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danganronpasurvivoraskblog · 2 days ago

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THE HUNDRED LINE: LAST DEFENSE ACADEMY - Journal #4: Route 0 Days 46-56. [MASSIVE SPOILERS]

//Well...THIS was interesting.

//To be perfectly frank, this part of the game left me very...conflicted. As in some of the ideas that we have presented here, as well as the general plot progression of this part of the story...didn't really sink in with me on first experience, and didn't exactly invoke the kind of feeling in me I think it was supposed to.

//Was it a drop in quality? No, I wouldn't say so. What actually happens is still awesome, just...maybe it's something I'm not quite wrapping my head around.

DO NOT READ THE REST OF THIS POST IF YOU HAVE NOT PLAYED/SEEN THE HUNDRED LINE: LAST DEFENSE ACADEMY. I WILL BE TALKING ABOUT VERY SPECIFIC PLOT POINTS AND MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE GAME.

//So let's get started:

DAY 46:

//The day starts off with Nozomi, who now seems more willing to be open and more willing to talk to Takumi, calls everyone to the War Room so she can finally give us more info about what exactly the group from STLDA learned from Nigou about "World Death."

//By the way, I've been unintentionally calling this thing "World Ender" because I'm writing ReCaptured, and this is what the Remnants call the Future Foundation before they find out the actual name of it, lmao. Unintentional, but honest mistake.

//And of course, this kicks off with a bunch of juicy new lore.

//As I have mentioned in passing with these blogs, one of my favourite parts about this game's story is how it's clearly set in a "distant" future, where humanity all live under a giant dome-like structure, and throughout the game, we see the characters react weirdly to phenomenons that we as regular humans think is natural.

//Just as it creates interesting scenes like that where the characters are unfamiliar with concepts that we find basic, the concepts that they live with under the TRC are what seem alien to us. So the more we learn about them, the more it hooks me.

//But essentially, Nozomi just gives a straight up summary here of WHY the Tokyo Complex was even created in the first place.

//To summarize what she says, Earth became uninhabitable due to a phenomenon called "World Death," caused by the planet itself deciding to end its life in response to humanity’s exploitation and environmental destruction. As natural disasters ravaged the planet, most of the population perished, but a few survivors escaped to massive underground shelters like the Tokyo Residential Complex.

//Over a century later, TRC's residents are the last remnants of humanity, with no memory of life above ground. Now, their survival is again threatened as resources run out. Their only hope lies in the mysterious item hidden in the Defense Room by Sirei. Nozomi and the others believe that the reason why we are here for 100 days specifically, is because that item is set to activate on the 100th day, serving as potentially humanity’s final chance at salvation.

//I don't know if there's nuance to this explanation, but considering the context we have thus far, it checks out.

//And again, there are some interesting tidbits here. For one thing...we find out that Darumi had an abusive brother...shame that, but unfortunately not super important for the current situation; though I am definitely more curious about it...

//And another, as it turns out, despite living in the TOKYO Residential Complex, none of these kids really even know what Tokyo WAS before World Death consumed it.

//Again, the difference in perspective between the audience and the cast is the most interesting part of this game's plot. This is normal for them. The idea that they descended from an entirely different race of human beings that covered an entire planet never even crossed their minds.

//This situation also got me thinking about the Invaders themselves. The current theory that the students have is that the Invaders are part of the world's will to destroy the rest of humankind.

//A definitely plausible theory for the moment, but I personally don't think it's true. And the main reason why I believe that at this point is because if the Invaders are part of World Death, then why can they not get past the Undying Flames? Or at the very least, how come the mooks can't get past the Undying Flames without some sort of special method? If they were part of the same apocalypse, shouldn't they be able to bypass it far easier than they've been shown to?

//I have other reasons, but they prop up later in this journal, so I'll cover them when I get there.

//MY personal theory is that the Invaders are exactly that. Alien Invaders. It's why they speak a completely unrecognizable language, and why they look so strange and...well...alien. My only issue is that at this point, I don't see why it's important for them to get past the school and into the Defense Room.

//However, my best guess is that whatever it is that humans are using to survive is potentially something that they stole from that alien race, and these guys want it back.

//And I think this checks out, because this conversation we have here really does go out of it's way to highlight that even after ALL the shit that's happened as a result of Earth trying to protect itself from greedy douchebags; the government of what's left of the world is still played up to be extremely selfish.

//A large reason why, or at least, as it's indicated by the characters, that most people in the TRC don't know about the old world is because most history books or textual knowledge on it has been scrapped. And I can only assume the reason is because they tried to erase any history of their fuck-ups. They don't want people to point the finger and blame them for their currently dying race.

//Coupled with the fact that they clearly have a hand in this war we're fighting, and drafted literal children into it to fight for the human race, and...yeah, it really calls morality into question.

//I'm almost thinking there's going to be an ending to this game where we find out the truth about the Invaders and what humans have done to them, switch sides, and help subjugate humanity. Of all the possibilities, there has to be at least one route that lets you turn your back on these nasty bastards.

//Anyway, with that all out of the way, it causes everyone's resolve to tighten...Everyone that is...except Ima and Kako.

//Oh, sorry, everyone except Ima and Ima alone. Kako is clearly far more motivated to fight than ever now, since only she and her brother are the one's sitting on the sidelines while even Shouma was able to come around to the idea.

//But Ima does not let Kako speak for herself, and it aggravates me to no end. Again, I was holding out for hope, because from what I'd seen of these guys so far, there had to be at least a good reason why. I was really banking on that actually, because in this part of the story, Ima just becomes insanely iredeemable, at least for a bit.

//We'll get back to that though.

//I still had Free Time for the rest of the day, and fortunately, within this time it's taken me to play, I've started to figure out more about what you should be doing with your spare time.

//One of the big issues that I had with this game was how upgrading moves costed BP. BP, which is an unreasonably rare resource during explorations. And one of my biggest critique's of the game itself was that doing explorations did not net nearly enough resources needed for character and weapon upgrades; even with a team that increases the likelihood of finding the resource.

//Turns out I was doing things a bit wrong.

//You're not SUPPOSED to farm BP with explorations. You just CAN do it. The REAL best way to get BP is by playing the VR training missions.

//I made the, admittedly, stupid as fuck mistake that you could only get the rewards from the VR missions once. Turns out you can just play them over and over again to get the points you need, and the best part is that it only costs one slot of time. And the more missions you unlock, the higher your potential reward is.

//If I spend a full day grinding the VR missions, it nets me about 6000 BP points minimum, which is perfect and serviceable for what I need. This is something I wish I'd recognized sooner; even before I started the game.

//But hey, better late than never.

//So...yeah, a lot of these 10 days I cover is gonna involve me grinding out the VR training. And again, even though she's not in the squad anymore, Hiruko is still registered in the training sim.

//I'm not going to talk extensively about what happens during my grind, because it's just the same mission over and over again, but I was able to get some new abilities for my characters.

//The standour one's are that Kurara now has an ability where she makes a turret that gives allies shields every turn, which, while not strong shields, is still very useful. And on top of that, Shouma actually got an attacking move.

//From what I can understand, Shouma can throw a punching attack that increases in power the lower his health gets. However, if he does attack, he immediately becomes stunned. Which...makes sense considering what we covered in the previous journal.

//This isn't a huge problem, but it does still make taking hits and reflecting the damage back his better option; especially since he can still lure enemies away from the point.

//Speaking of which, I did a big booboo in this fight as well, because I did not realize that Kurara's ultimate move worked the same way as the trip mine item; as in if they go off, it hurts EVERYTHING in the vicinity, INCLUDING your own teammates.

//So yeah, Gaku (appropriately) ended up getting blasted to death by the bombs. Poor guy.

//After the day ends, we have another Karua scene where she drops lore on what Earth was like before the TRC; very relevant to our current conversations.

//Although, to be honest, what I took away from it was really strange, and probably not important, but apparently what's going on is Takumi is in the middle of doing his summer homework, and Karua is watching him.

//My question is why does the concept of SUMMER break exist when the Tokyo Residential Complex has already been established to not have seasons?

//Should the concept of "summer" even exist to these people? And how come no one's questioning it if that isn't the case?

//I can't even call this a nitpick; I just think it's weird.

DAY 47:

//To be honest, a lot of the days I'm about to list are actually just days with Free Time. Which is good, because we need as much as we can get. But there are spruces of plot to break them up that mainly revolve around the twins, because obviously it's their turn to join the fight.

//But we did actually get a moment today during the breakfast sequence that actually made me laugh a bit.

//Can I just mention that I do really like that the writers of this game do give us extensive scenes to make up each day, even if they don't add much to the overall story. Kind of gives you this reminder that we are basically just living together like this, and we are regular people at the end of the day, despite what we go through.

//And it's a better chance to show off the characters just being friends; especially after the sheer spite between the two groups in the last arc of the story.

//Also, Komatsuzaki, holy shit, you branched out a lot for these sprites, huh?

//Yeah, not gonna lie, as weird as Gaku's sprites during this sequence is, him having a foodgasm over Kurara's curry is really funny to me. Especially given what's been going on with me at the moment.

//I haven't really talked about it, because it wasn't super relevant, but I've recently been rewatching a lot of Jojo's Bizarre Adventure; particularly Diamond is Unbreakable, because that part's my favourite.

//And one of my favourite episodes of that part; which I'm confident many agree with, is the Tonio Trussardi episode where Josuke and Okuyasu just go eat Italian food at Tonio's restaurant, and every time Okuyasu ate one of Tonio's dishes, he had a very critical breakdown of each one; and acted very intelligent about the flavor.

//This reminded me of that, so for me personally, it's as funny as it is relevant.

//I am also glad to see Kurara being hospitable. Because she is genuinely one of my favourite characters so far; especially after the last arc. Even when she was being a complete jerk, she was still a fav of mine, but having her acting this way just bumps her up for me.

//And one thing that I am so disappointed about is after breakfast, I actually spent the morning of that day hanging out with her to increase my stats. And while I don't remember exactly what happened with it, I remember Kurara was really mad at Gaku about something.

//And then she pulls out a fucking gun!

//Like, no cap, she tells Takumi she's gonna get revenge or...whatever, and then the screencap shows a fucking handgun, and she's like "Yeah, I'm gonna smoke this dweeb!" and Takumi has to talk her down.

//Caught me off guard in the best way, and I think Kurara might actually be one of my favourite characters in the game now.

//For context, after these days, this is my current tierlist. However, I will say that there is not a single character in this game that I think is bad or poorly written. The cast itself is genuinely very solid, and I pretty much like all of them.

//Which was one big reason why Danganronpa 2 was so good for me; because even the worst characters in it I still like a moderate amount.

//I spent the afternoon reading to increase my stats, and it kind of reinforced this idea that I brought up previously. The book I read was another one that contained a lot of history on the TRC, but so much of the content in it was censored.

//Again, the reason is pretty clearly because the government of the TRC are trying to leave the old world behind, along with how badly they screwed it up.

DAY 48:

//Today was another day where I just played the VR sim again, and even though I know it's going to get stale doing the same fights again and again just to get the resources I need, I think I'm getting used to it.

//It's not the WORST thing in the world. At least your efforts are fruitful.

//Only other thing worth noting is in the morning, there's a scene with Eito in the cafeteria where he mentions that thanks to what we now know about World Death, the possibility of Nozomi being an alternate universe version of Karua is looking increasingly unlikely.

//His reasoning is that since we're fighting for the sake of helping the Tokyo Residential Complex and the remains of humanity inside it to live another day, the likelihood of the academy and the complex being from different worlds is fairly minimal.

//Like I said before, I knew that that wasn't going to be the case, because the game does not just feed you answers like that. But yeah, I guess that's as good a reason as any.

//But once again, I am still absolutely clueless on who or what Nozomi is in that case. And I genuinely can't think of any good theories until the game gives us more information on her; which they have been pretty shy about.

//My best guess is that Nozomi's arc is going to come after we get the whole squad together.

DAY 49:

//I expected this would happen, but Ima has officially cut both himself and Kako off from the rest of the group.

//If you'd noted the tierlist above, Ima is currently square at the bottom of the list, even though I don't hate him. I just really don't like him for most of this part of the story, because he acts SO CONTROLLING. And the longer it goes on, the worse he gets. Again, we'll get to that, but his behaviour just gradually gets more and more disturbing as time goes on.

//But today turned out to be a little bit different. At the point I was at, I managed to get most of my social stats to level two, with Math and Gym being the one's I had to get next. Nozomi raises Math stat, so I planned on giving her a gift so she could help me level it.

//Unfortunately, I did search what she liked, and I didn't actually have the resources to make it. So what I did is I decided to go out exploring, and in one sitting, get to ALL the Treasure Chest locations on the map that I had unlocked so far.

//As a reminder, I am currently flame level 2 in the game, so I only have access to the Desert and the Forest.

//But I'm not gonna lie. Remember how I mentioned that the exploration stuff was by far my least favourite part of the game?

//Well...it STILL is...BUT I have managed to find a way to make it much, much, MUCH easier on myself. And it largely revolves around the team I picked to go out with.

//That squad is Nozomi, Shouma, and Kyoshika.

//First of all, I know that I kind of shit-talked Kyoshika initially, because her playstyle didn't really click with me, but after getting her some more moves and understanding how she functions, she is easily one of the strongest characters in the game.

//Even at a lower level, setting up the game right allows her to do more damage to enemies than even Hiruko was able to pull off early game. So in this squad, Kyoshika is my main DPS, with Takumi as my sub-DPS basically. If you use Takumi to clear out the smaller enemies and get them on their own with no adjacent backup, Kyoshika can effectively take out stronger enemies in one hit with her attacks.

//Having someone that strong means that I clear enemy spaces very easily very quickly, even the tougher ones.

//Shouma is really great for long-winded investigations because his whole thing is having the most health out of every character. So if you land on an event square where you take damage, he can take a lot of it and not really worry about it.

//He's also good at getting rid of smaller enemies on a wide scale in battle by luring them in and having them hit him. And again, considering the whole point of these missions is that health depends on how long the exploration is for, him being able to take damage that would normally badly hurt his party members makes him a godsend.

//This same reason is exactly why Nozomi continues to be the absolute uncrowned queen of this game, because in this kind of situation, having the ability to heal is just ESSENTIAL.

//So my main strategy is if my team is running low on health, I try to aim for spaces that initiate a battle, and during the battle, I have Nozomi just pump everyone's health up again. And then that health carries over to the board game mode.

//Of course, the issue is Nozomi herself is very squishy and lacking in health, so one really unfortunate roll on the board could kill her instantly.

//But in the event of something like that happening to any of my characters, I have been strictly advised to save-scum the fuck out of it, otherwise it's just not enjoyable.

//You need a LOT of patience with this gamemode, because if you don't have mental fortitude, it's gonna eat away at you. Getting these gifts in one sitting took SEVERAL HOURS, because you move so slow around this board, and in some places where you need to go, there aren't even any checkpoints that you can automatically jump to.

//Still easily the worst part of this game, and that's very unfortunate. But with the new characters on the team, it's at least not nearly as much of a luck-based grind that could end purely by chance.

//But I managed to get it all done, and ended that gameplay session there. But Day 49 doesn't end just like that though, because we have a really interesting cutscene.

//Remember how I mentioned that we had a scene where Karua and Takumi talked about the outside world again? Well, in that scene, Karua mentions the Moon, which again, is something that these kids are unfamiliar with. They live under a giant dome, so they've never seen anything in the sky ever.

//But this day ends with Takumi feeling a presence outside his door; which at the time I guessed was the Undying Flames boy, but it's raining when he goes out and no one's there. He ends up looking up at the moon and...

//...yeeeaaaaaaaaaaaahhh, that ain't normal.

//I have no idea what to make of it, but I do actually have two theories, and both of them relate to the same thing.

//That "thing" is my theory about the Invaders being aliens.

//THEORY 1: What we're looking at here isn't the moon, but the spaceship that the alien Invaders actually come from. They descend down to earth from this conviniently moon-shaped spaceship.

//My reasoning? Sirei mentions at the beginning of the game that the Undying Flames are specifically an inpenetrable wall of fire. The Invaders sometimes get through it, but we're never given explicit detail on HOW. HOWEVER, Sirei does mention that while the flames respond to enemies that try to get OVER them, he does mention that there is a limit to how high they can reach.

//And when he explains it, he very notably mentions that one way to get by it is to come in from outer space.

//Which is what I think the Invaders are doing, because even though we know some of them get past the Wall of Flames, we're never explicitly given details as to HOW. Just that some particularly strong one's can just...do it. So that would also explain THAT little detail.

//THEORY 2: Remember how I mentioned earlier that whatever's in the Defense Room may be something we've taken from the Invaders that they're trying to get back?

//While this might sound ridiculous, here's a distinct possibility that we're not even ON Earth right now.

//Maybe that's a bit confusing, but what I mean is that the moon that we're looking for is ACTUALLY where the Tokyo Residential complex is. It's not underground; we are GENUINELY on another planet.

//I'm not sure whether we're actually on Earth after World Death though, like Nozomi claimed earlier, or if what we think is the moon is actually the Earth, and we're on a foreign alien planet. It's really going to depend on what the actual mission here is, and those juicy lore drops are stuff that I just cannot WAIT to explore.

//Either way, as I predicted, almost immediately after Takumi looks at the moon, the Undying Flames boy showed up. This time, Takumi goes to manhandle him, but before he can do anything, the doofus slips on the rainwater and knocks himself out.

DAY 50:

//AND WITH THAT WE ARE HALFWAY THROUGH!

//I honestly have no idea how Takumi didn't catch an effin' cold seeing as he not only slept all night under the rain, but the fact that his body is not acclimatized to any kind of weather. Also, did his clothes somehow not get damp? How come Eito or he didn't even notice?

//Today we had a very interesting event happen...Takumi was going to tell everyone at the cafeteria that he'd run into the strange ghost boy again, but in the middle of him trying to explain it, the Invader alarm sounded, meaning everyone needs to rush over to the war room.

//I was surprised because it hadn't actually been that long, and I thought for sure that the next fight we did would be where Ima and Kako stepped into the fray. But turns out I shouldn't have spoken so soon.

//I actually did notice that something wasn't quite right with this time's alarm, because even though it played the intruder alert CG, normally after that, we get a cutscene showing the swarm of invaders rushing into the school. We didn't get that this time; which should have been a clear suggestion that this wasn't what we thought it was.

//When we get to the War Room, Yugamu points out that even though the alarm sounded, there isn't actually anybody on the campus, much less the invaders. However, from the flames, we do see a lone figure incoming. And while at first we think it's an Invader Commander, as we zoom into the image...

//YEEEEEE-!

//To be perfectly honest, this wasn't how I expected Moko to be introduced into the plot...like, at all.

//I thought that after we managed to get Ima and Kako to join us in the fight, Nozomi would bring Moko up again, and we'd go out on a search mission to rescue her.

//But it seems like she's come to us instead.

//I'm really not sure how she was able to get past the Undying Flames without a Fire Hydrant, but maybe she somehow still had one and used what was left of her Hemoanima to get inside?

//But that's also weird, since STLDA didn't have a wall of flames, so there was no need for those things, and I doubt Moko ever used one. Hopefully it will be explained later.

//We don't actually see a lot of Moko yet, because she spends most of this time recovering, but she's in the Student Profile now, and on the map. And we get this short scene of Nozomi consoling her; which was one of the more notable CG's that were revealed in the pre-release.

//Even with only a few dialogue lines at the moment, she is pretty entertaining already. Kind of just the silly character it seems; though a less psychotic version than Darumi. Whether or not she'll have any notable involvement in the plot or not remains to be seen.

//We do learn a little bit more about what happened to Moko from Nozomi here, and more about Moko as a character. First off, she's apparently a real high-school wrestler, and strong enough to take out a small army of Invaders on her own.

//Nozomi recounts how, when the second group first woke up at the Second-to-last Defense Academy, they were just as frightened and disoriented as the A-Team had been. But Moko quickly stepped up as a leader, keeping the group from falling apart. Effectively, she was originally for the group what Nozomi is for them now.

//She apparently always knew the right words to lift their spirits when things got tough, and it's because of her guidance and support that they evolved into the powerful team we were first introduced to.

//Tragically, on the tenth day of training, a massive swarm of Invaders attacked. Even with Moko leading them, the team was almost completely wiped out. According to Nozomi, they used a diversionary force on the north side of the school to keep the group occupied, while strike teams silently picked them off one at a time. The group, still inexperienced, couldn’t respond fast enough once they realized what was happening. Yugamu, Kurara, and Kyoshika were killed, and the defensive barrier was destroyed.

//To make things worse, Nigou was captured and the Revive-O'-Matic was damaged. Knowing that Nigou was vital to everything, Moko launched a desperate rescue. Despite being exhausted, she managed to reach him and throw him to safety, but she was too drained to escape and ended up being captured herself. By the time Nigou revived the others, the Invaders had already retreated, taking Moko with them.

//All of this is to say that I'm quite excited to see how Moko plays in battle. Particularly because I don't see what kind of role she might fit into.

//We already have DPS with the likes of Hiruko, Takumi, and Kyoshika, and Takemaru and Shouma already fit into tank role. I doubt she's a support, so...I am interested to see how differently she might play compared to who we've got so far.

//One of my favourite parts of this game is the variety of playstyles and strategies between characters. I do hope that Moko keeps that ball rolling.

DAY 51:

//Despite the fact that Moko came back, Day 50 was surprisingly short considering it's a milestone number.

//Not an awful lot happened today, but I have two highlights.

//First of all, the breakfast cutscene that morning got to show Yugamu and Darumi having an "enlightening" conversation, and even though we don't get much of this duo, I hope we get more, because their conversations are always cryptically hilarious.

//And second, would you FUCKING believe it, after all that grinding I did to get Nozomi a nice gift so I could raise my math stat, because she's busy taking care of Moko, Nozomi is UNAVAILABLE to hang out with!

//FUCK!

//I JUST WANTED TO GIVE YOU CHOCOLATE MY GIRL! WHY MUST I BE CUCKED THIS WAY!?

//Anyway, Eito also raises the Math stat, so I reset and decided to get him a gift instead.

DAY 52:

//*sigh*...Okay...

//Remember how I mentioned at the start that there was a significant point in this part of the story where the plot started to decline in quality? Well, it's this part here.

//This is the point in the story where Ima and Kako's involvement in the plot, and their character arcs, finally come forward. And unfortunately, it's not executed in the way that I hoped or wanted, but...let me explain.

//As I've mentioned before a few times leading up to this day, it's become clear that Kako harbors deep discomfort regarding her brother's behavior toward her. Even if, on the surface, they appear to be a typical pair of siblings, and fortunately, Kodaka doesn't ACTUALLY cross into incest territory with the Tsukumo's, it doesn't stop Ima’s actions crossing the line into something far more disturbing.

//And THIS PART of the story is CROSSING! THE LINE!

//As the plot unfolds, we begin to see Kako’s true desires more clearly. Rather than staying in her brother's shadow or continuing to play the obedient little sister, she wants to stand on her own and be part of the group’s effort to protect the school. Her determination grows steadily, and by this day, she finally reaches a breaking point.

//She gathers the courage to challenge Ima for the first time, to raise her voice and assert herself.

//Unfortunately, Ima’s reaction is as chilling as it is immediate.

//Rather than even pretending to consider her feelings, Ima glares at her with open malice, his expression dark and hostile. He coldly dismisses her words, grabs her by the arm, and drags her out of the cafeteria in front of everyone!

//He claims he’s going to “punish her for stepping out of line” and promises to give her a “thorough reeducation.” It’s a deeply disturbing moment, not just because of what he says, but because of what it implies.

//If you followed my main account @creepercraftguy, you'll know that I recently made a repost from one of @hopeymchope's posts where they talk about how he finds the cast of this game to be terrible, selfish people, and I went out of my way to refute their points and defend the characters and the games writing. In as civilized a way I could manage, I want to add.

