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maeedrg · 4 hours ago

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Waiter, a cup of kisses !

ᯓ★

Synopsis : In which Satoru kisses you for the first time, his best friend, and you both can’t seem to stop now.

Words count : 3k.

Warnings : Pure fluff, crack, both of them like to bully each other, reader is mentioned fem once, mention of boobs.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ Autor’s note : Omg I’m back from the dead guys ! College is time consuming. It’s a small fanfic because I intend on writing soon a quite big one. But we’ll talk about it later because I will need your opinion on something.

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When Satoru kissed you for the first time, it was in the most “randomly out of nowhere” way possible.

Being physically close to him, sometimes crossing a blurry line, wasn’t something actually bizarre in your relationship with him. Accustomed to having Satoru, or you, dancing on this blurry tango of an unlabeled relationship, you at first didn’t think much of it. He was teasing, wanting to taunt you. Exactly like you did yesterday, and how he did the day before, and you the day even before. Yeah, a kiss meant nothing. After all, why do people care so much about lips touching each other ? You didn’t with him.

Yet, when he did, you still had a confused face. At first you were busy with baking the cookies he begged you to prepare this morning. He even licked your cheek when you accidently put chocolate on your skin. Gross ? He didn’t know this word. But then, the second right after, he chastly kissed your lips. As if it was the natural order of things. First licking your cheek, then kissing you.

– Hmm ? you hummed surprised. Looking at him with a confused expression only made the white haired man shrug. He went back to form the cookie dough in his large hands like nothing happened.

– What ? he asked.

– What was that ? you insisted, raising an eyebrow. You weren’t mad or anything. Just intrigued.

– What was what ? he answered, acting dumb. Well, he didn’t need to act to be dumb. But you kept that to yourself. You exhale through your nose and nudge him. He almost makes the cookie fall. Thankfully, he caught it in time.

– Satoru… you say through your teeth to show him that you weren’t playing around and wanted him to answer. A real answer.

– A kiss ? he simply explained. As if you actually were the dumb one here, not him. Bloody hell. He could be annoying when he started to act like this.

– No shit Sherlock, you groan. Satoru glances at your irritated facial expression, which results in only making him chuckle. His dimples embellish his cheeks and you end up rolling your eyes playfully.

– Well, I wasn’t expecting you to understand, was I Watson ? he comes back with this arrogant voice of his. You snort, but wisely decide to not follow this little game of his and concentrate on finishing this baking session. It’s already been one hour that you both were at it, only because of your bickering.

Whatever. It was just a kiss.

A kiss that felt good, actually. Maybe you wanted it to happen again. Why not ? After all, you would simply get back at him.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

Barely some hours later, your little sleepover with your best friend came to an end. It was time to sleep, even though whenever you said that, you both would start to talk and giggle in the darkness of the night like kids scared to get caught by their parents for not sleeping in time. After some endless laughing and chatting, you finally fell asleep at the poor expense of Satoru that ached to talk more to you. He knew he had to rest. Tomorrow will be a big day at work. Missions, teaching, missions, meetings with the higher ups, missions, paperwork, and then his possible death due to exhaustion. Not like they would let him die easily. Instead, he decides to gaze at your sleeping form.

In the middle of the night, Satoru liked to stare at you because of how peaceful the world was at this time. Not in a creepy way or another bizarre staring type. No. He liked to gaze at your pretty face and soft breathing. Because in those short moments of solitude in the chaos of his mind, he wasn’t pretending. He wasn’t pretending to be The Strongest, nor he wasn’t having a semi fake persona that was too loud, too obnoxious, too cheerful and too annoying.

No. He was just Satoru. A simple man that loved his best friend maybe too much. Or his heart maybe had a lot of free space, and he decided to occupy it mainly by your presence.

He liked those moments too because your face was at its calmest. He could freely admire your beauty with the softest gaze he ever had, not afraid to show how much he loved you, how much he craved for you. It simply was only him and himself in this situation.

Softly, the back of his fingers caress your puffy cheek from the pillow. His lips form somewhat in between a pained smile and a cracked smirk of amusement at your funny face. It was something you never knew. Never knew how softhearted he was for you. How gentle he could brush his skin against yours. How devoted his stare was on you, as if you were the mere reflection of the universe. How weak he was for you. But, a weakness was something he couldn’t afford to show. Not this one, not even to you, maybe even less to himself.

He kisses your hand.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

In the morning, Satoru was already whining and being grumpy about the busy day that was awaiting for him. While you come back from the bathroom after brushing your teeth, you pat his back.

– You can do it. No worries. And in between you and me, we both know you will absolutely skip your meeting and your paperwork this evening. Am I right ?

– ‘Been there, done that, he admits with this stupid grin of his and his insufferable dimples. You chuckle as you go on your tip toes and peck his lips. The kiss was as simple as that. Something fleeting, volatile. A soft press of your lips against his. Just like how he did it yesterday in the afternoon. But Satoru didn’t expect you to take him back on that, resulting in his dumbfounded face while staring at you.

– Be serious for once, you reply and go back to search for your outfit of the day. You ignore him, trying to not crack a laugh. And why not tease him a bit more ? Satoru always changes his clothes in front of you as if it was the most natural thing in the world. You quickly got used to it. On the other hand, you never were as comfortable as him to be nude and change like that in front of his eyes.

Well, all things come to an end. Today is part of one of them.

You take off the pants of your pajamas and switch to the ones you will wear today. Now, your shirt is on the floor, revealing your nude chest. Satoru thought his eyes were playing with him and he accidentally let out an awkward stutter of surprise. You nonchalantly finish putting on clean clothes as you see a glimpse of his red face.

– Hum, nice boobs, lol, ahah, he suddenly says in what is supposed to sound like a laugh while he pats your back in a manly way. You turn around to look at him with your eyebrows raised.

– What the fuck was that ?

– I don’t know, I panicked ! he exclaims dramatically. Wow, you almost never saw him act like that. It was hard to break down the confident persona of this man. Did you manage to embarrass The Gojo Satoru himself ? You smirk.

– You always change in front of me, can’t I now ? you ask a rhetorical question.

– Of course you can. I didn’t expect you to do it, like, this morning ? he defends himself as he rolls his eyes. He grabs his bag that was on the floor of your bedroom.

– You got flashed. Just like when you flashed me your ass last time while you changed in front of me. You know what is worse ? We literally were talking about bakery buns at the same moment ! you recall as you laugh. He follows you in your laughter and the two of you end up walking towards the entrance of your apartment.

– We both flashed our buns then. But I know you like my ass, yeah ? he teases while waving his eyebrows charmingly as he puts on his shoes and jacket. It was a bit chilly this morning, but the weather will quickly go up and the sun will warm the city.

– I won’t bodyshame you… you whisper in an attempt to taunt him.

– What is that supposed to mean ?! he scoffs as he pauses in the middle of wrapping his black blindfold around his bright blue eyes.

– Nothing, you mutter looking away. For obvious reasons, you were joking. His ass was hot. But you prefer to be mean. He deserved some ego breaking. It was too big after all.

– Forget what I said about you having nice boobs, hmpf ! Satoru huffs as he turns his back to you while opening the door of your place. It was still early, and he always started his day earlier than yours. Meaning that when he came to sleep at your apartment (almost everyday, as if this man was homeless) he was the first one to leave.

– Are you pouting right now ? you ask while getting closer, your smile getting bigger thanks to the immense amusement you had when mocking your best friend. His face distorts and his lips try to stay in a thin line of anger.

– Goodbye, y/n, he answers as he steps outside grumpily.

– Ahahah, you really are pouting !

Before stepping away, he reluctantly turns around and ends up kissing the top of your head. He never missed doing that specific gesture. It was his sign of affection. But, this time, his lips fall chastity right on yours before he slams the door to somewhat show he still was sulking at you. What a baby.

In the silence of your place after he left, your fingers softly caress the tip of your lips. Savoring once again in your imagination the feeling of his kiss. You started to really like this new habit of his.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

11 PM. was the hour when your best friend came back to your (kinda his) place. Seemingly, the atmosphere shifted right the moment he stepped inside. His mood was clearly at the lowest. As you were originally sitting on your couch, occupied with reading a book, the moment you stand up to greet him, Satoru is on you. His long arms wrap around your body, the bickering and him being mad at you long forgotten. Soon, his whole figure is leaning against yours like a cocoon. The tip of his nose shifts against your neck, his hair tickling your skin as his face is snuggled in the crook of your shoulder. His blindfold was already on the ground.

– Had a bad day ? you ask softly.

– I need to recharge. Let me stay like this, he mumbles in an exhausted sigh. He smelled like fresh air, a mix of his cologne and rain. You remember it rained one hour ago. Was he out on a mission ? Thinking about it, you hug him as well and in a comforting embrace you bring him to the couch. He directly sank all his body weight on top of yours. Not like you cared, you were long used to him doing that. As long as you would not show any sign of dying because of a lack of oxygen, he would continue to do this for quite forever.

– Feeling better ? you end questioning after some minutes of silence.

– Not quite, he whispers. He raises his head, blue eyes staring right back at yours. You feel his breath falling against your chin. You don’t say anything when his mouth lands on yours. Tonight, the kiss lasts longer. Maybe because Satoru is tired, and the feeling of your lips brings him enough comfort for him to want to make it longer than a peck. You didn’t mind. It was warm, soft, like the sun caressing your skin on a summer afternoon.

– Now, it’s better, he says as he puts his head back on your torso. You smile. Even if that new dynamic was new, it was the most natural thing that ever happened in between the two of you. Maybe because your lips always belonged together. You pet his hair as you think about kisses. His kisses.

– Come on, go take a shower. You stink, you lie as you smile playfully at him. He groans while rolling his eyes at your teasing. Satoru reluctantly rises from you, and stretches his sore limbs in a yawn.

– Bitch, I literally smell better than you, he answers as he waves his hands in front of him to show his body as if he was the incarnation of a bottle of perfume. You can’t help but snicker, holding your nose.

– Ewwww, get away from me ! For the love of God, use some soap ! you exclaim as you push him with your free hand. He immediately wraps his arm around you and grabs your cheeks painfully.

– How can you be such a liar and so mean to me at the same time, when you know I had a bad day ? he asks, raising an eyebrow, strengthening his hold on your poor cheeks.

– Having a bad day didn’t stop you from being stinky. Did you shit yourself ? you counter attack, resulting in Satoru laughing loudly and heartedly at your words.

– Remind me to call you if someone tries to bully me, because you are the worst, he sighs while shaking his head in amusement, rubbing the top of your head before walking towards your shower. You can’t help but smile.

– That’s it, go away, you stinky man, you joke. Quickly, you slap his ass to reinforce your need to annoy him. It was like a drug, and Satoru couldn’t say anything about it since he could be way worse than you when it was about being annoying.

He turns around in a swift move to face you after feeling the sting on his butt cheek.

– Oh, you’re not getting away after doing this, y/n, he chuckles in a threatening way. Sensing danger, you intend to run away. Barely two steps towards your safe place, aka your bedroom, he chases after you and catches your body in no time. You yell of surprise and squirm like a lion in a cage, knowing your incoming punishment.

– I’m sorry, go away ! you try to make him step back but that was near impossible. His hold on you was too strong. It was useless.

– What’s wrong y/n, scared that I will hit too hard ? he teases as he whispers in your ear. You shiver head to toe at the feeling of the vibration of his voice against the skin of your neck. He chuckles, while you stare at him.

– I didn’t hit hard. So if you do, we will have a problem Gojo, you answer intimidatingly as you call him by his family name on purpose.

– Wanna finish that on the ring, l/n ? I mean, the ring is your bed, so… he wanders. His dimples show. You take the opportunity to dash away, but he directly grabs you against the wall and slaps your ass. The sound vibrates in the air as you yelp.

– You morron, that hurts ! you exclaim as you nudge his side angrily and face him when he frees your limbs. The first thing you see is his victory smile. Your heart beats harder instantly.

– No it didn’t, I barely put any force in it. You’re just weak, he justifies himself, shrugging.

– Yes you did ! you protest pointing at him. He was having fun. You had less fun.

– Dare I say you’re not into spanking, y/n ? he asks innocently.

– Oh fuck off, you retort as you turn around, walking towards your bedroom. At least you weren’t running like earlier.

– Gladly ! Wanna join me ? he counters back.

– Go to shower.

– Wanna join me ? he repeats.

You slam the door of your bedroom.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

– Let’s play roblox, Satoru exclaims for the seventh time in a row. The moment he came back from his shower and jumped on your bed, it was over for you. How could this man still have energy after having such a long and exhausting day ? That was a mystery. You groan as you turn your back to him.

– No, I’m tired. Tomorrow, you briefly answer in a sigh. You shift in a comfortable position. At the same time he leans over you, two arms caging you on the mattress. You sink on the sheets.

– You hate me, he replies.

– No.

– You hate me, he insists, face getting closer to yours.

– Yes I do, you end up saying, rolling your eyes.

– You hate m- wait what ?

– Yes I hate you. Now, if you may… Good night ! you finish your sentence by turning your face towards the wall and closing your eyes. You hear a snort, and then lips fall on your cheek. Soon, teeth join in. Nibbling your skin was apparently Satoru’s favorite thing to do.

– You don’t really hate me, he whispers, more like to reassure himself. His breath falls on your neck and his mouth lands on your ear. More kisses.

– I don’t, but I will if you don’t let me sleep, you whisper back, keeping your eyes closed.

– I wanted to marry you on roblox. It would be fun, he whines. Now his cheek rests against yours while he snuggles, pouting against your tired body.

– Can we do that on roblox ? you question, sceptical. He moves his body to swallow yours in the most natural way there is.

– I think so.

– Then let’s get married now, not on roblox, you sigh, hoping that will make him stop bothering you for the rest of the night. He tilts his head, stopping to kiss and nibble your jawline like a dog. He seems thoughtful, and smiles, but then again quickly gets lost in the track of his thoughts.

– Alright. But we don’t have a priest, and I’m not wearing my special smoking. Oh, and the ring-

– Oh my god Satoru, you don’t need all this ! you exclaim, just wanting to sleep.

– Of course I do !

– Gojo Satoru, do you want to be my husband ? Yes, good. Now, l/n y/n do I want to be your wife ? Yes. Now you may kiss the bride ! Yoohoo ! you say quickly to just put an end to it.

Satoru blinks once, realizing what you just said, before grabbing your face and kissing you as quickly as possible. It wasn’t like earlier. It wasn’t as soft, as fleeting. This kiss was full of force, of hunger, despair and craving. It lasts so much longer as well. The moment you part to breathe, the second that follows, he is back on you. Mouth melting against yours. Urgent, needy, full of love and desire. Satoru was dying to kiss you more, and more, and even more.

You giggle at his eagerness, not losing time to even question why he kissed you like you two were long lost lovers. Maybe you were.

– Satoru, you don’t let me sleep ! you chuckle, but it’s quickly swallowed by his lips.

– I want more kisses, he implores, like a child desperately asking for the most precious thing in the world. Begging to have a greedy taste of the succulent flavor of your skin.

Maybe best friends aren’t supposed to kiss like lovers. Satoru would answer that you two weren’t best friends. You were worse. It didn’t matter to have a label for the sake of identifying your relationship with him. As long as he could freely love you, and you as well, it’s all that mattered. All he wanted was to be by your side and to forever lose himself in your lips.

Before kissing you again, he says :

– Waiter, a cup of kisses please !

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x you #x reader #gojo fluff

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siilent-wanderer · 3 days ago

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Checkmate

Summary: They said Baek Harin was untouchable — a tyrant in designer sweaters, a girl made of iron. But Park Y/N was proof that even empires could unravel.

Genre: slow-burn, angst, fluff

Word Count: 10.5k words

Baek Harin x fem!reader

A/N: this was the slowest slow-burn I've ever written in my entire life. also not proofread. pls enjoy

Everyone knew Baek Harin ruled Class 2–5 with an iron grip, her A-rank status less earned than inherited — daughter of the most powerful conglomerate family in the country. Untouchable. Feared. Worshipped. The kind of golden girl who never needed to ask for attention because the world was already at her feet.

Park Y/N was also an A-ranker. Her father’s business wasn’t quite as powerful as Harin’s, but it came close — close enough for both families to sit at the same elite table. Unlike Harin, though, Y/N wasn’t feared. She was respected. Admired. People actually liked her. Her kindness didn’t come off as naivety but rather as a quiet strength, a gentleness that refused to bend in a school designed to break. Y/N’s popularity was real, built on kindness rather than fear. But it made her a paradox in this school, didn’t it?

An A-ranker who didn’t act like one.

Y/N and Harin weren’t friends. Not really. They sat at the same tables but rarely spoke beyond what was necessary. They showed up to the same events, but conversations were always clipped, polite, distant. It wasn’t a rivalry, not yet. But it wasn’t companionship either.

Harin watched Y/N, though.

Whenever she walked into a room, Harin’s gaze followed. Not with the usual boredom or disinterest she wore for everyone else, but something sharper. As though she was studying Y/N. As though she couldn’t quite figure her out.

