s not sure why you’re saying it so often.

“mammon, it’s time for you to take responsibility for your words, okay?!”

“aha, words? MC, what words are you talking about? i haven’t done anything super bad or anything!”

“mammon…” your voice gets quieter and shaky so he gingerly puts his ear against the receiver. “mammon, i don’t want to die, okay?”

his eyes widen. if lucifer’s saying anything to him now, it doesn’t matter. mammon has totally drowned it out, listening to what you have to say.

“what do you want me to do?”

“mammon, come here.”

poof! he appears next to you

except you’re falling through air

so he’s only next to you for a split second

and he’s in his student uniform too so he’s falling as well

just a human and their demon, falling to their certain doom

“mc, what the fuck?!”

that’s what you think he says. you’re not sure. the wind has carried his words away

you look up, away from the ground, and at the scenery beyond. at the very least, if mammon doesn’t get it together soon, this is a pretty place to die.

mammon gets it together.

your life didn't flash before your eyes- did that mean that your brain knew that mammon would catch you?

well, of course it would think so. it’s not like he’s ever let you down before.

he could’ve saved you a little NICER, though?

seriously, slamming into your body from the side? what if he broke a rib?!

plus he accidentally crashed into a haystack, so now you’re sitting there pulling straw out of your hair, adrenaline still pulsing through your veins

okokok hold on, you’re gonna hurl

mammon’s head pops up just as you finish, “okay, gross.”

you laugh. and laugh. it feels so good to be alive! a shame about your stolen documents, but you can do something about that later

“um, why did you call me? lucifer probably would’ve been faster…”

you look at mammon with a warm smile

“mammon, aren’t you my first? didn’t you say that if you couldn’t rescue me, then i should just die? why would i want to be saved by anyone other than you?”

your D.D.D. buzzes

it’s a text

no wait, it’s two

three?

eight??

they’re also all asking you if you know what happened to mammon and if you could get him to come back to the student council

you glance at your saviour, covered in hay, now sporting a light blush

“lol” is all you send back

the devildom lives another day

[gladiatorcunt]

han solo wants what atton rand has

[swallowtail-ageha]

Something something Laurence being a foreigner something something him experiencing xenophobia something something him learnig how efficient the oppression he faced is as a tool for keeping the masses calm and distracting them

[arrozconlecheeee]

Lately been really thinking about him a lot❄️

[perhaps-in-anotherdream]

[CN] Victor’s Confrontation Date (Eng Translation)

⌚Warning⌚ This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 对抗之约, that is yet to be released on the global server! ♡

[Additional warning]: ig it’s not a surprise at this point for Victor’s spicy dates LOL, but yeah, considering the vivid explicitness, if you don’t qualify for the 16+ rating of the game (CN server), it’s recommended that you don’t proceed under the cut~ :>

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•  

──

【Subbed Video: Date + Calls】

[Heads Up]: WATCH THE VIDEO AKSWKASDN!!! yes do read the transcript version for yk “reading,” but DO WATCH THE VIDEO FOR THE LOVE OF—— 👁️🫦👁️

──────────────────

【Transcript】

【Chapter 1】

Victor: I advise you to think this through.

Donning a calm gaze, I walk leisurely through the cluster of bushes to Victor, enduring my laughter as I glance at his hands that are restrained behind his back.

MC: I was simply waving my hand just now. How did CEO Victor accidentally “fall into the trap”?

MC: And I have thought this through~ I’m just playing the game. Weren’t you the one who told me to blow off the steam as much as I like?

I gently caress his cheek, and my smile grows even brighter under his intense scrutinizing gaze.

After several months of continuous overtime work, my entire soul was consumed by a desire for vindictive entertainment.

As a way to relax, I found a new type of role-playing game that involves engaging in confrontations with other players. Over the course of three days, the players are to be divided into factions and compete for points by fighting for props inside a manor––

And naturally, Victor was dragged into it by me.

We teamed up with several college couples to form a group of eight. Each couple split up and joined one of the two teams, which meant that I ended up on the “opposing side” of Victor.

MC: Where did you hide your metal name tag? The rules state that you must carry it with you at all times.

Victor: I threw it away.

I narrow my eyes as I look up at him, while my hands don’t stop their motion of feeling around his chest and arms.

MC: Aw, it wouldn’t be fun if you were to do that.

Victor: I suggest you unlock the lock behind me right now.

MC: Well, I suggest you don’t make that suggestion~

Not satisfied with just this, I lift myself on my toes and softly peck on his slightly pursed lips.

MC: I’ll release you when I’ve found it.

Although Victor isn’t very keen on this game, I still concentrate on not missing any corners to prevent him from playing any tricks.

I slow down my movements and half-cling to him, feeling his blazing body temperature and the growing tension of his muscles slowly seeping through the thin fabric.

Shirt pockets, jacket’s inner pockets, back collar… I search through every corner of his upper body and still find nothing.

However, I hesitate for only a second before guiding my hand downward.

Victor: MC.

Victor: How much longer do you want to keep playing?

I deliberately ignore that increasingly intense stare and, with a completely innocent expression, reach out behind him with my hand––

My fingertips slide into the pocket of his suit pants, and I immediately feel a metallic touch wrapped in the warmth inside.

MC: Wouldn’t it have been better if you had told me just then?

Smiling, I withdraw my hand and look at the metal plate with the name “Victor” engraved on it. I then take out my game phone and scan the QR code on its backside––

“Player “MC” has gained 20 points, and Player “Victor” has lost his name tag.”

MC: Hehe, thanks for your cooperation.

I complacently pin his name tag to my chest and pantomime fixing the bangs falling in front of his eyes.

Victor: You wanna win that badly?

MC: When an opportunity presents itself, of course one should seize it.

MC: I joined forces with my teammates to deal with you specially. And as I thought, it was easily done.

This small victory causes me to feel a little smug and elated, but Victor suddenly breaks into laughter.

Victor: [chuckles softly]  I didn’t think I’d be so easy to deal with in your eyes.

MC: You can’t say that. I know that Vic gēge(*) is going easy on me. After all, you’ve never been interested in this kind of activity.