//However, I CANNOT defend THIS! I think that hopey's assessment of what happens here with not just Ima and Kako, but everyone's reactions to what happens with the siblings, is spot on.

//This kind of control, entitlement, and possessiveness that are hallmarks of ABUSE!

//The terror on Kako’s face in that moment says it all. While it’s later implied that Ima didn’t physically harm her beyond perhaps a stern verbal tirade, since she seems relatively unharmed the next time she appears, the psychological toll in the moment impossible to ignore. This is the kind of dynamic you’d expect to find in an abusive household, not between two supposedly loving siblings.

//And that's not even the WORST part.

//Just as Ima starts PHYSICALLY dragging Kako away, Takemaru steps forward and blocks their path. Calm and composed, he doesn’t shout or resort to threats.

//He simply states the truth: if Ima truly cares for his sister, he ought to respect her autonomy and listen to what she has to say.

//It’s a simple, rational appeal...but one that Ima responds to in the most violently irrational way possible.

//Without a word of warning, Ima pulls out a weapon and STABS TAKEMARU IN THE STOMACH!

//JUST LIKE THAT!

//Like...this was his PLAN A! He wasn't even attacking in self-defense! Takemaru literally said ONE THING about how Ima was mistreating his "beloved" sister, that was very clearly true and everyone around him agreed with it, and Ima just STABS HIM FOR IT!

//I know that the game kind of already played it up for a long while before this bombshell dropped, but Ima might GENUINELY be the MOST FUCKED UP character Kodaka has ever written.

//Well...okay, maybe not, but he's DEFINITELY UP THERE!

//But it's not over yet!

//The scene itself is chaotic, shocking, and horrifying. After the stabbing, Ima successfully escapes with Kako, and Takumi, Eito, Gaku, and Yugamu manage to stabilize Takemaru and carry him back to his room so he can recover.

//But in the aftermath, something even more unsettling occurs. Despite everything, the threat to Kako, the stabbing, the obvious danger Ima now poses...Takumi just shrugs it off!

//He basically says it’s "too late" to act that day and simply decides to go to sleep, as if nothing could be done! The others seem to quietly accept this, and Takumi’s parting words are to “worry about them later.”

//LATER!?

//Kako is almost certainly being subjected to more of Ima’s abusive behavior right now, and yet the protagonist apparently prioritizes rest over rescue!

//And even putting that aside, AGAIN!

//IMA!

//STABBED!

//TAKEMARU!

//I can accept the students treating both Hiruko and Kurara's violent threats the way they did, with little agency, because we ultimately KNOW that neither of them are going to actually follow up on them. For Hiruko, it was clearly an incentive to get those afraid to fight to step up, and the same goes for Kurara; wanting to finally settle the disputes between the two sides at that point.

//But IMA is acting entirely selfishly, and did something that could almost have killed Takemaru with VERY LITTLE REASON! IF ANY! Literally all Takemaru did was say "You should listen to your sister!" and Ima went "Haha! You die now for that!"

//The lack of urgency is INFURIATING! No one is making any attempt to rescue Kako, restrain Ima, hell even both!

//And while I have gassed this game up to high heaven, and will likely continue to do so because I AM still enjoying it, this whole situation is a CLEAR failure on the part of the game’s narrative to treat the situation with the seriousness it deserves!

//The evening ends with Takumi getting a letter from Kako, essentially pleading for help. She asks Takumi to try and convince Ima to let her fight with the others, just as he was able to do for Tsubasa, Gaku, and Shouma. And Takumi agrees that tomorrow he will finally confront Ima about it.

//Which gave me a bit of hope that he was gonna step up...only for the next morning to have those hopes immediately dashed...

DAY 53:

The next morning, just as Takumi is about to go convince Ima to let Kako fight, Ima himself shows up at Takumi's door...completely unrepentant, mind you, and has the gall to ask for a favor.

//He flips the situation on its head, and gives us a different mission than normal. Instead of Takumi convincing Ima to fight, Ima instead wants Takumi to convince Kako to abandon her hopes of fighting alongside the group and return to passive obedience.

//However, he doesn't come empty handed. In exchange, Ima offers to take her place in the defense effort. So long as Kako doesn't fight, Ima himself will join the front lines so he can protect her.

//While this scene DID lighten the load a TAD, because it showed that Ima really does just want to protect Kako from any kind of harm, it’s an absurd proposition.

//In return for the privilege of Ima’s help; the same Ima who just stabbed someone for speaking out; you're asked to emotionally crush a victim of his mental abuse, and restore her to her "proper" role as his submissive little sister.

//To put this into Danganronpa fan perspective, this is equivelent to helping Kanade convince Hibiki that her only purpose is a mindless doll for her sister to play with.

//Worse still, this isn't a choice the player can meaningfully engage with. You're railroaded into compliance. No matter how many times you try to refuse. Even if you don't want to; and trust me, I DID NOT WANT TO, the game offers no real alternative.

//You’re stuck in a classic But Thou Must scenario: the story won’t move forward unless you agree to Ima’s terms. For me, it’s not just frustrating. It’s a betrayal of the emotional stakes the game itself has built up, forcing you to go along with a resolution that feels morally bankrupt.

//Yes Ima! Considering you stabbed a man and also look so much like Kokichi Ouma, you DO look like a HUGE liar!

//ANYYYWAYYYY, since we've essentially been FORCED into doing this, instead of going around to learn more about how to appeal to Ima, we instead go to learn a bit more about Kako and the twins in general.

//I'm actually okay with this part because even though I'm not on board with the actual mission, it does pique my interest.

//Mainly because we do get a little more information and characterization from Kako herself; who's contributions to the plot so far have been...fairly minimal. And some contribution from Ima too, who starts to open up about their backstory.

//Ima has always made it painfully clear that he’d throw the entire world under the bus if it meant ensuring Kako’s safety, but it's only with this part of the story where you see how his obsession with protecting her borders on apocalyptic. He would happily damn humanity if it meant shielding her from harm.

//But but the very obvious issue with what he's doing and why he's acting this way, is what does that kind of safety even mean if Kako isn’t allowed to be happy? If she’s not allowed to be free to make her own choices and have Ima dictate her his whole life?

//That’s the core problem, isn’t it? It's not just about whether she’s alive or unharmed — it’s about whether she gets to live her life, by her choices. And right now, thanks to Takumi's ongoing deference to Ima’s twisted logic, that freedom is slipping further and further out of reach.

//I’ll be honest. It’s incredibly frustrating watching Takumi cave like this. Whether it’s out of guilt, confusion, or just plain weariness, he keeps conceding ground to Ima, inch by inch. It’s not just disappointing. It’s disheartening; especially since Takumi has very quickly become one of my favourite protagonists in one of Kodaka's games, rivalling even KAEDE.

//We also learn something new about in that apparently, the twin's father used to be a detective. Which definitely shines a light on where Kako’s sharp intellect and analytical instincts come from. Even though she's unnasuming, she has been shown to be very keen, intelligent, and good at estimating outcomes, and I see where she gets it now.

//Her love of tech is another defining trait, and when Ima suggests getting her a motor scooter, it surprisingly turns out to be a solid idea. She reacts positively to the idea, and it’s one of the rare moments where Ima actually seems to understand her interests rather than project his own desires onto her.

//We also get confirmation about something that’s long been implied: the twins lost their parents at a very young age. I’d suspected as much, but hearing Ima talk about it gives it some more weight.

//He mentions that while they technically had other family members, those relatives didn’t care for them in any real sense. They abandoned the twins, leaving them to survive on the streets alone.

//Which, while this might be a stretch, kind of reminds me of Rei Mekaru's backstory in Danganronpa Another. As a reminder, Rei's backstory was that her birth parents were at risk of going backrupt and ending up on the streets, so they ended up disowning their daughter so that Rei wouldn't get caught up in the trouble and be dragged down with them.

//However, the family members that they entrustred Rei to abandoned her when things got a bit too difficult, betraying the trust of Rei's birth parents, and twisting her to make her believe that they'd never truly loved her. I'm getting similar vibes from this.

//That experience, as Ima explains it, is at the root of his obsession. Without Kako, he has nothing. She’s not just his sister, she’s his anchor. The only thing tethering him to the world.

//BUuuuuUUUuuUUUUuuuUUUuuuuuUUUUT-!

//While that tragic backstory helps explain WHY he clings to her so tightly, it doesn’t ABSOLVE him. Trauma might shape behavior, but it doesn’t excuse cruelty, especially not on this level. And what he’s done to Kako over the years is undeniably cruel, even if Ima himself didn't mean to come across that way.

//Effectively, Kako has relied on Ima to protect her basically their whole lives, and as a result, Ima knows nothing BUT protecting her. There's literally nothing else to his life besides making sure she is safe. Now that Kako is stepping up to fight, his own life is losing its purpose.

//Which I think is the REAL reason why Ima is so desperate to stop her. And honestly? It's sad! It really is sad; because Ima seems incapable of considering that these two could just be normal siblings that support EACH OTHER rather than forcing her to do things she'd rather not, just for her "protection," and his own selfishness!

//It's not that I don't GET it; I just don't think it's stated very plainly! And that kind of ruins the experience for me!

//What's worse, the version of events we hear feels incomplete. Maybe there’s more to it that we'll see later on. For now, there's not too much to work with.

//Interestingly, this moment marks the first time in the game where we’re able to make a gift without having to spend an entire in-game day gathering resources. Everything we need is just…handed to us. No scavenging. No side quests. Just a direct path to giving Kako something meaningful.

//It’s oddly convenient, almost like the game wants this interaction to happen smoothly, and that in itself feels a little suspicious.

//What follows is the minigame where you have to talk to a character and guide the conversation toward a specific outcome. But this time, we’re not trying to persuade Kako to stand up and fight. Rather this time, we’re convincing her to stop.

//And again, I'm REALLY NOT OKAY with this!

//I don't want to tell Kako to pull back, because it feels like I'm telling her to accept the very role she’s spent so long trying to escape. To make things worse, at least in my experience, this minigame was concerningly easy compared to the one's I did with Tsubasa, Shouma, and Gaku. I had basically no trouble with this one and got like...one wrong answer.

//Fortunately, there is one silver lining in this mess, if you can even call it that.

//The minigame ends as it does normally, but right at the last second, the game reverses, and ends in FAILURE. Takumi completely fails in his mission to convince Kako to step away from the fight. This is the only time in the game (so far) that this has happened, and THANK GOD, because this was the one time I NEEDED it to fail.

//At first, it seems like a small victory: she won’t be silenced, and she’s not going to just fade into the background as her brother wishes.

//Then, in a scene that’s surprisingly short and understated, Ima appears in the flesh and...finally relents.

//He doesn’t APOLOGIZE, at least not outright, but he does acknowledge, in his own indirect way, that he MIGHT have taken things too far.

//For the first time, he gives Kako his approval to stand alongside the others. It’s brief. It’s quiet. But it’s genuine.

//And...I DID like the exchange the twins have. Really I did. I think it's nice to see them come to an understanding, but also...it highlights what my biggest issue with this arc of the story was! It was TOO SHORT!

//The exchange itself is only a few lines of dialogue, and again, it kind of just ends with Ima giving up; not so much apologizing. It's the same issue as what happened with the stabbing scene. It went from 0 to 100 in no time flat, and now it's gone back to 0 equally as fast. Both times for very little rhyme or reason.

//And again, Takumi is not in the right here.

//Because while he fails to get her to abandon her determination, Takumi DOES twist the conversation into a justification of Ima’s possessive and controlling behavior. Instead of helping Kako recognize the toxic, dehumanizing grip her brother has had on her for years, Takumi, perhaps without even fully realizing it, romanticizes it. He reframes Ima’s suffocating control not as abuse, but as some kind of noble, selfless devotion. He paints it as an act of love that should be cherished and repaid.

//And to Kako, who has been emotionally manipulated and gaslit for so long, this recontextualization lands with horrifying effectiveness.

//I can accept that the Tsukumo's love each other really, and that Kako always wanted to fight for the sake of protecting her brother. But the way it's handled feels like some gut-wrenching reversal that doesn't sit right with me.

//Takumi may have walked into that conversation with good intentions, or at least some vague sense of moral responsibility, but the end result is...while I wouldn't call it a CATASTROPHE, because it DID mean something to me, it wasn't completely wholesome and above all else...not warranted.

//Rather than helping Kako, and hell, IMA too, liberate themselves from an emotionally damaging relationship, he becomes complicit in reinforcing it. He gaslights the gaslit. He enables the abuser. Whether it was done through ignorance, cowardice, or sheer moral failing, the outcome is the same.

//I suppose the problem I'm saying is it feels like Ima really didn't get a deserved commupance OR strong character arc here. He kind of just decides everything in this situation on his own, and everyone else is dancing to his tune. Which I really cannot get behind, despite how much I do like this game's writing overall.

//But...yeah, that's how the day ends. Not with a bang but with a "for fucks sake!"

DAY 54:

//Nothing much happens today, and the Tsukumo Twins are kind of off doing their own thing as always. Except this time, they're remaining seperate. I guess to sort things out on their own for once.

//I spent my free time doing gift giving to Takemaru. Gym was the one stat I still needed to upgrade to get more abilities. But in the meantime, I did check out the new area of the school, since it's the one time the game doesn't actively force you to check it out.

//The courtyard is basically just an indoor garden, but the standout feature of it is that there's a giant bird-shaped cage in there that's clearly setting up for something bigger, since they mentioned that it nullifies any powers.

//I don't know why we'd have that cage in the fucking courtyard, which is a place normally for relaxation. If we had any prisoners in there, that'd be really annoying.

//Takemaru's reaction to recieving gifts he likes is...surprisingly cute actually??? lol.

//I mean, I guess it makes sense because the guy clearly isn't the hardass that he comes across as.

//Also, I'm gonna be real, I actually don't care about the stupid guesswork, and did straight up google what gifts each of the characters like in this game to make the best out of my presents.

//And of course, one of the gifts you can give is a goddamn vibrator...

//And of COURSE, KYOSHIKA is the one who likes it.

//I don't know why I'm even surprised.

DAY 55:

//You know what's most surprising?

//Today is the penultimate day that I normally end these journals on where the Invaders come in and attack, but...I actually don't have very much to say about this fight!

//It's GOOD, but definitely not as impactful to me as the previous defense battles were.

//I’m finally starting to get a solid grasp on how to manage my time efficiently in this game. Now that I understand how everything works I feel a lot more in control.

/To be honest, it was pretty obvious this time around that the Invasion was going to come today; all the signs were there, and unlike last time, they rolled out the full cutscene to introduce it. So unlike the fake-out with Moko showing up, I knew that this one had to at least be legit.

//I had a strong hunch that Takemaru would still show up to fight, even after taking a knife to the gut courtesy of Ima. Lo and behold, I was right. He reappears, injured, sure, but still ready to stand his ground.

//I kind of thought that when we got into the fight, Takemaru would either be fatigued, or have lost a little bit of health off rip. But I guess the devs didn't really think to do something like that; or they just chose not to.

//The first round of the battle went relatively smoothly. It felt like a warm-up, especially with the team starting to fall into rhythm. But then round two hit, and things escalated fast. That’s when the Invaders started deploying a nasty new trick: Fog Machines.

//Do I even need to explain how infuriating this mechanic is? Surely the word "fog" is a dead giveaway.

//Once it's on the field, your visibility drops to practically zero. You can’t see any enemies unless you’re standing directly next to them, and UNTIL you’re adjacent, you can’t attack them either. It completely derails long-range strategies and makes positioning way more stressful than it needs to be.

//Basically, it forces you to fumble around in the dark, hoping to bump into something hostile before it bumps into you, and in the event you want to attack them on the main turn, that burns through AP like no tomorrow.

//Even more annoying is the low visibility means you can't even use Shouma to draw enemy fire away from the barrier. You CANNOT DO ANYTHING to the enemies UNTIL they are visible!

//Unsurprisingly, I hated this mechanic. It doesn’t feel challenging in a fun way, more like artificially slowing things down and punishing careful planning. The GOOD news is that it doesn't last very long.

//Luckily, help arrives in the form of the Tsukumo Twins, who join the fight mid-battle (who would have guessed?) with the exact tools needed to shut the fog bulshit down.

//And the way these two play is...well...WEIRD...

//Kako, true to form, plays a long-range sniper role. She can pick off enemies from a safe distance, which is a godsend in a battlefield where visibility is severely limited.

//Ima, meanwhile, is highly mobile and downright overpowered in this terrain. He floats above the ground, completely unaffected by terrain restrictions, and can travel across the map with ease.

//That said, neither of them really do enough damage to really net value out of. They're GOOD, but there are stronger characters in the squad, like Eito. Not that I'm devaluing either of them, because being able to cover that much ground between the two of them is very useful.

//But on top of that, Kako’s main attack comes with an annoying drawback. Every time she uses it, her damage output decreases.

//I get the idea; forcing the player to think carefully about when to use her; but it makes her feel less satisfying to use as the fight drags on. I’m not really a fan.

//After the twins enter the battlefield and start tearing through the fog machines, the tide of the fight shifts dramatically. Once those devices are destroyed, the fog lifts, and the battlefield opens up again. With full visibility restored, the rest of the fight is pretty straightforward. The enemies are fully exposed, and from that point on, it’s a no-holds-barred brawl.

//In the words of our forefathers: Rip and Tear until it's done!

//However, even though the fight itself is nothing to write home about...the CONCLUSION brings a pretty dramatic twist to the story.

//As established, most of these combat situations end with picking one of the students to end the life of the commander and absorb it's hemoanima. But in the past, we've mostly done this to commanders that are defeated and defenseless. The only time that we've done otherwise is the first commander, that Hiruko didn't really give the time of day.

//This time though, the commander survives past the initial cutscene, and pleads for mercy just like the first one does. While we ARE about to ignore it, the twist comes from the Commander REMOVING its mask and...

//...

//...Is it bad that I find it insanely attractive?

//Okay, jokes aside, there is a very chilling moment here where the characters are shocked to find that the enemy Commanders look like regular human beings under the masks. However, we still can't understand what she's saying because she speaks a completely seperate language from us.

//There is another interesting lore moment here where Eito suggests that she's speaking a FOREIGN language, which is why the students can't understand her. I didn't even realize that the concept of racism might not even exist within the TRC because it's just the world as they know it. Everyone looks the same and speaks the same language; unlike the world we know.

//Of course, the Invaders speak a completely alien language even to us, but these guys have no way of knowing that.

//But yeah, this fight ends with this Commander succumbing to an entirely different fate than what we're used to. Instead of killing her outright, they take her prisoner and lock her up in one of those cages I mentioned earlier; until they could understand her language and get information out of their enemies from her.

//I KNEW that was gonna come into play somehow!

//I have a distinct feeling that this Invader is gonna end up being an important character, and I didn't even think about it until now but...what if this Invader joins OUR side and becomes the 16th student!?

//Like, we HAVE to have 16 party members by the end of this, right!? It's already so weird that we only have up to 15. I dunno, I guess we'll see.

DAY 56:

//GO HOME GO BED!!!

Conclusion:

//Yeah, this part of the story was a low-point overall.

//Not UNSALVAGEABLE, and definitely good character moments, but my main takeaways from it aren't great:

I like the Tsukumo twins a little bit more than I did before now that I properly understand them, but I think they are still my least favourite characters in the game. At least Ima is.

I did NOT enjoy the coercion segment of this chapter. It felt so wrong trying to steer Kako off doing what she wanted, with no choice but to do so. In the end, I'm glad she stuck to her guns regardless of what Ima and Takumi said.

I'm hoping the twins end up being better characters in the future. I already think Kako is cool and cute, but she hasn't had much change to shine on her own thanks to her fuckhead brother; who definitely didn't get the commupance he deserved.

There are still so many questions about World Death that even the general explanation doesn't answer. The mysteries of this game keep piling on; especially with the introduction of this potential ally commander.

//I AM still enjoying this game as much as I always have done. Even with all that's happened here, it hasn't really affected my opinion of this game; nor my willingness to continue playing it.

//Every game has highs and lows, much like my expectations. I had them high, and was low-blowed by them. This part of the game was fundamentally flaws overall, even if I do understand the idea they were going for; since it felt super rushed and unpolished.

//Which is a real damn shame. Here's hoping the next part will be better.

-Mod

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shivfuckinroy · 2 days ago

Text

I'm high and need to get this out of my chest. I'm obssesed with dbf!Joel so here you go. Probably bad writing but this is my first one, read on your own risk, contains mature content, smut with a little plot, age gap, swearing, outbreak didn't happen, Sarah is alive, Joel is old enough to be her father, reader is in twenties. Virginity loss.

ps: part 2 might happen? or this could be the first and last one lol

***

You knew Joel Miller your whole life. He was always around, whether a celebration, a hard day or for a quick dinner. He was your dad's best friend for life. They spoke a language none of you, your family, and Sarah understood.

Well, there was a new language though... Never spoken, but only thought in late night thoughts... By you...

By Joel.

Especially after you started going to collage. You missed your hometown, you missed your family, your house. But when you came back for holidays, you ached to see something else.

Someone else.

Joel Miller.

The single parent, the man every woman in town turned their heads to look at him twice as he casually walked by them, your father's best friend, the contracter Joel Miller.

You never felt the need to stick around when he came for a quick chat with your dad before. But now, to see him just for a second more, you found excuses to stay in the same room as him.

And for Joel, he thought he was proud of you for being one of the few in town to go for college, go for a life beyond the one you knew. He thought it was innocent, what he felt.

A father's love, maybe. An uncle's?

No, it was something else. He realised what it was the very night it dawned on you, too.

When you surprised everyone by showing up on Sarah's birthday, they thought you had lectures. Well, you did, but seeing him being the best dad ever on his daughters birthday was worth never learning anything at all.

With a big box on your hands, you walked through Joel's garden, which was next to yours and seperated by a fence. It was crowded. You slowly reached the table where a big birthday cake with number 18 was placed. You spotted Joel, next to Sarah, everyone including your parents pointing their cameras at the birthday girl.

And then Joel saw you . You felt heat rising through your face. He had this ability to spot you no matter how crowded it was.

Joel thought... Shit, she's here. She's fucking here.

You saw his unreadable expression which stayed on for a few seconds, something just words couldn't describe. Something unknown by the two of you. Something waiting to be explored.

Then he quickly smiled and pointed his hand at your direction.

"There she is! She made it everyone!"

All the heads turned to see you. Sarah clapped his hands, you run to your parents side. Crowd cheering as you waved, you felt like a queen for a moment. Joel never stopped looking at your eyes the whole time. Something in his chest growing, reaching the places he thought didn't exist anymore.

It was love.

***

The party was about to end. Your mouth dry from all the talking with the neighbours, explaining your little surprise to every one of them. Your mother and dad somehow proud of the child they raised. Sarah, the happiest 18 year old in the world for tonight. Having fun with friends, getting ready to depart for a weekend getaway right after the party with her closest friends.

You talked to every single person on this garden except the birthday girl's father. Joel was busy arranging things so his daughter had the best night of her life. Tommy helping his older brother here and there.

At midnight everyone was gone except for you and your parents helping Miller brothers. Oh, and the Karen who was apperently hitting on Joel in every chance. Sarah was on her way with her friends.

Most of the cleaning was done, you parents getting ready to leave, Joel finally approached you. His eyes were locked on you the whole night. Especially when he thought you weren't looking.

"Thanks guys. It's getting late now, go rest. I couldn't have had this party without your help."

Joel hugged your mom and dad. Stopped when it was your turn.

"And special thanks to you sweetheart. You made Sarah so happy, she is very fond of you."

You hugged him, he hugged you right back.

"I love her. I just had to be here."