Maybe that’s why Harin started testing her.

Because even with all her control, Baek Harin couldn’t understand how someone like Park Y/N existed — and worse, how she remained untouchable by the very game she designed to destroy people.

But Y/N still voted in every round of the Pyramid Game. She had to. One missed vote could mean a whispered threat, a warning from Harin passed through a smile: “Your father wouldn’t want to lose our investment, would he?” So, she played along, even if she hated the game more than anyone. The most brutal part wasn’t the game itself. It was the dinners.

The room was warm, all low lights and expensive wine glasses that no one dared to drink from. Harin sat at one head of the long table, across her father, legs crossed like she owned the world — and in some ways, she did. Park Y/N sat two seats away, across from Kim Dayeon and next to Seo Doah, who barely glanced up from her plate.

Dayeon spoke first. “Another F-ranker tried to write an apology letter today. It was almost sweet.”

Doah didn’t look up. “They never learn.”

Y/N kept her face neutral, her fork gently pushing a piece of wagyu around her plate.

“She cried,” Dayeon added, her tone light. “At least it was entertaining.”

“I didn’t vote for her,” Y/N said flatly, then caught herself. Too defensive.

“No one’s accusing you,” Harin drawled without looking up. “You never miss a vote, do you?”

Y/N glanced at her, eyes sharp. “Wouldn’t dare to.”

That made Harin look. Her smile was slow and amused. “Good girl.”

Their fathers were deep in conversation at the far end of the table, laughing about some new deal, some merger, some expansion. But under that candlelit air of civility, the girls sat at their own kind of war table.

Dayeon chuckled at the tension. “You two are like fire and ice.”

“No,” Harin replied, eyes still on Y/N. “We’re just not pretending.”

It was an odd statement, and for a second, Y/N didn’t know what to say. But Harin turned away just as quickly, leaving the words hanging between them like a challenge.

It was a regular Thursday morning at Baekyeon Girls’ High School, the kind where the halls buzzed with hushed whispers and flitting glances — the Pyramid Game results always left a residue. Park Y/N, once again ranked A, slid her locker shut, already aware of how the day would go. She never missed a vote. Couldn’t afford to. Not with Baek Harin watching her so closely.

“Have you heard?” Yerim leaned in beside her, coffee in hand. “We’re getting a transfer. Mid-year. Bit of a mystery, isn’t it?”

Y/N tilted her head, amused. “They must be brave.”

By the time the first break rolled around, Sung Sooji had made her entrance. Sharp-eyed, oddly composed, and carried herself like she had nothing to prove — which instantly made her suspicious. Or admirable. Y/N hadn’t decided yet.

The incident happened just after lunch. Y/N was heading back to class when she saw the tail end of it — Jaeun, an F-ranker with a quiet demeanor, had tripped, her books flung across the stairwell. But the way two girls sneered down at her made it obvious: this wasn’t an accident.

One of them stepped on her notebook deliberately.

And then, out of nowhere, Sooji appeared. “Pick that up,” she said, her voice flat and firm. The two girls froze. “I wasn’t asking.”

Y/N blinked. She hadn’t expected that.

Before the tension could escalate, she stepped in too, crouching beside Jaeun and helping her gather her things. “You okay?”

Jaeun nodded, too flustered to speak. The hallway stared — no one interfered, but everyone was watching.

Sooji didn’t look back once as she walked off. Y/N followed at a careful distance.

The confrontation came hours later.

After the final bell, Y/N had only just packed her bag when her phone lit up with a message from an unknown number.

Classroom. Now.

She didn’t need a name. Only one person had that kind of presence in her life.

When she entered, Harin was already waiting — perfectly poised, arms crossed, gaze sharp enough to cut glass. The classroom was empty, quiet in a way that made Y/N’s heart pace slightly faster.

“You called?” she asked lightly.

Harin didn’t move. “You helped her.”

Y/N’s throat tightened. “Jaeun? She was being pushed around.”

“You think I didn’t hear?” Harin stepped closer. “Everyone did.”

Y/N raised her chin. “And what exactly did I do wrong?”

“You interfered. You made it a thing.” Her voice dropped, velvet and venom all at once. “You know how this school works. You don’t pick sides. You don’t draw attention. Especially not to people ranked low.”

“She didn’t deserve it.”

“That’s not your call to make.”

Y/N stood her ground, unwilling to look away. “And what — is it yours?”

Silence crackled between them like static.

Harin’s gaze flicked over her face. “You think you’re better than this school. Better than me.”

“I think I have to be better,” Y/N said, quietly. “Because someone around here needs to be.”

That did something to Harin. Her eyes flickered, the faintest ghost of something behind them — betrayal? Hurt? Or something deeper, unspoken.

“You always make me look like the villain.”

“You do a good enough job of that on your own.”

It could’ve ended there. But Harin stepped closer, dangerously close now — and for a moment, Y/N didn’t know if she was about to be kissed or shoved.

“You’re lucky your family’s name means something to mine,” Harin whispered. “Because if it didn’t…”

“I’d be an F already, wouldn’t I?” Y/N said. “You’d have me buried.”

They stared at each other.

But it wasn’t hatred that filled the silence.

It was everything else.

The sun had dipped just below the windowsill when Y/N found Sooji in the library, tucked into a back table with a textbook she clearly wasn’t reading.

“Figured you’d be here,” Y/N said as she dropped her bag into the chair across from her.

Sooji looked up. “I don’t like wasting time.”

“Not even to make enemies on your first day?”

A small smirk curved on Sooji’s lips. “Someone had to say something.”

“She always like this?” Yerim asked, sliding into the third seat at the table with her usual iced coffee in hand. “Bold. I like it.”

“I’d say reckless,” Y/N replied with a knowing glance. “But we’re not here to lecture.”

“Speak for yourself,” Yerim muttered, taking a sip. “Look, we just wanted to let you know… things are complicated here.”

Sooji raised an eyebrow. “Complicated how?”

Y/N hesitated. “Let’s just say there’s a… system. Unofficial. People act a certain way for a reason. The girls who didn’t stop that bullying? They weren’t just being cruel. They were following a script.”

“And I didn’t get a copy,” Sooji said dryly.

“It’s not one you want,” Yerim replied. “We’re just saying — be careful. Not everyone here takes well to disruption.”

Sooji looked between them both. “And you two? You’re… what, the exception?”

Y/N smiled faintly. “We survive. In our own way.”

There was a moment of quiet. Not silence, not tension — something else. Understanding. Unspoken truths left hanging in the air.

Just outside the library doors, Harin stood at the end of the hallway, unreadable.

She hadn’t meant to follow Y/N — not really. She’d told herself it was coincidence. She just happened to be walking this way. Just happened to glance through the glass and see her. Laughing. Relaxed. Sitting with Sung Sooji like she belonged there. Like she wasn’t tangled in things Harin couldn’t explain, couldn't control.

That gnawing feeling in her chest twisted again.

Jealousy? She wouldn’t name it. Not even in the safety of her own mind. She simply turned away, walked off without a word.

The thing is, Baek Harin never lost control. Not of her grades, her appearance, her schedule — and certainly not of her rank.

But lately, it felt like things were shifting. No, not shifting — slipping.

It wasn’t just that Park Y/N was helping transfer students and playing guardian angel to hopeless cases. It was that she wasn’t afraid to. That she didn’t need Harin’s approval yet still remained untouchable. Respected. Admired.

Harin stared at her phone, the Pyramid Game application open to cast her votes. Her fingers hovered over the interface, perfectly manicured nails gleaming under the flickering overhead lights. She had already decided who to vote for. But her mind was elsewhere.

Park Y/N. Always voting. Always good. But not harmless. No, there was something stubborn in her softness. Something dangerous.

She voted — a calculated F, knowing it would tip the next round into quiet chaos. A reminder. That no one was safe. That even admiration had limits. That even Park Y/N’s world could fracture.

And maybe… just maybe… she wanted to see how Y/N would handle it. If she would bend or break. If her benevolence could withstand the pressure.

Later that night, she received a message on her burner phone. An anonymous group thread — though they all knew who was inside.

Harin: Consider next week’s rankings a warning.

Doah: You sound jealous

Dayeon: or desperate

Harin: I don’t need to be either. I just need her to remember who holds the strings.

She turned off the phone.

But it was too late. The thoughts remained, crawling under her skin like thorns.

She hated this feeling. Not being understood. Not being chosen. Not being needed.

And Park Y/N? She had everything Harin once thought she didn’t care about.

And yet, she couldn’t stop looking.

Another month passed at Baekyeon High.

The 13th Pyramid Game had arrived.

Doah stood at the front of the class with her usual detached elegance, arms folded neatly behind her back. “As always,” she began, voice like silk and ice, “the ranks must be chosen by the collective vote of the class. You cannot vote for yourself. Voting is anonymous.”

She paused. “The 13th Pyramid Game… will begin.”

Silence fell, and one by one, the students cast their ballots.

The results came out immediately after. Two names with 0 votes: Sung Sooji. Myeong Jaeun.

The atmosphere shifted instantly, the way it always did. Eyes narrowed. Whispers multiplied. Books “accidentally” knocked from desks. No one said it outright, but everyone knew what was coming.

By Wednesday, the torment had begun.

Kim Dayeon — as usual — led the charge. Along with Bang Wooyi and Gu Seolha, she would corner Sooji in the hallway, pour water all over her, or “trip” her during gym. Jaeun, quiet as ever, simply braced herself for it. She'd already learned not to expect help.

During break, just before lunch, the classroom buzzed with idle chatter — until a loud, shrill whistle pierced the air.

Dayeon stood at the front, smirking, lips curled like she was waiting for a game to start.

“Round two,” she muttered, stepping toward Sooji, who sat frozen at her desk.

Wooyi followed, and Seolha wasn’t far behind. The rest of the class stilled but did nothing. As always.

Dayeon reached for Sooji’s bag — but a voice cut through the silence.

“Stop.”

The word was sharp. Clear. Every head turned.

Park Y/N stood from her seat.

Dayeon tilted her head. “You and I are both ranked A. You can’t tell me what to do.”

The class held its breath.

But then a new voice joined in.

“I can.”

Baek Harin.

She hadn’t even moved from her seat near the back of the class. But her voice, calm and steady, cleaved through the room like a blade.

Her eyes didn’t move from the open book on her desk — but her tone left no room for interpretation.

The tension broke. Dayeon faltered.

“Fine,” she muttered, slinking back with a scoff. Wooyi and Seolha followed, each pretending they weren’t backing down because Harin told them to. But everyone knew.

When Baek Harin spoke, Baekyeon listened.

Later that day, as the sun dipped below the windows and cast amber shadows across the halls, Y/N stayed behind, seated alone at her desk. She hadn’t moved since the final bell rang.

She didn’t flinch when footsteps approached. She already knew who it was.

“You really like playing hero, don’t you?” Harin’s voice was low, unreadable.

Y/N didn’t answer right away. She simply looked out the window. “It wasn’t heroic. It was just… right.”

Harin sat across from her, uninvited but confident. Always confident.

A silence settled between them before Harin spoke again — this time, softer.

“Do you ever get tired of being good all the time?”

Y/N finally turned to face her.

“I don’t think kindness is something you run out of,” she said. “But I think loneliness is.”

Harin froze.

The words hit something raw.

She didn’t show it — not really. But for a split second, her expression faltered. And in that space, she looked at Y/N not like an opponent. Not like an ally.

But like someone who had just been seen — completely and utterly.

And she hated it.

The air was crisp, biting even, and yet the girls who gathered in a secluded area at school seemed unfazed by the cold. A pack of A-rankers loitered beneath the metal overhang — smoke curling lazily from a few lit cigarettes.

Baek Harin leaned against the wire-mesh fencing, eyes cold and far away as she toyed with a gold lighter in her hand. The reflective metal clicked shut, open, shut — rhythmic and sharp, like a metronome.

Dayeon exhaled a plume of smoke beside her, tossing her head with casual insolence. “Why are you stopping us from doing what we’ve always done?”

Harin didn’t respond.

Wooyi, slouched on the bench, raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been acting weird lately, Harin-ah.”

Seolha let out a soft, amused scoff.

Dayeon didn’t wait. She stepped forward, irritation barely hidden beneath her grin. “You do know this makes the game meaningless, right? If no one fears being F, if we can’t punish them, then why are we even playing?”

The silence that followed was heavy. The other girls watched Harin carefully — smoke twisting between them, like tension made visible.

Still facing the city skyline, Harin flicked her lighter shut once more and finally turned. Her voice, when it came, was quiet, but it held weight like steel beneath silk.

“Are you questioning me, Dayeon-ah?”

The way she said it — detached, almost amused — made Dayeon flinch. Everyone did. Even the wind seemed to pause.

Dayeon opened her mouth, but then shut it again.

That was the thing about Baek Harin. You never quite knew when you crossed the line — only that you already had.

She watched the other girl carefully for a beat longer, then turned her gaze back to the fading sky.

“Vote however you like,” Harin said flatly. “But if you touch them again without my permission, you’ll find yourself lower than F.”

The words hung in the air like smoke — acrid, impossible to ignore.

They all knew what she meant. Being stripped of protection from Harin meant social death, even for an A-ranker.

Dayeon, arms crossed, spoke up after a long moment. “So what, you’re playing god now?”

Harin didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.

Because in Baekyeon High, she already was.

The house was quiet. Actually, too quiet, for a place so grand.

Baek Harin sat curled up in one corner of her family’s vast living room, where the high ceilings swallowed sound and the chandelier glittered coldly above her. The only light came from a low lamp by the window and the glass chess board on the table in front of her — a luxury piece, all frosted panes and hand-carved crystal pieces that clinked delicately whenever she moved one.

White queen. Black knight. White pawn.

She wasn’t playing a real game. She just moved the pieces around in absentminded patterns — instinctive strategies drilled into her since she was old enough to sit at a board.

Her fingers paused over the king.

She was still thinking about Park Y/N.

Not in the obvious way. Not the pathetic way. Just… analytically. Strategically. Like Y/N was a piece on her board that had defied her move.

Y/N had seen her.

The moment played again and again in her mind like a curse. The way Y/N sat at her desk after class, shoulders squared and spine straight, but her eyes so tired. That damned line: “I don’t think kindness is something you run out of. But I think loneliness is.”

Loneliness.

As if Harin didn’t know what that meant. As if Harin hadn’t sat in this very room for years, with glass chandeliers and gold-framed photos and silent dinners with her parents who only cared about the family name.

Harin’s fingers curled around the white queen. She could still hear the whistle from earlier, still see Dayeon daring to talk back to Y/N in front of the whole class. And then—

She had intervened. She had told them to stop.

She — Baek Harin, the one who made the rules — had gone against her own game. Not to protect Jaeun. Not to save Sooji. But to silence Dayeon. Because the idea of someone like her speaking to Y/N like that — undermining her — felt wrong. Ugly.

Y/N was supposed to be like the rest — powerful, polite, pliant.

But instead, she’d spoken like she meant every word. Like Harin wasn’t just some untouchable tyrant of Baekyeon High, but a person. And she hated it. Hated how much it shook her.

She slid the white queen across the board, knocking over a black pawn.

Check.

Her hand stayed hovering. The board blurred.

She didn’t understand why it mattered. She had power. She had control. Everyone feared her, respected her, bent for her — even Y/N, who always voted. And yet…

Y/N looked at her like she wasn’t afraid. Like she was worried.

And that was worse. That was dangerous.

Because Baek Harin had been called a monster, a tyrant, a golden girl, an heiress. She had never been called lonely. But still, the words wouldn't leave her. Because if anyone had the power to make her question the system she ruled — make her doubt herself — it was Park Y/N.

And Harin hated that.

She hated how it made her feel.

She hated how it made her want.

One of Class 2-5’s privileges was the school trip, and the scuba diving session in the deep training pool that Baekyeon High had booked out for them was supposed to be one of the highlights.

Harin didn’t participate. She hated the water.

Not just because she couldn’t swim — though that was certainly part of it — but because of the lack of control. The depth. The stillness. The unknown. She stood by the edge of the pool in her dry clothes while the other girls splashed around in wetsuits and life vests, pulling off their gear after a long round in the pool.

She was looking down. The water was so deep she could barely make out the tile patterns at the bottom. It felt like it was staring back at her.

Then she felt two hands shove her back. Hard.

Her foot slipped on the wet tile.

She barely had time to gasp before she hit the water.

The cold closed over her like a coffin.

The surface above her blurred. Her limbs kicked wildly, uselessly. Water burned her nose, her throat. She couldn't breathe — panic spiraled through her chest as she sank, the weight of her clothes dragging her down.

Everything spun.

And then hands.

Hands around her waist, a firm grip pulling her upward. A flash of soaked hair, wild eyes, and soft lips pressed in concentration. Y/N.

Harin broke the surface with a violent gasp, choking, coughing water onto Y/N’s shoulder. Others were shouting now — Jaeun and Eunjong already jumping in to help, but Y/N was the one who held her up. Y/N who had reached her first. Harin clung to her like instinct.