MC: It just so happens that this manor is perfect for a vacation. As Pudding’s dad, you should take this opportunity for a good break, “Pudding Senior.”

—

[Tidbits]: (*) as you might’ve already guessed, yes, MC calls him “泽言哥哥” (ZéYán gēge) here, the name MC used to call him when they were kids. For those unaware, when a Chinese girl addresses a boy as gēge (an intimate term of address), if not used to address her own older brother, she’d use it to address her boyfriend~ and the reason it got both Victor and MC flustered the first time they reminisced in Preference SP~ (//∇//) 

You can refer to this post for more details: ♡♡

—

As I say this, I gently run my fingertips over his chin, then check the time again before turning around and preparing to leave.

MC: The mechanism will automatically unfasten you after two minutes. See you later, CEO Victor!

Victor: Do you know why this game has a fixed time every day?

I’m stunned momentarily, then turn around to look at him.

Victor is shrouded in the shade beneath the tree, lifting his chin slightly. Both his hands are clearly bound behind his back, but he seems to be relaxed, as if he is merely in a dormant state.

MC: Because it’s exhausting to be on high alert all the time, right? We’re all here to have fun, so we shouldn’t put the cart before the horse.

Victor: And do you know…

Victor: What’s the reason behind this game’s three-day duration?

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•  

  —

【Chapter 2】

[Fair Warning in advance]: From here onwards, Victor blushes PRACTICALLY THROUGHOUT THE ENTIRE DATE. As tempted as I am, it’s not possible to include over 60+ blushing sprites, so I’m just giving y'all a heads up LMAO~ \(//∇//)\

──────────────────

With only a two-minute window to escape, I naturally don’t waste that time engaging in confrontation with Victor.

I know precisely what the three-day duration is for–– as long as the game is not over, there will still be possibilities to fight to retrieve our possessions.

MC: [to herself]  This man doesn’t take the game that seriously anyway. If I go and stay with him after 5 pm, it should be alright…

As I calculate in my mind, I run towards the meeting point previously agreed on with my team. But before I can spot anyone, I’m dumbfounded by a string of notifications on my phone.

MC: How come both of you lost your name tags?

Qian Er: …my boyfriend! This scumbag! He duped me!

Lei Zi: My wife also totally f*cked me over…

–

[Tidbits]: He is addressing his girlfriend as “my wife” btw haha~ 

–

At this moment, I finally understand why the game organizers separated the couples…

MC: It’s okay. I’ve got the name tag. Our next step is to reclaim the ones we lost. And for that, everyone needs to work together as much as possible.

Xiao Xin: However, although the game time is from 9 am to 5pm, there is still a possibility of being “converted to rebel” during the break time…

Another boy in the team speaks up in concern.

Xiao Xin: I propose that for these three days, we all should refrain from meeting our partners in private. Otherwise, we will have to watch out not only for the opposite side but also for our own people.

Lei Zi: You’re right. I think if my wife tries to “convert me to rebel,” I’ll easily fall for it.

Qian Er: I’m all for it! The lovey-dovey brain must leave Loveland City!

Xiao Xin & Lei Zi & Qian Er: For victory!

MC: …

Are college students all so competitive these days!

As the three youngsters shift their gazes at me, I feel an invisible pressure coming over me. I blink and immediately raise my hands.

MC: …no problem.

—

In order to firmly adhere to the philosophy of victory, our team members remain together throughout the entire dinner time after the first day of the game.

Victor shoots a faint glance in my direction from afar. And I, encircled by several of my teammates, have no choice but to put my palms together in apology to him.

—

I’ve been unable to find a single opportunity to talk with him all night. After returning to the room, I fiddle with the phone specifically designed for the game.

MC: …I should be able to make calls with this thing, right?

But who knew there would be a knock at the door before I could even look into Victor’s contact number?

Subconsciously thinking it’s the girl from my team with whom I made plans to meet in the evening, I casually open the door without so much as a second thought.

To my surprise, I see Victor’s face instantly appearing in my line of sight. We hold each other’s gaze for a few seconds, and at this moment, the air seems to be stagnant.

The next second, my heart suddenly skips a beat. After nervously scanning the surroundings, I immediately pull him into the room and close the door.

MC: Why are you here?

Victor: Why am I here?

He repeats my words unhurriedly, crossing his arms across his chest.

MC: …hehe, let me explain.

I briefly recap to him our team’s strategy for winning.

MC: Everyone was so serious at the time, so I couldn’t say no.

Victor: I can see that your enthusiasm is no less than that of those college students.

Victor: [sounds so wronged]  In order to implement your strategy, it seems like it’d be more appropriate for me to leave so as not to affect your leading-by-example image.

With a smile, I hastily wrap my arms around his neck, leaning in to peck him on the lips.

MC: Don’t leave, don’t leave! You and I came out here to have fun together. And I certainly am very clear on who is more important to me.

MC: I was thinking about calling you just now!

Victor: Really?

Victor’s expression remains unchanged as he snakes one hand around the back of my waist.

Victor: I don’t see any signs of that.

MC: Then you aren’t looking closely enough. Examine more carefully.

Beneath the dim yellowish light, the magnified shadows on the wall merge seamlessly, not leaving the slightest gap between each other.

As my fingertips dig into the back of his shirt collar, I simultaneously take the initiative to meet his slightly pursed, thin lips, softly pecking them twice.

Victor: [blushing + sexy whisper]  This little sweetness is not enough.

His voice follows the rhythm of our exchanged breaths and enters my mind, causing everything to slow down and amplify every subtle touch.

MC: Wait, my teammate will be here soon. We can’t let her catch…

A kiss forcefully cuts me off, swallowing up all the unfinished words.

The hot and moist tips of our tongues intertwine with each other. He brands a rough, grainy sensation between my sensitive lips and teeth, bringing a hint of punishment.

I instinctively tilt my head back slightly, wallowing in the haze of this dimness.

In the scorching and stuffy world, there seems to be something gently coming through.

Qian Er: …sis, it’s me, Qian Er. Are you there?

The sound of knocking on the door rings out. I hear Qian Er’s voice, who was originally supposed to come looking for me, coming from outside.

My whole body shudders in surprise. Amidst the powerful predation, I suddenly regain some of my sanity.