He held his arm on your back after the hug. You all started walking towards the fence. Tommy came to say goodbye too. He left with a girl holding hands, winking to all of you. Your dad and Joel looked at each other, smirking. Your father whispered to Joel's ear.

"You should learn one thing or two from your brother, old man."

Joel stopped holding his hand on your back and grabbed your fathers shoulders.

"Past your bed time, old man."

Saying goodnights, you just couldn't bear the thought of leaving Joel so early, so alone in his home after it was full of people all night.

"I can take Tommy's place on doing the dishes."

Your parents supported you. Joel opened his mouth to object but your parents were already on the others side of the fence, leaving you two alone.

He felt like he should object. Otherwise it might be too late. Too late to prevent this feeling he felt all night long. The fast heartbeats everytime he heard your laugh from afar, the jealousy he felt whenever he saw you talking or dancing with a boy your age. The urge to feel you, hold you, talk to you.

"You don't have to stay, you know. I'll handle it in the morning."

You already started heading inside. He followed you.

It was quiet. Only the sound of the water as you washed the plates and cups Joel gathered from around the house. He really tried not to stay with you in the kitchen. But there was nothing left in the garden. Nothing left on the hallways, and nothing in living room. He stood beside you as you did the rest of the dishes.

His smell, his presence alone made you nervous and at peace somehow. You knew your parents were already asleep. Sarah and Tommy were gone. It was like only the two of you left on the whole world.

He finally spoke.

"Thanks for coming, again. Sarah was so happy when she saw you."

Not looking at him, cleaning the plate in your hands, you smirked.

"Just her?"

He gulped.

You turned to him. He was already looking at your eyes. Like he was calculating something.

"Just her?"

You repeated, he nervously laughed.

"Your parents were so happy too. You know, they haven't seen you for a while."

You laughed, drying your hands with a towel, then gently throwing it against Joel's chest.

"Yeah, Joel. That's it?"

He catched the towel and even had the nerve to fold it. Anything to run away from your eyes.

"Tommy-"

"Ah, c'mon Joel."

There was only a few steps between you two. You took one step towards him.

"What about you?"

He smiled. Then it faded like it was a sin. He finally looked into your eyes.

"I'm glad you made it too."

You took one step too.

"Yeah?"

Your heart was beating so fast, your hands were trembling. Joel was about to speak when someone knocked on the kitchen's door from the garden.

The Karen who hits on Joel. Repetetively.

He opened the door. Was he mad you two were interrupted? Or was it relief he felt?

He didn't drink anything tonight but you couldn't be talking this way with him the way you do. He felt like he was on a very thin ice right know. Alone with you in some hour of the night.

"What are you doing here?"

The woman looked kinda disappointed when she realised he wasn't alone.

"I saw Tommy leaving. I came here to help, thought I'd help you. It was a great party Joel, you're the best dad in this town."

Joel smiled, you rolled your eyes and walked to the door. Before he can answer, you talked.

"Yeah, we're done here. Good night Karen!"

You closed the door. Joel and the woman was both shocked. You went back to the counter. Joel followed you after a second.

"Her name is not... Was was that-"

You kissed him. Because you knew if you didn't, he would never do it first. He didn't kiss you back. You left his mouth. Looking anywhere but his eyes.

He turned his back to you. Hands in his hair. Like the worst thing in the world just happened.

Then why did it felt so good?

He turned again and kissed you. Like if he didn't, he'd die. He needed you. And he knew you did too. He held your waist with both hands while you kissed. Mouths and tongues dancing together.

He pulled away and put his forehead against yours.

"I'm sorry... This... this can't be happening."

You held his cheeks with both hands.

"I need it Joel. I want it."

Some darkness passed through his eyes but he closed them.

"Are you drunk? This... this is wrong."

You shaked him a little, he opened his eyes. You looked right into them.

"No. You know it's not. You can't deny it Joel. I can't deny it anymore."

His face contracted.

"You're too young for me. I'm old enough to be your dad, angel."

You kissed him again.

Joel stopped thinking anymore. He needed you, with all his being. He would hate himself for it later, yes, but right now, nothing felt more right.

He carried you through his house, finally reaching his bedroom. You moaned into the kiss when you realised what was happening. He layed you on the cold sheets which was about to burn with the desire you two felt for each other.

"You sure sweetheart?"

You nodded feverishly.

"I need your words."

Joel was desperate. He sounded like he was in pain.

"Never needed anything more. Touch me Joel. Make me yours."

He groaned as he took your cardigan off. Your blouse next, and your pants. Left in your underwear, he kissed you again. Heading to your neck as he left love bites along the way. Inhaling your scent. Finally having something he thought he'd never have.

You took his flannel off, then your hands found his belt. His eyes on yours. Savouring the moment. His hands taking your bra off, kissing your nipples, licking them as he got completely naked. You reached for his lips. Moaning, whining... Grabbing his body like he could vanish into the night if you didn't.

You kissed his neck. His smell, his warmth... Your hands reaching for his bulge. He was hard and aching. He couldn't keep the sounds he made when your hand wrapped around his cock. His found your clit through your soaked panties.

"We can still stop babygirl, anything you want."

He said so, but he sounded like he couldn't.

"Fuck me already, old man."

"Fuck."

He ripped your panties from you, aligning his cock through your hole.

He kissed you, slowly pushing himself inside. Things were happening so fast. He pulled away from your mouth and moaned. Reaching for your hand and you moaned with him.

"So tight baby... fuck."

He wasn't moving, he reached for your lips again. That was when he felt the tears in your cheeks. His thumb wiped them, he pulled his cock out completely.

"Did it hurt?"

He looked at where you two meet. He saw the slight blood on his cock through the moolight coming from the open window.

"Y/N... Are you a virgin baby?"

You laughed.

"Were, i guess."

You tried to pull him closer to your naked baby, he was on his arms, concerned about what just happened. He spoke so gently you could cry again.

"Why didn't you tell me baby? Huh?"

He kissed your cheeks. Grazing his nose against them.

"I thought you wouldn't touch me then. Joel.. put it inside. Please."

He whined.

"I'd be more gentle sweetheart. You wouldn't bleed."

He kissed your lips. You tried to wrap your legs around his naked belly. He grabbed them and finally started pushing himself inside of you again.

"You tell me to move when you're ready, okay? If we're doing this, we're communicating openly."

You laughed. And tried to move your hips.

"I want you to fuck me, however you want, okay? Open enough?"

He started moving.

"Fuck sweetheart, you can't say shit like this to me."

You moaned when he started hitting places you didn't know existed.

"Fuck me Joel. Hard and fast. Make me yours."

He kissed you slowly, tongue exploring your mouth. His hands cupping your breasts. Toying with you hard nipples. The sound of your skins slapping.

You felt so in peace. You didn't even realise you reached it until your body shaked with your orgasm. He moaned as he felt it. Moving faster chasing his own high.

Your hands found his, squeezed hard.

"Joel..."

He kept pushing himself inside, kissing your neck. He was about to pull out but your wrapped legs around his waist kept him inside.

"Inside Joel. Inside-"

He came with a groan, an unfamiliar feeling of hot cum filling your insides. You came again, sensitive to any movement, he thrusted once more and stopped. Caressing your hair with his hands.

"Y/N..."

You were smiling. He studied your face and kissed you again. Slowly pulling out. His come leaking from your hole. His forehead against yours.

"What did we do..."

Joel felt so guilty as he hugged you. You hugged him back, hands on his back.

"Whatever we did, i need it at least twice a day Joel."

He laughed and nodded his head sideways.

"What if someone finds out?"

You shrugged. Feeling his hands on your thighs.

"Karen can find out. I don't fucking care. I want you."

He snorted.

"Her name is not fucking Karen..."

You kissed him.

"You're mine Joel."

He moaned against your lips.

"What did i do to deserve you?"

You played with his sweaty curls on his chest.

"I'll tell you all about it."

He flipped you on bed, you straddling him.

Unaware of the watcher outside, through the open window of his bedroom, you were the happiest you've ever been.

***

how was it?

#joel miller #joel miller smut #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller

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jiangwanyinscatmom · 2 days ago

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So I didn't get very deep into tgcf (I tried okay) but I love mdzs and svsss. The weird thing is...I don't think I ever seen a fandom misunderstand the characters so much and in such numbers as it happens in MXTX fandoms. Even the main characters. SQQ words are taken exclusively at face value. It's not like he shows he's unreliable narrator! WWX is judged based only on that other people say, despite book warning specifically against it. Surely if sect leader Yao says he's, like, evil, he can't be better than at least morally gray! (No. Just....no). XL as far as I've seen-the very definition of "kind but boring", innocent as a lamb, absolutely no backbone. I won't even try to speak about other characters.

Just who the fuck comes up with this shit? Is it really just the western fans first time seeing a non-western book and trying to force familiar tropes into it? Is it a case of complete illiteracy? Is it something about MXTX writing specifically?Did I simply didn't notice the stupidity before?

Please send help.

I despise how this fandom uses "unreliable narrator" for every single MXTX shou. They misuse this term constantly, between "Wei Wuxian omitted truths from the characters hence the audience", no that's not unreliable narrator especially because he is NOT our narrator, he is not the one telling us the story and plot as it goes. Xie Lian is called an unreliable narrator for also not stating what he has done in his life from the get go, he is also not the narrator and we would not have emotional built up for the anticipation for why he "fell as a god and was a disgrace to the heavens". Shen Yuan is also not an unreliable narrator because he is trying to work off of presumably predestined information HE has from the book he read and does not realize he has already shifted the plot itself.

To be an unreliable narrator, that entity HAS to be the one we are viewing the major significance through in order to color the plot points in a colored emotional lens of bias. We are meant to question their credibility and veracity due to a reliance of manipulation and distraction of perception intentionally. The most iconic rendition of unreliable narration is of Lolita and Humbert who literally wrote his screwed and warped rendition of his abuse of Dolores with his claims of her seducing him, despite even in his own narration there are holes to his logic and reasoning to his audience that he used his position of control.

This is simply a matter of fans not even understanding what their own literary classes were for and literally trying to change definitions for their own narrative, ironically being the unreliable narrators due to their own bias of thought. And half the time these are due to fans really not liking the main characters and wanting to claim they were villain protagonists all along despite these plots being the exact opposite. And none of these stories still have these men as our focal narrator, they are the protagonist but they are not interpreting others for us.

Infamously Jiang Cheng's tantrum during the meeting after the Wen Remnants have been saved. Wei Wuxian is not even present for this to be HIS unreliable account to the audience because our actual faceless narrator is in the head of Jiang Cheng, and this entire meeting is a bunch of unreliable narrators attacking and demeaning Wei Wuxian due to several biases in the room manipulating, coercing and omitting information and emotions.

Xie Lian is somehow incompetent because he has not revealed any information despite others in his life already having made their own unreliable assumptions about him and choosing to believe that for centuries, Mu Qing, Feng Xin and Lang Qianqiu. Mu Qing wants to be proven that his dislike of Xie Lian is justified and sometimes revels in Xie Lian's struggles and humiliation of failing because he thinks his kindness is due to privilege and is insincere. Feng Xin is only pedestaling Xie Lian's righteous position as a prince and finds his humanity shameful once he sees Xie Lian struggling and Feng Xin stays out of his own pride of duty. Lang Qianqiu believes that it was Xie Lian that slaughtered the seat of Yong-An for power, when the king said he would kill the descendants of Xianle, his own people after the scheming of Qi Rong. Leading to Xie Lian finding it as HIS own failure preventing this in happening and taking the fall to be the culprit in Lan Qianqiu's eyes due to the boy having been friends with An Le the other schemer that felt no remorse for his actions.

And on to Shen Yuan, he is not an unreliable narrator because he is interpreting all of Luo Binghe's actions through the plot that he knows, he is wildly lost when it begins to shift and desperately tries to keep this on point due to the threat of the system prompts. And he does fail in meeting this prompts at times, which leads him to his encounter with the original Luo Binghe, which helps to solidify that his Luo Binghe is nothing like the original. This realization being a catalyst for Shen Qingqiu to navigate his relationship and protection for Luo Binghe with the perception their world has of Luo Binghe, that is once more resentfully biased.

This term of unreliable narrator is misused in place of saying "I didn't fully understand the plot points and the consequences that were not of the protagonist's making".

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #tian guan ci fu #tgcf #heaven official's blessing #scum villian self saving system #svsss

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bootycallin · 4 months ago

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B(W)ETTER THAN ME !?

꩜ .ᐟ basically: vi hears from you that it's practically impossible for you to cum without having your clit played with, and guys never seem to find it to begin with. she takes that as a challenge.

cw: female reader with female anatomy. close friend vi. you can read this as modern au if you want, idfk. strap usage. doggy and then into another position idk the name of. manhandling. mentions of edging. petnames (doll, baby, etc.). overstimulation? squirting. very self indulgent if you couldn't tell. no plot just pôrn.

a/n; shoutout to my girls who are literally impossible to please without playing w they clit, we fightin for our lives over here. don’t expect a lot of pretty looking posts like this, i got excited. again, if any stuffs missing, pls tell me!! hope u like it…

NSFW UTC

"oh, really, doll?" it was an innocent conversation at first, you swore it was. you really don't know how it wound up with you bent over, face down ass up in your bed. your dearest friend, vi, right behind you. pounding into you. "it's frustrating," you said. "i can never cum from somebody just fucking me. no guy even knows that the clit exists either." you had been around vi enough to confide in her, even with your most intimate stories and complaints. what you didn't know is that by saying that, you inadvertantly challenged her.

"fuck, vi, wait--" you gasp, hand clumsily reaching behind you, feeling up her hipbone to her hard abs, glistened with sweat. "break. break. break." she had been plowing into you for what felt like hours now. realistically, it might only be a few minutes, but it's far longer than any other dude you had a fling with. for a second you wonder what the fuck she's eating to have this sort of stamina, because it sure as hell isn't human. "hurts?" she asked you, tone way too kind and sweet for the position she had you in. "no," you pant. "just... just gimme a sec--" it didn't hurt. quite the opposite-- it felt amazing. like nirvana except maybe ten times filthier. she was pounding you to cloud nine and back and gods, it felt good, but you still hadn't cum. right, she didn't play with your clit once. because she has to prove a point! she doesn't care how long shes gonna spend plowing into you with this goddamn strap, she wants to give you the best orgasm of your life, clit untouched. right now, for somebody that had never done this-- it was torture. a constant build-up, her tip repeatedly kissing the deepest places inside you until you felt like she was in your guts, rubbing against your slick walls, filling you up so good. it was too much, but not enough at the same time.

you didn't know, but she was being tortured too. she silently vowed to herself the moment she manhandled you onto your bed that she would not cum until you did. so, she's just sorta been edging herself for the past, like, seven minutes. may the higher lords of sex bless doggy, because were you to see her face right now, her ego would be destroyed. sweaty, red, nearly teary-eyed.

"want me to sto-"

"no," you answer just a tad too quickly. she cracks an amused huff at that, hands trailing up and down the curve of your ass, squeezing the plump flesh.

"fuck- just- gh!-"

you didn't have to finish the goddamn sentence, because when you were about to, vi has your wrists in her hands, pulling back and slamming forward into you with a guttural growl. it’s harsher, it’s meaner, and it feels so goddamn good.

you don't even realize what's happening until your back presses against her chest. she pulled you up against her, hands still wrapped tightly together as she rut into you. with the closer proximity, her face buried into the crook of your neck. you could hear her panting, groaning, growling with every smack of her hips against yours. oh, and she could hear every little cry that came from you when she rut into that little spot you always found hard to reach.

oh, vi. shit, fuck, fuck me, yes. oh, she's gonna be dreaming about you for a while after this.

"viii!--" you whine, throwing your head back. there it was again, that heat bubbling in your stomach like a boiling pot, ready to boil over. it was stronger. far stronger. your head was fuzzy with the feeling.

"shit, vi-- fuck, fuck, fuck, i think i-"

"close, doll?" she growled. she just barely gives you the time to respond, shuffling a bit so she could angle her hips up, and oh-

"vi!" found it. head first (literally) ramming into that gooey, sensitive and swollen bundle of nerves, the good old g. bet none of those guys were able to find it, huh, baby?

she growls into your shoulder when she feels your stubby little nails scratch at her lower abdomen, where she held your wrists back tight. you were close, she was close, she could feel it. perfect.

"vi, wait, shiiit!--" you cry out, but she's not stopping. it's too much to process, unlike anything you've ever felt before. you can feel the pressure building exponentially, your abused little cunt spasming around her cock, clenching so tight she nearly finds it hard to move if it weren't for the drippy slick running down your folds. it's strange, and for a second you're worried with the pressure building in your bladder, only to send shocks up to your clit.

"fuck, shit, it's weird, vi--" your head lolls back against her shoulder, jaw hanging open as you let out wanton cries and babbles.

"it's 'right, baby. jus' let go, come on..." she doesn't know if shes talking to you or herself. but she knows it works--

you finally cum with a dragged out whine of her name (that almost sounded like a scream, to be fair. she's surprised your throat isn't hoarse). you swear you black out for a second, vision going white as you feel like you explode into pleasured little pieces. and--

oh. oh.

the splashing of that milky, yet watery liquid, gushing all over her cock. damn, that's fucking hot. you should see yourself from her point of view. not only does she make you cum, she makes you squirt. vi takes that as enough victory to rut into you until she reaches her own orgasm-- which, to be fair, doesn't take too long since she's been on the edge of cumming for the past few minutes. she buries her face into your shoulder, eyes screwed shut. it still steals a few more whimpers and whines from you--and from her too, but she manages to hide them by biting your shoulder with a grunt.

too weak by both of your highs to keep upright, she ends up sitting back down onto the mattress, letting go of your arms only to wrap her own around your waist, cinching you two closer from behind. her strap has long since slipped out of you, leaving you dripping and empty, but ultimately satisfied.

"enjoy yourself?" you need a few minutes to come to and fro, blinking a few times before you see where vi is looking and look towards the direction, only to see the darkened, wet spot of your own making on you sheets. fuck.

"oh shit, that's--" you sound embarrassed, and she's quick to cut you off.

"it's fine, baby. just glad you enjoyed yourself." she chuckled. gods, she's so sweet when she wants to be. she runs her hands over your sides, kissing your nape.

"but you owe it to me, was that not the best orgasm of your life?" she whispers into your ear, her hand trailing down and down and down, until her ring and middle finger press against your twitchy clit, earning a sharp gasp from you.

"imagine what i could do playing with this pretty thing, though?"

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 © bootycallin on tumblr. do not copy, translate or cross post without permission. ᛝ

#╰┈➤BOOTYCALLIN⨾#lesbian #wlw #arcane #arcane smut #arcane x female reader #arcane x reader #vi arcane #vi x fem reader #arcane vi x reader #vi x reader #vi x you #vi x female reader #league of legends x reader #x reader

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vicorices · 28 days ago

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★ supersonic sunburst.

the colorama in your eyes, takes me on a moonlight drive.

a/n — i'm nervous as fuck. this is my first long fic and to be honest, i love it with all my heart so i hope you do too, fake dating it's one of my favorite tropes lol it's long really so yeah grab your snacks and enjoy the ride?? jocks dont get tested for drugs in this universe bc i say so, also this has a playlist if you want to hear it. thank you if you’re reading this, tell me your thoughts!!

wc — 20,809 // masterlist // requests

cw # 18+ mdni, this contains smut at some point, tribbing, fingering, titty love, dirty talk, slight dumbification?, soft!dom vi, switch!reader, use of marijuana, drunk-kissing, vi gives you tons of nicknames, swearing, reader has a crush on a straight girl for the plot, vi used to date sarah fortune, collage, hockey au.

"can you pretend you want me?"

the air is thick at eleven o'clock, and violet tries to remember why she's there again, drinking warm beer from a plastic cup while she listens to her friend tell the same story she repeats over and over when she had a drink or two, even when it's plain wednesday — right. powder.

her sister wanted moral support to socialize, giving vi a hard time now that she was left there with a couple of friends from the team, with no sign of her sister nowhere close to be seen.

"sorry, can you pretend you want me?" vi doesn't really notice she's being talked to until you place yourself in front of her vision. the sound of your voice clearer than the music. "quick. it's a matter of life or death."

"excuse me-" her brows furrow in question "what did you say?"

"fuck- one minute," there's no much time to think about it when you're invading her space suddenly, even in front of her friends as you make her corner you against the brick wall of the frat house, one vi didn't pay much attention to until now — "pretend you want me for a minute, please."

it happens so fast she has no room to say anything, cause you're talking to her one time only to yank her away from her teammates the other in the weirdest request she's ever had from a girl, yet from up close, vi's able to look at you under the dim lights that changed colors: yeah she can do that, she can pretend she's into you.

she suffers from this hero syndrome that compels her to help people out, so she's playing the part by heart, with a purpose now cause why the fuck no? you're pretty, and the color on your eyes is nice to look at, takes her briefly to the moon as she's leaning against you, prying on you with a hungry look.

"who are you trying to seduce?" she asks politely, but her actions seem far from gentleness when she's leaning against your neck, nose catching on the smell on your skin as her hands find your waist.

"the red haired," you breathe out thankful that she's following you around, and your fingers find a strand of her hair to twirl it in your digit, slightly pulling on it as you speak. you're licking on your lips, doe eyes as a smile tugs on the corner of your lips, flirting, you are flirting — "the one with curls talking with the girl on a yellow dress. don't look."

yeah you're pretty. of course you fucking are, cause vi has no trouble in not looking, fixated by the softness of your skin, how pliant you are in her arms in a situation that turns everything that was boring in a experience.

"is she seeing us?" she asks you again "your girl. she watching you?"

she's being kind she thinks, cause that's new. not many girls came out of nowhere asking stuff like that, so forward, and vi is a girl's girl after all. of course she's going to help you out to get a girl jealous, in fact, she hope a pretty girl like you could get what you wanted by the end of the night, the curly redhead or whatever.

"yeah i think so, she's going to walk behind you any moment" you let her know, low enough so she can hear you now because she's so damn close out of sudden it gives vi enough time to press a kiss against the crook of your neck, that spot where your shoulder meets your neck and she can feel you shivering beneath her hands, because she never would do that on a girl she just met, one that she didn't even knew her name, but she's helping you out due to boredom so who she is to ever judge?

the scent of your perfume hit her nostrils and it really seems like it — that she wanted you. she manages to be gentle even when she's trying to look fully into you and by your smile, vi's sure she made it good.

"i think she looked," you stated proudly. removing yourself from her arms as quickly as you jumped in them, looking at the direction your curly girl left "thank you, really saved me there."

"who's that, your ex girlfriend or something?" she asks curiously, forgetting about her warm beer now rotting in the cup she forgot somewhere in between the acting.

"no, that's my roommate" you quickly explain, "straight."

"well that's tough, my regards on your death wish" vi nose wrinkles and her expression makes you laugh cause deep down, you also know you're doomed. "so she looked huh? congratulations, now you just have to brainwash her entirely."

"very funny," you roll your eyes in response "i'm playing my cards right, you'd be surprised."

"right" she teases, "so that's why you're asking a total stranger to act like a one night stand, good tactic i'd fall for it."

"we've shared ten minutes," and vi's holding on a chuckle when you seem to have a response for every single one of her comments, endearing "i think we're not really strangers no more, it makes us friends now."

"i'm violet, vi" she would assume everyone knew her name already since she's been winning game after game this season and hockey's a big thing for piltover's university, but you don't really seem to know her when you're saying your name as a formal introducing, weirdly enough, right after she just kissed your skin like a long time lover.