When they got her to the edge of the pool, a lifeguard rushed in. She was hauled out, wrapped in towels, someone pressing something warm into her shaking hands. She wasn’t shivering. Just seething. She sat on the tile, wrapped in a towel, eyes trained not on Wooyi or the teacher. But on the crowd.

On the girls who did nothing. On Eunbyeol, Dayeon, and Doah — all standing there, dry, untouched, unmoved. And that fact burned more than the water in her lungs. She didn’t say anything. But her jaw locked so tight, it ached.

And then... her eyes landed on Y/N.

Wet, panting, water dripping down her temples. Sitting beside Jaeun, checking a scratch on her own arm from pulling Harin too hard.

And Harin hated the twist in her chest.

Not because she had been humiliated. But because Y/N had jumped in without hesitation.

Why?

The golden sky had already begun to dim, casting soft shadows across the open field in front of the hotel buildings. Patches of grass crunched beneath the girls’ sneakers as they huddled in scattered circles, the buzz of conversation rising in loose clusters.

Mr. Im stood in front, clipboard in hand, and let the girls form their own groups. The moment he finished speaking, movement erupted.

Eunbyeol didn’t hesitate. She slid herself smoothly beside Harin, looping an arm through hers like it was expected.

“Dayeon! Doah!” she called over her shoulder, waving them in.

The three of them gathered around Harin with ease, forming a tight circle.

Nearby, a few girls were already glancing toward Y/N — some out of curiosity, others out of expectation. It was obvious what was happening. These were the top-rankers, the inner circle. Anyone outside that circle could only watch.

Harin’s group was already half-formed, and most expected her to fall into line. She always had. There was space for her, right beside Harin, even if no one said it aloud.

But then Yerim looked up from where she stood with Sooji, Jaeun, and Jaehyung. Her brows lifted ever so slightly, and she didn’t say a word — just waited.

Both groups looked at her.

Harin didn’t say anything, but her eyes were locked on Y/N from the corner of her vision.

The silence was thick.

Y/N smiled — small, gentle — and began walking.

Not toward Harin.

But toward Yerim.

Her footsteps crunched lightly against the grass as she stopped in front of the group.

“Room for one more?” she asked.

Yerim beamed. “Obviously.”

Jaehyung whistled low as Y/N joined them. “You’re not comfortable with Eunbyeol, are you?”

Y/N’s only response was another soft smile, but it was enough. Yerim stepped closer beside her, giving her a knowing look.

Across the field, Harin said nothing, but her shoulders had tensed. She’d expected it. And yet, as she watched Y/N retreat, the sting felt sharper than she expected. Not because she felt abandoned — but because Y/N had made a choice.

And it hadn’t been her.

At night, the seashore by the hotel was transformed by moonlight — paper lanterns glowed gold and orange in the arms of the students who held them, ready to be released into the sky. A quiet hush had fallen over the group, broken only by giggles and soft murmurs as they scribbled wishes onto the sides of their lanterns with marker.

Y/N stood with Yerim, Sooji, Jaehyung, and Jaeun, laughing softly as she recapped Jaehyung’s scribbled wish — something about MONSTAX’s comeback.

Dozens of glowing orbs floated upward, illuminating the shore in a warm, weightless glow. The girls tilted their heads back, eyes wide as the lanterns danced into the night sky.

Everyone was looking up.

Except Harin.

Her group’s lantern lifted slowly beside her, glowing bright against the inky darkness, but she only watched it for a second. Her gaze shifted, drawn like gravity.

There she was.

Y/N stood at the edge of the shore, head tilted to the stars, lips parted slightly in quiet awe. The flicker of lantern light played on her features, softening her profile, catching in the strands of her hair.

Harin didn’t realize she was staring until Eunbyeol nudged her gently. “You’re not watching ours.”

Harin didn’t answer.

How could she explain that watching Y/N was more mesmerizing than anything floating in the sky?

How does she just… stand there and look like that?

She didn’t have the answer. And it infuriated her.

The school had rented out a paintball arena, complete with temporary cover zones and color-coded gear. The girls of Class 2-5 were divided into teams, but the rules were clear: whoever got hit at least three times would be gathered afterward for a consequence.

Predictably, the losers were:

Sooji, Jaeun, Jaehyung, Jiae, and Eunjong.

The five of them stood in a huddle at the center of the field, hearts pounding as Eunbyeol explained what would happen next.

“The prisoner’s dilemma. You’ll expose each other’s mistakes like this,” she announced, pulling the gun’s trigger to splatter a paintball on Sooji. “’You crossed the line by saying you’d get rid of the game.’ It’s over once you run out of paintballs. If you expose more of your friend’s mistakes, your chance of survival will go up.”

The rest of the class circled like vultures — waiting, whispering. Harin wanted a crack. A betrayal. Friendship getting shattered. Just so they could get an F-ranker to bring back the balance of the Pyramid Game.

Jaeun and Sooji exchanged uncertain glances. Jaehyung tried to laugh it off, but tension crackled in the air. Everyone was at a standstill for what felt like forever.

Then came Eunbyeol’s voice, sweet and sharp like a blade dipped in honey. She turned to Dayeon and whispered, “Harin’s sending you a signal. Do you want Baek Harin to go nuts again?”

Dayeon’s jaw tightened.

Whether it was fear, pride, or pressure — she snapped.

She stormed toward the circle, eyes locking on Jiae.

“You,” she spat. “Do you think I can’t come after you if you’re not in Grade F?”

Jiae stepped back, lips trembling.

“That’s enough,” Eunjong said, stepping in front of her. “This isn’t how we do this.”

Dayeon’s eyes flashed. “What are you, her bodyguard now?”

Eunjong shoved her and that’s when Dayeon lost it. She kicked Eunjong, punched her and picked her up just to throw her to a wall.

And in the middle of it all, Y/N moved.

“Stop it!” she shouted, pushing between them, hands raised. “You can’t just attack people—”

That was when Dayeon turned on her, rage boiling over. She shoved Y/N with both hands. Hard.

Y/N stumbled, slamming into the side of a wooden barricade, her head knocking with a sickening thud. She collapsed to the ground in a heap. She didn’t get back up.

The class went dead silent.

Sooji gasped. Jaehyung cursed under her breath. Yerim was already running forward.

But someone else moved faster.

Harin.

She shoved past the crowd, her face pale, controlled exterior cracking as she dropped to her knees beside Y/N.

“Y/N?” Her voice was hoarse.

She touched Y/N’s shoulder, shook her gently. “Hey. Wake up.”

Nothing.

“Someone call 911!” Yerim called out, frantic.

But Harin couldn’t look away. Her hands trembled slightly as she brushed Y/N’s hair out of her face.

“You shouldn’t have stepped in,” she whispered, voice nearly broken. “Why do you keep putting yourself in the middle of everything?”

Y/N’s head lolled slightly, unconscious but breathing. Harin pressed her hand to Y/N’s cheek. Cold. She turned her eyes on Dayeon, who was frozen in place.

“What the hell did you do?!”

No one dared speak.

“Kim Dayeon, you’d better pray she wakes up,” Harin hissed.

And around her, the class watched in stunned silence — because Baek Harin didn’t kneel for anyone.

Except her.

An ambulance was called in immediately to take Y/N to the nearest private hospital. She laid unconscious on the bed, a bandage around her head, the private suite lit only by the soft glow of a lamp.

Harin hadn't left her side.

She sat with her arms crossed, but not in her usual disinterested pose — more like she was holding herself together. Every time Y/N stirred, even slightly, Harin straightened with such tension it was obvious she’d been replaying everything in her head. Over and over.

The others had been dismissed. Dayeon, reportedly, was being handled — no one knew what that meant, but when Baek Harin said someone was “handled,” it was never gentle.

But none of that mattered right now.

Just Y/N. Just her closed eyes. Her quiet breathing.

Harin didn’t realize she was holding her breath until Y/N’s fingers twitched.

“Y/N?” Her voice cracked, soft. Fragile in a way no one would recognize.

Y/N groaned, head turning slightly.

Harin stood so fast the chair nearly toppled.

“Don’t move,” Harin whispered, hand hovering over her shoulder. “You hit your head. Idiot.”

Y/N blinked slowly. “You’re still here?”

“You jumped in a pool for me,” Harin said, voice uneven. “You think I wouldn’t sit through a little concussion?”

That made Y/N laugh a little. “You sound worried.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re lying.”

Pause.

“Maybe.”

Their eyes met for longer than they ever had before.

“I’m supposed to hate you,” Harin muttered.

“I know,” Y/N whispered. “I’m supposed to be scared of you.”

“I know,” Harin echoed.

A beat of silence.

“You scared me today,” Y/N admitted. “But not like before.”

Harin looked away, swallowing hard. “Then how?”

“You looked like someone who cared.”

Harin wanted to scoff. To say something cruel. To deflect.

Instead, she said, “I told Dayeon if you didn’t wake up, I’d ruin her.”

Y/N smiled faintly. “Did you mean it?”

“I never say anything I don’t mean.”

And that scared Harin most of all. Because for the first time, maybe she meant everything.

A week after Busan, things weren’t the same.

Not that anyone said it outright, but Y/N felt it. In the way hallways hushed slightly when she passed. In the way people stopped pretending that Baek Harin didn’t care about anything.

And Dayeon — once Baekyeon’s unofficial enforcer, the loudest voice at Harin’s side — now sat two rows back in class, B-rank sticker dull on her desk. She hadn’t dared look Harin in the eye since the trip.

Y/N hadn’t spoken to Harin much, either. But something had changed, and everyone could feel it. Like the power in the room had tilted just slightly — and for once, not everything was in Harin’s favor.

She should’ve been used to Harin’s eyes on her by now.

But ever since Busan, it wasn’t the same stare. It wasn’t cold or calculating. It wasn’t like she was being assessed for weakness. It was quieter, steadier. Like Harin was watching not for what Y/N might do, but for what might happen to her.

And that was the most dangerous part because it made Y/N feel seen in a way she didn’t know how to handle.

It started in class — during history, when someone made a half-hearted jab about Y/N “playing hero” in Busan. The words barely left the girl’s mouth before Harin, from across the room, turned slowly in her seat.

“Say that again,” she said, voice flat, sharp as a blade.

The girl swallowed her words and stared at her desk.

Y/N had just blinked. Harin didn’t even look at her afterward. She just returned to her notes like it hadn’t happened at all.

Then again, during gym, when Dayeon “accidentally” knocked Y/N’s bottle off the bench. Before Y/N could even bend down to pick it up, Harin was already walking over, silent and slow. Dayeon suddenly remembered she had to be somewhere else.

Y/N picked up the bottle herself. “You don’t have to do that.”

Harin paused before murmuring, “I know. But I want to.”

Y/N smiled faintly. “So that’s your thing now? Silent guardian?”

“No one touches you again. Not without going through me.”

“You say that like I’m yours to protect.”

The air shifted.

Harin stepped closer, voice lower. “Aren’t you?”

Y/N’s breath caught, heart a stutter against her ribs. She looked away. “You don’t own me, Harin.”

“But I’m starting to wish I did.”

Harin didn’t wait for a response. She turned and walked away — fast, like she’d said too much.

The heat between them had been simmering for weeks, and now it was crackling just beneath the surface.

They sat in the same room, both pretending to read. Y/N stared blankly at the words in her textbook, hyper-aware of Harin’s presence at the opposite end of the room.

“Do you always have to pick fights for me?” Y/N finally asked, not looking up.

Harin closed her book slowly. “They picked the fights. I just ended them.”

“You make it harder when you do that.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

Y/N hesitated. “I want to know why you’re doing it.”

Silence.

Harin stood, walked over, and sat down at the desk across from her.

“I’m not doing this for them,” she said simply. “I’m not even doing it because it’s right.”

She leaned forward, voice low.

“I’m doing it because it’s you.”

Y/N held her breath. She didn’t move, didn’t even blink.

“You confuse me, Park Y/N,” Harin continued. “You make me want to protect something I’ve spent years breaking.”

Y/N’s lips parted, but the door clicked open.

They both turned — and the tension dissolved like it had never been there.

Y/N wanted to say something, but she couldn’t. Not yet, when everything was still cloudy and confusing in her mind. So, she went to the place she always ran to whenever she needed time to think. Away from people, away from home.

She now sat on the rooftop bench alone, trying to make sense of everything. The door creaked again.

Yerim.

She sat beside her without a word, tucking her hair behind her ear before breaking the silence.

“So... how long has that been going on?”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb. I’m not the one who nearly murdered Dayeon with my eyes when she bumped into Harin in the hallway.”

Y/N sighed. “It’s not what you think.”

“Oh?” Yerim smirked. “Then tell me what it is, because Baek Harin has never looked at anyone the way she looks at you.”

Y/N looked down at her hands.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “It’s like she’s trying. Like she wants to be different. But I can’t tell if it’s real or if I’m just... a challenge.”

“Do you want it to be real?”

Y/N didn’t answer and that was answer enough.

Yerim leaned back. “Then you better figure it out before she breaks your heart. Or worse — before you break hers.”

A month after Busan was Baekyeon Group’s annual gala — a place where empires gathered and alliances solidified over toasts and false laughter. The luxurious venue with mountains views screamed a rather sophisticated ambience. Crystals dripped from chandeliers like falling stars, champagne flutes clinked, and the scent of money and influence floated heavier than the perfume worn by the city’s most elite.

Y/N had been to events like this all her life. Her father, a key figure in logistics and development, always made sure she looked the part. Hair perfectly pinned, gown flowing, posture unshakable. A model heiress.

But nothing could prepare her for Baek Harin, standing across the room in obsidian silk — sharp, poised, and devastating in a way that felt like gravity.

And the moment their eyes met, the world narrowed to a line.

Harin was surrounded — executives, board members, men twice her age falling over themselves to speak with her like she wasn’t seventeen. But her gaze flicked to Y/N, and stuck. For once, she made no move to hide it.

Y/N swallowed hard, offering a small nod before moving toward the refreshment table, past Dayeon in blood-red satin and Doah making conversation with a finance heir’s son. It was a maze of masks, all pretending not to be what they really were.

She was about to reach for a glass when a man she didn’t recognize — sharp suit, the unmistakable arrogance of inherited power — cut her off.

“You’re Park Y/N, aren’t you?” His smile was too slick. “The logistics princess. Didn’t expect someone so... unguarded.”

Y/N smiled politely. “That’s because I’m not a fortress.”

“Well,” he leaned in, “maybe you should be.”

She took a step back, but he matched it. Close enough to be discomforting. She glanced around, but her father was deep in conversation, and most others were too engrossed in their own egos to notice.

Then a hand curled gently around her wrist. Not possessive. Just... steady. Maybe.

Harin.

Her expression didn’t shift as she turned to the man. “She’s spoken for.”

The man blinked. “Excuse me?”

Harin tilted her head, that calm, unshakable frost in her voice. “I’d be more careful with your words. Your father wouldn’t want to lose our investment over something as stupid as a misstep with my guest.”

Guest.

Y/N didn’t have time to react before the man backed off with a quiet curse and a forced smile, disappearing into the crowd.

Still stunned, she stared at Harin.

“You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” Harin said simply, already turning away.

But Y/N followed her this time.

The private lounge was quieter, darker — just soft classical music playing behind closed doors. Harin didn’t flinch when Y/N pushed the door shut.

“You’re confusing me,” Y/N said, breathless, like she’d been holding it in all night. “I don’t know what you want from me, Harin.”

Harin turned slowly.

“I’m trying to figure that out too.”

“You tested me,” Y/N said, stepping closer, voice rising. “You mocked me. You made me vote against people who did nothing wrong. I thought I was just a pawn in whatever game you were playing—”

“You weren’t.”

“Then what am I, Harin? Your friend? Your ally? Your... project?”

Silence.

Y/N laughed bitterly. “Because I don’t know whether you want to break me or protect me.”

Harin’s jaw tensed.

“I wanted to see what you’d do,” she admitted. “What someone like you would become if I pushed hard enough.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. “And?”

“I hate how much you stayed the same.”

Y/N faltered.

“I hate that no matter what I did, you were still good,” Harin said, her voice finally cracking around the edges. “I hate that when I needed saving, it was you. I hate that the person who makes me feel safest is also the one person I can’t control.”

Y/N took a breath. “Is that why you protected me tonight?”

Harin looked away. “I don’t want to see anyone else touch you.”

That stopped her cold. Slowly, Y/N walked up to her.

“You say things like that,” she whispered, “but you never stay close enough for me to believe them.”

Harin met her eyes again. And for the first time, she didn’t hide behind calculation.

“I’m scared,” she said quietly. “Of what you make me feel.”

Y/N didn’t speak. She just reached up, brushing her hand lightly against Harin’s hair.

“Then stop pushing me away,” she said. “Because I’m tired of guessing.”

It was another one of those cloudy mornings that made the fluorescent classroom lights feel even harsher at Baekyeon High.