MC: [blushing]  Victor… she is here.

Victor: [blushing + raspy whisper]  I heard it.

His voice is lethally cloying, but his overly scorching lips swim down my cheeks to the tip of my ear, nibbling without the slightest concern.

Victor: [flushed cheeks + slyly hoarse whisper]  You need to be careful… we can’t get caught.

He deliberately repeats what I said earlier. But his soft reminder is akin to the coaxing temptation of a devil, accompanied by his heavy breaths that make my world heat up unceasingly.

Qian Er: Are you not there? You wouldn’t happen to have gone to look for...

MC: [blushing + to the girl]  …I am here!

With great difficulty, I suppress the gasp that’s on the verge of escaping me. Then I struggle to crane my head and sink my teeth into his neck.

Though the subtle bite marks are not entirely clear, they do elicit a slightly insatiable chuckle from this wicked man before me.

MC: [blushing + to the girl]  I was just… taking a shower, so I couldn’t hear you.

Qian Er: Should I come back after you’ve fixed yourself up, then?

The man in front of me slightly arches an eyebrow. And in the next second, he turns even more oblivious as he continues with his bullying. He plants incredibly lingering and gentle kisses, tracing his way up from my collarbones to my neck and upwards.

MC: [blushing + to Victor]  You…

Victor: [flushed cheeks + brEaThEs literally into your ear]  She said she would come back later.

The arm half-supporting me lifts slightly upwards again, making it even easier for him to lean his head sideways and nibble on my throat.

Qian Er: Sis?

Victor: [flushed cheeks + even raspier, proud tone]  You should give her an answer.

My brain has turned into a lump of mush, and I decide to surrender before things escalate any more “out of hand.”

MC: [blushing + to the girl]  I’m feeling a bit light-headed from the shower… Sorry, can we talk tomorrow? I’d like to go to bed a little earlier tonight.

I struggle immensely to get to the end of my sentence, and through gritted teeth, I capture a few glimmers of laughter in that pair of dark and silent eyes.

Qian Er: Sis, rest up then~ Good night, sis~

The footsteps outside the door gradually fade away. I clench my molar teeth and firmly grab onto his front collar.

MC: Are you getting back at me for what I did during the day?

Victor: [flushed cheeks + torrid breath]  This doesn’t count.

The instigator of this episode blends his words ambiguously into his kisses, with a hint of deep meaning flashing in his eyes.

Victor: [flushed cheeks]  Didn’t you just make it clear who is more important to you?

Victor: [flushed cheeks]  I merely took your words for it, that’s all.

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•  

  —

【Chapter 3】

The next day, I purposely time my arrival at the front yard of the villa to avoid coinciding with Victor’s.

The other members of his team have already set off earlier, leaving only Victor, who is sitting leisurely on the sofa and flipping through a magazine.

Meeting that toneless gaze of his, I blow him a kiss from the back of the group and happily embark on my journey.

—

Today’s game proceeds smoothly beyond expectations. Relying on Lei Zi’s excellent intuition, we’ve actually found all the individuals who were separately ambushing us in different corners of the manor one by one.

“Player “Zhou Lei” gains 20 points, Player “Zhao Xin” gains 20 points…”

Qian Er: That was incredibly easy… but Lei Zi, your girlfriend’s gaze just now looked like she was gonna eat you alive.

Lei Zi: I’ll just kneel on the keyboard when I get home. It’s not a big deal.

Xiao Xin: Still, we shouldn’t let our guards down. After all, they can still snatch back the name tags.

Xiao Xin: There’s no camera in the entire manor. There are way more blind spots than we can possibly imagine…

While Xiao Xin is gesturing with his hands and contemplating the safest hiding spots on the map of the manor, Lei Zi quietly approaches me from the side.

Lei Zi: Sis, I wanna ask you for a favor.

MC: Hm?

Lei Zi: I have a special solo mission that requires the help of someone from the team... Could you help me?

Upon hearing this special invitation, I immediately perk up my ears with excitement.

MC: Sure! What do you need me to do?

—

MC: That’s odd…

I meticulously examine the surrounding area of the fountain pool, but don’t spot anything out of the ordinary.

MC: The spot Lei Zi said should be here…

I circle the place again, but still find nothing.

The water in the fountain continuously flows outward and forms cascading water curtains that carry the spraying water droplets, creating blooming specs of light under the dazzling sunlight.

I gaze quietly for a long time. Unwilling to give up, I crouch down and carefully fumble around the pool’s perimeter once again.

Suddenly, I inadvertently touch a stone, causing it to tilt slightly–– the water from the fountain ceases its flow in the next second, revealing a set of steps leading to a stone staircase at the center of the fountain.

MC: So it turns out that the stone steps were not just for decorative purposes...!

My eyes widen in amazement, and I walk up to the stone pillar at the center of the fountain, reaching out my hand to search for any special props––

“Click.”

As I watch the mechanism appear once again, the smile on my face is wiped off completely. A rubber ring suddenly emerges on the surface of the pillar, trapping my hand in place!

MC: …?!

Before I can react, a powerful force grabs my other wrist and swiftly flips me over, pinning my wrist next to the rubber ring.

“Click.”

All of this happens within a matter of moments. It’s not until both my hands are bound behind my back that I begin to comprehend the situation, staring wide-eyed at the person who is now standing in front of me.

MC: …how did you get here?

Victor: I’ve been here the whole time. You were just too slow to act.

Folding his arms across his chest, he leans down slightly to meet my eye level, looking at me teasingly.

The alarm bells in my head are ringing frantically, and a strange thought suddenly rushes to my mind, causing me to swallow nervously.

MC: Could it be that you...

Victor: Otherwise, how do you think he was able to locate everyone?

Victor: And why were they all on their own?

MC: When did you talk to Lei Zi…?

Victor: [chuckles lightly]  That’s not something you need to be concerned about.

He lifts his hand and presses on something unbeknownst to me, causing the pool’s fountain to activate again.

The cascading water curtain gushes outward, creating a hazy veil that envelops us within. Instinctively, I am gripped by a sense of looming danger approaching in silence.

Victor is in complete control of this series of actions. He first made his own teammates separate, then found an opportunity to make a deal with Lei Zi––

–– and tricked me into coming here.