"are you here on your own, vi? cause my friends ditched me for hook-ups, and you seemed bored too."

now that she looks back at it — she should have said something like she was too busy, that she was heading home already or something like that. end up things right away before she got stung on the neck, but to be fair, you're fun to be with, you're pretty and she could use a friend that don't talk about hockey for a while, so she accepts, saying something about her beer tasting like mud, making you go and join her to find alcohol in a frat house already full of people.

it was a slip, a mistake maybe, but by the hour she's sure you're a long-lost friend, like a limb vi has lost somewhere in her lifetime. you're a little weirdo who knows about a lot of art and won't ever spend time, willingly watching any kind of sports. the kind of girl who remembers the speech from a movie, but's unable to name the schedule you took in the semester from memory.

"so you're an art kid?" she questions you, "i've never been in that part of the campus."

"yeah, we're pretty hidden" you admit, taking a sip from the beer you found in the freezer "jocks don't go to places like that."

"interesting fact, so you know i play hockey?"

"of course i know who you are, vi" you end up saying after a moment of silence, seated comfortable in the small cement bench as you smoke from the joint she invited you to smoke outside after an hour or so "but i have to play cool too, otherwise i'll feed your ego and you're not even the captain of the hockey team. i'm afraid to said i don't live under a rock."

you seem almost proud of saying it, and vi forgets about how powder had to drag her there, push and almost threat to get her out of bed when she lets out a loud laugh of pure entertainment — to be honest vi's going through a break-up from almost three months ago, so yeah, it's fair she regretted showing up at first, she don't want to see sarah, not even by mistake, but her ex is not around and she's utterly having fun for a chance.

"ah, you cheated on me," vi tries to act all hurt when in reality she's actually enjoying this random act of honesty, simple fun "that's bad girl behavior i'm sorry- trying to get a straight girl? lying to my face? you're truly a menace."

"shut up, she's coming."

"who, again?"

"ava my straight roommate- fuck" it's cute when you panic, passing her the joint concerned of your state "do i look high? too bad? look interested in me or else i'll cry. i mean it, vi."

and she's going to protest, say some stupid joke now that you know each other a bit more, that you've warmed up, but ava's there and you're greeting her all handsy and shit, having to hold on the laugh when you blatantly lie saying you didn't see her around until now. crazy little liar.

"she's vi," you presented her, and to hell because she has to act all clingy again, wrapping her arm around your waist only to pull you between her spread legs, chest pressing against your side as you think quickly, out of pure nervousness before adding,"my girlfriend."

it makes vi choke on the smoke. her grip tightening as she hides the puzzled look on her face and you give her that look of oh-god-have-i-fucked-up-my-entire-life? in slow motion — "vi, this is ava, my roommate."

"hi."

you're dragging her into a mess and all she can do is mutter a silent what-the-fuck against your shoulder as she greets ava with a smile, keeping you against her chest cause well: she's your girlfriend it supposes, and vi would never be a shitty lover, fake or not.

"nice seeing you guys around, you too vi, glad to meet you" and maybe she's too high already vibing with it, but vi can smell the flirting in the air when your roommate talks directly to you "gonna make pasta when i come home, do you want some?"

"sure, thank you ave. you can leave it in the kitchen counter."

"no worries. i got you."

vi waits until the girl's inside before giving you that look. the look of not understanding shit, of being clueless as you turn around almost begging for mercy, leaning in her embrace knowing you were the one who seek for more trouble in the first place.

and a hockey player should be aware of everything, so vi should've seen it before, way before when she's not really uncomfortable with you seated between her legs, unaware of the rest of the party already gossiping — what's vi doing with a girl like you anyway?

"please?" you try after a long moment of silence, and she already knows what you're asking.

"no," vi shakes her head almost at the same time. "d'you know how exhausting is to fake something like that? it's like having a real girlfriend, have you seen the movies?"

"vi," you cry out, looking back at her with puppy eyes. "i'll make it easy i promise, no weird stuff i'm begging you."

"don't you have another friend that could help you out with this?" she asks, furrowing her brows. "i helped you out, miss. but you're taking advantage of my good heart."

"most of my friends are straight, and the only lesbian in my life has a girlfriend already, ava knows them so it wont work" you explain making vi follow up on a story she wasn't really involved at first. "please, if you ever need a lung you can have mine, i'll give you my first born even if you want to-"

"and what do i get? seriously here cause having a girlfriend don't really mix well with girls in campus, you're ruining my sex life also."

"don't you have one person that you'd like to make jealous too?" you plant a seed on her brain that spreads like the black plague on it's peak time "c'mon, maybe it can work out for you too, think about it."

she stays silent for a while cause your words hits the jackpot. vi's mind drifts back to sarah, and she quickly thinks about the benefits of having a fake girlfriend that would make her real ex see that she did, in fact move on already.

"two weeks top, we can break up after" you beg again at her thoughtful look, and you do it so nicely vi's tempted to act reluctant one more time only to have you trying to coax her with another crazy argument "i mean it, and you can say you're the one who dumped me even, don't really care- please vi. two weeks. two weeks and then we say something like we don't match well."

it's weird cause once again she wonders: what the fuck is she doing there in the first place when it's wednesday? right.

"yeah?" you smile already celebrating at the lack of her denial "is that a yes? you'll be my fake girlfriend then?"

fucking powder.

by the next day, violet vanderson regrets being so kind to people she just met, almost a callout cause how did she become friends with you after just one night? you're exchanging numbers and suddenly you're on her phone and it's simple as smoking a joint and laugh in a boring ass party.

two weeks.

she just have to resist two weeks.

it's not like it's torture. not at all. maybe she's just being dramatic for no reason. dating sarah in the past has brought nothing but problems to her, so your help is also needed, vi has business to attend too and she can use a fake girlfriend even when it seems a ridiculous idea at first.

her phone buzzes on top of the desk before she falls asleep in the middle of microbiology and she lazily comes up to read the screen:

it's not like you're not funny to be around. cute even with the attitude and a silly crush on a straight girl that most likely will fall for you in the end — she could use a girlfriend, a fake one so she can spare the drama in her life.

with a sigh, she reads the first texts.

she hides the phone beneath the table to not be rude, biting the latex glove on her hand to get it off and text you comfortably. the taste grosses her out.

she can imagine the annoyed look on your face, the same one you gave her when she joked about not wanting to give you her own number, having to bite her lip as she prevents an smile.

dramatic. she's almost enjoying messing with you even when she should be paying attention, receiving a random poke for her lab partner before muttering a low — sorry!

dina's looking at her with her brows already furrowed, and vi knows how much her lab partner hates when she's not paying attention as their final grade depends on their work as a team, so she don't mind it much when she answers quickly before shoving her phone back in the pocket of her lab coat.

thing is, vi may or may not forgot about it later. you texted at nine in the morning — of course by five she's going to forgot, so when you appear with a radiant smile holding out your bag with what she guessed was full of art supplies or shit like that, vi didn't expect you to be so confident to walk into a practice like you did, nor being teased by her own teammates because yeah: why's a pretty girl seated in the benches waving at her?

too distracting, she warned you about it, but vi has the feeling you are not very good at listening.

you're there twenty minutes earlier and you're not even paying attention to what they're doing. too busy looking into your stuff to be even looking at her having to endure all twenty minutes of pure hell.

"is that your new girlfriend, vi? she cute."

“shut up and leave her alone.”

so of course after that, she’s taking you by the hand despite all the jokes, yanking you outside as she walks away from practice and got back to her motorbike.

“sorry for coming earlier,” you say when she’s helping you put on the helmet. “my class got cancelled and i was bored.”

bored. she thinks about it, because you’re literally walking in a practice full of lesbians and they all notice a pretty girl right away, yet, instead of saying something on that, she looks at you before lowering the face shield on your head and instead mutter once again — “you’re too distracting to come earlier to practice, 'told you about it.”

limits. vi's sure you two need to settle basic limits by the time she's parking on rims — she has to focus harder though when you're pressed against her back, arms securely wrapped around her waist without leaving much space between the two of you. she could feel the tension on each curve, how you loudly spoke to make her follow the speed limits.

so anytime of the day vi would hate coming to rims, but on a thursday noon and with the place already full of people from the university talking loudly, she has nothing to whine about, not when you're grabbing her by the hand, making her walk to the entrance fingers laced.

"do you come here a lot?" she asks curiously, letting you walk in front of her, usually she has a rather sharp opinion on places like that, full of pretentious people that tried too hard to satisfy the others.

"hell no, but they do have good food so i order for takeout" you admit before spotting a booth "sit next to me, sitting in front of each other is boring, 'sides we have to make it believable."

and to be fair with her own self, vi's deep down amazed by how easy you make it look. how unfazed you are for a moment when you grab her hand to walk like you've been around her from ages ago, like you've shared confidence for more time than just mere hours the night before, so it's not really awkward nor strange to her. it's getting natural.

"now that we're here i was wondering if you'd like to discuss some rules" you state before even checking on the menu "i was thinking throughout class, and i kinda believe we should make a plan or something, establish some basics like when are going to meet and shit, i know where ava's going after her classes, what about you and your golden girl? does she have a schedule you know?"

you're wasting no time in jumping into plan after plan already making a calendar up together so you can check on her free times, but vi's hungry as ever when she's looking at the menu instead of listening to you, debating if she should have the cheesecake for dessert or maybe ice cream since it's sunny outside.

"which hamburger did you try already? it was good?" the change of subject makes you stop making plans on your own to check the menu right over your shoulder, pointing out the one with pink bread who looks weird enough to avoid it — "you sure it was good? seems weird to me."

"yes, pay attention, this is important" you reply, looking back to the paper you're using to write down on their supposed rules: a paper tablecloth from the table you reversed to use on the white part. "rules. what do you think?"

"i can't think with empty stomach," vi replies trying to make eye contact with a waitress so she can come by and take their order "and i want to object too, because you said it was going to be easy, and doing this stuff does not seem easy to me."

"please we're organizing, this is not the treaty of versailles" it makes her laugh for a moment, and there it is once again, the same feeling on the party of having a good time even when you're being a pain in the ass. "it's not even that much, we just have to make our plans for the week and establish things we dislike; for example, i'll arrive to your practice in time, and, in your case i'm not ever ridin' your bike again so i can avoid having a heart attack."

vi's too hungry to defend herself from the sudden reluctance to her bike, practice leaves her in need of a nap, so she's looking at you with a clearly unpleased face until one of the waitresses finally comes and takes their order quickly.

"where are we going to spend time together? here?" she asks trying to be helpful as she thinks about more defining points now that she secured food "how many times during the week? i can text you my schedule if you need it, i'm usually free by five thirty during practice days."

you're writing it down on the paper and she can see your messy handwriting as you put down the important.

"do you have a problem with seeing each other everyday? try at least" you propose still looking at the written words for a moment before looking back at her — "an hour tops. not in here but to do random things, things that couples do. ave goes to the mall a lot, also to the library so she can study, if she sees us? i'm putting you in my will vi, swore it on my childhood dog."

"i'll tell you if i can't" vi nods, taking on mental notes as she's too lazy to write like you do "are you going to send me a photo of your notes?"

"yes. what about parties?" the points seems to come on their own as you write again "are we the kind of couple that party together and sneak out for kisses in the middle of the night, or the one that parties on their own because we're all about having private lives."

"party together and sneak out for kisses" vi replies without much thinking "we're dating recently, it's our honeymoon phase. so you're partying with me."

"we're also not falling in love" you state, casual as ever as you write it down — "i'm serious."

"we're not falling in love" she agrees with your words, looking at the food arriving to the other people "that only happens in bad movies."

"good. almost forgot," you also add before the food arrives, "put me as your lockscreen."

"huh?"

"your lockscreen vi, on your phone" you point out to your very own screen "give it to me, i'll put a nice picture, i need one of yours too."

jesus. she didn't have that with sarah — in fact, she always had the same picture that came with the phone by default, a blue gradient she don't bother in changing, yet she's giving you her phone willingly, and you're putting it side to side with yours, looking at your own pictures only to check which one will look better as her background.

it's serious as ever.

you seem to cover every single thing she misses, and by the end of it, vi's stomach roars before the food finally arrives and she's drowning in pleasure, devouring until there's nothing in her plate and you've barely even beginning to have a bite.

"what are you writing?" she enquires, trying to look as she's right next to you.

"you have to eat before seeing me cause you don't know how to eat when you're too hungry."

“you’re always bugging me” she rolls her eyes at the comment — “sure you aren't a bug?”

"very funny violet, now that you look slightly presentable, there's a girl looking at you" you casually state "she's making me nervous too, by the way. on your right, don't be obvious."

she knows who you're talking about before seeing her, cause sarah's gaze burn on her neck as vi, subtle as ever, look from over her shoulder only to confirm what she already knows: that's her ex girlfriend looking — and she knows that look from before too, that question in her expression cause she know sarah's wondering why she's there with a girl on the fucking rims? looking all cozy as ever.

"well ava's not here- what happened?" you're quick to pick up on the weirdness of all, how vi seems to stiffen in the booth, forgetting about her nice fries to instead, cross her arms on top of the table, trying to act unbothered "who is she?"

"that's sarah fortune, my ex girlfriend."

"you're shitting me? that's your ex girlfriend?" vi has to resist the need to give you a bad look before your eyes widen in response "your golden girl? you want to go back with your ex?"

"no please," she scrunches her nose, hating to give too many explanations "i want to make sure she gets i'm much over her, seen publicly with you so she will leave me alone."

"oh," you seem to understand for a moment, and vi wonders how you switched so quickly to insist on plans and rules, to leave them aside in a mere seconds and instead, look interested in her instead — "you have ketchup on your mouth."

the act itself is so simple when your fingers trace the corners of vi's mouth, black nails painted that swiped the red sauce from her skin before you leave a soft kiss in her cheek. one that makes vi gasp since it's so sudden, subtle when you're getting handsy like you did with ava the night before, body language speaking volumes when your legs drape over her's and you don't care about the rest, cause you're reducing your world to vi only and fuck's sake, it makes her oblivious to sarah for a moment, letting you look at her with those very same doe eyes, that horny look on your face you gave her when she was leaving a single kiss on your neck the night before.

"so your ex means trouble, i get it" you say in a low chuckle, cleaning the rest of your lipstick in vi's skin "tell me when it's too much, okay? limits."

what both of you don't really notice is that sarah actually left by the first touch, still resting in your fake girlfriend's side cause vi's warm — like the sun in a sunday morning, comfortable as the pillows on your bed.

it's not a torture, it's not fair to even say it as a joke. vi's just being dramatic, she knows it when she's asking for your weekend plans, already counting you in her own.

"are you going out with me on saturday night?" of course you fucking are.

by friday morning it's impossible not to think about you when you're on her phone every time she unlocks it. long hair, big smile as you look up to the camera, the angle is cute, and it makes vi stare at it during various times of the day, blushing when your name pops up on the screen and she’s forced to see you again.

you’ve been texting a lot since yesterday about important stuff — birthday dates and basic family names so neither will be reduced to misery if asked, but by twenty-seven minutes in, texting shifts in random jokes and casual conversations with the excuse to think about things you can do with her. together.

and vi does not protest cause despite being a fake relationship, she does want to be your friend, so in the end she sees nothing wrong with talking to you like a friend would. she's pretty much stuck with you for more than a week and a half, so she better get used to it if you're going to be glued to her by the hip.

you don't see her on friday despite your plans of seeing her everyday, but vi's there by saturday night, outside your dorm building ready to text you about how annoyed she is by all the time you're taking to leave, but before she could reach her phone you go out using this black skirt that got vi double checking for a moment, forgetting momentarily about her random anger as you greet her and grab her jacket to make her walk as she stands there for a good amount of time.

“c’mon walk, we have work to do ava’s already in your party” you say, dragging her as you leave no room to protest “my tummy hurts but i’m trying to give my best here, hope that sarah’s there too cause i’m going all in.”

lately, vi's been avoiding going out too much, tried to when she craves silence by the night, too boring now when she mainly talks and flirts when feeling adventurous, it’s weird now when she usually wants the solitude of a night where she can listen to her own thoughts, but you’re sipping on your drink, walking by her side as you tell her about a bad experience you went through high school with your best friend drunk-kissing you, and she don’t really care about the loud music nor the people.

it’s fun. she’d said it before, fun as ever when she’s saying hi to friends she haven’t seen since sarah broke up with her, laughing with some members of the hockey team as she has you close by; and deep down vi hopes sarah’s there too — you’re with her and she doubt she’s going to try and talk to her with the way you’re seated on her lap laughing with the rest, notice after so many tries, that she's ready to keep moving on.

“do you play poker or something like that?” ava’s looking at you from across the room every once in a while, and even as you are unaware of it, it's something vi's quick to pick up when she's leaning towards you, talking to you closer than before — “blackjack?”

“no, not really,” you reply as sevika’s mixing up the card deck — “i’m not lucky when it comes to games.”

it’s funny now that you’re pointing it out, ironic as your ass is pressed against her legs and ava’s looking at the interaction through the corner of her eye, cause it seems like it is a game. your skirt rises through your thighs and vi grabs you by the waist, comfortable enough to keep you there while concentrating in the game.

“here, come play with me i’ll teach you” she makes you get even closer, pointing out the cards silently as she explains you the basics of the game. and it seems like a secret, even you are eating it up as you cannot really concentrate in all the things she's saying. “it’s not really that hard, isn’t?”

“so if my cards add up and i’m over twenty one, you lose fictional money?” you asks to her contentment “it’s all you have to do? stay under or in the number twenty one?”

“well mostly bug, you got the basics. the important thing is getting a number higher than sevika,” she whispers in your ear. “you get that, and i’ll have her doing my laundry for the week.”

is it the drink that makes you bolder? that slowly blurry the lines of a fake relationship? you're aware ava's looking now, of the warmth of vi's hands against your skin before you're concentrating to play along her game, staring at the two cards in the table, fifteen.

"do you think it's safe to ask for another card?" vi seems pleased to get you understand the game, pointing to sevika's cards at the other side of the table — eighteen.

"we have to do so, she has a bigger number."

she uses two fingers to tap on the table twice as a way of saying she wants another card, and your breathing hitches when you see the number five being added to her cards: twenty.

exhaling from the tobacco hanging on her lips, sevika's next card is a seven, too far from the original twenty one as she seems annoyed by it, quickly suggesting another round.

"another?" vi turns to asks you like the fate it's really in your decisions, and you pretend to think about it for a second, nodding after— "yeah go on."

when it's too much? the music's loud, the drinks are nice and you've been craving that too long, the warmth of somebody else. it's all a damn whirlwind as vi's looking at you, expectant from an answer as you look at her cards, nineteen. against sevika's twelve, you shake your head in denial.

"too dangerous, stay there" you reply, and honestly its basic math when sevika becomes greedy and takes too many cards from the deck and she pulls a twenty two.

vi wins a lot more times after that. so much she's getting excited now that she's on a streak and people around start paying attention to the little game they put up in a dirty table, ava's looking, the rest is looking: it's just a rush of the adrenaline, one that mixes you up entirely, cause after being called her lucky charm, you're looking her and vi knows — knows that look already.

"permission to kiss you," it does not need much wording than that, but it makes vi's head spin when it catches her off guard, her usual rough demeanor faltering for a moment cause she's smiling right against your lips for a second and it's all the invitation needed.

ava. ava fucking ava's gaze burns in the back of your neck, but vi does not care about it when her mouth parts in a devastating kiss, rough and demanding as her fingers tightens against your jaw and she's angling you to a better and more comfortable position, tongue colliding against yours in a kiss you're quick to follow, a competition maybe as you push against her mouth and the game seems to go on without the two of you giving in.

fake girlfriends kiss, right? they have to. she has to follow the plot, stick to the plan. it helps you're on her lap cause her hand's are on your waist and she's pulling you closer, luring you to rest on top of her.

and by the time you're pulling out, your lips are swollen and vi's drinking from your beer now, joining the game once again like she didn't just kissed you dumb in the middle of a party full of people who knows her, like that wasn't the hottest thing you've ever experience.

it makes your hands sweaty, ava's blushing and vi has to pretend, concentrated in the taste of cold beer in her mouth, that she cares about winning the game as sevika's already drunk, betting on her metal arm.

fake girlfriends kiss, right?

right.

it haunts her after.

it plagues her mind when she already decided on the excuse she’s going to say after her acts on saturday: she was following an act, despite her shields you don't text until tuesday and you've been texting her so much before that it's weird now not to receive a text, anything at all.

she knows it may be lot anyway cause people started to talk about it — the sudden relationship of the rising star of hockey, the low profile girl that seems to get her crazy enough to kiss her publicly, and it's what she wanted anyway, what she agreed on.

sarah's away, your straight friend must be turned on as ever, not even a week and the plan is working, surprisingly enough. everything's working despite the strange sensation on the pit of her stomach.

she can't even talk it with her friends anyway: what would she say? that she accepted to be your fake girlfriend cause you needed an extra help getting your straight girl? that she's panicking cause she kissed you in a middle of a blackjack game? sounds like a joke.

she cannot avoid you either way, so by four she’s hidden in her grey hoodie, pushing the library door only to find you already working on your own.

"are you drawing uh-bones?" vi curiosity peaks when she watches over your shoulder what are you so invested in drawing "that's pretty accurate."

"why didn't you bring your laptop?" you question, furrowing your brows together in an inquisitorial way. "we're exchanging favors, i'm not drawing bones for good will."

"my laptop?"

"you forgot" you roll your eyes as she's sitting in front of you "we talked about it on saturday vi, about helping you out with this class where you need to draw, you're doing my essays of art history in return?”

and vi doesn't really remember when she told you about it, but she knows what you mean because she's falling behind on anatomy where she needs to draw parts of the body each week to learn them by memory, and she sucks at it to the point she's ashamed on presenting hard, humble work and pass it with the lowest score out of pity: when did she told you about that?

it's random because she don't really admit when she's struggling with a class like — ever. almost a secret she wishes to keep to herself 'cause she don't want people finding out about her weakest links.

"you remember about walking me home right?" it was just slightly blurry, pursing her lips together as she becomes aware of the lack of memories close to the end of the party "i'm offended, you forgot about the most important part cause you're doing my history tasks."

her drunk self it's intelligent cause your drawings are pretty good to the point she stares at them to a moment before adding — "in that case, you need to make your draw ugly, cause if it’s too good it won't be believable."

“i’m doing what i can” you roll your eyes as you pause your working “it’s our academic deal still going? kind of need the essays.”

“yeah, it’s on” and quite frankly, it’s a help she much needed when she’s looking at your notes to go and see what the essay must be about.

“it’s for friday, you told me this is for thursday- or your drunk self sabotages you?” vi shows you her middle finger before she can spot the smile on your lips, you're teasing her — “thursday okay. how it's going on with sarah by the way? is she giving you any trouble at all?"

"no, it seems she get the message" vi admits thoughtful. "people is talking about us, so i don't think she'll come close anyway. she's got a big ego."

"yeah well, everyone's calling me your girl" you point out, scrunching your nose at the nickname, and vi blushes at the news "so i bet she heard about it already too."

"and how's everything going with ava?"

"she's weird" you state “you think our kiss scared her? haven’t talked to her since the party, we talked a lot when i came home that night.”

vi chokes for a second before shaking her head, the kiss, you say it so normally — “uh, no. no i don’t think so- maybe she’s falling in love with you.”

“be for real violet, do you hate me?” you dramatically say as she steals a pencil from your case and you gave her a bad look — “there’s tension i think, that or i’m being delusional, there’s no in between.”

“is she here or what?”

“she’ll be in like thirty minutes, wanted to be subtle” business, a fake relationship is pure business. vi needs to remind herself the very same when she’s gathering the books she’ll need to start out on renaissance art she don't know a thing about, lazily reading titles as she curses on her own past self, knowing she hates doing essays or anything that involves writing a decent paragraph.

vi’s mind however works on its own when she's looking at your lips again, sitting in front of you before you can say something about being close cause she's already counting on the days before her death.

you don't want to talk about it, she don't want to do it either, so instead, vi let you dive her in an ocean of comfortable silence when she's working with most of your materials, highlighting important information fighting the need to close her eyes.