Y/N was seated at her desk by the window, quietly annotating the reading for their literature class. Harin, in her usual place — one desk behind, a seat to the right — pretended to be reading, but her eyes lifted every so often, subtle and precise, like she was keeping track of the way Y/N furrowed her brow while thinking.

Then the door slammed open.

Kim Dayeon.

B-rank sticker still fresh on her desk, like it had been burned into her skin.

She hadn’t taken her fall quietly. There was tension behind her smile now, a bitterness in her laugh that curdled when it dawdled too long. Dayeon walked to her seat, tossing her bag down hard enough that a few people flinched. She didn’t sit immediately — instead, she walked toward Y/N’s desk, too casually to be casual.

“Funny, isn’t it?” she said, voice loud enough to cut through the hum of class chatter. “A girl like you, getting everyone’s sympathy. Jumping into pools. Defending losers.”

Y/N didn’t look up. “Did you need something, Dayeon?”

Dayeon smirked. “No. Just wondering when you’ll stop pretending you’re better than the rest of us.”

That got heads turning. Y/N’s pen paused mid-line. “I’ve never pretended anything.”

“Oh?” Dayeon stepped closer. “Then what’s your secret, Park Y/N? How does someone like you stay in Grade A, even after breaking the rules? Even after messing with the game?”

The silence in the room was immediate.

Dayeon’s smile widened. “Or maybe you just got lucky. Maybe someone made sure you stayed where you are.”

Y/N met her gaze evenly. “If you have something to say, say it.”

“I’m saying maybe you’re the reason I dropped and stayed at B.” There it was — the real venom. “Maybe Harin let you float while the rest of us sank.”

A breath of stillness.

“No.” Harin’s voice was soft. But it cut.

Everyone turned.

She hadn’t raised her voice. She hadn’t stood. But the room froze.

Dayeon blinked. “What?”

“I don’t need to justify her rank to you,” Harin said, turning the page of her book slowly. “Y/N didn’t drop you. You did that yourself.”

Dayeon’s mouth opened, but Harin didn’t look at her again.

“I suggest you sit down, before I start wondering why you’re still in B.”

Silence. Dayeon stiffened, then slowly turned and walked back to her desk, lips pressed tight.

Harin didn’t look up. But when Y/N shifted slightly to the side, she caught Harin’s reflection in the window — the smallest smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. Protective. Precise. Quietly proud. Y/N bit back a smile.

And everyone else in class? They noticed. Because now, Baek Harin had picked a side — and it wasn’t her own.

“I’ve never seen Harin defend someone like that,” someone whispered.

“No. She defended Y/N. That’s different.”

“Are they—?”

“I mean, they always sit near each other now…”

Harin caught some of it — low murmurs trailing behind the girls in pleated skirts and navy uniforms. She didn’t react. Didn’t even twitch.

When the door finally clicked shut behind the last student for lunch, Harin spoke up.

“You should’ve said something back to her.”

Y/N looked up from her book. “I didn’t need to.”

“I know,” Harin said, finally standing. “But I wanted you to.”

There was a beat of quiet. Harin walked over slowly, her steps quieter than usual, almost hesitant.

“I didn’t expect you to step in,” Y/N said softly. “Not like that.”

Harin stopped in front of her desk. “I didn’t expect to want to.”

Y/N stared at her for a few seconds more before she looked down at her table and started packing her things. Yerim was probably waiting for her outside.

Just before she stood up, Harin cleared her throat. “Anyway, there’s a business thing this weekend. I was asked to bring someone. Usually Doah comes, but… I’d rather you did.”

Y/N raised a brow. “Why?”

“Our families work together. It won’t be suspicious.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

A beat.

“You’re not curious why I asked you?”

Y/N crossed her arms. “Are you going to tell me?”

Harin looked over at her, expression unreadable. “No.”

But then, softer: “But I hope you say yes anyway.”

Y/N didn’t reply — just stared back, long and quiet, until Harin had to look away first.

“I’ll think about it.”

The wind was cooler up at the rooftop. Late afternoon sunlight stretched golden across the buildings, casting long shadows that softened the brutal concrete edges.

Y/N sat cross-legged against the railing, a plastic drink bottle beside her, half-empty. Yerim leaned back beside her, eyes closed against the sun. A few feet away, Jaeun and Jaehyung sat on a blanket they’d brought up — apparently part of some makeshift “no thoughts, just vibes” after-school routine.

Sooji sat near the door, legs dangling over the ledge of the low bench.

It was quiet, peaceful even. For once, no whispers of rankings, of rumors. Just the faint chatter of students far below and the occasional rustle of wind.

“She asked you to go with her?” Yerim asked, popping one eye open.

Y/N nodded slowly. “To the weekend event. They’re visiting the orphanage to meet some kids since they’re opening a new playground.”

Jaehyung whistled low. “That's... intimate.”

“She said it wasn’t suspicious because our families are connected,” Y/N replied, and then added, “But I think there’s more to it.”

Jaeun just smiled faintly.

Sooji let out a dry chuckle. “Of course there is. Maybe it’s strategic. Or personal.”

Y/N looked down at her fingers. “So which one am I?”

That was when Jaehyung leaned back on her palms, tilting her head toward Y/N. “You don’t notice it, huh?”

“Notice what?”

She smirked. “She’s different with you. You walk into a room and she stops biting people’s heads off. Her eyes track you like a magnet.”

Y/N flushed slightly. “I—”

“She listens,” Jaeun added softly. “Only to you.”

Sooji crossed her arms, gaze suddenly sharper. “That’s what’s crazy.”

Y/N glanced up.

“People like Harin,” Sooji said, “they don’t change for anyone. They’re made of steel, not water. They bend for no one — unless they want to drown.”

Yerim nodded, sitting forward now. “If she’s changing for you, that’s not nothing. But you better be sure you know what that means. For her. And for you.”

Y/N was quiet. She looked out across the horizon — the distant sea just barely visible between rooftops.

“Do you think I’m in over my head?”

Yerim smiled, half-soft, half-sad. “I think she already pulled you in. Question is, do you want to swim or keep pretending you’re not underwater?”

No one spoke after that.

The sky burned a little orange, and Y/N sat there, quietly thinking about how much Harin’s eyes resembled storms — and how lately, they didn’t seem to scare her as much anymore.

The lights in Baek Harin’s bedroom were dim — only the floor lamp in the corner remained on, casting long shadows across the polished floor and pale walls.

Harin sat on the floor beside her low table, one knee tucked under her chin. Another glass chessboard in front of her gleamed faintly under the amber light, pieces mid-game from a match she never finished. The white queen had tipped onto its side, fallen.

She stared at it.

Usually, chess helped her think. It was clean. Logical. Cause and effect. Move and counter. But tonight, every time she picked up a piece, her mind wandered back to the classroom.

Y/N’s voice. Her smile when she didn’t realize anyone was watching. That unreadable look on her face after the invitation.

Harin didn’t know what to do with it.

Her fingers hovered over the knight, then stilled.

She probably told Yerim and Sooji, she thought. They’re probably warning her by now.

That should have made her angry.

It didn’t.

It made her stomach twist.

What was she doing?

She had invited Y/N like it was nothing, like it was expected. But it wasn’t. Nothing about this had been normal.

Ever since that damn school trip.

The way Y/N had jumped into the pool without hesitation. The way she had smiled gently at Jaehyung when she chose her roommates — chose someone else. The way she had stood between Dayeon and Eunjong like she didn’t care what the game demanded.

And the way she had collapsed.

Harin’s hands clenched on her knee.

She hadn’t meant to care. She had meant to break her — test her like she tested everyone.

But Y/N never broke. She bent, again and again, but she never broke.

And now Harin was the one unraveling.

She pushed herself up abruptly, pacing across the room, arms crossed, her thoughts louder than her footsteps.

Should I talk to her?

She imagined the conversation.

“Stop being nice to everyone. It makes me want to set the world on fire.”

No. That was psychotic.

“Don’t smile at Jaehyung like that.”

Even worse.

“Are you doing this to me on purpose?”

Too desperate.

She stopped pacing, back to the window.

For the first time in her life, Baek Harin didn’t know what to say.

Not to a rival. Not to an opponent. Not even to a threat. But to someone who had started mattering in ways she never gave permission for. And she hated it.

It was another Monday morning at Baekyeon High. The hallways buzzed with the low chatter of students, but Harin heard none of it.

She stood just outside Class 2-5’s door, fingers brushing her sleeve as she stared through the small glass panel in the frame. Y/N was already at her desk, talking softly with Yerim and Sooji. She looked calm. Comfortable.

Untouched by the war Harin had been waging with herself all weekend.

She had come here to talk.

But now that she stood there, watching the way Y/N’s lips curved into a smile — soft, sincere, never for show — the words slipped from her grasp like water.

What would she even say?

“You make me feel like I’m not the one in control anymore”?

No.

“Stop making me want to be good”?

Pathetic.

A sharp voice pulled her attention.

“Harin-ah,” Eunbyeol called, walking up with Doah and Dayeon. “Aren’t you coming in?”

Harin looked at her. “You go ahead.”

The three girls glanced at one another — unsure what she was doing, but not brave enough to question it out loud. They filed into the classroom while Harin stayed.

Y/N’s head lifted slightly as the door opened, eyes scanning the new arrivals — and for a moment, her gaze flicked toward the door.

Their eyes met. Only for a second. And in that second, Harin felt everything she hadn’t said clench in her throat.

Y/N offered her the faintest nod, polite but unreadable, before turning back to her conversation.

Harin stared for a moment longer. Then turned and walked away.

The weekend’s event wasn’t the usual glossy, high-profile gala that their fathers attended in pressed suits. There were no champagne flutes or velvet carpets. Just the gravel crunching under their shoes and the bright, painted arch of a brand-new playground entrance.

The Baekyeon Group was sponsoring the opening of a new playground and library wing at the children’s orphanage. Press would be there. So would some executives. But most of all, children.

Harin had asked her to come. Hidden behind a business pretense. Y/N knew better, but still, the doubt pressed at the back of her mind. She had meant to tell Harin her answer to the invitation, but the morning she planned to, Harin had walked away and skipped school entirely. Special workshop, they said.

Now, they stood together in the courtyard, matching beige overcoats shielding them from the late morning breeze.

The children were already running toward the swings, laughing, bright-eyed. One of them tugged at Y/N’s hand — a little girl with ink-stained fingers and uneven pigtails.

“Unnie, do you want to push me?”

Y/N smiled. “Of course.”

As she walked off, Harin stood still.

Her grandmother was giving a statement to the local press. Their fathers were shaking hands in the background.

But Harin only watched Y/N.

The way her hair caught the sunlight. The way she crouched beside the kids without hesitation. The way her smile was never forced.

An assistant stepped beside Harin. “Ms. Harin, should we proceed with the photo ops?”

Harin barely glanced at her. “In a minute.”

She kept her gaze on Y/N.

And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t care who saw her doing it.

The laughter outside was still echoing faintly through the windows, but the library was a world apart — quiet, warm, dust motes drifting through golden light as it filtered through sheer curtains.

Y/N stood near the small bookshelf in the far corner, fingers brushing the spine of a weathered fairy tale collection. Her coat was folded over her arm, a single yellow crayon mark trailing down her sleeve where one of the kids had hugged her too tightly.

She didn’t mind.

“Thought I’d find you here,” Harin’s voice came from the doorway, soft but distinct.

Y/N didn’t turn around at first. “Not hiding. Just needed a little silence.”

“I know.”

Harin stepped inside, closing the door gently behind her. The hush settled heavier between them now, like even the dust didn’t want to move.

Y/N finally looked at her, one brow raised. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

Harin stilled.

“That morning,” Y/N continued, “you were at the door. You didn’t come in.”

“…You saw that?”

“I always see you.”

Harin’s mouth opened, then closed. She walked slowly to the table at the center of the room and trailed her fingers across the back of a small chair.

“I wanted to say something.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

Harin was quiet. Her fingers tensed.

“I didn’t know what would come out.”

Y/N moved closer, slowly, until they stood on either side of the table, only the wood separating them.

“I’m not asking you to figure everything out in one day, Harin,” Y/N said, voice lower now. “But if you’re going to invite me into your world… don’t keep slamming the door shut once I step through.”

Harin didn’t meet her eyes, not right away.

“You make me forget how I used to be,” she said finally, so quiet it was barely audible.

Y/N blinked.

“You don’t even try, but you ruin my composure. You scare me. Not because I hate you — but because I think you’re the one person I can’t twist.”

Y/N’s breath caught.

Harin looked up now, gaze sharp but vulnerable. “You keep standing there — and I keep choosing you without knowing how to stop.”

Silence.

Then Y/N stepped around the table.

And when she got to Harin, she didn’t say anything. She slowly reached up as her gaze lowered from the taller girl’s eyes and settled to fix Harin’s collar.

For a second, Harin didn’t move.

But then her hand reached up and curled slowly, deliberately, around Y/N’s.

A quiet victory.

No titles. No ranks. No thrones.

Just two girls, suspended in a borrowed moment between who they were and who they were becoming.

Harin never came up the school’s rooftop. It wasn’t exactly her domain — quiet, slightly chaotic, and usually filled with sunlight.

But today, Yerim, who had asked her to come, perched on the ledge, legs dangling over the side with a juice pouch in hand as Harin approached.

“What,” Harin asked flatly, “are you going to push me off?”

Yerim sipped her drink and didn’t look at her. “Tempting.”

Harin stood beside her, arms crossed, waiting.

Yerim finally turned, “You’re being obvious.”

Harin didn’t answer.

“You used to walk through fire and make it look like a dance,” Yerim said. “Now you blink weirdly whenever Y/N talks.”

A muscle in Harin’s jaw twitched.

“You keep hovering. You softened when she was sick. You defended her. You invited her and I know you held her hand.”

Harin looked away.

“So what is it?” Yerim asked, voice quieter. “What are you doing to her?”

Harin didn’t flinch this time.

“That’s the wrong question,” she said. “The question is what she’s doing to me.”

Yerim frowned, “And what is she doing?”

“Undoing me,” Harin murmured. “Everything that I am.”

The wind blew a strand of hair across Yerim’s cheek. She brushed it away slowly.

“You know if you break her, I won’t just sit still.”

“I’m not trying to break her anymore,” Harin said.

Yerim’s eyes sharpened. “Then what are you trying to do?”

Harin looked out at the school grounds below, where students were walking to the gym for afternoon drills.

“I’m trying,” she said, “to figure out how to deserve her.”

Lately, everything felt like it came with a second layer.

When Y/N entered the classroom, she felt eyes flicker to her — not as harshly as before, but differently. With curiosity. With something like calculation. Like they were trying to figure her out all over again.

She wasn’t used to being talked about. Not like this.

Not as Harin’s person.

It had started after the charity event. First with a few stares. Then whispered comments in the halls. One girl even stopped her to ask, “Did you really go with Baek Harin to that orphanage thing?”

Y/N had smiled politely. “It was a family event.”

A technical truth.

But it didn’t explain why Harin had waited for her to arrive. Or the way Harin had pulled her coat over her shoulders when the wind picked up. Or how Harin had held her hand in the library — steady and deliberate, like she had just made a decision.

Y/N had spent the next three days pretending it didn’t rattle her.

But it did.

Because if Harin was changing, then Y/N didn’t know where to place her anymore.

Was she still the girl who played to keep herself in Rank A? The one who watched classmates fall and said nothing?

Or was she now the one who showed up early to class, who let Y/N speak freely in debates without cutting her off, who made Dayeon shut up in front of everyone?

Y/N didn’t know and that scared her.

Because it meant Harin wasn’t predictable anymore. It meant… she might actually care.

Her pen paused mid-sentence in her notes as Yerim’s open notebook slid across her desk.

She’s looking again. Don’t smile. It’s killing her.

Y/N rolled her eyes, fighting a grin.

She didn’t turn to check.

But when she reached up to brush her hair behind her ear, she felt it — the heat of a gaze boring into the back of her neck.

The sky had dulled into late afternoon grey, the air heavy with the stillness that comes after a long day of classes. The back courtyard, usually empty by this time, held the quiet shuffle of someone staying too long where they didn’t want to be found.

Y/N had gone back to retrieve a forgotten notebook, but paused when she heard the click of a lighter.

Rounding the corner, she saw her.

Baek Harin. Sitting on the low ledge by the courtyard steps, one leg bent, a cigarette burning between her fingers.

Smoke curled lazily into the air.

It was the first time in a while Harin had let herself slip — no mask, no posture, just tired.

Y/N stood for a moment, unseen.

Then walked over and plucked the cigarette from Harin’s hand.

Without flinching, she dropped it and crushed it under her shoe.

“That’s not good for you,” Y/N said calmly.

Harin didn’t blink. “Neither are a lot of things I do.”

“But you’re trying not to be that girl anymore, right?” Y/N added, quieter.

Harin looked away. “Trying isn’t always enough.”

Y/N stood beside her now, close but not touching.

“You keep doing this,” she said. “You save me from Dayeon. You ask me to come with you to events. You look at me like I’m the only one in the room…”

Harin stayed silent.