The manor is designed to allow players’ evasion activities, and as a result, there are numerous concealed hiding spots. And Victor knows me all too well to know that I would be intrigued by these interesting features.

He is too patient a hunter, creating the opportunity to win by striking just one blow, biting the throat of his prey in an instant.

MC: Victor, you duped me!

Victor: This extent of action doesn’t really count as duping someone.

Victor: It’s just a fitting way to blow off the steam, is all.

MC: But by doing this... your team will lose.

Victor: I have no interest in winning or losing this game.

He gently lifts his hand, caressing the “Victor” name tag pinned on my chest.

Victor: And besides, I guess you’re forgetting… it’s only the second day.

Victor: Where’s your name tag?

His dry fingertips glide slowly up my breasts, passing over my neck and caressing my cheek.

—

[Notes]: bruh they really just straight went for “前胸” (breasts)— not even caring to use short/refined phrasing like 胸/心口 LMAO 🙏

—

MC: …pinned it inside the left pant leg.

Victor: [!! elated chuckle]  There’s no need to be so honest.

Victor: It’d be hard to find us here, so we still have plenty of time.

The powerful fingertips lift my chin slightly, causing the falling droplets of water to be sprinkled finely, only to have this cold sensation be melted away by the extremely intimate proximity of his breath.

He rubs his lips against mine slowly and deliberately, neither delving too deeply nor drawing back too far. 

The unbearable touch feels as if my entire body is being lifted into the air. The damp mist of the water stream spreads around us, bringing our closely pressed skin even closer together.

Water droplets drip down his gently fluttering eyelashes onto my upper lip, then roll along the folds of our lips as they caress against each other, finally entering our intertwined lips and teeth.

MC: …getting back at me… you’re so petty! Evil capitalist…!

Victor has done a full circle and repeated every detail of what I did to him yesterday.

Victor: [flushed cheeks + raspiest of whispers x1]  Naturally, the capitalist has to pay back twice the amount.

Victor: [flushed cheeks + x2]  Also, there’s only one cat at home, and that’s Pudding.

—

[Notes]: LMFAAOOO THIS MAN!!! For those who didn’t get it– at the beginning of the date, MC addressed Victor as “Pudding’s Dad, Pudding Senior,” suggesting that he is her big clingy cat, which he 110% is LOL. But he “begs to differ” ‘cause as he showed just now, feline it may be, but he is still the beast “Lion” 😩🤣

—

His muffled words are intertwined with my heavy panting, reminiscent of a predatory beast patiently teasing its prey that it has captured.

In the long time that we’ve been together, I’ve become too accustomed to him, and in his tacit acquiescence, I would brazenly play with his “belly” without any reservations.

But he’s never been an indolent kitty.

MC: Y-you propose a term… let’s talk.

Victor: [flushed cheeks + the most seductively provocative of whispers]  What capital do you have to negotiate terms with me?

The teasing I capture in his eyes itches me so much that I can’t resist biting him. But this only causes the smile in his eyes to brew even deeper in response.

MC: Just- you- wait.

Victor: [flushed cheeks + chuckles]  That vigor is good.

He finally draws a few steps back, then crouches down and finds my name tag with ease.

Victor scans the QR code and affixes the “MC” engraved name tag to his chest majestically. He then turns around after switching off the fountain, preparing to leave.

MC: Why don’t you take your name tag too?

Victor: I’m just leaving an excuse.

Stepping on the stairs, he haughtily turns his head sideways.

Victor: [chuckles softly]  So you won’t be too bored tomorrow.

—

Victor and I, in a sense, have returned to our starting line again.

Although we don’t sit together at dinner, we both wear each other’s name tags on our chests, creating an indescribable romantic tension.

Lei Zi doesn’t dare to make eye contact with me all evening, and I don’t wish to haggle with him, either.

—

On the third day, it becomes obvious that the other side has received Victor’s instructions and has grown more structured in their approach.

As the dominant side, our countermeasure is for everyone else to stay hidden till the last moment, while I––

I keep my eyes locked on Victor from afar across the dense bushes, provocatively maintaining a distance of about ten meters from him at all times.

—

Following several pulling and tugging, I manage to hide in a flower house, intending to catch my breath.

However, the next second, there is a rustling sound outside the window. I hear the person with a steady stride approaching, treading on the broken leaves.

Victor: Think you’ve chosen a good spot?

Beneath the hot sunlight, a few flower petals float down from between Victor’s fingers. He grips the railing of the flower window with one hand, while his fingertips insert themselves into the flower’s pistil.

—

[Tidbits]: The female organs of a flower are collectively called “花蕊”/ pistil, comprising of stigma, style and ovary. (!!! yeah reference to that innuendo of “the rose and the white thingie” in the PV)~ 💦🙏

—

His piercing gaze is even more intense than the sunlight, locking straight onto me. Even though clearly we are physically apart from each other, his imposing presence is still palpable.

His slender forearm may have been scratched by the thorns of the bushes, leaving a few glaring blood marks. But Victor remains unfazed, as if it were merely a minor price to be paid in the process.

MC: CEO Victor, aren’t you asking a question you already know the answer to?

This is too foul an approach to entice someone in this way to have them walk right into your trap.

MC: After all, you didn’t want me to run away again, did you?

—

[Tidbits]: MC switches to “您” here, which is the courteous term for “you” in Chinese, amplifying her bitterness LMAO~

—

Victor: The door is right there. You can leave if you want.

He raises his eyebrows, revealing all his bright schemes with unparalleled frankness.

MC: Will that cause too much loss for CEO Victor?

Victor: Unexpected opportunities like this always provide a chance to encounter the next one.

Victor: As long as you consider the aftermath, it’ll be fine.

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•  

  —

【Chapter 4】

Deflating my mouth, I tie the gauze on Victor’s arm into a knot, then look around the flower room without making it obvious. Finally, I shift my eyes again to my other party’s cool and collected face.

MC: You sign documents worth tens of billions with this hand. You need to be more careful.

–

[Tidbits]:MC uses “您” (the courteous term for “you”), here too LMAO~

–

MC: Ugh, my plan has been ruined. I wonder if a certain Mr. CEO would be as kind-hearted as me?