"resist don't fall asleep," she has no choice to comply when your feet rubs on hers beneath the table, an action that does not go unnoticed when ava's sitting in the table right next to the two of you: that’s thirty minutes already? how? "you okay there? i know art history's like taking a stab on the guts."

your caress from under the table don't really ceases when you talk, and vi's thankful of not choosing the seat next to you as it would've make her bewildered already.

"it's good to know at least you know how to make your deals" she praises, leaving the pencil against the table as she closes the book in front of her — "my brain is fried, i need to work on a laptop. can i borrow yours?"

she should get a badge, a medal or something like it that acknowledges her hard work in enduring the stupidity of having a fake relationship when your hand reaches out to her arm on top of the table to trace invisible patterns as you look up to her.

"i'll bring it tomorrow, maybe this time we could go to a cafe near here, the library can be sleep-indulgent" you suggest, "or are you going to work on the essay on your own?"

"tomorrow is fine, i don't have practice" she replies, and as much as she don't want to bring it up, she'd like to talk about your absence, about the kiss and the physical limits of your fake relationship, but she lets you push her around, demanding more touches as she cannot say no, not when your skin is soft against her and she has to keep this story of being your girlfriend letter by letter.

"text me when you're done" you say before showing her the draws you made for her anatomy classes already— "i'll have the rest for tomorrow, and you can fill me up on the next ones that come for the next week."

she brought this on herself.

you're everywhere.

in her phone when she has to unlock it, her messages every hour, her teammates ask for you, even fucking dina knew and that was a lot since she don't follow much on the uni gossip lately.

everywhere until you're all.

vi's perfectly capable of being an adult and not hold feelings for you no matter how difficult it ends up being. mainly because she refuses to be a cliche of any sort so she keeps most of her feelings on check, even when the night comes and she finds herself thinking about that saturday-night-kiss, the touches in a library, the sarcasm in your playful banters like a routine now after the days pass on by.

the world keeps on going, the earth keep it's course spinning, the moon is up in the sky and vi's trapped in the same thoughts after ten o'clock when the silence is loud, and you stop responding to her texts because you fall asleep faster than anyone she has ever seen in her life: how does she fight becoming a damn cliché when she's so near you all the time?

your activities are endless and she keeps up with every single one of them, going to the cinema cause ava got a date there, late goings to your apartment like your stablished girlfriend cause ava’s crashing and watching movies in her room, dragged her to the mall claiming you needed help to pick out some outfits as a friend more than a fake girlfriend, even inviting her to smoke from your weed now as you've shared a lot of time together by the end of the week.

and it's clear vi's on a car with no brakes at all cause she's doing important things during the day — so why does she stop in the middle of nowhere cause something little reminded her of you? something she keeps to herself like a secret and don't comment on it with no one else, abby likes to makes fun of her romantic fool behavior so she keeps it to herself.

that's how the coach's saying to her now, #08, VANDERSON: romantic fool.

friends, when was the last time she had a friendship like you? never.

she has never experienced a relation like that with nobody she knew from before. she don't really crave kissing on her friends, she don't struggle to keep the hands to herself. it makes sense for a short period of two weeks, and it's good. it's what she wanted.

after the week left? that's trouble for vi from the future.

she's trapped in your essays even when she hates to do them every single minute of the hour, yet you're drawing on her side while you randomly talk sometimes and you're not even drawing for her anatomy class now, you're just there drawing on things you like on your little sketchbook while she's invested in getting you a good grade and make sense of what she's writing.

it's a routine now. she wants it to be a routine. her grades on anatomy are insanely good by the same week and it's weirder than ever cause you talk with your advances with ava and she's reminded of the fakeness of it all, how you're after another girl and she's once again left with questionable choices.

the thing is, vi can still feel the ghost of your kiss on her lips, the tenderness of it. you taste like beer and she begs to the god the time for that moment where everything stopped so she could feel the soft taste of your mouth again, dissolve beneath you like she did before, experience it all over again until her she's able to control that aching feeling on her chest of having you seated on a skirt right over her legs.

and she cannot decide if the lack of kissing is actually a good thing or a pain in the chest cause while it keeps her mind sane, her body yearns for a different kind of contact now she's not able to ever satisfy, not without risking mixing it all up and make it even more complicated.

she has to learn how to fake it more cause she's fucking awful at it.

so it's hard. hard as ever when she spends time with you for the sake of it, just cause you mentioned coffee and she would follow you wherever you'd say without hesitation — even the fucking rims.

that's why she's there anyway, before you arrive since you seem to be late. she's used to wait for you now, you're slightly bad at estimating your time.

"what happened? why are you so happy?"

"ava, she kissed a girl yesterday, can you believe it?"

"she did?"

"i know right? fun-fucking-tastic."

now. you're all fun when you're sitting next to her, spilling details about last night when ava's knocking on your door and slipping inside your bed to talk about how she's doubting her own feelings lately; a lame excuse to be close to you as you keep going about sleeping next to her, the feeling of having her close.

no she's not jealous. she's never actually jealous of anyone, but it's the slap on her face, a reminder of reality she needed for the day. fake girlfriend.

you're her fake girlfriend.

"it seems you did brainwashed her entirely, congrats" she jokes with you, because vi's not like that, because just like when you talked to her the very first time — she keeps believing you're pretty, and she still hopes you do get the girl you want in the end, the curly redhead or whatever.

"told you i was playing my cards right" she recognize that cheeky smile as you place an small cup in front of her — "black, no sugar" you point out already knowing her order now after so many times of getting it wrong or trying to make her try sweet, weird things on the menu, "my treat. you deserve it."

"close to kiss your straight girlfriend and all i get is black coffee?" violet teases, taking a sip of the still too-hot coffee "i'm hurt i'm not worth even a little piece of cake, bug. i saw the red velvet one."

"you still up for tomorrow?" you ask sipping on your own drink content as ever, like it is indeed the best thing you have ever tried — "i'll make you the best pasta i promise, so good you'll be begging for my recipe and i wont be able to share it you know? since it's a family secret."

"wouldn't dare to miss it."

"good. my place" you remind her before checking on your phone. "ava's going to a hike with some friends until tuesday, so we'll have the place alone."

"i won't forget, weirdo."

"i know you won't" and before she can say something you're standing, leaning down to hug her affectionate as usual — "you're like, the best fake girlfriend to ever exist. you never forget."

maybe it's a game, maybe not, but she cant ignore how her skin burns now beneath your kiss. vi's face turns red at the sudden intrusion and she can still feel the almost noticeable pressure from your lips against her cheek in a quick gentle goodbye-kiss, fingers against her face before pulling away.

"don't be late" you say now at a safe distance, waving your hand "see ya' tomorrow, text you later!"

and vi's torn cause she does want to go to your apartment that monday night, but she knows, heart-level-fucking-knows, she won't be able to ignore it all forever.

it's fair to say violet would be happy just to reach the end of it in one piece.

"do you like it? be honest" you ask staring at her only to see her physical reaction to your so-called best pasta in the world, and vi shakes her head in approval as the tomato sauce seems to add the perfect taste of it — "is that a yes? please elaborate."

"it's really good" she says, but in reality, she's too distracted by the way you cornered her out of nowhere as she arrive, making her try your food from a metal spoon you hold close to her mouth "you've been cooking all this time?"

"went to the market place, it's better with fresh ingredients" you explain as she marvels at the amazing smell in the kitchen as she's there not even five minutes ago "give me your rating."

"four and a half stars out of five," she answers "i like that you put a lot of spices on it. makes it smells really good and it adds to the flavor. i dig it."

"four? are you kidding me?" you take her opinion seriously, and vi cannot help but smile at your reaction “what’s wrong with it? what’s missing?”

“salt, maybe some rosemary” she suggest, making you think before reaching out to the cabinets where you keep species “but it’s good bug, i liked it a lot.”

“try again” no that's not an act. there's no one around. ava's not near, there's no one in the apartment, not a person close by to have you pulling up an act. no, that's you all over. that's you being close to her willingly as you take the spoon to dip it in the casserole slowly stirring under the fire, placing it close to her lips.

vi parts them to try the pasta once again, the perfect amount of salt and rosemary added now to the mix — “five stars, you happy now?”

“yeah i am” you reply cocky “shit. your shirt, it got stained” you use the same spoon to pick up on the sauce that fall into the cream-white fabric, but the stain’s already there, red and gigantic.

vi don’t really mind, but you’re apologizing and suggesting her to take one of your shirts instead and she cannot resist the idea of owning something you have, even borrowed, so she's dragging her shoes to your room, slower than ever cause she's curious in seeing what it is like, the clean spaces, the posters and the vinyls she spend a good time looking at before searching between your shirts.

and she’s there standing six minutes after using that paramore shirt you love, holding out a bag of weed with an almost shy smile cause now it's different, now she lacks of the motives to touch you freely like she does outside, pull you closer like she's used to.

"you brought weed?" you ask when you pay attention to her, checking the plates before taking both of them to the small table close to the sofa.

"it's an special occasion" vi replies 'cause it's true, on wednesday two weeks will pass and the deal will be officially over now and she's sure you cooking pasta means that very same — the fake break-up.

"we can't smoke inside."

"then outside, clinging to the window. you cannot say no to me."

"the balcony" you suggest before pointing out to the food — "but we eat first, it's not going to be that good if we leave now, it's a rule."

her stomach roars so she sits in the couch with nothing to say, leaving the weed in the table. the smell makes her mouth water cause it's so good it deserves to have all five stars, she's not really used to have artisanal pasta but it's good enough to want more, so much she believes in your words now when you said it's the best pasta in the world.

pathetic as ever cause she'd eat anything you cook for her no questions ask and rate it four and a half star just to piss you off.

"amazing, this is restaurant level pasta bug" vi praises, and it makes her breathing stop for a moment when she notices the nervousness in your actions soon after, the sweat in your hands when she handled you the weed to let you roll the joint after you eat.

"glad you like it" you say to her words "my family owns a pasta restaurant so we take it very seriously."

"that's why, so you're like a pasta prodigy or something-"

"oh shut up. you really are so annoying."

a piece of her dies on your couch that night, using her hand as a barrier so she's close to you with the excuse she's preventing the weed to fall on any sudden movement, and you're not saying anything when you're breathing close to her hands and your tongue darts out to lick the paper.

easy, everything you do you make it look so easy. talent after talent you seem to do everything right and it's such a turn on it's fucking insane. vi follows you outside and she chuckles when she notices the small balcony you talked about, cause she thought it would be a nice, comfortable place rather than a small spot that makes you stand close as ever when your chest is pressed against hers and you're smiling guilty as ever.

"we can smoke downstairs if you like" the only thing preventing her from falling are the thick, metal railings and it could trigger anyone's vertigo, but she focus on you instead of the three floors that separated her from the ground, being so close has all the ingredients to make anyone nervous, a thing she don't mind at all cause it's just what she needs, have you irrevocably close "don't want you dying all sudden violet. it's safer."

"we're fine here, i got you" vi replies, and her hand holds the railing behind you, keeping you safe too as you light up the joint. no, she don't mind being that close, and you don't either, comfortable as ever when you're smoking and the moon hits the back of your head so she has this image of you she wants to hold by heart.

it's on her memories, rooted in her chest now in stone cause the white cast glows against your hair and its like a vision there in the middle of the night. red, glassy eyes you stare at her for a moment with nothing to say, and she can feel the burn of your gaze in her skin, digging holes whenever you look as if you're trying to trespass her very being as she stares at you.

it's a new look, a look violet have never had the pleasure to experience before, one she's sure it's reserved for someone else — nonetheless you're there with her, in an small balcony smoking from her weed, so close she can see the moles on your skin now.

"who you bought that from?" you ask, alone now even the silence feels different, sharper and thicker than ever — "seems really good quality."

"it is," in reality, vi spend a good amount of money cause she wants to surprise you with something nice too, not a gift but a memory you can hold on to like a hidden treasure, and there in the small place with the moon radiating its ethereal glow, the weed leaves that taste of raspberry in her mouth and you're looking so beautiful in a shirt stained with flour and a big hoodie, zipping it all the way up to the middle trying to protect yourself from the cold currents of wind, it's already an outer world experience — "a friend from a friend- it's a long story, but if you want to i can get some for you."

vi would like to say it's the weather the one who's giving her the chills, but the way you look at her makes every hair on her body stand on its own and she becomes a victim of the electricity, of the tension that wraps the air around you and her. you're passing her the joint, smoking from it as she holds it between two fingers, and she's reminded once again of the kiss you've shared with her not so long ago, the need to angle your face again to make it fit perfectly against her own.

her brain is melting away slowly.

"are you going to keep being my friend after this, bug?" the question lingers in the air and she can see how you stop breathing for a second, the slight movement of your brows from up close as you seem to think about it, makes her hate the silence.

"do you want to be my friend?" there's a hint of wonder in your voice, and vi would take anything you offer, anything at all at this point so unsure already when she knows your heart belongs to someone else, someone she don't want to replace or steal you from "after bugging you all this time?"

"that was the deal at first, i do want to be your friend" the admission leaves you breathless, cause she's so forward with it, eyes piercing yours like she's trying to get inside your brain and hear your very own thoughts — "i'll keep doing your history essays even if you want to. happy to help."

it's pitiful cause vi has reached the level where she'd do something she hates dearly to keep you close, and when her words make you laugh, her heart stops in her chest for a whole minute, blue eyes following the movements of your lips as you shake your head.

"i'll help you out with anatomy, i don't mind. you don't need to do my essays, it's just an excuse to hang out with you."

her knees fail for a second, and her knuckles turn white from the force she's using to grip the railing behind you, believing she's the one who's going to end up dizzy enough to slip and fall, leaning against you as your arms surround her tightly, worried already.

"let's go down" you insist, but how does she explain it? how does vi explain the need to have you close? she needs the excuse, the pretense of being in an small space to have you close without giving away how very into you she really is "i'm serious vi."

"you're growing soft on me or what? i'm okay, my leg hurt from training, made a bad movement" you buy the excuse, still holding onto her by one arm now, finger hooked in her belt as a way to keep her secured of any random movement "you're going to keep your hand there?"

"yes, i am if your leg's being weird" you state, and vi cannot act pissed at the feel of your hand in her pants, the mere thought already making her head spin — "don't act like i'm dramatic, we've been in way more intimate situations and i'm making sure your feet stay there in the ground."

so she's leaning into you, making no movement to push you away: how could she ever choose to smoke with you downstairs when a tiny balcony is all that she needs to have you like that for twenty minutes? even when she's blushing at your blunt words, she don't care to hide it from your gaze already aware of the red that creeps upon her neck into your shirt.

"what are you thinking about?" vi asks trying to be casual about it "is the weed that good?"

"when's your next hockey match?" you reply — "next thursday?"

"yeah, by seven" she don't seem to understand it at first before you suddenly add: "do you want to break up next week instead of wednesday? i dunno, its not fair before the game don't want to make us look bad."

is it so evident you're trying to gain more days with her? is violet imaging it all?

"yes," she would take more weeks if you offered them, more dates in coffees, bad movies in cinemas, random story times in packed frat parties "yeah i think it's a good idea."

"good," you seem almost relieved by it, and she wonders why exactly when she's so evident when it comes to you, under your spell every single time you say something. "we'll talk which day next week, no rush."

"why are you surprised by it?" vi can't help but comment on it, scanning your face as she blurts out the words without much thinking "you know i'd do anything you say."

you're always all over, always too close and she don't mind it at all.

vi dies again a second time there, suffering from these little deaths in the worst moments as the silence fills the air again and you're looking at her with that eyes she knows so damn well already it makes her stomach flutter at the realization.

"what are you doing?"

"nothing" you do so little to hide it, the constant pull on your finger tugging on her belt, the natural light colliding against your skin. you do no effort in look somewhere else, drinking in the details of vi's face cause you already know it. too many cheek kisses, to many caresses under the premise it's an act "i'm doing nothing."

"why are you looking at me like that, huh?"

"i'm looking at you like i always do."

"there's no one around to pretend with" you don't really need a reminder as vi looks around trying to search for some other person looking "no, bug. this is you on your own so please tell me — is this how you usually look at all your friends?" her question lingers in the air for a second, and it hits you when she speaks again with a devastating truth, "like you want them to be a part of you?"

"you're a friend" you stumble in your own words, and even when the joint has already turned off, she doesn't pay attention to it as your words reach her racing heart "i don't- you know i don't look at them like that."

"then please care to tell me how you look at them" she insists "cause that look right there is a look you give when you've dreamed about someone, bug."

and your skin feels hot, but you're good to ignore it even when vi's pulling you closer, finally erasing the limits to fade into you instead, arms wrap around your waist with a gentleness that scares.

"tell me to stop" she cannot longer resist it by then, the car crashes in her head and there's nowhere to escape as she's trapped there in the pilot seat. it's monday and she cannot fight the need to say it, to taste the sweetness on your lips once again, the pliant curves of your body, the need to be one with you, blend into a mix — "please tell me that i'm a creep. that you don't want me around anymore after this."

"no," you're quick to shake your head as vi's hand slide down the side of your neck, thumb brushing over the pounding skin of your pulse point and it's so sudden by then, the way her breathing hoovers against your flesh leaving a single kiss on the crook of your neck — she's been there before, faking a kiss that was now very much real ones "no don't stop, please."

to hell with it. she's all fucking in.

"i see your face everywhere you know that? i hear your laugh in every quiet moment, smell your shampoo in my sleep" fuck the weed, fuck the joint and fuck the rest of the world when the words slip from her mouth as she works her way in sloppy, wet kisses through the expanses of your neck, going up to your jaw "i think about you all the damn time, in the middle of class, when i'm training, when I'm tryin' to fucking sleep."

"you haunt me," it's a whispered confession vi needs to get out of her chest as her breathing mingles with yours in a warm mix — "in all glory. i wake up and i'm aching already because my skin’s too tight for my body. and i know... i know it's because of you."

“i’m sorry,” you say in a low voice, apologizing even when it's not your fault at all, makes her want to tear her own skin apart “i’m sorry vi, it’s not my intention to make you ache.”

“this on me, bug” she reassures you “i’m the one who’s been losing my damn mind over you.”

she wants the moment to last. vi relishes in the privacy of it, the look in your face when her kisses leave saliva in your neck, how your skin reacts to her touch now knowing it's real and on her side, willingly.

"i don't mind- i don't mind it at all, you see?" she asks, betrayed by the need on her tone, how her words lace up with a hunger you can recognize "you see what you're doing to me? how affected you got me?"

it's you this time, like you're settling the score even as you kiss her. and it's real. real than ever she believes, real as you are there on her lips, fingers tight against the waistband of her pants cause you want her closer, closer than fucking ever.

and it's messy but vi loves it. your kiss it's all teeth and tongue, desperation, need. it's your saliva all over, the taste of the joint in your lips she's quick to pick and it's just as soft, just as inviting as that saturday night she holds in her heart.

the thought is stuck there with her for a while.

vi finds out she did die a third time that night, and that she would gladly do it again cause when you ask for more kisses she bends like a willow, and it's the closer she's been to listening to heaven.

it's very safe to say violet vanderson has officially stopped fighting against the cliché this season.

you don't text the next day.

you don't text on wednesday either, and vi's sure by you're ignoring her by thursday already overthinking about being so intense with all this liking thing that was getting out of her hands. what she don't know, is how you really are spiraling into your own madness by the course of the week.

it was a pretty simple job at first: get ava. you put effort on it since you really like her, her sense of humor, her way of being — you really are into your roommate, been living with her what? six months already? she's easy to talk to, so pretty it hurts, and you surely have a list of things you love about her.

why it's so confusing then? if your feelings were se clear, so profound. it wasn't a difficult task whatsoever, and violet does an incredible job pretending you're the last glass of water in the dessert: why is so impossible now? making up excuses so your fake break-up don't come up until next week.

this whole thing was ridiculous, starting out for thinking pretending was going to be a good idea cause you get used to it, to the tattoo on her cheek, the foreign warmth of her fingers brushing against your skin, her kisses. it’s getting in your head now so by monday night, your last string of coherence jumps out of the balcony to end up asking for more kisses you crave then like no one else will.

it's a need, a feverish need cause your lips are sore by the end of the night, and vi's reluctant when pulling away. you want more yet it's not good, not possibly good cause this whole thing started out for someone else and you're unsure — do you really like ava now?

everything fall on it's own, cause by thursday night your roommate’s knocking on your door in the of middle the night saying she wants to see a movie, bringing up her laptop to place it between the two of you like a barrier, one ava's good to surpass when she's leaning to rest her head against your shoulder.

it's meaningless at first, you're concentrated on watching so you're unaware of ava's tactics to distract you.

"how it's everything going with the i-like-girls subject?" you ask at the lack of interest in the film — "any other revelation from the sky?"

"not really" she says, and the talking seems to make her confident all sudden when she's resting her head in your legs now and you have a good view of her in an oversized shirt you've seen as a pajama before "not any advance, i have interest in some particular girl now."

"oh. makes sense."

you don't know how to explain how everything shifted all sudden, but it's what you wanted right? what you plot from the beginning as ava's pulling her laptop to the side only to kiss you comfortably: it's what you've been craving for months, the soft touch of her hands slipping beneath your shirt, the breathy moans she gives against your mouth when you're gripping on her thigh.

so why the fuck does it not feel as rewarding as it should? you're kissing on fucking violet three nights ago and you only know her by two weeks now, but your stomach twist in knots at the touch, the intimacy of it — but with ava? the girl you've been talking to your friends about for like three months now? not a damn thing and it’s so unfair.

you kiss her again and she's a damn mess. she tastes like bubblegum and it's too sweet for moment but you force yourself to it. pull yourself together as ava's straddling your lap now and you can already smell her arousal in the air, the way she grinds in your leg seeking for friction.

get it fucking together: please.

you should love it too. drown in her, keep ava in your bed like you've thought about multiple times, but despite all your efforts to want her, you find yourself pushing your roommate away, grabbing her shoulder to gently peel her off your body to put some reasonable distance between the two of you.

"hold on," you say catching on your breath, and she seems struck for a moment trying to understand what's going on — "i can't do this."

"did i do something wrong?"

"no, not at all you're perfect" you admit shaking your head, and she's sitting now in bed, fixing how high her shirt was, aware of your rejection "it's me, ave. i'm really sorry."

"it's my fault- you have a girlfriend" you don't bother to clear up the truth cause you want ava to believe that. in fact. you want everyone to keep believing that "i should go-"

there's not a way to not make it awkward cause you just tossed months of crushing on a girl to the trash because of a stupid feeling you don't know how to control. you're realizing it an hour or so after being left alone in your room, door closed as you sigh in defeat: you need to see violet again.

so fuck texting, absolutely fuck calling.

you’re getting dressed in the middle of the night as you check on your phone, and you don't seem to care about how it's past midnight when your jumping on to buckle on your black jeans, hiding in a big hoodie that covers you from the autumn air.

no.

you hold your phone and your keys before heading out, not bothering to let your roommate know due to obvious events, that you're leaving to spend the night somewhere else; and the cold of the night does not bother you, instead, it's refreshing as your feet follow the path to her place on it's own trying to distract yourself from thinking, regret it.

it’s not very clear on why you carry your sketchbook and the shirt she stained on monday night now fresh from the laundry with you, the need to give an excuse maybe? hell. you should be kissing ava.

even when you avoid it, it's all about vi in the end.

it makes you want to punch yourself when you end up running cause you can’t wait, can’t possibly wait for it any longer after avoiding her texts like they’re poison.

"what are you doing here?" vi asks when you knock on the door too many times, making her grumpy as she lazily stands to open.