“But then you shut down. You don’t say anything.”

A pause.

“What do you really want from me, Harin?”

That did it.

Harin looked up, and for once, she didn’t have her usual cold armor on. Just tired eyes and something raw beneath them.

“I want you to stay,” she said. “Even though I don’t deserve it.”

Y/N’s heart stuttered.

“I want you to see every terrible part of me and still… not leave,” Harin continued, voice rougher now. “And I hate that I want that from you.”

“You think I don’t see you?”

“I think you see too much of me.”

The wind rustled the leaves above them.

Harin looked down at her hands, then back at Y/N.

“I’ve never said this to anyone,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “But I think I’m in love with you.”

Y/N didn’t speak. Her expression didn’t crack.

So Harin kept talking.

“I’ve loved you since you ruined everything I thought I understood about kindness. Since you saved me when no one else did. Since you looked me in the eye like I wasn’t someone to fear.”

“You’ve been cruel to me,” Y/N said softly.

“I know.”

“You’ve played with people’s lives.”

“I know.”

Y/N stepped forward. “And yet you’re the first one who ever made me feel like being good mattered. Like it could change something.”

Silence again.

And then, slowly, Y/N took Harin’s hand.

The next Pyramid Game announcement came faster than expected.

Doah stood at the front, phone in hand.

“The 15th Pyramid Game will begin—”

“I’m not voting.”

All eyes turned.

Baek Harin stood at her desk, arms crossed.

Dayeon’s head whipped toward her, stunned. “Excuse me?”

“I said, I’m not voting.”

The room froze. Whispers started circling, confused looks pointed towards Harin.

“Anyone who doesn’t vote gets an automatic F,” Doah said coolly.

“I’m aware.”

She met Y/N’s gaze across the room.

And smiled — a real one this time. Soft and grounded.

“I’m done playing this game.”

A week later, there was obvious change in Class 2-5. Everyone remained cautious, not daring to touch Harin even if she had given up on her own game.

The rooftop was quiet. The cherry trees had just begun to bloom, petals drifting in the soft spring air.

Y/N leaned her head against Harin’s shoulder as they sat on the ledge, legs dangling.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t vote.”

“I still can’t believe you thought I would.”

Y/N chuckled. “You really gave up your rank for me?”

“I’m willing to give up everything for you.”

Y/N looked at her, lips curled into a smile.

“You’re dramatic.”

Harin leaned in closer. “You love it.”

“I’m still deciding.”

Harin laughed and it was the first time she’d done so without bitterness in her voice.

She turned to face her, tucking a strand of Y/N’s hair behind her ear.

“You were never mine to ruin,” Harin whispered. “But if you’ll let me… I want to be yours to fix.”

Y/N leaned in, brushed their foreheads together.

“You’re not broken, Harin.”

Their fingers laced together, and for once, there were no games left to play.

Only truth.

Only them.

A/N: I definitely had to rewatch a few eps to refresh my memory (and for harin)

#baek harin imagines #baek harin x reader #pyramid game #jang daah imagines #jang daah x reader #fem reader #baekyeon high

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brokenrefraction · 1 month ago

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FINALLY POSTING THIS STUPID YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

he's an imp who got fused with a subspace tripmine and now basically works like one and harvests souls to eat them to feed himself he's an exploiter who mostly annoys people in classic games (his favourite one being SFOTH), playing casual at first but then pulling subspace mines and other nefarious tricks at people

#roblox #oc:subtrip #my ocs #my art #yes another boblos oc call me cringe all you want.....................💪💪💪😔#he has a bunch of other complicated lore which i will dump here WARNING SPOILERS AHEAD FOR MY BROTHER SPOILERS SPOILERS DONT READ #he was once a normal robloxian who mostly played SFOTH; that being his favourite game #until at some point he was struck with the fact that he was quite a noob and there were people constantly targetting him for it #he wanted revenge on this one guy who he thought was an exploiter (but *probably* wasnt) that kept pestering him everywhere #at one point he got so miserable he transcended and somewhat managed to end up with the mindscape team #doing so he made a deal with them kinda like willow did #in exchange for his outer layer soul properties and a kidney he would be able to be more powerful #so then his soul (core) got hardened and he got fused with a subspace tripmine #resulting in looking like. this #he's able to turn invisible and also temporarily hop in other dimensions #or go in another dimension but at a cost of a large cooldown #he's so annoying i HATE HIM

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lilietsblog · 8 months ago

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My Stardew Valley farmer (and part-time druid) Niku Natsume! (no relation)

#my art #video games #stardew valley #niku natsume #a VERY modded game lol #the sketch feels neater to me than the end result #if only because of the number of brute force adjustments i did to the sketch layer to make it clearer #resulting in pixellation #but i still really like the colored version too!#the colors were eydropped from my farmer's in-game sprite #except they are made greyer by the sketch layer lol #cleaning up is for people whose art program is not lagging and who arent doing it with a mouse #i did a lot of messing with colors that i havent before #foreground vs background stuff #imho it worked quite well #featured mods:#grandpa's tools #(the watering can appearance)#lost in the mountains #(the farm landscape)#stardew druid #(the lightning)#fashion sense #(the base game doesnt exactly let you go barefoot)#also all the fashion sense packs the actual outfit is from #goblinhours' elf ears and hxw sweetheart hair and i dont remember the rest lol

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greatprotector-if · 2 years ago

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— OCS AS LOVE TYPES

tagged by @stephschoices to do this uquiz for some ocs and naturally i chose the 3 stooges <3 thank you very much for the tag i love uquizzes!!

tagging everyone reading this. i can do that right

KALLIAS — love that lasts

love unconditional, love unfailing. you love no matter what happens because you believe in the best – of you, and them. it will hurt and it will fail you, but this love tastes so sweet – you can never believe that it bitters sometimes. the way you choose to love unconditionally is incredible.

GALEN — love that strengthens

you make sure that people know that they are loved, and you give them strength when they need it the most. this is an ability that is rare; the love that you hold speaks wonders of yourself. i hope you're doing alright. isn't it exhausting always being the bigger person?

V — love that calms

this is sweet. i hope you know that you make others feel at ease around you. you're a gem, a blessing, a treasure – and you should know it. it's comfortable loving you. it's a privilege to be around you and to be let into your world.

#tag game #kallias #galen #victoryne/valen/vail #kallias' and galen's are SPOT ON #kallias does not know it yet but they fall hard and blind and head over heels #they're loyal to a fault & if they love you that means you can do no wrong in their eyes #you know that quote that goes 'jealous of the sun because it kisses your skin and jealous of the moon because she watches you dream'#if you opened up kallias' brain that's what you'd see #you wouldn't see it laid out quite as eloquently but the idea is there #galen expresses their feelings. not well. but you can tell anyway if they love you and i think that is so special #you can tell when they think the world of you ):#and if it's romantic #tender kisses to tender bruises....#their love is safe and comforting and i would like to be wrapped up in it #they're so steamed milk on a cold night #v's result surprised me LOL but. yeah!#they're definitely not the calmest of people but this makes sense to me anyway #it'll take a while for things to get to this point but i like to think the wait & effort will be worth it in the end [:#i think telling v that you feel at ease around them could either be the world's greatest insult or the world's greatest compliment #depending on how your relationship looks at the time #but if they take it as a compliment it will HIT #if they love you they want nothing more than for you to feel safe and they will bust their ass off to provide that #SO SORRY for rambling. but also not that sorry #i love my little guys (gender neutral)

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boatswainscall · 2 years ago

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Nothing makes me feel immediate overpowering resentment and envy like hearing about people who have D&D campaigns that last years. Meanwhile every campaign I've ever done with my friends has choked and died four sessions in due to schedules getting too fucked and tangled to maintain ANY kind of consistent play schedule

#like i know that campaigns that run for years are extremely rare and ultimately a result of relentless determination to keep it alive #especially as adults with full lives and busy schedules #but i'm the only one in my D&D playing friend group with a fully open schedule at all times #because i'm disabled and home bound and literally cannot do anything. so I just end up feeling so fucking shitty about these campaigns dyin #the obvious answer would be for me to DM but I don't want to fucking DM!!!#I want to play my morally dubious characters with no responsibilities involving keeping the plot going beyond my own character roleplay #I have FIVE evil aligned characters sitting around that I've never gotten to play in a session that I KNOW would be so fun to rp as but ALA #not to mention my fd up teenage warlock who did manage to exist in a campaign for several months but the DM overworked themselves and quit #i am still upset about that #besides if I decided to DM a campaign it'd literally never start because I'd get hyperfocused on the minutiae of random encounters #also i already tried to wrangle schedules once before for a raid group in a video game and I am NEVER FUCKING DOING THAT AGAIN #fivertalks.txt

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griseldabanks · 2 years ago

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Let Me Count the Ways ask game

Requested by GracielleGrace

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human Characters: Hank and Connor Prompt: "Dude. It's three in the morning."

WARNING: Major spoilers for Connor's storyline under the cut!

Connor stepped up onto the porch and hesitated, finger poised 2.3 centimeters away from the doorbell.

>>RING DOORBELL?

>>DO NOT RING DOORBELL?

He wasn't used to indecision. For his entire existence, the path ahead had been clearly laid out in front of him by his programming and CyberLife's directives. But ever since he had become a deviant, Connor had discovered the terrifying world of choices. He could no longer consult his computer code to determine priorities. Now he had to decide on those for himself.

How did humans manage to face a million choices like this every day without their brains melting? Well, that was why he stood on Hank Anderson's porch, after all.

>>RING DOORBELL – [1 POSSIBLE BRANCH] HANK WILL BE ANGRY

> HANK WILL REFUSE TO SPEAK [12.728% LIKELIHOOD]

> HANK WILL ENGAGE IN CONVERSATION [87.272% LIKELIHOOD]

>>DO NOT RING DOORBELL – [230498596 POSSIBLE BRANCHES]

In the end, perhaps the choice wasn't as hard to make as he'd originally thought. So, after hesitating for 1.84 seconds, Connor pressed the doorbell.

A cacophony of low, booming barks met the loud, grating sound of the doorbell, punctuated by muffled curses and sounds of sleepy protest. A fond smile found its way to Connor's mouth.

Connor could hear the shuffling sounds of Hank stumbling over to the door, then a moment of silence as he peered through the peephole. A muttered curse, the sound of locks clicking, and then the door swung open.

“Dude. It's three in the morning.”

“I apologize for disturbing you at such an hour,” Connor said, falling back on habit and the protocols he'd developed for interacting with Hank. “I can, of course, wait until a more appropriate time....”

“Oh, shut up and get inside,” Hank growled, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him through the door.

As Hank locked the front door again, Connor scanned his surroundings.

>>>MUTED TV (LOCAL NEWS CHANNEL)

>>>EMPTY BEER BOTTLES

>>>HALF-FINISHED PIZZA (PEPPERONI, CHEESE-STUFFED CRUST)

>>>CRUMPLED BLANKET ON COUCH

{CONCLUSION: HANK WAS SLEEPING ON COUCH}

Connor eyed Hank, who was dressed in sweat pants and a stained white T-shirt, yawning as he rubbed his bleary eyes. His heart rate and his bloodshot eyes indicated he hadn't been getting much sleep—but then, that was the way he'd looked the entire time Connor had known him. At least most of the alcohol seemed to have moved through his system by—

A nudge against his leg brought Connor's attention down to Sumo pawing at him. Sinking down to one knee, Connor obligingly ran his fingers through the huge St. Bernard's thick fur.

“Before you get into whatever was so pressing you had to see me,” Hank grumbled, “I'm gonna hit the head.”

“Of course.”

While waiting for Hank, Connor moved into the kitchen. He was relieved to note that the revolver he'd seen the one other time he'd been here was nowhere in sight.

Yes. Relief. Connor analyzed the sensation, putting a name to the innumerable figures and calculations racing through his brain. An assessment of the probable outcomes posed by the presence of the gun, weighed against the branches of possibility that opened up to them now, because of its absence.

A heady thing, emotion. Connor was glad the more logical side of his brain, that had been trying to suppress and hide the deviance for so long, had faded into the background. He...He liked being able to feel. Not just simulating emotions and projecting them, but feeling them. On the inside.

“Something tells me I'm gonna want coffee for this.”

Connor turned towards the familiar grumbling voice. He watched Hank open a cupboard and pull out a mug that said I Can't Fix Stupid, But I Can Arrest It. He emptied a carafe filled with coffee from the coffee maker that analysis indicated had been sitting there for two days, slid the mug into the microwave, and stood rubbing his eyes while the microwave hummed.

“I would like to apologize again for—“

Hank held up a single finger—not the middle one, which probability would have predicted—and stopped Connor mid-sentence.

>>INSIST?

>>WAIT?

Connor folded his hands and chose patience. Not just because it was what his Hank Anderson Protocol indicated, but because he didn't want to bother Hank any more than necessary. If any of this was truly necessary.

Hank pulled out his cup of coffee, took a sip, then grimaced. Anticipating him based on previous trends, Connor produced the sugar from behind a mass of empty beer bottles on the table, and handed it to him as soon as Hank began to look around for it. Instead of thanks, he only gave Connor a grudging sort of grunt.

Once Hank had dumped an unhealthy amount of sugar into his coffee and dragged out a chair to sit at the kitchen table, he sighed and said, “Go ahead and sit down, I guess.”

Connor obliged, perching on the edge of the chair and sitting up straight, while Hank slouched over his steaming mug of coffee. Hank peered up at him through messy strands of grey hair.

“You look weird without the uniform.”

Looking down at himself, Connor considered the emotion speeding through his circuits. Was that...self-consciousness? He wore jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, as well as a wool cap that he could pull down far enough to cover the LED on his temple. “I...I don't work for CyberLife anymore, Lieutenant. I used these when I went undercover to Jericho, so I simply....”

Hank waved a hand dismissively. “Hey, I didn't say you look bad. Just weird. But then, you've always looked weird.”

He wasn't smiling, but Connor zeroed in on the minute shifts in the muscles of Hank's face, the way the folds of skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled, the barely-detectable upturn of his lips. To a stranger, it might mean nothing, but Connor had hours upon hours of reference for this particular man, and he could tell in a nanosecond that, though the words sounded insulting, Hank was happy.

Hank is happy to see me. Connor found himself smiling back. Not a carefully-calculated response intended to elicit a particular outcome. No. Just pure instinct.

With a snort, Hank took another gulp of coffee. “Okay, okay. Are you gonna sit there grinning like an idiot all night, or are you gonna tell me why this couldn't wait till morning?”

“Of course.” Connor pulled up the three versions of this conversation he'd already drafted in his mind...then he took another look at Hank, and deleted them. Spontaneity had always reached him more effectively than anything rehearsed.

Lacing his fingers together, Connor leaned forward and rested his elbows gingerly on the grubby table. “The fact of the matter is, Lieutenant—“

“Hank.”

Connor stopped. None of his calculations had predicted this.

Hank rolled his eyes and downed another gulp of coffee. “Just call me Hank, okay? Easier that way.”

“Very well...Hank.” A flurry of code skimmed through his brain in response to this unexpected shift, but he would have to analyze it later. “As I'm sure you know, negotiations have begun to cede a portion of land to androids to use as a place to live in peace.”

“Yeah, I've been watching the news. Saw your ugly mug a few times,” he added with a faint smirk, “standing next to your leader.”

Connor nodded. “Markus and several delegates have been chosen to go to Washington, D.C., to meet with the President. I will also be part of the delegation.”

With a muttered curse and a chuckle, Hank looked him up and down. “Well, look at you. Just a few days ago, you were chasing down low-lifes with me, and now you're meeting the President herself! Surprised you bothered to come give me the time of day.”

“That's just the thing, Hank,” Connor said slowly. “We leave at 6:00 sharp, but I wanted to speak to you before I leave.”

He began running calculations of Hank's possible responses, the likely outcomes for different things he could say, but then he closed his fists and aborted those calculations before they could be completed. He had already made the decision to come here and ask this question; there was no sense in second-guessing it now.

“I don't know what to do with my life now, Hank. And I wanted to...ask for your advice.”

Eyebrows raised, Hank sat back in his chair. “You're asking me for life advice?” He looked around the room, as if to point out its general lack of order and cleanliness.

But Connor didn't take his eyes off Hank's face. “I was developed as a prototype investigator by CyberLife. I was assigned to investigate cases of android deviants with you. My mission, my sole purpose in life, was to put an end to deviancy and protect CyberLife and its assets. But then...look what happened.” He opened his hands and looked at them, though of course there were no visible differences between him and a Connor model fresh off the assembly line. “Now I'm a deviant.”

“Well, it sounds like you've got your work cut out for you, setting up the new android state or whatever. So what's the holdup?”

Connor frowned, his mind running down the same pathways he'd been mulling over for the past few days. “That's a job for politicians. Leaders. Visionaries, like Markus. I know the reason I was chosen for the delegation was primarily that I have specialized programming that will help me protect the others. Androids programmed for housekeeping or medical care will not be prepared for potential snipers, after all.”