Victor: Your little thoughts are almost all written on your forehead.

Victor: Your plan is simply to have those college students hide while you stall for time, and then launch a surprise attack when the countdown is almost over.

MC: Since you were already aware of this, why did you still chase after me?

Victor: [delighted laugh]  Because your ruses are enough to make me look forward to them.

An undisguised arrogance climbs up the corners of his lips, and he unhurriedly pulls back the rolled-up sleeve to his wrist. The light in his dark-colored pupils reflects my figure.

This arrogant stance arouses my fighting spirit completely. I compose myself and pantomime leaning toward him.

MC: I never thought CEO Victor would have such a wicked side to him. Shouldn’t it be the prey who is to bite in the first place?

Victor: Whether it’s done at the beginning or end makes no difference. Hunting has always been meant to be a deadly struggle between two opponents on equal footing.

Victor: In the face of a predetermined outcome, the process only enriches the ending.

His fingertips twirl themselves around the ends of my hair, making a circular motion in the air.

I gaze at him for a long time. Then propping myself up, I place my hands on both sides of his head, lowering my eyes to him.

MC: Have you ever considered that doing this would expose you to the risk of me biting your throat?

Victor: I never turn down any challenge.

Victor: Especially when it’s from you.

MC: Is that right?

I lower my head to his neck and, without the slightest hesitation, open my mouth and gently nibble on his prominent Adam’s apple.

He seems to have not anticipated that I’d be so decisive, causing his entire body to quiver instinctively.

I crinkle my eyes and silently concentrate on deepening the mark.

By the time I lift my head, the teeth marks are clearly imprinted on his Adam’s apple, shimmering with a light sheen of moisture.

MC: How does it feel to have someone bite your throat?

The answer I receive is a fiercely wild kiss.

Victor’s hand suddenly presses down, causing me to be caught off guard and collide with his teeth.

All the unspoken words between us are shattered into fragments in the entangled exploration. The rapid breaths entwined with the moist sound of water flood my entire sensory world.

My scorching breaths are constantly being swallowed up by his kisses. But I don’t simply want to sink into this passively. Instead, I stubbornly entangle myself back.

Whether it’s a conspiracy or a bright scheme, when faced with absolute power, you must show your strength.

The palm clasped around the back of my neck continues to exert force, allowing the predator to unceasingly penetrate deeper unchallenged. At the same time, I also step on his thigh and move up a little bit, causing him to release a hot and muffled moan.

My fingertips advance on his chest, and in the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of the phone that has been tossed aside.

14:59.

I kiss him even harder, counting down in my mind––

And just before the number is about to change, I suddenly yank off the name tag on his chest and hold it up over my head.

MC: I’ve won.

—

MC: You cheated!!

Victor: I thought you were very happy and willing to receive my flowers at the party.

MC: This was our team’s reward for victory. And, of course, I would accept the bouquet CEO Victor wrapped for me as the loser.

MC: Besides, this is an entirely different matter––

Even when we return to the hotel after the event dinner, I still can’t stop stomping my feet.

MC: I watched the digits jump to 59 at once. Even if I were to say that I counted faster, it still couldn’t be more than ten seconds.

MC: You must have paused the time!

Victor: Don’t blame other people as an excuse for your miscalculating the time.

Looking at his composed demeanor, I narrow my eyes and follow him into the elevator.

—

Suddenly, a thought occurs to me, and I press my lips together slyly.

MC: CEO Victor, could it be that you paused the time unconsciously and now feel embarrassed about it?

While speaking, I lean over and peck him on the lips.

As the elevator ascends, the dots of light that shine through the window swirl incessantly in Victor’s eyes. He lowers his gaze and doesn’t say anything.

MC: Still haven’t paused, eh.

Pressing my lips against his warm ones, I kiss him again.

MC: Still no pause.

MC: It seems that it wasn’t unintentional, but rather deliberate––

Victor: [flushed cheeks]  You haven’t fully reconstructed the scene in the flower house. So, this doesn’t count.

The patter of rain begins to trickle down outside the window, coating the light and shadow cast on our bodies with a hazy veil. Even our mingled breaths are imbued with the hint of dampness in the air.

MC: Humph, you capitalist! You really never lose out.

Without saying anything more, I lean against the railing and pull hard on his tie knot, yanking it off directly.

Our lips and teeth tightly press against each other as our tongues dance together. I tirelessly explore his territory, leaving my mark on every crevice and corner of it.

The delicate string, as thin as the fine rain, glues our lips together as we slowly separate, panting rapidly for breaths.

The raindrops hitting the glass are reminiscent of blooming flowers, and the world has been rendered silent.

Victor: [flushed cheeks + !!?? lethally raspy, prolonged whisper pouring into your ears]  Do you think I did it unintentionally or deliberately now?

His raspy voice sounds amid the suspended light and shadow, a small cloying smile hanging at the corners of his lips.

MC: It doesn’t matter to me. Regardless of whether it’s intentional or unintentional, it shows that you seem to be working hard in my hunting ground too.

I curl the corners of my lips into a complacent smile, satisfied and ready to open the distance between us––

However, before I can, the palm covering my waist firmly holds me in place and swiftly lifts me up, pressing me directly against the railing of the elevator in a flash.

–

A sudden sensation of coldness crawls up my spine, catching me off guard. To find balance, I instinctively arch my waist and cling onto him with both my hands and feet, crashing into his burning hot breath right in front of me.

I frantically search for a point of strength on Victor’s body and grab onto his coat in a tangled mess. A soft chuckle sounds in my ear, and in the next second, the space in front of me becomes even narrower.

And Victor advances another step further toward me, hemming me in completely into the confined space.

Victor: [!!?? lethally raspy, prolonged whisper pouring into your ears but 3.0]  Then let me see your hard work too.

“Susurrus——”

—

[Tidbits]: !!! the term is simply “簌—” here (suggesting a rustling noise), and now look at the long ribbon of her dress that has been untied––

—

MC: [blushing]  I-I, what else do I need to do? You put me down first…

Victor: [-- 5.0]  I see you’ve been very bold these few days, and now you know to be scared?