"your shirt. i came to bring your shirt."

"it's one in the morning, and you only came for a shirt?" she’s leaning against the doorframe, not believing it for a second as she holds the shirt in her hand "what's that?" — "your sketchbook?"

"yeah" now, in front of her you start to chicken out a little. her eyes look at the black book in your hands as you, once again, regret appearing out of nowhere so late in the night, the adrenaline seemingly washing away by the seconds "were you sleeping?"

"bug," her tone is tired almost, shaking her head before speaking again "you’ve been ignoring me since we kissed on monday, and you're here because of a shirt? tell me the truth. stop avoiding it."

you cannot hide it.

but you try to make up another excuse either way, pathetic when the seconds pass and you don’t come up with anything but silence — “i’m sorry,” you say, and you hate it cause you’ve been apologizing a lot for the night already.

“what’s on your mind?” vi’s crossing her arms against her chest, demanding an answer “tell me. why are you really here so late?”

"i don't know what else to do, i needed to see you" you're under the spotlight for a second, but the words come out before you can think about what you're saying so out of nowhere "the shirt's an excuse, my sketchbook too, i just wanted to see you."

"did the kiss scare you off?"

"yes. it fucked me up right in the brain" you let her know, and when you see the slight smile on her lips — almost a gesture vi tries to avoid, your heart seems to keep on it's turbulent ride with no return "did it too well 'cause you're all that i care about lately. you're my first thought in the morning and my deepest agony in the nights, and you've done it, i don't how. i don't care, but you've ruined all my plans."

the honesty catches vi off guard, her brows furrowing together for a second as she's aware of the strain in your voice, how this has come to affect you as much as she's affected.

"i don't care about ava no longer, you ruined her for me" it's almost like you're mad at yourself at it, shaking your head as you still blurt out your problems outside her doorframe "i don't give a shit 'cause i'm making up excuses to keep being your fake girlfriend. motives to keep you close. but you go there so openly kissing me when no one's looking and sweet fuck do you too understand, how there's no one like you?-"

vi doesn't let you finish when just like you did in her balcony, she hooks her finger on the waistband of your jeans now, using an small amount of force to pull you forward until she can close the door beneath you and finally corner you against the thick wooden door.

unlike ava, everything's slow. her hands wraps around your waist and you can feel it in her skin, in the tight embrace she keeps you in as her face hides in the curve of your neck she knows by memory. it would be so easy to fake you're not consumed by her, put some distance and never see vi again, but she's kissing on your skin again like it happened on monday, and whatever you wanted to say dies in your throat, moving your head to the side to give more space to her hungry touch.

"i'd ruin ava for you again," vi admits, proud of her own actions "you're better off with me anyway."

after so many kisses her teeth finds the right spot to bite and make you shiver, and she holds you still, right against the door and leaving no room to move without her noticing — broad figure towers over you and you close your eyes at the pressure of her mouth in your neck, the slight pain that comes with it that makes you moan at the contact.

"i'm trying to talk to you," you try to say, and she hums like she's giving you the reason "vi- don't be mean, listen to me."

"i am mean and i don't listen" she agrees with you, like somehow it will solve everything as she's too busy leaving soft kisses on your cheek before her mouth barely touch the corner of your lips.

her breathing’s warm, her touch almost reverent as vi’s hands finds their way beneath your hoodie and she's pushing on the lower part of your back to have you closer, until she’s intoxicated in you.

"i’m paying attention, bug" she says, taking a minute to look at you even at the lack of lights on her dorm room "keep telling me about how i ruined it all, how you're crazy about me- i'm listening."

"i was with her just now- you don't care?"

"no, i don't" vi shakes her head not even amused, and her breathing mixes up with yours as she's invading your space without an invitation "i don't care if you were. you are here now. you are here with me."

so that's how it starts, like everything's on fire and it slowly burns to ashes in your mind.

she knows the grounds of your body like it's holy terrain, too many hugs, too many times with you seated on her lap, gentle touches vi hold by memory until she's free to touch now without retaliation, when her hands are finally roaming around to grab you by the ass and squeeze it as she muffles any complaint against the hollow of her mouth.

and it's a kiss she needs to repeat multiple times more, one that steals the air from her lungs as your hand pulls on the strands of her cherry hair, parting your lips cause it's a kiss you want to carry under your skin, like a stamp on your brain. she deepens it like her life much depends on it, and her tongue — warm and playful, pushes against yours at it discovers once again the place she has experienced before.

there's nothing else to say: you're there now. you picked her.

despite all your efforts on fake dating, of being already whispering for another person in the beginning: you choose violet.

"what's in the sketchbook?" vi asks, fingers are warm against your skin, and the hoodie you took to protect yourself from the cold is no longer necessary when it now lays on the floor. vi's tank top is quick to follow, and you can't help but stare at her for a good moment, the heartbeats on your chest devastating as usual.

it's intimate. you've had sex before, pretty girls that stole your breath even but that's a whole different level, you've never experience that feeling in your chest, that need in your hands when they touch bare skin and you're greeted with a crave that goes far beyond sex and the act of it.

"drawings. drawings of you from when we studied together."

shattering. she's gentle cause vi wants to savor it: what's the point in the rush? she's taking her time in touching, in pulling your shirt upwards little by little. she kisses you until your lips are puffy and you are clouded by a haze of lust as you try to mark the skin of her chest, yet it's a fight, cause she's the one who wants to taste you first, the one who wishes to blow your mind before anything.

vi didn't plan any of it — in all reality, she tried to fight it as much as she could, but you're letting her walk you down to her messy bed, wrinkled sheets still holding on her body heat when you're resting against them and she lets you win. vi's placing herself between your legs and the space is small, but once again small spaces are unexpectedly good cause she has no other option but to be all over you, helping you get off your pants as they are tossed close to your hoodie.

"touch you-" she struggles to ask "can i touch you?"

"please," it's a dangerous feeling what installs in vi’s chest. once again, she's utterly affected by the color of your eyes, how they take her to a brief journey to the moon, the plea in your tone that makes her forget about the lack of messages the last two days, how you suddenly distanced yourself because you were scared. "stop asking and please just touch me already."

it makes her feel desired when her fingers touch you from over the underwear and you're already wet, the fabric clinging to your lips already soaked and ready for her, it makes vi breathe out heavily as she's aware of how debouched she can get you by some kisses, words.

you're her favorite nightmare, cause she has dreamed about that very moment before but it does not come near by how devastating you really are. a force of nature as vi's making your underwear to the side, so sensitive when she's just using a couple of fingers to spread you open, have a good sight of your pussy as she fights the idea to go down on you already.

her mouth waters as you shiver, unable to hold the reaction in as she seems to be lost in the soft texture of soaked pussy. she rubs against your clit slow at first like she's letting you get used to her touch first before she's taunting your entrance with a couple of digits.

"you're really tight huh?" she asks when her fingers begin to push just slightly, making your breathing get stuck in your throat as you whine at the intrusion — "there bug, breathe. can't finger-fuck you like this. let yourself feel good, soak your pretty panties for me.”

“gods- vi” you moan, and the sound itself is so hot she stares at you for a minute “i can take your fingers ah- i can.”

“i know princess, i know you can” she smiles at your need to please, to do and be reminded how good you’re doing “let your greedy hole relax for me so i can fill it out f’you, you feel so warm already.”

it’s chaotic and vi wished she put on a towel beneath before, a pain she quickly forgets about when you’re putty in her fingers, walls clenching against her intrusive fingers as she shoves them in one more time, pulsating cunt opening and getting used to her as your back arches against the bed presenting to her wide open.

she uses a hand to keep you there. spreaded you like she wants you to be, even when you’re shaking involuntarily and her fingers withdrawal entirely before she pushes them back again knuckles-deep in your tight channel.

“suck me back in, get used to me” she says as your pussy makes room for her slender digits, filling you just right until they curve to hit on a special spot she discovers in awe— “there it is- there baby? does it feel good there?”

and your tits bounce with each thrust, your arousal gathers in the palm on vi’s hand, and she’s drunk already, drunk in you and the sounds you make, your incoherent words asking for more, begging to be fucked harder. you move against her fingers and your cunt makes this filthy sound it makes her moan already dampening her own underwear.

“yes- fuck yes” you moan, your arms can barely hold you up now as you fall against your elbows, and vi can feel the moment you squeeze her fingers, the inconsistency on the movements of your hips — “feels s’good vi, filling me up so good.”

it’s pride that installs in her chest, helping you move since you’re too dumb to function from yourself: it’s so fucking nice since you’re barely holding in by a thread, the mount of her hand brushing against your clit and she knows you’re close, but instead of giving you time to breathe, play with you a little, she’s too desperate, yanking at the fabric of your bra just get rid of it.

her mouth closes around your breast, and the sweat on your skin feels salty, aphrodisiac as she marks the skin sucking until it’s a whole different color, harshly biting on the stiffed peak of your nipple.

“you gonna cum?” she asks, breathing against your skin “god-you’re squeezing me so tight-”

the pain mixes up deliciously, and you can’t speak nor gather words in your mouth who can let vi know how close you really are, but she reads it in your body language, in the way your legs shake and you really struggle to keep them apart.

“keep them spread let me see you,” her tone is gentle even when she’s destroying you at it’s finest, as her fingers curl inside your sensitive cunt and she rubs inside that spot inside of you she's very much aware of now — “if you’re going to cum, you might as well do it good.”

her leg pushes yours open, and you’re trapped there beneath her weight, her bites on your skin that will leave marks that won’t come out for days. your moans get louder by the seconds and it’s that thing you need to let the orgasm pour in, hot lava against your skin as your body tenses up and you’re shaking in her hands.

and vi picks it up in no time, fingers nestled inside you, moving them ever so slightly as you come undone. the sight itself makes her sure she’s leaking against her underwear, the sweat on your skin that makes you glow against the barely illuminated sheets messier than ever.

"hush," vi says seconds after as your pleasure subsides, not giving you much time to recovery after it "don't want the whole building to hear-"

her fingers, wet from your arousal, trace the corners of your mouth, the seam of your lower lip as a silent invitation. you make delicious sounds, yet they’re so loud vi ends up shoving the same fingers she fucked you with now in your mouth trying to muffle them a little.

and it’s inviting even, the vibrations your sweet moans make as she pushing her digits further, making you taste yourself as she finally shuts you up.

vi's cunt's already slick when she's pulling on her underwear away, makes you switch places with her as her head falls against the pillows now for a second when you're placing yourself between her parted legs, tangled limbs as you settle your cunt against her's and: hell.

her fingers push against your throat making you choke on them, and you can hear the sound vi makes when you move on top of her again, pussy already glistening with arousal as it rubs deliberately against her's, almost a kiss as you can feel when every inch of her is already throbbing against you.

swollen clit, schlick sounds fill the air — it's filthy, almost diabolical when your sweat mixes up with her, when body fluids are not gross and instead, you crave every inch you can get.

"fuck peach, you're so wet," vi mutters under her breath, and a hand slips to grope your tits, rolling the stiffed nipple between her fingers "ah- s'fucking crazy how your pretty pussy was made to fit mine."

her words slur together and it makes you smile, makes you feel good as her hands force you to move on top of her, only adding to the sensation when her finger goes further down now to massage your clit, braindead as your movements become more erratic by the seconds, uncontrolled.

"come on baby, you're doing so good" vi praises, encouraging you to keep on moving as her digits slide so fucking easy between your legs, allowing them to touch how needy she makes you, how fast she's able to reduce you to pieces — "you gonna cum all over my cunt, baby? s'that it?"

vi loves every minute, the moans that fill the air and you try so hard to muffle, the distortion on your face as you force yourself to keep moving even when your legs shake in response, your body gives up and you function in autopilot.

drool slides down her arm, using her fingers to slowly fuck your mouth with them, an smile stirs vi's lips upwards as she can see the white traces of your arousal mixing up with her own in a delicious mix between your legs, unable to answer her questions as you're too busy being choked on her digits.

"use your words, love" it's the fucked out expression that gets her, hole already clenching around nothing as strings of white cum connect you to her "you can do it, you're a good girl."

"sweet fuck-vi," you breathe out when she's withdrawing her fingers out, and your voice is rougher now than ever, raspy as saliva drips down your chin. you're much aware of the lewd sound of her cunt in constant contact with yours, holding her hand before lacing your fingers with vi's as she encourages you to keep on moving.

you need an anchor.

it's slow and torturing, the greatest cruelty as each roll of your hips bring you deliciously close to the edge, little by little as the wet from vi's arousal gathers in your thighs, the expanses of your cunt — fuck you're going to cum like this.

theres silence in the room now, but violet appreciates it more than ever cause she can listen to your hitched breathing, lips swollen now from how much you've been using them, the slick, lewd sounds of your pussy against her own.

her vision fade to black when she cums, gripping on your waist like she needs to hold herself from flying to the damn moon, moving you until you're shaking on top of her and your eyes swell up with tears before you cum too, oversensitive when you pant out her name as she holds you close.

"i got you," she whispers, but she don't stop moving you against her soaked, sensitive pussy in response — "i got you peach. it's okay m'not going anywhere."

it means more than just a promise, more than just something tossed to the air as she lets you rest on top of her, ten minutes until she's moving you to switch places once more, making you lay on her pillows now comfortable.

and you look at her searching for an explanation, but vi already has one when she's leaving soft kisses agains your lower belly.

"gonna try how good we taste together, it will only be a moment."

fake girlfriends right? what a fucking joke.

it's awfully good.

dangerously good when you're trapped with vi the next days. a good way of saying it cause she got you in her practices now that she settles with the team you really are off-limits, on your free times and by night when you whine about how small her bed is for two persons now that you spend time there in her room.

it's been three days and no one's surprised by the kisses, by the touches, by the way she cannot be seen without you around, and it could be nothing to the rest already used to it, but to vi's a damn rollercoaster, one she's experiencing like never before.

she's allowed to stole kisses now, to touch — and she' so clingy about it.

ellie makes fun of her and abby won't shut up when she sees the two of you in the same room, but vi likes it. makes her feel weirdly good. so much she don't think about her on and off story with sarah, how she's been hearing rumours all over because you're on her mind.

she becomes addicted to your kisses by friday, and it don't take long but she wants you in her arms every second of the day she's not expected to do something and it's like before, surprising enough is like when you dragged her to the rims, when you bring her complex coffees with weird smells she hates.

she even spends the weekend latched in your back even when you explain you have to study — "i'll help you out, i swear" she promises, but she does nothing but distract you when she's sitting on top of you, hands kneading the gloves of your ass until you're leaving your books unattended and vi smiles cause she has your attention to her now.

it was good, faking it. slide in the stole caresses, the kisses who where to mislead others — but that's the real thing, better than ever when no one knows you're melting there cause she kisses you on top of her motorbike you're still reluctant to ride, making you hug her as the wind blows your hair in what you call bike therapy and there's no other place she needs to be, another person she needs around.

she makes you part of her life with an ease that was already there, an small extra step as she goes to find you right after classes, giving you at least fifteen good reasons about how you should be spending the afternoon with her instead of drawing and working there on your own.

yes. violet vanderson is so in love with your mess. your painted hands when you get so into drawing, the images of her in your sketchbook she had no idea you were doing but they're etched on each page until there's no more space.

it's a silent agreement. she don't have to say anything cause you understand her, and vi gets you too. a sense of belonging she never had until that moment.

it's a rare side she barely shows, with you only. she's always a bit distant from the rest, reserved, but on the intimacy of your shared moments she seems nothing but the contrary — constantly craving for attention, for love and whispered words of wanting.

it's weirdly good until the catharsis comes on sunday, when vi's picking you up to go to this party you don't really want to go on the first place. the music's loud, and you crave to see a good movie in your room beneath at least five blankets, but you're by her side cause you know it's a party in honor to the hockey team, a way of wishing good luck since they've won every single match in the season now with a streak of gold.

and you pay no attention to it, but sarah's there too, and unlike any other time she's there cause she wants to talk to vi now that she's cozy enough to call you her girl so blatantly, mainly because she's mad since she can't believe vi would choose anyone over her.

it's not her fault either — sarah's in love and love hurts like a dagger. so when you say you're going to the bathroom, she's already talking to her without a previous warning.

"violet," she greets with a smile, looking extra beautiful tonight cause she puts effort on her look. she wants to make an impression, want her ex to remember her in the best moments they shared together "how are you? haven't seen you for a while."

things are never simple. love constantly hurts. sarah knows it by herself when she's leaning too close, when she's touching vi's arms as the conversation goes on by the minutes.

"i miss you" she says after, and vi has been there before. in the sweet words and the whispered lies "this thing you got with her- are you serious about it? you really like her?"

her words are low, low enough so only vi could hear, close so she's punched by the smell of her shampoo, long nails scratching on her skin — sarah's going to kiss her if she allows her to keep all touchy like that. vi can feel the mint on her breath colliding in her skin and it's wrong, wrong now since she don't want it at all, cause sarah's far from her mind now, long gone for months and a person she wants to avoid.

and vi's about to push her away, explain how yes she's very serious about you, but she's pushed in an awkward kiss instead that paralyzes her for a moment, makes her brain stop for a long second cause she's not expecting it, the sudden contact of her ex girlfriends hands as she steals a kiss, how random all was.

"what the fuck," she breathes out when she's pushing sarah away, but it's clearly late when she can spot you from the corner of her eye already leaving the party, not really looking in her way as you exited the house — "what the fuck was that?"

she don't bother to hear sarah's explanation when she's too busy running after you, she don't need one. things are long finished, and vi wants to explain that to you when the cold weather from outside's making her skin shiver.

"wait-" she calls you out — "fuck, wait up!"

from where you looked, this was far beyond a simple interaction. after all the times you heard she wanted to make clear she was over sarah you know there's a lot of history. she's there looking hot as ever as she bats her eyelashes and leans dangerously close to vi's mouth — and you're looking like a fool.

it's a punch in the face, one that feels deeper than any wound as vi don't seem to notice until you're leaving the place, heart pounding all over the place as you can feel the shame on your body like an old friend: she's there, kissing on sarah fortune when minutes before she was with you already handsy?

the night grows silent as you quickly walk away. like a shame walk back home cause there's no fucking way you're riding her motorbike ever again.

is it betrayal? the two of you never settled anything more than a fake relationship — or maybe, it's the utter fear in the pit of your stomach cause you like her more than you expected?

"please- don't leave-" vi says catching on her breath "sarah there- it's not what you're thinking."

"it's okay vi. you don't owe me any explaining" you talk without much emotions on your face: you should have insisted on movie night.

"i do. you know i do" she's quick to reply, shaking her head in denial "i care about what you think, you're so damn important to me, sarah she's-"

"listen. you're not my girlfriend" you remind her, and in all sense of the word, she isn't. you never talked about being in a relationship with her, neither did vi mentioned it in the four days of paradise "it's better if we keep things like they were before, we're at the perfect time until it's too late. i'm fake dating you."

vi has experienced pain before yes. the air being stolen from her lungs, but your words sink in like a finger twisting against a bullet hole in her shoulder, cold as ever as her brows furrow in response — you're too pissed to listen.

"this is a misunderstood," she insists, "you know it's not like that. this is real. what we have is real, please just- hear me."

"we've made the limits too blurry," you try to explain, and in the cold air you shiver against the cold weather of autumn and she wants to give you her scarf to protect you from the air knowing you'll say no, standing at a safe distance in front of you — "you kissing on sarah it's what we needed vi. the push we were lacking to break this fake thing. i can't hold it no longer, we've fucked it up."

"bug. don't do this."

"it's the agreement we had first place," you interrupt, already annoyed as you shove your hands inside the pockets of your jacket and vi can't stand it. can't stand the disappointment in your voice as you speak — "we broke the rules we settled in the first place. i like you more than i ever know, i'm going to your practices, riding your bike- it's not what we agreed upon."

"it wasn't real. the rules they were never real" there's desperation in her tone vi does not care to hide anymore, taking a step closer to you. "don't tell me you believed in them, i broke them the very same day we settled them. they are not real, never counted."

it's almost like she's saying it over and over again to calm down the fire on her chest, the flames that rises in her lungs as she breathes in the cold air sober than ever.

"you have things to talk with your ex still vi, and i'm not really good in the equation. i don't want to be involved in whatever you have going on with her, it's your business. make up your mind first."

she wants to insist, make you stop right there even when she's close to have a frostbite to this point, freezing cold as you, cold as ever, continue your way and leave her standing her, trying to make sense of it all.

you never fucking listen.

so you disappear and it's like a dream all over when she's going back to the house, expectant of waking up in her wrinkled sheets with you already using more than half of the bed.

but vi never wakes up and she knows you're right at some point.

she needs to talk with sarah.

you'd catalogue it as a supersonic sunburst.

a ray of sunshine coming up from between the clouds that blinds you momentarily, fast like the speed of sound — supersonic.

she's like a supersonic sunburst.

violet vanderson's able to crawl under your skin to live there with you without knowing, and when she's missing, there's a hollow inside you even you were perfectly great before when you had no idea of her oh so important existence.

it's nothing to the point it becomes everything because you miss her too. scared of actually fall in, of let her know the way to your heart.

news are fast cause by the next day people in the party's already commenting on what happened: vi kissing her ex? it's all they talk about in whispered confessions when you're around, walking in campus in black shades cause you refuse to let people think you're even slightly affected by her and whatever relationship she had now with sarah.

you let them speak due to your lack of good choices when it comes to picking a fake girlfriend with a reputation that followed. it was a part of the deal and you're taking your part in it. fair.

even ava seems to take pity of you when she's talking to you again, and it's a huge relieve cause you were sure she was going to politely ask you to find for another place to live when in reality, she's offering you from the pizza she ordered like a truce, being all sensitive when she's asking about your emotional status as she heard things.

everybody seems to add something new, even yourself as you're aware on the late news that spread throughout the campus by tuesday morning: vi's back with sarah again, she's saving her a seat for the thursday game, they were together in the rims.

and loneliness suits you better. you like to think about that cause you're forgotten and left out this love triangle like you asked before, and it's funny cause you agreed in something entirely different in the beginning, but you don't get the pretty girl in the end, and vi, even when she’s so invested in pushing her ex away, ended up gaining the whole contrary.

four days of heaven it's not near enough to cover the time you needed with her, but your pride it’s too big to let down so when she stops texting you, you subtly understand it’s because she got someone new: some things are better left unsaid.

you crave to be loved, to be need and wanted, but to be loved is to be bare under the naked eye: three weeks with violet and you’re what? crushed because her pretty ex is back? better to have a broken heart now before you’re in too deep.

you're officially done with the world of love. at least it's what you keep repeating to you and your close ones, that worried friend that insists on knowing how you're doing over text: you're done with love, and impossible, borderline stupid crushes.

"are you ever going to get out of your room?" ava asks as she enters the space, opening the curtains "it really smells like death in here."

"no i'm not" you reply, tired from being up all night watching on some tv series as a way to subside with your bad luck lately — "i'm gonna finish the last season of yellowjackets, actually. heard shauna's a real bitch in there."

"listen to me, i say this as a friend, but the smell in here, it's you" ava points out as she opens the window to let the air filter "my field trip will be over in a couple of days. after that, you're going out with me to see actual people. you need it."

"i'm okay."

"yeah. sure you are. please take a fucking shower before you kill us both due to intoxication, my eyes are watering."

"that's really over the top. dramatic even."

being friends with ava however, it's the weirdest thing you have ever experienced. you liked her since the moment you saw her, but now she's nothing but a good friend when she's taking the delivery food rests from the floor with a grossed look.