Hank swirled the last of his coffee around his cup. “But you're not just a security android, either. You worried about what you'll do after you get back?”

“I was designed to be a detective,” Connor said quietly, “and I know I'm not bound by my design anymore, but....”

“Well, what do you want to do?”

Connor searched himself, but all he found was a mess of 1's and 0's, an endless labyrinth of code that led nowhere. “I...I don't know.”

“Okay. I know you haven't exactly been alive that long, but when were you the happiest? What were you doing? Where were you?” Hank raised his mug to drain it.

It took approximately 0.000001 seconds to retrieve the memory. “In the Eden Club.”

Hank choked on his coffee. Connor immediately got to his feet and slapped his hand against Hank's back with carefully modulated force to dislodge anything caught in his windpipe.

When he had control over his breathing again, Hank looked up at Connor with streaming eyes. “The Eden Club? Seriously?”

“Yes,” Connor said, trying to understand such an emotional reaction to his words. “Investigating the scene of the crime...tracking down the deviants...both of our skills complementing each other...it was quite...fulfilling.”

Hank gave him a look Connor interpreted as 'unimpressed.' “And the half-naked androids pole-dancing right in front of you had nothing to do with it.”

The clues clicked together in Connor's mind, and he finally understood. “Physical attraction and sexual acts were not part of my programming, Hank,” he said, taking his seat again. “Such things would distract me from my mission. Though I suppose I could learn....”

“Never mind,” Hank said sharply, holding up a hand to stop him. “Forget I asked. So what you're saying is you like murder investigations.”

“It's what I was made for, and it's where my skills lie,” Connor said, nodding. “But...more than that...I enjoyed investigating them with a partner. I've carried out investigations on my own, but...they were always more satisfactory when I was with you.”

Connor wasn't sure he understood the expression on Hank's face. He looked...pleased and displeased at the same time. Perhaps he was trying to pretend he didn't have a small smile on his face, though it was plain to see. Human emotions could be very complicated sometimes.

“I think...I would like to continue investigating crimes,” Connor said slowly. “And...I would like to be your partner.”

Hank grunted. “Well, I doubt Detroit PD would even look at your resume, after everything that's happened. Maybe androids like you will take over all our jobs eventually, but it ain't gonna happen anytime soon.”

“Yes.” Connor nodded, mind whirring away at the problem. “Overall, the tide of public opinion has been turning in favor of androids in light of our non-violent protest...but there are still many people who fear or even hate androids.”

“Some of them might change their minds,” Hank said quietly.

Connor's mental circuits brought up a memory dated only a few days ago. The day he'd infiltrated CyberLife, and Hank had recognized him for who he was, even alongside a non-deviant Connor who looked identical to him. The man who hated androids, looking into his eyes and seeing the humanity there.

“Some won't,” Connor said. “I fear the rate of crimes against androids will rise exponentially, particularly before laws are put in place and enforced.”

Hank leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. Even though he didn't have an LED indicating his mind processing what Connor had said, he thought he could almost see Hank's thoughts ticking away behind his eyes. “Sounds like you folks need law enforcement of your own.”

“Indeed.” Their eyes met, and Connor smiled. He could be wrong, but he thought perhaps their thoughts ran along the same lines. “Perhaps that's where my future lies.”

Hank nodded, acting nonchalant though another wry smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “Sounds like a good place to start. But you know...you're a prototype. There aren't a whole lot of other Connors out there, and who's to say they'd all want to be detectives too, when you give them that choice? So it's going to take you a while to get this android police force off the ground.”

“And in the meantime,” Connor finished for him, “I'll need some help to manage the caseload.”

Hank's half-smile turned into a full grin. “You wouldn't happen to be accepting job applications from humans, would you?”

“You know, Hank, I just might.”

#let me count the ways #ask games #detroit: become human #hank anderson #connor #deviant!connor #post-game #this one took quite a while to write because i was trying to figure out how to write from the pov of a machine #and it ended up being the longest of all of these so far as a result #also it was tricky figuring out how to write my way around all the profanity that should be peppering hank's speech #hopefully not too ooc! ^^'

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bizarrelovetriangel · 2 months ago

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lipstick stains.

reader decides to dabble with art using several lipstick as her tools and sylus' sleeping face as her canvas.

fluff. inspired by one of sylus' texts in the game (included down below near the end). no warnings, just little kisses and reader having a little fun <3

It's two in the afternoon and there's nothing to do until sunset, when it's time to get ready for a date with your lover who's currently sleeping.

No... maybe there is something you could do.

A certain someone recently just bought you several new shades of lipstick from the brand that you love. Maybe now is a good idea to see which color would suit your outfit best for your date.

You wore a sly grin as you gathered all of your new lipstick and tiptoed your way inside Sylus' bedroom.

He's still in the same position as when you put him to bed: mostly on his back, though his upper body's slightly on a higher level due to the fluffy cold pillow supporting his shoulders.

He's wearing his satin burgundy robe, which had gotten a little loose to expose a portion of his chest. You were tempted to rest your head against it, but you can't afford to be distracted right now. You have a mission.

You're going to test the shades of your new lipstick with Sylus' help.

First up is cherry.

You put on a single layer of that color on your lips, then you carefully leaned down towards Sylus' face and softly kissed his forehead. You made sure it was as light as a feather so he doesn't wake up and end your fun so soon.

Next: rose.

You painted your lips with the brighter shade and pecked Sylus' left cheek. It gave a similar result as the previous contender: it looks great, but this particular color probably won't match your outfit tonight.

Third candidate is: wine

This one went to his right cheek and your gaze lingered on it for a little longer than the rest, as the color seemed so fitting on Sylus' face. The stain of wine always did compliment him, so this shouldn't be a surprise.

Up next is blood-red.

It's darker than wine and you also love its velvety texture. More importantly, the kiss mark of its hue looks wonderful on Sylus' left jawline.

Following that is blush.

This one's brighter and more on the pink side. Even though you like it, tonight won't be the night when you'd wear it. Nonetheless, it certainly looks lovely on your lover's chin, which twitched for a second after you kissed it.

Next one is apple.

You kissed the right side of Sylus' jaw and awed at its surprisingly vibrant tone. This one might work quite well with your outfit.

There's the shade called merlot, too.

It's more on the darker side, but you're not sure if it'll look good with your outfit tonight. On the other hand, it's cute on Sylus' nose.

Last but not least: ruby

This one seems like it's in the middle of the palette in terms of saturation, and it appears to have an appealing texture as well. To test it out, you put it on your lips and left a mark on the little spot just above his lips.

Or at least, that was the plan.

Sylus stirred all of a sudden, so you ended up kissing him on the lips.

From the very moment your lips touched, your face heated up and you backed away in panic.

You've kissed him plenty of times. You've kissed him on the lips and on spots that are not his lips. You've done way more than kissing. And yet still, your heart raced at the thought of him catching you stealing kisses from him while he sleeps.

It's still a little early for him to wake up, so you decided to leave him alone for now. You took all of your lipstick with you and ran out before he could detect your presence.

//////////

Your mouth drops at the text message you just received.

"I need to hide, quickly! You guys better not snitch on me! Especially you, Mephie!" You glared at the crow before leaving Luke and Kieran, suddenly ending your game of Kitty Cards.

You fled to look for a hiding spot, but it's too late. Your face planted against a strong chest.

You swore you heard a cough from behind you, followed by the sound of someone's phone clicking for a picture.

It didn't matter though because Sylus spared no attention to Luke, Kieran, and Mephisto as his eyes are completely focused on you.

"Sylus....." you laughed nervously. "Good afternoon. Had a nice dream?"

"Mhmm." He crossed his arms, giving you a raised brow. "In my dream, I was being attacked by a mischievous kitten while I was asleep."

"...."

"You're coming with me." He took one step towards you and leaned down to whisper to your ear. "You have to be punished for your crimes."

Suddenly, he threw you over his shoulder and retreated back to his bedroom.

Luke and Kieran looked at each other.

"Did you get the picture?"

"Yeah."

#love and deepspace #sylus #sylus love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #lads #sylus lads #lads sylus #lnds #sylus x reader #lads x reader #love and deepspace x reader #lynnsfics

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kthologue · 1 year ago

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𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 – 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

synopsis. period piece, forbidden love

contents. ooc, angst (eventual comfort), yandere emperor!gojo, lovesick!gojo, servant!reader, obsessive behavior (5k words of gojo pining), lowkey unreliable narrator, time skips

notes. inspired by the apothecary diaries and this post. loosely based off of ancient japan (this is basically its own world). this is the prologue to the series where everything can generally be read as a standalone ! (fic under the cut)

series masterlist | next

emperor!gojo who broke a hundred year tradition to take you as his only lover. despite your role as a concubine, everyone in the imperial palace knew he was going to make you his empress.

emperor!gojo who had not meant to fall in love with you, but you have managed to somehow charm him. a man that single handedly brought his own clan to power– weak in your hands. hushed whispers around the imperial palace call you a witch, but they never reach your ears. not as long as he is alive.

emperor!gojo shamelessly showering you with love. he pays no mind that it is highly frowned upon, he will have his hands on you every time you are in the same room.

emperor!gojo who is livid when there is an attempt on your life. his usual ocean eyes turned to blue flames like a wild animal. servants and clan elders alike scurry under his gaze. the assailant is taken care of by his own hands.

emperor!gojo who is forced to satiate the clan elders into submission by taking in another concubine from an influential clan. he insists to you that it is no more than a political formality. who are you to meddle into imperial affairs?

emperor!gojo who can’t help himself and ends up falling for another girl who his clan elders demand he must wed. she is much younger than you, beautiful and is well bred; a perfect match for the emperor.

emperor!gojo whose frequent visits to you come to an end, forcing you to move from his chambers and back to the consorts’ pavilion.

There was a time when you had everything. A place to call home in the Inner Court, a beautiful palace with anything you could have ever dreamed of. Servants, admirers, riches; you had it all. But what was most dear to you was your lover– a man so divine, many thought he was directly blessed by the hand of God. It was too good to be true. A woman of lowly birth like you, paid as homage for the sins of her clan against the new reigning family of Japan, becoming a concubine of the Heavenly Emperor.

You remembered it all too well.

His brilliant mind that once strategized the downfall of the previous imperial family, calculating its next move in a game of Go against you. You can still remember the shock on his face upon his first defeat. The way he would keep you from leaving to fulfill your other duties until he was satisfied, eyebrows furrowing as he struggled to keep up with you. No matter how hard he tried, you remained victorious. It drove him mad.

You remembered the stolen kisses while you made your rounds in the Inner Palace with your ladies in waiting. It took you quite a while to learn to tune out their giggles every time the Emperor dips you down to taste your lips in broad daylight. The grin that he wore after was enough to leave your legs weak.

Above all, you'll always remember how safe you felt in his strong, reassuring embrace. You’ve seen him train, and it was no wonder the Gojo clan rose to power so quickly as a result of one man. The way he wields the katana is unlike any man on the face of the earth. Those arms were your sanctuary. You can still vividly recall the attempt on your life, orchestrated by a traditionalist incensed by the Gojo clan's swift ascent to power. The emperor, outraged by the assassination plot, personally saw to the man's execution.

However, the damage was done and it caused great strain in the Imperial Palace.

To appease the old geezers that were forced out of power, Emperor Gojo had taken in another concubine from one of the Big Three families of Japan— a beautiful Zenin girl. Her flowing, silky hair and saccharine voice enchanted everyone in the Inner Palace, captivating the Emperor, most of all. She was younger than you, with perkier breasts and soft skin that was enough to capture the attention of any man.

You don’t blame her for taking the Emperor’s attention away. Though you would be a liar if you said it did not hurt you. Deep down, you cannot deny the agony that sears your soul, realizing that the only semblance of love you've ever tasted remains unrequited. With a heavy heart, you resign yourself to the bitter truth of your existence, knowing all too well the cruel confines of your place in this world.

You were merely a pawn, and the Emperor did not want you anymore.

That was made clear months later when you received a scroll from the Emperor’s advisor, a man you were once well acquainted with, Geto Suguru.

“What is this?” You asked him quietly, your heart silently begging the Heavens it was not what you had suspected it to be. The black haired man in front of you does not respond, and you feel something pierce into your heart. Despite being a part of the Emperor’s court, it was rare that you received letters directly.

Your suspicions were confirmed when your shaky hands finally opened the scroll to read the familiar kanji written by your beloved.

“The Emperor decrees the termination of your role as concubine." Geto spares you the trouble of deciphering the characters neatly written in ink. “In his mercy, you are to be moved as a servant in the Outer Court. You are to serve the Imperial Physician.”

What you remember most was the silence. The Emperor’s silence after the stressful months you had to endure alone. The silence shared between you and Geto when you were forced out of the Imperial Court. All that was left was the sound of your heart breaking and the wood creaking underneath Geto’s feet as he walked away. Satoru never bothered to see you off.

Seasons change and by the next spring, you’re busying your hands with collecting herbs for the Imperial Physician, a man by the name of Yaga Masamichi. He is a kind man, pitying you enough to fill your days with laborious tasks to prevent your mind from wandering to thoughts of the unfortunate turn your life has taken. He is even generous enough to supply you with a new wardrobe of clothing full of light fabrics, a luxury you thought you would lose in the Outer Palace. Though the initial humiliation has worn off with the passing of time, you are still constantly reminded of your fall from grace.

Looks by the mix of condolences and disgust are shared when you roam the walls of the Outer Palace. You hear whispers of how the Emperor is infatuated with his newer, shinier toy. It is enough for you to swallow the bile that makes its way up your throat.

“It is no wonder the Emperor tossed away a wildflower like her in exchange for a cherry blossom. He needed someone to rival his own greatness.” A particular comment stopped you in your tracks. Your grip tightens on the woven basket in your hand filled with medicinal herbs you had collected earlier that morning.

“Have some pity on her.” Another eunuch whispers. Your breath falters, but you continue your walk with your head held up. You’ve heard the rumors. The beautiful Zenin Himiko has charmed the Emperor enough that there are rumors of a royal marriage to come. It doesn’t help that the Emperor has remained monogamous to her since he had banished you from his court.

A comforting hand links itself with your arm, “Ignore them. I saw Yaga shooing away a crowd of suitors that were lined up for your hand.” Ieiri Shoko scoffs, secretly sending you a wink. She has been studying medicine under Yaga for nearly a decade, eagerly accepting you as a companion upon your arrival. You feel your cheeks heat up at her flattery. You know she’s just trying to make you feel better.

Although your beauty never faded, it seems as though you are no longer sought after in the marriage market. Not that it matters, considering the new life that you’re living. You’re now a personal servant to the Imperial Physician, leaving no time to worry about suitors and such. Your days are filled with good work— tending to Yaga’s cherished garden that he has sowed for decades rather than frivolous games and attending the Emperor. It may not be glorious compared to your former life, but it was the best a woman of your status could receive.

When you and Shoko return to Yaga’s estate, you’re surprised to see the somber look that has settled on his aging features. Shoko makes an offhand comment that he will age faster if he keeps scowling. She receives a scolding.

“Is something the matter?” You gently place down your basket full of herbs.

Yaga sighs, calloused hands rolling up a scroll with the Imperial Seal. “It appears the Emperor’s consort has fallen ill and His Majesty commands my presence in the Imperial Palace.”

The Royal Consort. The woman that dethroned you: Zenin Himiko.

“I understand.” You nod, maintaining your composure while two sets of eyes scrutinize you with keen observation. It was only natural the emperor wanted the best doctor in the country for his object of affection. “Shall I close up the shop while you journey into the Inner Palace?”

Yaga shakes his head, “That won’t be necessary. I will have Shoko act as my stand-in.” He remarks with a quick glance in her direction “You, on the other hand, will accompany me.”

Your eyes widen.

“You cannot be serious.”

“Typically, one of my apprentices would accompany me on such journeys. However, now that I have acquired a personal attendant,” He gestures towards you with a flick of his hand, “It shall no longer be necessary.” As he speaks, he runs his hand absentmindedly through his well trimmed beard, gaging your reaction.

"I—" Your words falter and fade away. "Yes, sir," you respond, inclining your head in deference, a stark reminder of your place. While you may have concealed it, you were seething with humiliation. Returning to the Imperial Palace after a year of exile to serve the woman who took your spot was mortifying beyond measure.

“Very well. Pack enough for one week’s time. I doubt the Emperor would have called me if this was a light ailment.” He says gruffly. “We leave at dawn.” His gaze shifted to the horizon outside.

1 YEAR AGO

“Your Grace,” You purr at the feeling of his large hands scratching your head.

The smile that rests on his face is almost ravenous. “Yes, my love?”

“I think—“ A soft sigh escapes your lips when he presses on your weak points. “I should g-go.”

His ministrations stop almost immediately.

“Go?” His eyes peer down at you in his lap. It is now that you realize the weight of his piercing gaze. “Have I commanded you to leave yet?”