The bouquet in my hand becomes heavier and heavier, while my high heels are struggling and on the verge of slipping off my toes.

Victor: [soft chuckle + !!?? 7.0 but more dangerous tone like the hunter has you right where and how he wanted]  Don’t drop my flowers.

His approaching breath is like bait. As I’m trying to escape in a panic, a warm palm has already covered my thigh, pinning me firmly in place.

The sound of clothes rustling is exceptionally clear at this moment. Gentle kisses spread along my neck all the way to the tips of my ears, and together with his scorching breaths and touches, they surge into my consciousness.

The overly steady elevator quietly erases the traces of time. However, the numbers that change from time to time become the only indicator announcing the flow of time.

“Ding——”

MC: [blushing]  Victor, it’s…!

The remainder of my words are crushed between our lips and teeth, and my eyes can’t help but widen. Just as I feel my heart is about to give out, he completely usurps me of the entirety of my sanity——

The elevator door opens, but there is no one outside.

Victor: This is a VIP elevator, and we are the only ones on the top floor.

Victor: Of course, there’s no need to worry about surveillance issues either.

MC: [blushing]  You’re such a…

The only response to me is a quiet chuckle. And in the next second, I’m suddenly lifted up and carried outside the elevator.

—

He holds me up skillfully with one hand, not using too much force, yet using just enough to not allow me to drop back on the floor.

MC: [blushing]  Put me down!

Victor: Only you would let go of your grip after biting the other party’s throat.

He lifts his foot and steps onto the thick and soft carpet, walking extremely slowly. Each step he takes causes me to descend slightly, and my entire body is practically hanging onto his.

My thighs, which are wrapped around his waist, gradually begin to weaken. But those searing hands of his remain pressed against me.

Victor: Stay focused.

The unbearable rubbing is continuously wearing away at my willpower, and his hoarse voice sounds as if he is patiently enduring a certain emotion.

MC: Next time... I will definitely not let you go.

Victor: You don’t need to wait for the next time.

Victor: I’ll give you this opportunity tonight.

Along with the sound of the door opening, the somewhat dazzling light causes me to subconsciously squint my eyes. In my dazed state, I find myself sinking into a softness.

Victor: [!!??!! INTENSE BREATHING + SIR SLOW DOWN!! WHAT IS THAT NOOISEEE]  We can continue our game for a very long time now.

────────────

Calls: here! (important read)~

────────────

[northern-passage]

I came across the character Branwen* in my most recent play-through and was curious if she's supposed to be Inuit or not? It was just a bit unclear since she has a chin-stripe tattoo, a Welsh name, and comes from Gael (which I'm under the impression is supposed to be Norse inspired?) Neither the Welsh/Celts or Norse had tattoos like these and the imagery of such comes from the appropriation of Inuit kakiniit. It's unfortunately common, especially in the fantasy genre, think Yasha from Critical Role, and I wouldn't really blame you for not yet knowing better. Misguided or not, it's very damaging since these tattoos are a closed practice, and Inuit have asked us not to use them for non-indigenous characters. Some other cultures have similar tattoos, but these are specifically what are appropriated from in the "Norse aesthetic".

This could be a great opportunity to represent a community that's regularly misrepresentationed and appropriated from in the genre, though! I don't believe you had any ill intentions, if this is a mistake you've made, since you've done really well about a lot of other things so far.

Also, I've done a lot of research on the topic for my own world building and I can try to help if you have any questions!

Here's a list of Inuk creators and artists from my own following (on TikTok specifically):

kadlun

willow.allen

notdayle

shinanova

And fairy.gothparent (not indigenous) has some really educational content on the subject also!

I'm sorry I've misread or misinterpreted anything, and I hope none of this came off as aggressive! I'm just genuinely curious and want to help others do better!

hi :-) no worries, you are not aggressive at all. Branwen is not meant to be Inuit, nor is she meant to be Welsh or Norse. Gael and Adrania are just Fantasy Lands with their own lore & culture-- but with that being said, i am fully aware that the setting for TNP is very much giving medieval Europe, hahahaha. regardless, when i choose names they are mainly just because i like them, so i wouldn't put too much stock in them when reading.

same thing when i designed Branwen, the tattoo was mostly for the aesthetic and because i liked it. i was aware of a few different types of indigenous tattoos (like the Māori tāmoko as well as the Inuit kakiniit) at the time i chose the thick, solid line because i was purposefully trying to avoid conflating it directly with those indigenous tattoos. you're the first person to point this out to me and i appreciate it and it has made me reevaluate my decision to give her such a distinct tattoo. i wanted tattoos to be a big part of Gaelish culture & planned for them to be made with heavy lines & geometry, but in the end a lot of the designs are all over the place (Merry's are way more modern due to basing some of the designs around nautical/sailor tattoos with only a few geometric designs, while Lea's are strictly geometric runes meant for their alchemy)

i absolutely want to avoid misrepresenting these tattoos, especially since it was never my intention for this character to be interpreted as a part of any of the mentioned indigenous groups. this is a good reminder for myself that my work does not exist in a vacuum and regardless of my intentions, the names i choose & the designs i make still reflect my own personal biases and have implications outside of my story.

i appreciate you messaging me and sharing resources. and i always want to encourage people to do so! especially because in my worldbuilding for Gael and Adrania i am pulling inspiration from a lot of different places and a lot of other fantasy media. i've always intended for Adrania to be a "melting pot," with a lot of different influences as in-game cultures converge around their ports & trade routes, but that can also lead to me unintentionally harming real world groups & cultures in my interpretations. as much as i want to "build from scratch" it's just not possible, i will always be influenced by the society i live in, hence me including the tattoo to begin with because you're right, i have seen similar designs in other fantasy media & just didn't think much about it.

going forward i'll most likely just remove that tattoo from Branwen's design, and maybe give her a neck tattoo instead 🤔 just something different to distinguish it from those indigenous designs.

[romance-rambles]

godheim clarence | because it's you

On a seemingly normal day, as he's braiding your hair in the morning, your husband asks you if he should cut his hair. You try to be brave about it.

1.6k, post-clarence epilogue, misunderstandings + fluff, reader is mc, series: none

"SHALL I CUT MY HAIR short too?"