"if i see spider, i'm evicting you."

your recent friend has this geological field trips you don't understand much, but she's gone for a couple of days usually. maybe that's why on thrusday, you wake up paranoid as ever when you hear a noise coming out from your roommate's dorm.

you want to say you're crazy, but the sound's there again subtle and distant, as your brows furrow in concern: ava’s not in the house until tomorrow, and it's definitely not her when you can hear footsteps.

thieves. somebody got into ava’s room and they’re stealing all her stuff — “ave?” you ask out from the kitchen, receiving silence in response “you home earlier?”

to be fair, you don’t think much when you’re walking up to her door, opening up without a previous warning only to find out a scene you’re once again not welcomed in.

“what the fuck?” you can hear ava’s pitched voice when all suddenly stops and you froze for a moment “get out! why are you still here?”

it should be worst things in life that finding out your former crush is now with a redhead, right? — starting out for redheads kissing each other, cause that's a crime to society.

“don't you know how to knock?” she screams from the inside “i texted you yesterday telling you i was going to come home early, dumbass.”

“i'm so sorry” you reply on the other side of the door, holding on a laugh at the other side as you don't want to make her ever further mad — “there’s a lock you know? you can use it sometimes.”

“fuck off.”

however, you’re opening the door again to interrupt a new make out session much covered now, staring at the other girl you ignored before, the redhaired you did not recognize until you're blatantly checking on her.

“sarah. you’re fucking sarah fortune,” you state almost not believing it as you can feel the loud pounding in your chest at the realization, and ava's blushing the same shade of her messy hair as you point it out impressed "i'm gonna let you guys keep at that, you know? yeah. goodbye."

your mouth falls open when you're closing out the door at your back, and you're celebrating without making a sound as it was the most awkward moment of your life.

ava. ava's fucking sarah.

it's news you want to share, but none of your friends would understand how important it is, so you cannot do anything but keep it to yourself.

and it hits you as you go to room again ready to play some loud music so you don't hear anything — if sarah's there: does it mean she's not dating vi back again?

ah. fuck. maybe you'll need to swallow your pride a little bit.

vi's been thinking about you lately. quite a lot.

it starts like a memory in the morning. vi gets up earlier cause she got so much energy lately she don't know where to put it as she runs as much as she can for at least an hour, and it extends to the afternoon where she's sure her phone buzzed with one of your texts, when in reality, it's empty as you don't reply to any of her tries.

and it bring sadness by the night, when she's smoking on her own and the air's cold but she don't want to use a sweater since it's too peaceful to move, to remember she's alive again.

how is she so utterly affected by you?

she ends up overthinking about the brief story she shared with you on the course of almost three weeks in which she allowed you, in plain sight, to get closer to her than anyone to the point she's used to your company — her practices where she seems distracted as ever, her usually bad choices you prevent in the movies since she's always insisting in action movies.

she misses you, and it's her fault mainly when she let you in so easy, without much questioning. almost like you already belonged there.

"violet, you're in" to be fair. she don't want to play by thursday. she's not into the mood lately.

the place is packed and the other team is not giving up as they fight every second on the ice, yet vi's not really there. the game is on its peak point, there's tension and competition in the air, loud noises from the public already cheering on their preferred team, but she's insisting, over and over again, how she should be left in the benches since she's suffering from a strange pain in her shoulder: how is one of the greatest players in the team going to spend the whole game seated?

"i'll only slow the team- send akali" she suggests, but the coach shake her head as she screams to the referee "i'm not at my best."

"since when you're bothered by a little wound, vi?" the coach ask, and her nose wrinkles in defeat: never really, she's usually pushing through misery "there are recruiters out there looking for their next super star, now don't be dumb and get in the ice now."

it's harsh, what vi needed to hear as she's biting on her safety mouth guard before being pushed to the ice by the third and last period — she just wishes to survive.

you've slowly become a problem since the only thing you do, even when you're not near, is mess up with her head. she's being shoved and pushed by two minutes in, and she cannot get twenty minutes of silence when she spots you there in the seats using this red white and blue jersey with her number on it and it's just like the one she's wearing now.

you're there.

is it a dream? has she reached the point where she's hallucinating? maybe there's a rational explanation, maybe vi's brain so stressed lately it makes up things due to the adrenaline or something like that. makes sense. the rush.

"what the fuck is wrong with you? wake the fuck up-" ellie curses by her side when vi can feel the blood on her mouth as she's shoved to the side, roughly pushed against the border to crash her head against the thick protection plastic that surrounded the rink, the other team quickly reducing her offense to nothing as they score in their favor — "if we lose i'm going to kill you violet. i mean it."

despite the threats of her captain, vi forces herself to look again at the spot she saw you before and you're there again — worried as you tried to see how she was doing, wearing her shirt and she's lost for a moment.

you came.

it makes her breathing erratic, and for a moment she don't know if it's for the pain or that hazy feeling on her chest but you're there and it means so damn much to her as you smile at her for a moment and you shyly mutter a hi like you're not already wearing a jersey with her name on it.

she's mad at you. violet needs to stay mad at you cause you don't ever fucking listen, and she tried to explain so many times before she was never into sarah or whatever it may have seemed, how the kiss was actually against her will — how she was long done with her ex before you even came to the picture.

she wants to pause the game for a brief moment and demand you to listen to her now, make clear she never cared about sarah nor ava for once, but she values her life also cause ellie's already giving her a bad look as they are already on a bad situation, so even under your gaze she pays attention to the game.

it's what she loves, even when she's swallowing her own blood and she's sure there are going to bruises bigger than her hand, she's shouting to abby from the other side and in the blink of an eye — there it is. score.

the public shouts in the bleachers and to be a person that don't watch any kind of sports you really seem to enjoy the game as you never been into one before, celebrating with the rest: stay mad at you. she needs to remember, stay mad at you.

in the end, vi's filthy and reeking sweat, tossing her gloves powder's painted to the floor as a way of supporting her since she hates going to games and actually stay seated for two hours, the big helmet she holds in her hands before she's crushed in a hug from the team as they celebrated another victory.

golden streak.

her friends are shouting her name since she made the last point on their half, and even when it makes her feel good about it, she's searching for you in the room, an smile on your face as you looked at the celebration cause you're proud of her — she's really good in what she does.

you've seen her practices but a game was different. so you stay there hidden in the sea of the people around you, but vi can spot you right away since you got this light on your own she can pick up from the distance.

and the athlete can feel the weight of your eyes in hers, even at the distance she cannot enjoy a celebration under her name cause she aches to see you, needs to clear up some things before anything else, so she's awkwardly smiling to the greetings, acting polite as she skates her way out of the rink between jokes and hair scratches of the girls she has been playing for years: we're going to win this season if you keep up like this vi, leave some room for us mortals.

her cheeks are blushed since she's not really used to it, people praising on her so blatantly, but it gives her the confidence she needs to leave her ice skates on the floor.

"what are you doing?" abby asks when she notices she's not really going to the changing rooms but instead, about to jump out the small wall that separate the players seats from the public barefoot — "not celebrating with us?"

"later," vi says already in the other side "need to take care of something else first."

she don't receive an stupid joke back, refreshing almost as she climbs up the stairs. usually she takes a long shower after a game ready to celebrate but now, vi's walking between the people who's patting her arm, touching on her painted helmet and congratulating her for a good game.

and really, vi'd like to walk to you faster, but she has to say thank you to each compliment as an awkward smile stirred her lips upwards.

"hi."

"hey," you greet her back, and she knows the signs of your body when you're nervous as she ha already seen it so many times before, the look in your face that sold you out entirely "great game, congratulations."

"thank you" she replies, even when she's already combusting in how many praises she got already, your words scratches a different part on her brain. you're special to her, your words mean more than the rest "you came."

"i did," it's hard to remember she needs to stay mad at you cause it's difficult like this, you're there in a jersey with her name on it, that smile on your face she likes to see every single time — "i told you i wanted to come."

"yeah. i missed you," the words escape from her lips before she can think about what she's saying and it's too late to regret them as the simple admission makes you breathless "and i'm really pissed at you too."

"i'm sorry-" vi has lost count now of many many little deaths she has experienced in your company, but there goes another one as the air is stolen from her lungs and the rest of the public is disappearing until there's only the two of you reduced in the cold temperature of the rink, "for not hearing what you have to say."

"i never wanted to kiss sarah," she says at a safe distance, holding onto her helmet like her life depends on it — "i'm not into her, i explained that to her too."

"you aren't" you reply, and vi's almost relieved when she notices you are listening to her "i know it."

"i don't know what you heard, i've heard some crazy shit myself" it slowly fades away until it's not there anymore, that weird anger that she felt before and was so invested in not forgetting in the ice “i’m not with sarah either, she’s not my girlfriend.”

“she’s dating ava” you told her as her eyes widened at the information “like fully dating, walked into them today.”

“what?” vi’s struck for a moment before chuckling in aware “holy shit, that's some news-"

"yeah" you agree with her before you're pulling out this white paper from the back pocket of your jeans, a tiny paper that turned out to be a good sized tablecloth she can recognize from before — "i found our rules. wanted to show them to you."

"you came here to show me the rules were real?" vi asks holding in a laugh, looking at the words you write down with her brows furrowed "this is still not enough to count i'm afraid. i was too busy eating and i didn't agree on most."

"what? don't cheat it does count" you roll your eyes in response as you point out your own handwriting to specific numbers — "we broke up rules. number one, two three and five to be specific, which is most of them."

"is this your way of saying sorry? explaining you're right?" vi holds the paper between her fingers as she takes a step forwards to you, hiding it beneath her back as she looks down to you "not inviting me one of those artisanal pasta dishes you make? you're not working here for my love."

"i am right" you proudly states as she chuckles, not making a movement to step back and reject her advances. "you should admit it either way, those there are real rules you broke."

people are long gone by now, the bleachers now empty as you prove your point and vi's dropping the helmet to the floor cause she's too busy holding you now, right between her arms as her hand cups your cheek and she's making you meet her gaze.

"you're right, i broke the rules" she gives you the point, another win to your book she wants you to have — "we broke up the rules, do you have any complains now that you know you're right?"

"not really" she's smiling against your lips as you add — "maybe we did were a bad movie in the end, one where the main characters fall in love cause they are so dumb they thought they could pull out a fake relationship."

"a bad movie" she agrees with you, there's no point in hiding it as she's cutting the inches that separates her lips from yours in a much necessary, colliding kiss — "we are a bad movie."

"hold up-"

"what?" vi asks impatient "you need me to pretend i want you for a minute? another girl you like?"

you're a little monster, appearing on her game with her jersey, glossy lips and big eyes.

"no," you simply reply, looking at the empty rink now — "i was just making sure there's no one around. i don't want you to think this is not real anymore."

real. everything's so real.

ah. violet vanderson would most definitely rot in love.

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hairmetal666 · 1 year ago

Text

They're sitting in Eddie's bedroom, Steve propped up in the bed, flipping through some sports magazine, Eddie curled on the floor using his knee as a table as he scrawls notes for Hellfire's next campaign. Metallica spins on the record player, volume low. They're doing this more and more, being together and doing their own thing, music a soft backdrop to it all.

Eddie's deep into his planning, enough so that he manages to forget that Steve Harrington is in his bed. He keeps hearing something, though. It just manages to catch at the edge of his awareness, but when he fully tunes in the only sounds are Steve flipping a page, Ride the Lightning, the shift of blankets as Harrington taps his fingers. It happens a few more times, but when he tries to catch it, it's gone. Steve hasn't reacted at all, to the point Eddie wonders if it's all in his own head.

The next time, he's interrupted before he even gets back into it, that noise again, but this time, now, he's aware enough to see that it's Steve. And he's not, like, reading the magazine out loud to himself. No. He's singing along.

To Metallica.

And he wasn't idly tapping his fingers before. He was tapping along to the beat.

"You're singing along?" He asks before he can stop himself.

Steve looks up, a faint smile on his handsome face. "It's not too bad."

"Not too--Not too bad." Eddie's nearly screeching. Can't wrap his mind around Steve--"You've been listening to Metallica on your own? You've been--you--" He jumps to his feet, notebook spilling onto the floor. Steve's just looking up at him with big eyes and a gentle grin.

"Sure, Munson. You like it, yeah?"

He nods, mutely, unsure how he so thoroughly lost the plot that Steve's been listening to Metallica just because Eddie likes it.

"Got a taste for any other metal bands I should know about, Harrington?" He flops down on the bed, making Steve bounce a little.

"Well, Dio's pretty okay."

This time Eddie does really, actually shriek.

---

Eddie swans into the kitchen to greet Steve, who's already lounging on the couch with a beer. There's another one on the coffee table, waiting for Eddie.

"Just helped yourself, Harrington?" He teases.

Steve shoots him a look. "Wayne grabbed them before he left. What the hell took you so long?"

He can't say it's because he wanted to look nice with Steve coming over, even if they are just getting high and watching movies. Of course taming his hair took so long that he didn't have time to find a shirt, and Steve's knock at the door had him grabbing the first thing he could and jamming it over his head.

"You want chips?" He asks.

"Wait--Eddie--" Steve stands, pointing at Eddie's chest.

"What?"

"That's my--oh my god, I've been looking for that."

And, well, he had thought it was a little strange that the t-shirt he grabbed was gray. He pulls at the fabric, stares at the upside down Hawkins Tiger with a basketball in its mouth.

"It's my favorite sleep shirt. I thought Robin took it and you--"

Eddie's face heats. Steve's shirt. Of course. Steve stayed over one movie night, forgot the shirt, and Eddie. Well. He was going to give it back, but--

"Here, man, my bad." He goes to pull the hem over his head. "I didn't know it was your favorite."

"Nah," Steve says. He's sitting back on the couch. "You should keep it. You look really--" he pauses and takes a sip of beer. "It's nice on you, Munson."

He's sure his blush is a horrendous thing to witness, has to fight the urge to hide in his hands. "Right. Uh. Chips!" He whirls towards the cabinets, refusing to think about the matching pink stripes across Steve's cheeks.

---

"C'mon, Munson, you're hogging the covers." Steve's sleepy mumble cuts through the dawn quiet.

"Mmph," Eddie groans. Rubs the soles of his feet against Steve's shins.

"You're a dick," Steve grumbles. He shimmies closer, which is what finally does the job at fully waking Eddie.

"Wha--huh?" He blinks.

"You stole the blankets, man. If you're not going to share, the least you can do is cuddle."

"Uhh." Eddie is sure he's dreaming, but Steve's warm, strong arm slips around his waist, pulls them together.

Eddie doesn't know what to do. Where he should put his body. Does he relax into it? What do his arms do? They're not usually this rigid, right? But what do they do when he's sleeping? Somewhere in his gay panic, he has the presence of mind to grab the edge of the blanket and throw it over his friend.

"Better?" He asks. His voice is all wrong but maybe Steve will attribute it to tiredness.

"Mmm." Steve's grip tightens around his waist, his nose nuzzling against the nape of Eddie's neck. His breathing is already slow and deep.

Eddie can't imagine sleep finding him anytime soon. Not when Steve, his crush, his best friend, is holding him like this. Not when he now knows what the real thing would be like. Not when it's so impossibly out of his grasp.

---

Steve and Wayne are watching a Cub's game. Eddie's curled up on the couch between them, trying to work on a sketch, but his brain keeps skipping to a song he's writing. The lyrics have been easy, coming to him like nothing, but the melody...he wants it to be heavy, loud, wanting, but it won't fit.

He glances up at Steve, chatting with Wayne about some baseball thing called a ribee. His hair's not done, flopping softly around his forehead, and he's wearing his result-of-too-many-concussions glasses, the yellow sweater from that horrific boat ride, retrieved by one of the kids and painstakingly washed by Karen Wheeler.

Steve looks sweet, soft, relaxed. He laughs at something Wayne says, and Eddie's a lost cause. He's just fucking smiling at the pretty boy on his couch, hanging out with his uncle, too far gone to be able to fight it.

A melody forms in his head, and it's soft. Not sweet, no, but gentle. Almost tender. Nothing like he imagined.

---

It's early, early enough that Wayne's not home yet, but he got tired of trying to sleep. Didn't want to bother Steve, who still softly snored in Eddie's bedroom. So, he grabs his acoustic and his notebook, goes out to the couch to work on the song. It's coming along, really good, one of his best. He hasn't shared it with the guys yet. It's--he's not ready, lays him too bare.

There's a clatter from the kitchen, Steve's voice, deep and sleep rough, says, "Hey, Munson."

He pushes the guitar and notebook aside. "Did I wake you? I was trying to be quiet, I'll--"

Steve shakes his head, pads into the living room. He's wearing the yellow sweater, a pair of Eddie's sweatpants, bedhead rampant. He curls up next to Eddie, pulling the couch afghan over his feet. "What're you working on?"

Eddie's ears get hot. "Nothing much. New song I've been noodling on."

"Cool." Steve's smile is little and fond. "Play it for me?"

"Ahh," Eddie says. His hand twitches around the neck of the guitar. "Not sure if it's quite ready for that."

"Oh, yeah." Steve nods. His face does something weird and squiggly that Eddie's never seen. "Just never heard you play before. Thought now might be...you know."

Eddie swallows, hard. "Well, maybe we'll get a show up at the Hideout soon."

"Of course. It's just--this is just you."

He blinks at Steve for a few long seconds, can't believe he's about to do this, but--It's not like Steve will know it's about him, anyway. "It's not a full song yet, alright? Just a verse and half of a chorus, so like. Don't judge it too hard."

"I would never." He can sense Steve's smile but can't look directly at it, knows it would kill him.

He situates the guitar, spins the notebook to read the lyrics like they aren't already burned into his brain, starts to play. His fingers are deft and sure, his voice a little rough, a little raspy with nerves.

The song ends and he's afraid to look at Steve, to see the thoughts written plane on his face. The silence extends, though, and he asks. "So, what did you think?"

"It's--that wasn't what I expected." Steve's voice is weird. Wobbly. Eddie chances half a glance at him, but can't make anything definitive out from his expression. "I didn't think--that's not the kind of music I thought you made."

He licks his lips, swallows. Puts his guitar down. "It's not usually."

"It was a love song." Steve says. His eyes burn into Eddie's.

He can't say anything for seconds that seem to span minutes. "Yeah, Steve," he says in a voice cut with gravel. "It's a love song."

"Eddie," Steve whispers. He reaches out then, thumb tracing along Eddie's jaw, the scars that linger there from the bats. "Is this okay?" He can only nod as Steve's hand twines through his curls.

He's shaking, just a little bit, not because he's inexperienced but because this is Steve, because it's happening, because their lips are meeting and a trembling noise falls from his mouth at the sweet way Steve kisses him.

It's gentle and quick, but they don't part when the kiss ends, stay sharing air as their foreheads rest together. Eddie can't stop smiling.

"Please tell me I'm not dreaming, Stevie" he whispers.

"You dream about me?" Steve asks, eyes blazing.

"I wrote a song about you, and you think dreams are a reach?"

Steve laughs, brushes a kiss against the tip of Eddie's nose. "I loved the song."

"Yeah?"

"Can't wait to hear the whole thing."

"Well, stick around for a while."

Steve leans in, kisses him again, longer this time. "Just try to get rid of me, Munson."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #fluff #friends to lovers #domestic fluff #getting together #feelings confession #pre-relationship domesticity #post-canon #love builds in the quiet moments #bed sharing #clothes sharing #songwriter eddie munson #steve and wayne are besties #steve and wayne use baseball lingo

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kittykia · 7 days ago

Text

∿savoring you∿

pairing ∿ stack x black fem reader x mary

synopsis ∿ you hadn't even noticed those dark brown eyes plotting on how to lure you in. how those eyes turned into hands sinking their touch into your skin. you didn't even know why it happened, but one thing you did know, there wasn't any easy way out.

word count ∿ 1.2k+ words

warnings ∿ this is triad poly(gyny), very much "we looking for a third" marystack, is it vamp marystack or regular marystack? the world will never know, allusions to sex (?), SUGGESTIVE, lemme know if i forgot something, excuse any grammer mistakes, this is not edited

author notes ∿ i am not a writing blog, just a writer with a blog. that being said, i will write for sinners because it hasn't left my brain since i went to go see it. coming out of (writing) retirement for this one. shout out to @szatears for their work on stack and mary poly, pls make sure to go read it as it inspired this current work -> here !! this is something slight while i get my thoughts together and learn to write about these two more. need time to write for bo chow as well. sorry i couldn't write more in one sitting.

it was mary who saw you first. she was standing at the bar, catching her breath from dancing all night when she saw you. sweaty curls sticking to your forehead, panting and out of breath, knocking back a shot before following it with whatever was in the cup in front of you.

you had gone out that night with some of your friends, needing some release from the stressful week and what better way to do that than getting dressed to the 9s and 10s, dancing and drinking the night away.

it was like looking at an erotic painting, seeing you so relaxed under the club lights, watching that drop of alcohol slip from your mouth and slide down your neck, past your curls and hoops, almost felt sinful. and mary was hooked.

she was so busy watching you start to sway away, back towards your group of friends as they yell for you to join them again, she hadn't even noticed stack coming up behind her.

the way you moved your hips in those jeans made her chest tight and her throat dry. she's seen a lot of beauty, hard not to, but something about you made her feel greedy. like she had to reach out and touch, feel, kiss, devour, or she'd go insane. she could feel herself starting to salivate.

in that moment, she wondered if you'd sweat the same, if your curls would stick to your forehead the same when she's gotten you laid up underneath her. if you would knock your head back the same way you took that shot once her tongue was on you. if you would sway your hips the same in her hands as she asks you to dance.

and you had the audacity to not even notice her inner turmoil. stack did though.

"what's got you all distracted, huh?" stack's voice rang in mary's ears like an alarm, pulling her from her daydreams immediately. he felt her flinch under his touch as he wrapped his hands around her waist. "called ya name 3 times, baby."

mary turned flawlessly in stack's hold, hitting her hand on his shoulder as she huffs, "elias, don't spook me! gon give me a heart attack." stack only raised an eyebrow at her, "then pay attention when i call you. now, answer me. some nigga in here tryna die?" stack started to look in the direction he saw mary starting at.

mary sighed and rolled her eyes, "no, stack" "you sure?" stack kept searching the crowd, looking for any eyes that dared to look at the woman under his arm. "stack, nobody in here crazy enough to start shit with me especially with you around," mary called out, reaching out to turn his gaze back at her. she stared for a moment before sighing out and pointing his gaze to where you were, "just- look for ya self"

stack squinted his eyes, searching every face in the direction mary pointed him in and that's when he saw it. saw you.

he inhaled deeply, eyes widening ever so slightly as he drank you in. all curves, curls, and brown skin. his hands tightened on mary as he watched you twirl around with your friends, watching as you bump and grind in the middle with your head tilted back, neck all out on display.

he felt his teeth ache with the need to bury them in all that soft skin, to sit 'n watch as the blood rush to surface and bruise under his teeth marks. to watch your curls bounce as you climb on top of him, to feel you grind back against him. to watch the sweat form on your skin if only to lick it up as he holds you against him.

ouuu, the thought of you was bound to be just as good as the taste of you.

"whatcha think, hm? a beauty, ain't she?" stack snapped back towards mary who was back to watching you as she rubbed her hands against stack's clothed chest. she looked like she was just ready to pounce, stewing in her own anticipation, like a predator waiting to close in on its prey.

he knew that look, knew it so well cause she learned it from him. had used it on him many times before too. he knew exactly how she felt looking at you and now he felt it too, looking at you too.