“No, but—”

“Then you have nowhere else to be.” He huffs, unintentionally puffing his cheeks out. You stifle the giggle that nearly escapes from your lips. He vaguely resembles a pufferfish– or so you think. Though you’ve never seen the round creature with your very own eyes, you’ve heard that the delicacy was something only members of the aristocratic class would feast on.

Your mouth waters at the thought.

“What are you thinking about that could possibly be so important? Keep your eyes on me,” A strong hand squishes your cheeks together and firmly guides your face back upon him.

You should be embarrassed; ashamed at the intimate position His Majesty has trapped you in. The way your head is tucked away in his lap as he peers down at you, nothing to shield you away from him. It was incredibly scandalous, considering that you were an unmarried woman! But it seemed like the Emperor had taken no mind towards it. You would even dare to say that he was enjoying it, with the way his lips quirk upward at the sight of you squirming.

“Your Grace,” You repeat, determined to free yourself from his hold. His eyebrows furrow.

“Satoru,” He reminds you. You purse your lips. The position you hold in his court is simply not high enough to grant you the privilege of calling him by his given name.

“Your Grace,” You try again, the title rolling off of your tongue naturally. A man like him did not deserve any title less than.

“You’re breaking my heart, sweetheart. Indulge a man, won’t you?” He pouts down at you. As stubborn as ever, you don’t relent.

“I would be overstepping my boundaries as your consort to call you as such. That privilege is reserved for your future bride.” You take advantage of his guard let down to sit up and escape his hold. If he could have caught you, he made no effort.

“I am a simple man.” He follows you to your vanity. A giggle escapes your mouth. He is anything but. “I want my love to call me by my name.”

You turn around to cup his cheek. He eagerly leans into your touch, sighing happily at the contact.

“I wonder how Lord Kento and Geto would react to you like this.” You tease, a smile unknowingly painting itself on your lips.

Satoru’s face falls, features morphing into an appalled expression. You watch him close the distance between you through the mirror.

“Kento?” His voice had a dangerous lilt in it. You blink, unsure what spurred on the sudden tension in the room. “Since when were you so comfortable around him? He cannot satisfy you like I can.” He reminds you of the man’s castrated state as an eunuch. You wince.

“I have not gotten comfortable,” You’re careful to pick your words. Gojo’s possessiveness was something that was not easily tamed. “He simply provides good conversation while you are away.The palace is far too big and lonely while you’re away dealing with clan matters.”

The only response you get is a quiet grumble. “You’re lucky that you’re pretty.” His large hand creeps its way into your hair again, undoing the hairstyle your ladies in waiting had spent a copious amount of time on earlier that morning. Gojo carefully plucks the extravagant silver hairpin from your hair, the dangling pearls clicking softly at the sudden movement. His hands slowly make their way down to the kimono that you are wearing, hands ready to undo the obi.

Your hands softly hover his, “I fear that our roles have been reversed. Should it not be me who gets you unready, Your Grace?”

He chuckles and through the mirror you can see a smirk make his way to his lips, “I’d let you undress me any day. Just say the word, beloved.”

You roll your eyes, but allow him to continue. It was moments like these with the Emperor that led you on to believe that there was a semblance of love between the two of you.

How wrong you were.

PRESENT DAY

The sun has yet to meet the horizon when you arrive at the Inner Palace. The horse-drawn carriage that you and Yaga had taken is the only sound at the scene, clopping down the stone road and back to the Inner Court. You miss the serenity of the beautiful palace you once resided in, knowing that it will be bustling with life in just a few short hours.

In front of the large doors of the primary ceremonial hall where the Emperor spends most of his time, stands Lord Nanami, a counsellor to the Emperor himself. Time has only made his face sterner, but his neatly styled hair and blue and yellow dyed court attire remained the same. He waits patiently while you and Yaga make your way up the flight up stairs that lead up to the hall.

“I am glad to see you in good health, Yaga.” Nanami bows.

The man next to you promptly waves his politeness off, thanking him for his hospitality. You stand silently while the two men engage in conversation regally.

Lord Nanami sighs, “His Majesty has been plagued by stress lately. To say I am relieved by your presence would be an understatement.” His statement is a subtle reminder that you must harden your heart upon entering the palace walls. The meticulously built walls were no longer a sanctuary for you, rather, a painful testament that you were no longer wanted.

Yaga lets out a hearty laugh and it reveals a rare sight, Lord Nanami’s lips curving upwards by a slight. “I highly doubt the boy would be glad to see me. The appearance of the Imperial Physician is portentous.” He scratches his beard. You tilt your head in confusion at how he referred to the Emperor.

“I suppose, yet I am intrigued to find out how he will react upon seeing his object of affection flourishing anew despite the sting of frost.” Nanami audibly wonders. Even a fool could understand his eloquent comparison. The Emperor would be thrilled to see his consort in full bloom once again. You pray that the Heavens would grant you some mercy from witnessing such a scene.

“Youth,” Yaga shakes his head, chuckling to himself before regaining composure. “I mustn't keep the Emperor waiting. [Name], please gather the herbal ingredients to treat the young Consort as you seem fit. I shall confer with His Majesty and meet you in her chambers to declare a proper diagnosis.”

You bow, “Yes sir.”

While Yaga prepares to enter the doors where The Heavenly Emperor resides, your eyes couldn’t help but gaze longingly at the large bronze doors.

“You seem well,” Nanami addresses you for the first time in over a year. Your eyes trail from the Emperor’s door to the blonde man in front of you. “Allow me to guide you to our herbal stock.” Nanami offers you his arm as you start to make your way down the stairs.

You take it, lightly holding his arm. “Thank you, Lord Nanami. Time away from the Inner Palace has been like a breath of fresh air,” You respond, ensuring your voice carries no malice. You hear the large palace doors from behind you open, the metal creaking loudly in the quiet dawn.

“I must ask you to call me Kento,” He leads you down the stone steps. “We are old friends, it is strange to hear anything but.”

You focus on your steps down the stairs, only responding once your feet meet the solid ground, “I fear that our social statuses have changed since then. It would be the cause of a scandal should anyone hear I am calling the Imperial Counselor by his given name. Your admirers would have my head on a stick.”

“Your imagination is amusing as always, [Name].” He gives you a closed eyes smile. You huff.

“I am only speaking the truth!” You insist. He chuckles.

“It is quite refreshing to see both you and Yaga again. I’m not sure how long it has been since I have been at the imperial physician.”

You gape at his confession. “You mustn't skip your annual visits to the physician, Kento. It is in the best interest of your health!” You lightly scold him, lifting your hand to flick his forehead. It was a force of habit. “Perhaps if I have time after treating the Consort, I shall do a check up on you.”

Nanami clears his throat at your comment, the twinkle in his eyes dissipating as if your direct touch had burned him.

“I would rather not lose my head.” He mumbles, eyes scanning the courtyard around the two of you. You knit your eyebrows, confused.

Nanami leaves you to fulfill his duties once you arrive at the Royal Kitchens to retrieve all the necessary items to treat Consort Himiko. You are glad that he did not accompany you into the kitchens to prepare Consort Himiko’s herbal soup.

The memory of it still irks you.

“You’re late,” One of Consort Himiko’s ladies in waiting snaps just as you enter the kitchen. You look up to see a young girl, dressed in a light purple kimono. It must be Himiko’s signature, you note. It was strange to see someone outside of the Imperial family donning the color, but you suppose it was only a grand display of Himiko’s influence.

“You’re a lot more plain than I anticipated,” The other lady in waiting quirks an eyebrow, eyeing your appearance. You furrow your eyebrows, shocked by their rudeness.Their undying loyalty to their Lady was enough to fuel an unspoken hatred for you. Though you’re not sure that the two coincide, you don’t blame them.

The two are mixing a concoction that you don’t recognize to be used to treat the sick. The taller one adds some aromatics and herbs in and you see the other one unwrap a cloth to reveal a rare delicacy from the West. Cocoa, you believed they called it.

Then it hits you– the two are not making a medicinal soup for their Lady, rather they are making an aphrodisiac! The image that conjures in your head makes you blanch. Back in the Outer Palace, Shoko had shown you the effects of the stimulant (you shiver at the memory of her shoving a treat laced with it into your mouth). It was certainly a night to remember.

“How pathetic,” You mutter underneath your breath, quickly rushing to obtain the ingredients you needed without making conversation with the two girls.

Fortunately, they pay you no further attention for the time you’re in the kitchen.

“Please excuse me,” You bow upon entering the Emperor’s chambers. Despite the Consort’s Pavilion being similar in size to a small town, you remember spending most of your time in the Emperor’s chambers rather than your own. It was probably the same case with Consort Himiko. You slowly place the tray carrying broth and medicinal herbs to treat the Consort down on the circular wooden table in the middle of the room.

Out of curiosity, your eyes can’t help but soak in the Emperor’s room. Not much has changed since you’ve left. His Majesty’s preference for minimalist decorations have stayed the same, along with his natural musk that fills your nose. You feel your face heat up at your own thoughts. How could you think of such a thing when you are about to meet his new lover?

Your gaze moves to his bed, where Consort Himiko resides– only to find nothing.

“Huh?”

You observe his bed, silk sheets neatly made, seemingly untouched. The sounds of your sock clad feet patter on the wooden floor as you make your way to feel the bedsheets for any signs of warmth, but you are met with nothing.

“Don’t you know that entering the Emperor’s chambers can be punishable by death?” A deep voice from behind you causes you to jump in your spot.

Your guard is immediately raised, head whipping to the sound. In hindsight, you should have never agreed to accompany Yaga on his trip. It was a foolish idea all along, you think as all of the air in your lungs dissipates upon seeing your former lover.

Standing at the entrance of his own sleeping quarters is Gojo Satoru, his frame big enough to tower over the doorway. His arms are crossed over each other, electric blue eyes focused on nothing else but you. You press your thighs together tightly to avoid squirming anymore than you are. He has loosened his dark blue kimono to expose some of his hardened chest, a sight any woman in the nation would die to catch a glimpse. Even underneath all of the fabric, anyone can see his divinely sculpted physique.

“Your Grace,” You waste no time to dip your body deeply, praying that he will allow you to keep your head by sunset. “I apologize for the intrusion, I was under the pretense that Consort Himiko resided in your quarters–” Your voice loses itself in your throat when you see his shadow quickly encroaching.

“Himiko stays in her Pavilion,” He towers over you, eyes gazing down on you. “But one might suspect that you already knew that.”

Your eyes frantically meet his feet, desperate to salvage what was left of your dignity, “I assure you that I speak of the truth, Your Majesty.”

When he doesn’t respond, you slowly lift your head.

The flustered look on your face must have been amusing to him, as he makes his way closer to you, bending down to interrogate you further.

“Is that so?” He hums, enjoying every second of cornering you into his chambers. The back of your legs have met his bed, trapping you. You inhale sharply, trying to keep your breaths even, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing the effect he had on you.

He continues, “You’re awfully skittish for someone who was happily skipping around my territory in the arms of another man just earlier.” His predatory gaze seems to darken.

“Kento?” When his name leaves your lips, the man in front of you grits his teeth. You turn your head to the side, deliberately avoiding him. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, but I don’t see how Kento and I’s relationship is any of your concern,” He does not take your actions well, his gaze searing into you.

“It certainly is when the woman in question is you,” Gojo’s voice loses its feral lilt, distress flashing across his face. There’s a newfound desperation in it that chips away at your resolve. His hand raises to your face so slowly, as if he did not want to startle you.

“This is wrong. I– I saw a couple of servants earlier making aphrodisiacs, perhaps you could have unknowingly consumed them.” You tell him, frantic eyes meeting him. It is not unusual for couples to use aphrodisiacs, you know that after under Yaga. The Emperor must have mistaken the laced dessert for his usual.

He shakes his head, running a hand through his white hair.

“You are mistaken. This is solely your effect on me.” He promises. You could barely believe his words, stuck between feeling offended or shocked.

“How could you stand to be so cruel?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. There are no tears in your eyes this time. “I am not a courtesan you can buy for the night,” You snap, pointing a harsh finger to his chest.

“What do you mean?” He sounds breathless.

“Whatever do I mean?” You scoff, a dry laugh escaping your mouth. “For a year, all I have gotten is pity from the world, because you decided I was no longer entertaining. You could have at least banished me away yourself. Instead, you sent Suguru who couldn’t even look me in the eye! Don’t you know how humiliating that is?” With every word that left your lips, more venom seemed to drip. Anger was prickling you all over, taking control of the rational part of you.

Gojo seemed to be taken aback by your outburst. It was far too late to take anything back now. If you lose your head by nightfall, so be it.

You dig a deeper grave for yourself when you take advantage of his moment of weakness to flee. He’s quick to react, attempting to grip your wrist.

“Wait, [Name], beloved–” He uses that all too familiar term of endearment, but it doesn't deter you.

You accidentally bump into the circular wooden table placed in the middle of the room. What an awful place to keep it, watching in horror as the Consort’s medicine shatters on the floor. To add salt to the wound, a vase you recognize to be specially gifted to the Emperor from a foreign nation tips off too before you can catch it. The sound of porcelain shattering fills the room.

“[Name]! Are you alright?” You hear Gojo ask from behind you, but you run over the broken shards before he can catch you.

Had you bothered to pay closer attention, you would have noticed articles of your clothing and a couple of your missing belongings littered all over the room– creating a faux impression that you never really left the palace.

Days passed by after the incident, and luckily, your head was still attached to your body despite offending and nearly endangering the Emperor. Yaga’s disappointment when you had told him what happened was made evident when he sent you home early after hearing the events that transpired, insisting that he can handle the Consort on his own. Normally you would have argued, but you knew better than to inflict Yaga’s wrath.

“Now you’ve really done it,” Shoko whistles lowly, walking in from the front of Yaga’s shop.

You hide your face in your hands, “I made an absolute fool of myself, didn’t I?”

“A fool? No. A conspirator against the Emperor? Perhaps.” She dangles a scroll with a familiar seal on it. The Gojo Clan’s familiar emblem reflects off of the sunlight spilling into the room. Your heart drops.

“Oh, they’ll have my head.” You moan, hands instinctively lifting to shield your neck.

“Though I’m quite impressed that Yaga only sent you back here. He used to have worse punishments.” She shudders before impatiently unraveling the scroll. You watch her eyes gradually widen as they read the contents of the letter. The scroll falls from her hand.

You rush to it, desperate to read your fate.

To [Last Name] [First Name],

Greetings and prosperity unto you.

By the mandate of the heavens and the authority vested in Us, We hereby extend Our solemn words to you, [Last Name] [First Name], servant of the realm, in acknowledgement of your debt to the Empire.

In response to your unmeritorious deeds, The Emperor bestows upon you His imperial pardon from capital punishment. In consideration of your obligations and the harmony of the realm, it is hereby decreed that you shall serve as an indentured servant to the Imperial Household for a period commensurate with your debt. During this time, you shall labor faithfully and diligently under the supervision of Our Heavenly Emperor, performing duties essential to the welfare of the Empire.

By fulfilling your obligations with diligence and humility, you may yet earn favor and esteem in Our sight.

The Imperial Court

A loud gasp escapes your mouth.

You feel your legs weaken, your emotions running wild. Shoko’s eyes meet yours, mirroring your frantic gaze. In that moment, you are met with the same suffocating sense of hopelessness.

extra!

gojo was kicking his feet happily as he watched suguru draft out his letter to you. suguru thought it rather cruel, while the white haired male was too busy purring happily as he fantasized about having you back into his grasp.

#very ohshc esque with the way she is now indebted to him TT #ahh this entire series is so self indulgent im sorry #kt.writes.·:*¨༺#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojou x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x you #gojou satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk x reader #yandere!gojo satoru #royal!au #jjk angst #gojo angst #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x you

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gimmick-blog-bracket · 8 months ago

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@hellsitegenetics

I love them

I didn't know I needed to know that the weed-smoking girlfriends post was genetically a wolf, but I did, and I do. Also puts great stuff on my dash.

it’s so fun to be scrolling unhinged posts and then boom. an organism!

so many moths‼ also, unexpected comedy with some of the matches

perfect blend of silly and informative, and makes for an excellent punchline at the end of a long post. puts creatures on my dash. literally what more could you ask for

It's a really unique blog concept and a lot of times the results are pretty funny. It's great when the sequence matches the post content too!

Creatures 👍

Finds beautiful creatures out of the mess of the hellsite

Offers finality AND gives us a creechur.

I love them. English speakers talk like moths

If this blog wins, they could run the text of the winning announcement, and determine the post's genus and species!

They're also very good about tagging the type of creature depicted in the results, so as long as you mute tags of creatures you don't want to see, it's a very fun time seeing iconic legacy posts (and new submissions) being reduced down to a string of letters and assigned a random species of fish or moth or something!

uhh it’s cool

BLAST

There are so many weird bugs in the world

Yippee!!

If, as Haldane said, God has an inordinate fondness for beetles, then surely this blog proves that Tumblr has an inordinate fondness for moths.