You register your husband's words as a joke at first. Why would you not? It flows so seamlessly from your own, after all—about how he might actually thank you for freeing up his time in the mornings if you chop off your long hair.

You know full well Clarence will not.

It is not enough to prevent you from chasing after your favorite kind of high. The one where he huffs exasperatedly and tells you as much, as a lovely but faint scarlet hue spreads across his cheek. The one that leaves you with the singleminded desire to kiss him, which you waste no time in doing—because you can.

So, expecting to see a hint of mirth in his blue eyes, you roll your eyes and watch him through the vanity's mirror with an unfaltering grin.

There is none.

Instead, the mirror reflects only the almost clumsy seriousness you've come to expect in his endeavors to prove himself worthy of being your husband. It is both flattering and worrying.

And sometimes, it makes you wonder if you were too harsh on him in the early days of your time together in the void, when you demanded apology after apology from him. Then, you remember that he's the same man who catches fishes only to free them in the end—and that this is simply sort of endearing idiot he is.

It helps immensely.

"Would you like to?" you ask carefully, concealing your silent insults with a half-awkward smile.

You would not like him to.

But it is rare for Clarence to express an interest in his appearance outside of what you make of it. His most frequently worn coat is the one you once complimented him, under a brightly-lit street lamp as he wrapped his scarf around you instead. He always buys the same fragrance, and only when it runs out, with a polite explanation of My wife likes this one the most that drives most merchants mad.

The only response he's ever offered when shopping for clothes is: If you like it, I'm fine with wearing it.

Biting back a scowl, you add, "I think you'd look good with short hair."

Of course he would. Even putting aside his hairstyle when he was younger, your husband is handsome enough to pull anything off.

You are, of course, very biased—it's an accusation you've never tried to deny.

"I see." With a pleased hum, Clarence ties off your braid. "Then I'll pick out a date. Would you like to come along?"

He's careful to adjust the hair tie first, concealing any stubborn tufts hair poking through between the gaps before he reaches for your usual red ribbon. Then, with a practiced ease that comes only with years' worth of repetition, he loops it through the hair tie and twists into a proper bow.

Today, you cannot find it in yourself to admire his careful movements through the mirror.

"I'm never going to hear the end of it if I do that," you answer, shuddering a little at the thought. The people at this village are mostly kind, but a few of the louder ones tend to comment on Clarence's tendencies a bit too frequently for your liking. "You remember what happened last time, don't you?"

Your fingers traverse down the full length of your neatly-braided hair to pull it over your shoulder. Their grasp on the end of it lasts for only a second before your hand falls to the edge of your stool. Gulping, you swivel around and soon find yourself properly face to face with your husband.

He smiles faintly. "In a sense, they weren't wrong."

To properly hold onto his face, you have to scoot closer to the edge. Clarence bends down slightly, further easing the burden on your arms. Your eyes narrow fondly at him before you ruin the moment by smushing his cheeks.

"They were insulting you," you correct him, indignation fueling your flat tone. "I'd say they were very wrong."

His expression grows helpless and fond. Wrapping his hands around your own, he settles down onto the hardwood floor. In doing so, he ignores your chiding entirely; instead, he looks at you with a hint of reverence in his gaze.

"Perhaps," Clarence agrees softly. "I've heard worse."

Inhaling sharply, you press your foreheads together. When you next speak up, your tone is softer. "Do you have a cut in mind?"

"The same as it was when I was younger, I suppose," he says, sounding a bit uncertain.

You do your best approximation of a nod. You're not entirely certain what brought this on, but that won't stop you from being the most supportive wife to ever be supportive. As you squeeze his hands gently, you hope he can sense your resolve.

"Alright," you say, a bit forcefully, as you press a kiss to his forehead. "—now get off the floor. It's my turn to do your hair."

IT'S WHEN YOU'RE CAREFULLY UNTANGLING your braid at night that you remember the conversation from that morning.

"Did you decide on a date?" you ask curiously.

Clarence hums. "I didn't get the chance to quite yet."

He's watching you from his side of the bed, both hands occupied by a book he stopped reading the moment you walked in after your nighttime routine. When you shake your hair back to normal and settle under the blankets, he wordlessly turns the lamps off, with only a flick of his hand.

Accepting his answer, you snuggle up against his chest, fully intent on going to sleep—

Except you can't.

Curiosity nags at you, offering you the same question over and over again in the hopes that you'll break. And break you do as you call out your husband's name.

You can't quite make out what his expression is, but you know he isn't asleep. It's only been a few years—just a little over a decade, to be precise—since they've reunited. Adjusting to a life within the bounds of time, you know, takes some time, especially for someone like Clarence who had seemingly outgrown the need to sleep even before he entered the nothingness.

"Clarence," you whisper, "what made you want to cut your hair?"

For a moment, he remains silent. You can hear his beating heart, and that is enough to let you know that he's flustered.

"Clarence?"

"You said I looked very handsome," he says finally. "The other day."

Upon hearing those words, your mind offers you nothing noteworthy. To you, calling your husband handsome is no different making sure your heart's intact. You think you might actually die if you don't tell him, but you haven't tested it before.

Your heart, however, is filled to the brim with affection for this man, the one you've searched nearly your entire life for.

Even if you do want to throttle him a little bit.

"You'll have to be more specific, dear," you tell him, gently touching his cheek. He's warm, you think. You're tempted to turn the lights back on. "I'm sure I say that every day. And why would that make you want to cut your hair?"

Clearing his throat, he adds, "To be more specific, you didn't say it to me necessarily. You were—" Clarence pauses, a hint of uncertainty to his next words. "—talking about my younger self."

Oh.

The gears in your head start to turn. Now, you can faintly recall the memory of you waxing poetically about the man whose image remains in use on one of the most popular and frequently sold-out stamps even now, centuries later. Mostly, you remember smiling through a comment about how carefully you must've chosen your husband—as if she hadn't pressured into picking a man other than your husband to gush about.

You would've chosen the Archmage who seemingly had no relation to your husband regardless, but it would've been nice to know ahead of time.

Because you do have eyes, Eliza. That's how you know there isn't a man alive that's more attractive than Clarence.

Still, there hadn't been any deeper meaning when you chose his younger self specifically. There'd been a stamp nearby and you'd used it as a reference, in the hopes that it would help the other ladies downplay your incredible knowledge of his features.

You're almost certain they think you're deranged.

"Clarence." You giggle, suddenly amused. "Clarence. You look very handsome today."

Clumsily, you press a loving kiss to his forehead. Then, to the mole under his eye, to the tip of his nose, to his other cheek, until finally, you kiss him on the lips. At some point, while you're busy being productive, he goes from laying on his side to laying on his back.

"What brought this on?"

He sounds bewildered. You think it's cute.

After taking a moment to compose yourself, you begin to explain. Throughout, he's mostly silent, save for the occasional acknowledgement. Still, you don't have to worry about whether he's listening or not.

Until the very end, his hands—still wrapped around you—give him away.

"I like your long hair just as much, because—" You give him another peck on the lips. "—I love you. No matter what, you're always the best-looking man in the room."

Clarence wastes no time in answering you, though he very nearly chokes on his words. "And I...you."

"Good." Feeling satisfied, you rest your head against his chest. "Do you still want to cut your hair? ...Clarence?"

"I think," he says, clearing his throat. "It's fine the way it is."

You don't try to point out why.

[entering--hyperspace]

I genuinely couldn't stop thinking about this

[666writingcafe]

The Home Theater

Satan

"I don't remember the House of Lamentation having one of these," MC notes as they take in their surroundings. "Whose idea was it to put one here?"

"It was mine," I answer. "Barbatos helped me set everything up. All the equipment, the acoustics...it's all top-notch."

"By human world standards, or Devildom ones?" I've forgotten how observant they are. MC seems to enjoy taking in all sorts of information, even if it seems insignificant to other people. That's one of the things I like about them.

"According to the employee at DevTech--I mean, Best Buy--we have the top-of-the-line equipment, and the quality is comparable to some of ours." I hate that I keep swapping human world names with Devildom ones. I personally feel like I'm better than that.

"Have you guys used it yet?"

"Funny that you mention that, because we just started a zombie movie marathon last weekend."

"Was that your idea as well?" I nod my head.

"The idea of zombies has interested me for a while now. While there are diseases and curses that can induce a zombie-like state in demons, it's usually a temporary problem that can be solved with medicine. That doesn't seem to be the case with humans."

"Are you solely basing that on our movies?"

"Of course not. I've also read books."

"Fiction or non-fiction?" Oh, I'm about to blow their mind.

"Both, actually."

While the human world seems to focus on the fantastical elements of zombies, the Devildom has meticulously recorded all zombie outbreaks that have occurred throughout the centuries. You see, sometimes a human zombie accidentally stumbles in the Devildom, and we have to deal with that situation properly in order to prevent chaos.

While we've certainly dealt with the stereotypical zombies--the ones that are slow-moving, crave brains, and are more or less dead--those aren't the only ones that we've come across. Some are capable of sprinting, others aren't too keen on brains, and there's even those that appear perfectly fine on the outside but have some kind of parasite in their brain that's making them carry out orders with no thought whatsoever.

Although, sometimes the parasite doesn't have a physical form and is instead created as a result of rather intense brainwashing.

"I see," MC states once I've completed my mini lecture. "Somehow, that's never come up in any of my classes."

"That's because you've only taken general knowledge ones. RAD offers majors, and with those comes specific classes for particular areas of study. Although, in order to declare a major, you have to prove that you have a solid understanding of the fundamentals first, since you might get pulled to teach a class or two."

"Has that ever happened to you guys?"

"Lucifer and I are the only ones out of our bunch that have declared a major. Belphie's been offered, but he doesn't want to deal with the responsibility of teaching, so he just takes whatever interests him. The others simply haven't proven themselves yet. Levi struggles with attendance, and Beel has difficulty concentrating. As for Mammon and Asmo, I think they're content with where they're at right now, so they're not going to push themselves too hard."

"What do you and Lucifer major in?"

"He does potions and curses. I focus on history and literature. Somehow, despite my sin, I tend to be a more patient teacher than him. At least, that's what I've heard from other students."

"That's really interesting." MC appears deep in thought. "Do you think I could major in something?"

Honestly, I don't know how to answer that question, mainly because we've never had beings outside the Devildom attend RAD before Diavolo implemented the exchange program. It wouldn't surprise me if he did allow MC and the others to declare a major eventually, but I don't know how long that would take. Would MC be alive by then? Or be in a good physical and mental state to take in additional knowledge, let alone teach an entire classroom? Personally, I think they have the best chance out of the initial exchange students of eventually declaring a major, but that isn't for me to determine.

"That would be something to ask Diavolo. I don't think I'm qualified to answer that question." MC nods their head.

"So, changing the subject...wanna watch a movie together?"

"Like, right now?"

"Yeah!" I sigh.

"As much as I would like to, I doubt the others would be happy if I kept you all to myself before they've even had the chance to say hi to you. I will have to take your offer some other time."

"Sounds good. I'll try to find a good movie for us to watch together in the meantime."

"You bring the movie, and I'll whip up something nice for us to eat." MC snorts in amusement. "Do you not think I'm capable of cooking, MC?"

"It's not that at all. Just reacting to an idea I had, that's all."

"What kind of thought?" Interesting. My question has made them tense up all of a sudden. Usually they only get that way if someone catches them doing something that they think they're not supposed to do. Like fiddling with strange objects.

Or having dirty thoughts.

I keep coming across the phrase "Netflix and chill" in the media I've been consuming, and it appears to be referring to hooking up with someone as a movie's playing in the background. Is MC wanting to do that with me?

Are they afraid I'd find the idea silly? Because I don't. I mean, if it was something that I was invested in, then I'd want to pay attention to whatever was playing, but I'm more than capable of choosing something that I can tune out as I focus on something else.

Especially if that something else happens to be MC.

I lean in closer to them to whisper,

"You know, I went ahead and assembled a collection of movies I thought you'd like." I plant a kiss right below MC's ear, making them shiver slightly. "I really enjoyed picking them out, actually." I begin moving down their neck. "It was fun thinking about what might appeal to you. There are so many genres that are worth exploring."