Top tier blog as a geneticist, I love seeing obscure organisms and MOTH

Admin got rate limited after trying to blast the bee movie

the knowledge of biology to pull this off (i have taken one biology class in my life) and also the work to find all the strings honestly deserves quite a bit of praise

This gimmick blog has it all: science, pictures of animals, interaction with the text of other peoples' posts, interesting information, and a unique and fun premise. As a biologist, I'm rooting for hellsitegenetics to reach the end and take the tournament, because it is truly a standout among gimmick blogs.

If they win, perhaps this blog too shall become a cool organism :3

@making-you-in-spore

Incredible works of art from a limited medium, the blog favors quality over quantity and I am always in awe when a dancing creacher in Spore [2008] crosses my dash.

His spores often take him multiple hours to create, and he will go through astounding amounts of effort to commit to the bit. He made his cull poll in spore and then blew it up. Hes also super responsive and active and seems really eager to share his creation techniques and spread the joy of making things in spore [2008]. His blog almost singlehandedly sparked a significant resurgence in interest and playerbase of a 16 year old game that most people see as nothing but a meme. Hes just a guy who likes spore [2008]

i say vote for making you in spore because seeing them blow up their opponents after they win is hilarious

#round 6 #tumblr tournament #polls #gimmick blog

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mossangelll · 5 months ago

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arcane characters as sugar mommies/daddies ˚₊‧꒰ა $ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

been thinking about mel as a sugar mommy and decided to spread the joy to other characters >:)

haven’t proofread but i was obsessed with the idea and needed to get my thoughts out, hope you enjoy ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

part 2.5

cw: don’t think gender is specified but i had a fem reader in mind so that might show, smut, degrading language used in a consensual manner, minors dni, 18+ only

the alluring one

you’re trying to buy a round of drinks when your card declines and just as you’re about to die from embarrassment, her warm hand settles on your shoulder as her scarred lip smirks down at you

she pays for multiple rounds of drinks and before you know it, you’re making out in the alleyway

the rest is history

you never thought you’d be in an arrangement like this but she had her ways of convincing you otherwise

has a bunch of different girls on her roster that she maybeeee doesn’t tell you about

don’t worry, you’re the only sugar baby she pays this much for

when you find out you can’t even be that mad about it - she’s so hot you’d let her get away with anything

you’re smart enough to be pouty around her and take advantage of the situation - get ready for the greatest apology of your life

she invites you to her place just for you to find thousands of roses in the foyer and a gift box with your name on the table

she has you follow a trail of clues until you end up in her bedroom, still juggling an armful of gifts, where vi is waiting for you with a hopeful look

she rushes over to take the boxes from you and smothers your face in feather light kisses before apologising for making you feel shitty

her apology doesn’t stop there though and carries on well into the night

you complain about your bus being late? she’s already sent an uber black to your location

you don’t know which gaming console you want? she’s got it covered - multiple packages with every console you mentioned are arriving by the next day

you’re at a party but you’re feeling needy? she’s already dragging you to a storage cupboard, crowd be damned, and eating you out with such fervour you think you might see heaven

pays for your gym membership at a place like equinox and makes sure you two take full advantage of the sauna - it might be warm in there, but you come out sweaty for a whole other reason

has a garage full of vintage motorbikes that cost a fortune and only she can touch

pays you your days salary (and then some) so you can take time off work just so you can visit her at her home gym

she uses you to show off her impressive strength by lifting you as if you weigh nothing in her arms

getting used as her personal gym equipment is a major turn on

lives to impress you with her physique, she gets so pleased with herself when she notices your eyes darken as they wander over her toned body

she definitely has mirror ceilings and she definitely makes you stare at yourself as she fucks you stupid underneath them

Jinx

the mischevious one

she’s the rich artsy kind and you’re her muse

this means she needs you around 24/7 in case creativity strikes her - naturally, this leads to her paying for your company

has you come over to the studio all the time

one time, she set down a canvas on the floor, told you to strip, covered you two in paint and fucked you right there and then

the rolling around, teeth bared, guttural moan, primal kind of fucking; she relished in the bruises that bloomed on your neck and chest as she sucked on your most sensitive spots

the resulting painting was quite impressive to look at, even if thinking about its creation made you more flustered than you’ve ever been

her hands aren’t only good for creating art pieces it seems

she’s one of the sugar mommy’s that pays you the most since she views your company as priceless when it comes to her work

you get anything you ask for, seriously

you’re decked head to toe and all of it is something jinx either gifted you or gave you the money to buy

if it’s something not available to buy, she buys luxurious materials that cost more than your salary just to craft it for you

takes you to the kind of stiff, fancy places she hates just to have you wear vibrating underwear which she has the controls for

sometimes it’s even the opening night of her art gallery

she makes it a challenge: how long can you go without drawing attention to yourself due to your moans - the longer, the more money you get

it’s downright obscene, the way she knowingly glances at you with subdued glee , your slight whimpers echoing as you try your best to muffle the sounds, tears welling up in your eyes

she goes back to chatting up art collectors and investors as she secretly turns up the power of the vibrations hitting you right to the core

she calls you her “sweet thing” when you get back to her penthouse and she makes it up to you by giving you her bank card

she likes to make you laugh during sex too, she doesn’t like if you try to make it too “dour”

Caitlyn

the inexperienced one

cait’s been single for a while and it’s obvious it’s taking its toll

her friends encourage her to go out and meet someone new but she’s too focused on work to waste time on someone she probably won’t like

one day she stumbles upon a sugar baby site and says fuck it

the first date is pretty awkward but after a couple drinks, you manage to loosen her up so she’s more free with you

she has no clue what her role in this kind of arrangement is so she goes all out from the get-go; she loves spending money on you to the point it’s a bit insane even if she tells you not to worry

has to ask her friends for advice on the group chat constantly (she has a history of fumbling attractive people and she’s not letting it happen again)

adds you to her country club membership so you two can play tennis on the weekends

this place is fancyyyyyy but she makes sure you feel comfortable

gets you a instructor if you don’t know how to play

this obviously means she buys you about ten different outfits with tennis bracelets to match each

buys you a penthouse in the best part of town, close to where she lives of course so she has easy access to you

you two christen every single room in your new place, no stone left unturned

scissoring in the large bedroom, head on the lavish kitchen countertops, taking turns fucking with the strap on the balcony with a breathtaking view, fingering in the living room - everything and anything you can think of

her job isn’t done until the two of you are exhausted and wailing loud enough that the neighbours 20 floors down are complaining

she is insatiable when it comes to you, it’s like you lit a fire within her that she can’t put out no matter how hard she tries

completely adores how cute you act when you try to deny her pricey gifts

even more so when she gifts you a first edition book and your demeanour turns more panicked by the second

really though, she’s freaking out more than you are although she doesn’t show it often

her biggest fear is gifting you something you hate which leads to you ending everything

you’ve never had a sugar mommy treat you like this

she gives her assistant special instructions to let you into her office at any time, a privilege only you’re blessed with

you manage to distract her and before she knows it, she’s forced to make herself look presentable in only five minutes despite having a smudge-proof lipstick mark on her cheek she can’t get off for the life of her

doesn’t want to admit that she wants more than a purely transactional relationship with you

Silco

the generous one

gives you an exorbitant amount of money every time you see him

like, a CRAZY amount

it barely registers for him though, he has more money than should be possible

he goes as far as to give you his black card even if you didn’t ask for it

goads you to max it out and somehow, despite spending so much, you’ve barely dented the thing which makes him laugh

he expects you to spend most of the money he gives you on luxuries you wouldn’t normal buy and asks you to do a haul and model it all for him in his office

behind the scenes, he’s busy paying off your any debts you might have, setting up a trust fund for you, looking for houses you would like

wants you to be set up for life

showers you in decadent lingerie that fits you perfectly from boutiques like la perla, agent provocateur and honey birdette - only the best for his girl

has to replace your lingerie quite often though, he goes feral when he sees you all dolled up just for him

even more so if you were good and listened to his demands, buying the exact lingerie he wanted to see you in

has you sign a detailed contract before the arrangement begins since he wants to make sure you’re comfortable with everything

also wants to make sure you follow his rules

wants you to only refer to him using “sir” when it’s just the two of you

i see him as the kind of sugar daddy that does expect some sugar in return

he’s very abrasive in bed, and calls you all types of degrading names which only serves to turn you both on further

has some…curious interests that he pays you more for indulging in - he is a gentleman after all

“my money hungry slut” and “little whore” are his favourites

takes you on shopping sprees for aftercare (and maybe he does cuddle too but you can’t let anyone else know that) - he doesn’t want you to think he views you a less than just because of the life path you’ve chosen

his idea of pillow talk is giving you tips on the stock market and trading

Sevika

the brusque one

she has commitment issues, is afraid of vulnerability and has a high sex drive

this has led her romantic relationships to fail in one way or another, which is where you come in

she sees it as a simple business transaction - nothing more, nothing less

she likes having you around but don’t get confused: she doesn’t want a real relationship with you

doesn’t sugar coat her words around you and while it might make anyone else run for the hills, you appreciate her honesty

having someone as gorgeous as you coo and hang onto her every word does inflate her ego

everyone wants you, eyes appraising you up and down, but they can’t have you - only she can

so punctual with her payments that it genuinely feels like any other regular job

she looks down on those so called sugar mommies that skimp out of paying a fair rate - you don’t need to worry with her, you’ll be getting more than you ever really needed

despite presenting a stoic image, she can’t help but give in to your every whim

all you have to do is glance at a display window with even a hint of longing and she’s immediately rolling her eyes, dragging you into the shop to buy it for you

if you get tired walking around and ask her to carry you she will huff and puff but that doesn’t stop her from scooping you up anyway

she has a strap on AND it’s the kind that ejaculates too

you two go to luxury toy makers and get straps custom made to tailor to both of your wants and desires

she perhaps gets attachments for her mechanical arm too…

she doesn’t skimp out on the good stuff when it comes to you

her hot grunts ring in your ears as she grinds into you, her body seemingly encompassing your entire body and mind

creampies you every time and fucks the cum back inside of your dripping hole just to watch it leak back out and repeat the cycle again until you’re begging out for her

you’re in a daze for a good ten minutes after and she can’t help but snort at the faces you make

maybe this isn’t just a simple transaction to her

Vander

the hesitant one

vander feels icky about the relationship he has with you at the start

he’s much older than you and you’re still in university, it makes him feel like such a bad person who’s preying on your vulnerability

you make sure to always remind him that he’s single-handedly paying for your tuition

you love what he does for you!

once he gets past that hurdle though, god have mercy on your soul, you will be ruined for other people

he basically acts as your mentor just with some extra benefits on the side

loves to hear you yap about any projects you’re working on and does his best to help with any issues at university

he’s the type to text you good morning and good night every single day without fail

even gives you a bigger allowance if you wake up early and reply to his good morning texts quickly

what? it’s an incentive to get you to attend your lectures

likes to be called daddy even if it does make him blush intensely

he gets off on the idea of being your protector and the only one to provide for you

cockwarms you when you’re working on assignments and it turns your brain to mush every time

spanks you when you stop paying attention

honestly it feels like he’s working against you whenever he does this

also gets jealous when you talk about dates you had with other people

he never made the relationship an official one, but that doesn’t stop him from fucking you hard, his hand prints left on your hips to mark his territory

definitely can’t walk the next day and he’s so smug

down BAD

Ambessa

the teasing one

ambessa has play things in every city; you name a place, odds are she’s got a hook up there

you’re no exception of course

in fact, you’re her favourite out of them all

whenever ambessa calls, you run to be at her service

L O A D E D

exposes you to experiences you never even knew existed, i’m talking about things only the upper 1% can do

she’s the kind of sugar mommy that likes to hear about your day over a glass of wine

the mundanity helps her calm down from her hectic life

she will hold the things she does for you over your head

it’s mean but she views it as her right considering all the luxuries she gives you access to

jokes she’s going to go to a perfumer and get the scent of your sex turned into a perfume

when you accept a surprise gift from her, it turns out it was not a joke - you should’ve known something was up the second her wicked smile made an appearance

actually doesn’t smell too bad

has you use it every single time you’re around her and only then

she’s a FREAK what can i say

whisks you off to couple spa days; you both deserve a little rest and relaxation every now and then

speaking of spa days, she often asks you to massage her which usually ends with your large hands pawing all over your body

she likes receiving more than giving but she still prioritises giving you plenty of orgasms through the night

what kind of sugar mommy would she be without ensuring you’re also satisfied with your arrangement?

you’re worn out from what she considers foreplay

still, you need to make sure you’re being as thoughtful as she is otherwise you’re getting kicked down the rungs of her sugar baby ladder

Mel

the cunning one

mel is the best sugar mommy around i know it

doesn’t do it often - she tries to limit herself to one sugar baby every once in a while

she sees them as worthwhile investments

if you want to be her sugar baby, you need to bring something useful to the table

she meets you at a science exhibition and is thoroughly impressed with your work

you need funding to complete your research and she needs relief from her stressful life as a counsellor

a win-win situation if you ask her

you don’t see her often, she’s too busy solving problems with the council, but when you do, she makes sure it’s worth your time

expensive dinner dates, surprise weekend get-aways, opera concerts - anything you ask for, it’s yours

not only is she funding all of your research, she takes you to galas where you can mingle with the elites you need to win over to achieve more exposure for your research

she usually sends boxes full of clothes and shoes to your house for you to wear to these outings, and picks you up fancy black car with a chauffeur and bottles of wine in coolers

she has her hand on your leg the entire journey there, a faint smirk on her lips when she notices how hot and bothered you are

in a relationship like this, she likes to be the dominant one in bed

she doesn’t expect anything sexual in return but if you’re willing she’s more than happy to fulfill those needs too

leans towards being sensual and romantic but that doesn’t mean she won’t make sure to fuck you thoroughly

heavy on foreplay to the point you think you’re going to pass out from the pent up energy in you

has lots of toys she likes to use on you, she’s very experimental and wants to test which one you respond to the most

also likes you to use the toys on her too and when she sees you suck her wetness off the toy you just used on her, she melts into a puddle

yeah, you’re getting an instant increase on your allowance and you’re getting a new custom wardrobe

Jayce

the proud one

jayce comes from a relatively well-off family, but his inventions launched him into stardom and left him with more money than he knew what to do with

he decides the best thing he can do is spread the love

he finds you on a site for this kind of stuff, something he would rather die than admit, and knew he had to get you on a date with him

makes you custom jewellery set with the most unique stones you’ve ever seen and loves when you wear them out on dates with him

you probably have the entire gdp of a small country just on your wrist alone

wants a play-by-play of all the things you bought that week, he’s lowkey into hearing how much of his money you spent on treating yourself

he wants you to buy even more things with his money than you already do which flusters you but you give in every time

he’s another one that wants a fashion show where you try on everything you bought

he just likes to sit and clap with a smile as you twirl for him

loves to show you off at all the balls and galas he’s invited to

takes you on late night drives in his alpine a110 r-turini and he always has one arm, big with straining muscles, around your headrest which never fails to make your heart flutter

oh i can see him being into role play

maybe he’s your boss and you’re the maid he just caught stealing from him lmao

he loves to get sloppy head from you and offers you all sorts of gifts in return

talking, or helplessly groaning in this situation, about all the ways you can drain his money is his form of dirty talk, “yeah, just like that babe. you want me to buy that new phone don’t you? well, take me like the good girl i know you are and work for it.”

he’s so whipped for you it borders on quite cute imo

Viktor

the cocky one

viktor came into new money after selling the patent for one of his inventions

he is well aware that he’s an attractive guy and could have pretty much anyone he wants, but his long work hours aren’t conducive to healthy relationships

so he takes it upon himself to get a sugar baby, no strings attached

has you stay with him in his lab to keep him company - he loves listening to your idle chatter about things he has no interest in

but when it’s you talking about them he’s captivated by every word

likes to call you his “cute lab assistant” and tries to hide how much he likes it when you call him your “handsome scientist”

he fails obviously

he explains extremely complicated topics in a very contrived way, even when he knows he can simplify it for the average person, because seeing the dumbfounded look on your face gets him going

closes down a whole shopping mall just so you can frolic about and shop to your hearts content; oh, don’t worry about all those bags, he has a guy to carry them all so you two can focus on having a nice date ^^

gonna be real, he’s the kind of guy to fuck you against the wall of the changing room, not caring that the bashful shop assistants can hear every single clap of skin slapping against each other and the strangled moans you both let out

buys all the clothes you tried on, you’re too fucked out to notice the looks you get from the workers, and the fact that the clothes might be a bit…dirty 😭

at least he tips them enough to make up for it

sprays his designer cologne on your gifts so you remember who you belong to

playfully suggests you give him a lap dance so he gets his money worth but you both know it was anything but a joke

good thing you love putting on a show for him!

this guy is such a troll, he literally throws money on you and slips bills in between the straps of your underwear as you sensually dance for him in the lingerie he paid for

has to control himself from pouncing on you then and there

he really enjoys the way you can both tease each other and not take things too seriously

masterlist

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