"mhm...so now what?" stack asked, leaning down in mary's ear, slowly dragging his eyes back towards your swaying figure, squeezing mary's waistin anticipation.

mary giggled before responding, "well that'll depend...feelin' greedy, stack?" she turned back towards him grinning. he tore his eyes away to look at her's, smiling like the cat that got the cream. "i'm feelin what you feelin, baby" ever the smooth talker, mary grins right back. "then im starving."

as for you, all you could hear was the beat of the music blaring all around you and the giggles and yelling of your friends surrounding you. you felt more though.

more then the sweat and heat in the air and on your skin, then the ache in your hips as you swing your hips and arms, then the curls sticking to you, or the weight of your hoops as you throw your head back.

you felt eyes. people usually say to dance without a care, dance like no one's watching but not this time. somebody is watching you and you feel their gaze ooze over your skin like molasses.

every inch of your body belonged to the gaze of whoever was watching you dance.

you subtly tried to look around, look for whoever was staring at you, trying to psyche yourself out, to tell yourself that was just your imagination.

and if it was your imagination, then you would never have thought up a woman lounging at the bar, drinking your body in like she had been walking in the Mississippi heat all day and you were her first mirage in miles.

you caught her eyes but she held your eyes. she almost looked excited, giggly, with a soft smile to finally have your eyes looking back at her. but it was something about those eyes that didn't seem all too innocent.

she was petite, small but curvy, wavy brown hair, pale skin reflecting all the lights, and brown eyes flitting all across your body as she undressed you slowly, right there from the bar.

and it only got worse when you looked at the man behind her, intense eyes staring right down to your soul as he smirked.

he tipped his head towards you, shamelessly looking up and down as you saw his arms flex around the woman. like looking at you made him tense and impatient, like he was just itching to touch you. and she was too if the grip she had on his clothes were anything to go by.

he was strong, built, and tall. thick with muscle and strength under those clothes. you could just imagine those arms wrapping around you tight, holding you nice and steady. his hair was cut short but his line up was as sharp as his jawline that he flexed. exhaling as he smiled even bigger watching you check him and her out.

and without noticing, you had turned towards them, dancing in their direction. feeling drunk on their heady gazes as you moved. mary felt her breathe hitch as you turned, not even thinking for a second as she slipped away from stack, their hands lingering before she made it to the dance floor, stack leaning against the bar and watching her go.

you could feel exhilaration rising as you dance between all the bodies to get closer to her, reaching out for her. you don't even know this damn girl, but you would be lying if you weren't on the edge of your seat to get her in your grasp. your friends hadn't even noticed you abandoned them.

once she finally touched you, you felt a pleasant shiver run down your spine. she curled right into your space, chest to chest, her soft skin and smile taking up all of your attention as you leaned into her.

she slinked her arms around your neck as you wrapped yours around her waist, her following your moves perfectly. you met her eyes dead on, feeling a knot in your stomach begin to form while looking into a pool of desire.

you leaned towards her ear, her eyes following you as her swayed and grinded against you, "what's your name?"

you spoke loud enough over the music. you swore you heard her groan at the sound of your voice so close, felt her twitch feeling your breath on her ear and cheek before she tucked it away and answered, "name's mary." she answered in a sweet yet husky voice that made your legs tremble ever so slightly.

"you gonna tell me yours?" mary teased as she spun you around, pulling you closer to her, hands moving to grip them as you move to the beat of the music.

you melt into her embrace with your eyes closed like you were meant to, resting your head on her shoulder as she nuzzles yours, resisting putting her lips to it, taking in your scent as it wafts towards her nose.

you open your eyes to catch stack, still at the bar, no longer smiling. his arms are crossed as he watches you two dance together, clenching his jaw and body twitching as he shifts his hips, pants getting tighter and tighter with every passing second, but staying put.

he isn't much a vouyer but watching you two might just make him one. he can't bring himself to join but feels the tension from not having a body on his.

you see him power struggle as you finally turn your head to mary, distracted in feeling you up, hands gliding up and down your torso stopping right before you chest and right under your belly button.

"i'm y/n," you whisper back, revealing in the way mary groans under her breathe in response to your sultry tone.

©2025KITTYKIA ━ all rights reserved. any works on this blog belong to kittykia and should remain on this blog only. refrain from copying, stealing, profiting off my works, or using my works for asmr related work. refrain from sharing my works to any another app, if only as references. do not adapt or alter my works. just enjoy them y'all.

#sinners x reader #michael b jordan x reader #stack x reader #mary x reader #sinners #mary sinners x reader #— kia writes !#— talking about: sinners !#sinners mary #sinners stack #michael b jordan #black reader #black!reader #black!fem!reader #black fanfiction

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rafesbowbunny · 4 months ago

Text

𝜗𝜚 bunny!reader has always had a thing for a regular at her bookstore, older!rafe only comes in to see her

c!w; mdni !! older!rafe, dom!rafe, bunny!reader, age-gap (reader is 18+), size kink, rafe gets called 'daddy' a few times, dirty talk, mutual pining obviously, 'unprotected' sex, p in v, creampie, overstimulation (if you squint), cum play, cum eating, oral (f. receiving)

notes; i had such bad writer's block during the making of this so i apologise if this isn't my best work... also its kinda long before the smut but it needed some plot !!

you'd just gotten a job at a new cozy bookstore in town. it was perfect, had rows and rows of every genre of book a person could think of and a lovely little cafe with a cozy area to read in too. you loved working there, and had recently gotten much more comfortable after finally getting the hang of everything.

there were quite a few regulars that would come in for the coffee and a book, lots were mothers with quiet children that would sit down in the children's corner and read, others were just people of all ages that particularly enjoyed sitting in the bookstore for hours.

you were stacking shelves the first time you saw him; tall, gorgeous and smiling slightly under his cute scruffy moustache. he was flicking through the non-fiction books. though he didn't look like someone that read, adorned in workwear and partially grubby clothing, most likely from his blue collar job.

you could tell he was definitely older, around ten years your senior but still so pretty. after that first minor interaction you started seeing him come in a lot more, every other day basically. you'd worked up the courage to say hi to him after a few more times of seeing him and although your face was probably bright red, he smiled wide and started a conversation with you.

after the ice had been broken you would always talk to him when he came into the bookstore, it got to a point where he wasn't even pretending to be interested in the books around him anymore, he obviously had come in there to see you again.

rafe had also started coming in early before work started, he looked so good in his carhartt jacket and big boots, not yet dirty from a days work. he'd make sure you were the one to make his coffee, always mumbling something about you having a secret gift as he grinned, letting his hand linger over yours when he'd take his cup.

the tension between the two of you was palpable, your friends and co-workers would make jokes about how no one needed to read romance books in there anymore, they had a whole story playing out in front of them.

you would always laugh and smile at their comments, smitten over the idea of being with rafe but there was always the lingering thought that it was just friendly flirting. nothing more. he probably had a girlfriend, or a wife or something. he was too old and too gorgeous, why would he actually want anything to do with little old you.

these thoughts had you spiralling significantly on one particular day; what if you were wasting all your time and feelings on this older guy that would never want you? would you ever get over him? would you be alone forever?

you were zoning out - hard - as you slid the last few books of your shift onto the shelf, you nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw him standing in front of you with a grin.

"sorry, did i give you a fright?" he mumbled, steadying you with his touch, "'thought you'd heard me when i said y'name but there must be s'much goin' on in that head of yours."

you took a breathe and smiled weakly at him, not being able to shake your pessimistic thoughts from seconds before as he stood in front of you, handsome and speaking.

"no, sorry- lots on my mind i guess" you shrugged, fiddling with your fingers. rafe's brow furrowed, he'd seen you stressed and frustrated because of work but never like this, anxious and pensive.

he tilted his head a little, "what's wrong hm?" he softly coaxed, looking deep into your eyes as he reached out and rubbed your arm with his thumb.

you looked up at him through your lashes, "nothing.. nothing really..." you mumbled, chewing your lip a little.

his gaze darkened as he watched you, "something you wanna ask me bunny?"

you shook your head after shuddering at the nickname. a nickname only rafe used with you, it never failed to give you goosebumps down your body and cause your thighs to squeeze together a little, "don't worry.. er, i'm about to close up in a minute - you don't mind walking me to my car do you?"

his pursed lips melted into a smile and he looked up for a second before nodding. you smiled at him before finally putting away the last few things and grabbing the bookstore's keys. rafe followed you out as you left the store and locked the doors from the outside.

"cold tonight hmm" rafe remarked, looking out at the dim parking lot and neighbouring streets as he walked close to you. you hummed in agreement, readjusting the jacket tighter around you.

when you finally reached your car you looked up at him with a longing smile before he tilted his head, grinning at you, "you gonna tell me what you were thinking about earlier?"

you shook your head, nerves chewing at your lip again.

"c'mon, 'm not gonna see you tomorrow, 'ts your day off bunny, can't make me just wonder all this time hm?" he playfully whined, inching his body closer to yours. you were a little stunned by his words.

"you remember my day off's tomorrow?" the nerves were rising in your tummy now, bubbling around and exploding.

he smirked, sliding your hand into his, "course i'd know when the only reason i go into that bookshop isn't there."

"rafe" you gushed, covering your face a little and shaking your head. you couldn't believe your ears, you thought you weren't stupid or anything but here you were, hearing that he wanted you the whole time. "i thought you were just.. i don't know, entertaining the idea of me this whole time..."

his lips parted and brow furrowed as if it was completely incomprehensible that he might've not actually wanted you, "bunny... you must be talking pure shit now because i thought i'd made it obvious i wanted you from the second i'd gotten to know you."

you chewed at your lip, heat pooling in your tummy as he instinctively inched closer to you as he spoke. all you wanted to do now was jump his bones, and you kept glancing down at the bulge in his pants as it became closer and closer to you.

he noticed your wandering eyes and laughed a little, throwing his head back before sliding both hands up your arms carefully, "...so you said you don't have heating huh?"

you nodded, feeling dizzy at the realisation of what he was about to ask you.

he scoffed with a grin, "see, i've got heating at my place that works pretty well, and - bunny, with the way you're looking at me right now, i think we're better off going there."

you smiled, staring up at him through your lashes before nodding and in an instant he'd grabbed your hand, leading you to his truck. the drive was probably fairly quick, but it felt like hours of agony to the both of you as you patiently waited. rafe's hand was possessively gripping your thigh and you felt wetness in your panties thinking about where else his hands would trail to.

it was a blur, stumbling out of his truck and into his house, you barely looked at the place before the two of you, sloppy and all over each other, had made it to his bedroom. your body was on vibrate but he took a second to take his huge jacket and long sleeve shirt off.

you breathed heavily, eyes widening when street light through the window illuminated his toned chest, he was built like a greek god and you nearly moaned at the thought of all that being all over you.

he teasingly peeled your clothes off, article by article, grinning all the way. he could see you twitching and heavily breathing at every movement, it only fuelled him more.

finally you were in nothing but panties and a bra, matching of course, which made rafe's eyes go wild, "jesus, look at you." he breathed, running his hands along the side of your body as you lay under him.

you slid your arms around his neck and tried to pull him in but he grinned at your lack of strength and you frowned playfully, squirming at the lack of action.

"you gonna ask nicely bunny?" his lips were centimetres away from yours, he was really enjoying teasing you now.

"please... please i want you inside me so bad" you whined, pouting and running your hands into his shaggy mullet. he smirked and leaned in, passionately pressing his lips to yours, engulfing you in heat.

your hands pulled at his jeans, ripping down the zipper as you slid a palm across his clothed cock, gasping at his lips over how big you found him to be.

he tugged himself out of his boxers before lowering down to your core, you burned with desire as you watched the greek god looming over you, slowly bully his cock into your weeping hole.

you groaned at the feeling, his cock slowly slipping all the way down, filling you to the hilt. your grip around his neck tightened, along with his hands holding you steady at your hips.

he drilled into you at an unrelenting pace, the sound of his cock diving in and out of your wet pussy causing him to groan gutturally, "uhghh, you like this big cock baby? c'mon, tell me you've been thinking about daddy's cock since you met me hmm"

you eyes were rolling back, the pleasure becoming too much already, "mmmh i think about daddy's cock all the time... oh! fuuuck."

you looked down at your tummy, a clear huge bulge poking everytime rafe drove his dick into you, only making you dizzier. he was just so big.

a creamy line of arousal was thick around the base of rafe's cock, your breath all ragged as he continued to drill into you, toying with your clit to overstimulate you.

you were shaking under him, one hand gripping onto a bicep and the other tugging the sheets beside you. the sheer girth of him was splitting you open, rafe grinned at the yelps escaping your lips with every thrust.

"pussy's swallowing me whole, fuck bunny" he grunted into your lips, launching in for yet another seering kiss while his thrusts became sloppy but deeper. plap-plap-plap filled the room along with your pornographic moans.

"nghh daddy, i'm- oh, g'na cum!" you cried, nails digging into his flesh.

he was panting into your neck, "'know baby, can feel your pussy milking me- fuuuuuck" you felt the rush of your orgasm as rafe's thick white ropes coated your insides. he continued to thrust into you a few more times, watching your pussy swallow all his cum before pulling out.

"such a good bunny, look at that shit.." he mumbled, dragging a finger over your wet whole, playing with and pushing his release back into you. "so wet..."

he dipped his head down, lapping up both your juices that had coated your folds. you twitched from the sensation, still recovering from his cock.

"rafeee- oh god- too sensitive.." you whined, hand laced in his hair. he lifted his head and looked at you with a grin, his moustache gleaming with wetness.

"oh bunny now that i've had you, shit, i'm never letting my little girl go."

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unknown7s · 5 months ago

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Can I just say that I really fucking HATE how the majority of the Arcane fandom praising Season 2 is deeply in the mindset of Piltover in reality? Like, it's not even funny, and I don't know where to begin.

I'll just start with Silco because he's this huge metaphorical character who is clearly written as the embodiment of a long list of sociopolitical agendas in the real world. And before I start, pardon my English, since it's not my first language.

I know y'all in the Anglo-American sphere tend to focus more on classism, inequality and police brutality theme. But the way I see it, THAT and every single dialogue plus the specific word choice of Silco & Sevika literally SCREAMS of postcolonial discourse (I guess F. Fanon is most well-known to y'all) and even some part of M. Foucault's philosophy, etc. I'm writing "etc." because the list will go on forever if I describe all these creepy historical parallels between the depiction of Zaun's internal conflict and what real countries that have been (or still are) colonies went through, and what real colonizer propaganda looked like during that time—like how those characters who fight for the nation's independence are the big bad villain and psychotic monsters who need "redemption arc" therapy, while those who cooperate with the oppressors are the good-hearted familial heroes of this story.

So upon reflection, if this fandom were to be a collective intelligence, we should have asked ourselves, "Is this show truly not problematic for portraying such a character as villainous?" and thus, "Is this show thematically implying far-right propaganda?" even before Season 2 presented us with this insane plot that glamorized the militaristic fascist aristocrat proclaiming martial law as a 'romantic revenge arc'.

But what did the majority of the fandom do since 2022? They were so busy shitting on this dead villain, claiming he has done so much wrong that he doesn't even deserve to be praised as a character. So instead of trying to understand where this character's point of view is coming from, they blindly hate him to the point where they are now fabricating a list of crimes that he didn't even commit, editing false information on the fandom wiki profile.

What's more frustrating to me is that I thought the problem was media illiteracy all along, but oh no, I was being way more optimistic than the reality. Now that I’ve read all these interviews from the showrunner and main writer—Linke and Overton—I get the sense of why Season 2 turned out like that. The more they babble on about this show, the clearer it becomes that they don't even acknowledge how messed up their political views are, which are so far-right. Taking the seemingly-centrist line doesn't make you fair, you're just passively siding with the oppressors. And lesbian sex scene doesn't make this show "progressive", in fact, hiding oppressor fantasy behind a rainbow flag makes it even more treacherous.

So yeah, I think critical voices should be much louder than this, but watching the majority of this fandom neglacting problems only to praise the show? I think my hope for humanity kind of get lost more and more as time passes, lol.

#arcane #arcane season 2 #arcane critical #arcane criticism #arcane writing #arcane thematic problem #silco #vander #jinx #vi #sevika #ekko #caitlyn

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zeropro · 4 months ago

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Hi, what are your thoughts on Megatron? Most Starscream fans don't have very positive ones about him lol, but everyone is different and I would like to know that you think

I like Megatron okay, he doesnt bother me but im not like jumping up and down for megatron content yknow? but I get not liking Megatron as a Starscream fan. It's just, you can't deny how intrinsically the two characters are tied together. Really can't have Starscream without Megatron, which is unfortunate for someone like me who does not like drawing Megatron lol!

Maybe the reason most Starscream fans dont like Megatron is because of their abusive relationship? And let's be clear, due to the power imbalance, I do interpret it as an abusive relationship. Despite how much we like to joke that Starscream deserves the punishment he gets (I'm not entirely sure how attempted murder/political assassination attempts factor into an abuse allegory) no one ACTUALLY deserves to be abused. The fact that Starscream is low key also evil and has done evil things is a separate issue from Megatron's abuse of him, we can hold him accountable for the one while also having sympathy because of the other. For me personally tho? Megatron abusing Starscream doesnt make me dislike the character at all, it's honestly the main draw of the dynamic for me. Maybe I just like to see my blorbos suffer…

The G1 Cartoon Megatron is probably the most fun, and I think this dynamic is the most on the level in terms of Starscream dishing back as much as Megatron gives him. They're all just bullies on the playground, their toxic back and forths feel a lot more slap stick and silly than actual abuse. What makes it work I think is that Megatron is not as crazy powerful as he is in later continuities, and Starscream responds to the abuse like a cartoon villain, immediately bouncing back and plotting his revenge, so it's funny rather than upsetting! I also find it hilarious how Megatron is weirdly nice to all the other Decepticons who aren't Starscream lmao? G1 Cartoon Megatron is a 10/10 for me.

If G1 cartoon's Megatron and Starscream are more on an even playing field, Prime Megatron is like the opposite of that. Prime Megatron is so impossibly powerful it almost feels like no one has a chance against him in a fight, and Prime Starscream is so scrunkly and small it's almost laughable. I think I feel the most pity for Prime Starscream when he gets beat up by Megatron, but he almost always makes up for it by being possibly the most evil of the Starscreams. I like how in the third season, he genuinely seems happy to finally dedicate himself fully to Megatron, but you just know how much he'd been beaten down and broken over and over again to even get to that point. Good for him for trying to get revenge in the sequel series. As for Megatron himself, I think more often than not when I am reading fics I see Prime Megatron in my head, and it's his voice I hear. What can I say, it was the first Transformers show I watched haha. Do I love how his redemption arc was handled? Not particularly, it sorta came out of nowhere, felt really rushed, and he just goes away anyway so we don't even get anything out of it. I like redemption arcs in general, but I don't necessarily think this particular Megatron needed one.

To be perfectly honest, I didn't think the 2005 IDW Megatron deserved one either, only because when it comes to over powered, unstoppable, irredeemably evil Megatrons, this one ranked right up there if we take into consideration everything he did before Dark Cybertron. His redemption does kinda come out of nowhere. But like, idk mang! It's also really fun? Like, Bumblebee carrying him around cuz his pants got blown off is hilarious! Him actually upset at Bumblebee's death and then taking Bumblebee's Autobot badge and putting it on over his own was sweet! Him dealing with the crazy crew of the Lost Light is a lot of fun! And him actually having to confronting and deal with what he's done (and other characters dealing with him dealing with it) is a lot more interesting than just him dying. idk. The comics have been around for years by that point, and passed through the hands of many writers, so if a little handwaving and a little contrivance and a little suspension of disbelief is what is required for us to have an honestly pretty fun take on Megatron, I think I'm okay with that.

I do have one complaint tho, mostly based on content I haven't read yet so take it with a grain of salt. I have been told that the adjacent series to the Lost Light Megatron stuff covers Starscream's side of the story and that it does actually address his abuse at the hands of Megatron. My problem is that apparently (and again I haven't read that far yet so this is just hearsay, but apparently) the writers on the Lost Light Megatron stuff didn't get the memo so while Megatron feels bad for and is working at redemption for all the evil war stuff he did to everyone, the one thing he doesnt regret is apparently his treatment of Starscream? Haha, like come on! on the one hand it's really disappointing to me because id like the catharsis of Megatron’s remorse, but...on the other hand, I guess it's kinda true to life actually. Your abusers are people, and they can change and grow and become better, but it doesnt mean they will ever become better for you. It doesnt mean they will ever apologize or even feel bad for what they did. Maybe theres something to be said about having to move on and heal without that. I guess whether this is a complaint I maintain will depend on how its handled.

I get that some people don't think Megatron should ever get a redemption arch, because he's an abuser, a monster, a tyrant, and an evil warlord, and it's completely fair for your stance to be that he should just be killed and that would be justice. I personally really like continuities that treat him more like just some guy. I think Starscream put it best in 2005 IDW during Megatron's trial when he said Megatron wasn't some political genius or the most gifted strategist. He wasn't even the most evil man. In IDW, Megatron started out as a social advocate from the lower class, and despite the problematic narrative of "the bad guy had a point and just did advocacy wrong/went too far," I think the idea that Megatron kinda got swept up by his own hype and was used by people and powers more devious than he is a compelling one.

Starscream is Starscream, so who knows how much of what he says is true and how much is him lying, but this idea just rings true to me. It humanizes him. If handled well, I'm honestly not opposed to stories redeeming Megatron. I'm also not opposed to stories treating him like the devil and just killing him lol. I love a character that can do both!

Uh uh, what else. Earthspark Megatron is nice, I like him. There's...a bit of cognitive dissonance in trying to reconcile the things he chastises Optimus Prime for and the idea that he still was a ruthless warlord at one point, both of which continue to be left unexplored. Transformers One Megatron is neat, I was worried going in how they would handle the switch from Orion Pax's brother to lets start a 4-6 million year war, but like, I like the way he actually was super okay with accepting his lot in life. Like obviously he didnt like it but he didnt see a point in fighting it, and that adamant complacency as a coping mechanism is what lead to his feelings of rage and betrayal by the end. Also I think its hilarious how much younger he is from all the other Decepticon high command, especially Starscream XD.

I don't think I've read or watched anything else with Megatron in it. Man, I wrote a lot. At the end of the day, Megatron is a good character, I like the role he plays in Transformers, I'm not like actually that interested in him on his own but more what he brings to the table when considering Starscream's character. You can't have one without the other! Do I ship them? No, not really, no more than any other ship. But I'll still read Megastar stuff cuz sometimes you just want to watch two people be toxic and make it hurt so good. I'll always prefer Trine stuff anyway ha! Have fun out there!

#transformers #megatron #starscream #megastar #thoughts on transformers #trigger warning for talks of abuse ig #tw: abuse

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jensthwa · 8 months ago

Text

mountebank chem pt. one (JYH x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

* 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤: 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐲. The first time you met Yunho, you knew he was going to be part of the biggest tragedy of your life: the loss of your freedom, of your free will. You didn't know why back then but what you did figure out is that you and Jeong Yunho were going to, eventually and very publicly, date each other at some point. Is that reason enough to hate his guts? Well, of course! Now, when the time comes to fulfill the prophecy, how the hell are you going to pull it off? And, most importantly, what do you need to do to not fall in love with him in the process?

PAIRING: rich!yunho x rich!reader.

GENRE: enemies to friends to lovers.

WORD COUNT: 9,7k.

WARNINGS: eventual SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) attempt !!! at comedy, crying, mentions of drinking and drug usage, mature language, petty behavior, insults, yunho and reader really hate each other i fear, pet names (princess), negative mentions of body image, panic attacks/panic disorder, negative??? (or so they think) tension. no smut on this part, it's an introduction to these two characters, their families and the chaos they bring to poor yunho's and readers life.

NOTES: hi everyone! i know i posted the hwa fic ten days ago or so, but i wanted to get started with this mini series that is PART OF THE LOVE'S AN UNCHARTED PATH / SHOW & TELL UNIVERSE. there's mentions of the last installment plot so, if you're new around here, you can always find the rest of the stories on my masterist! this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: september 14th 2024.

permanent taglist: @hotteokkay, @potatomountain, @fairylover68, @e3ellie, @alsomimi

masterlist. - part two - part three.

A trembling finger is all you can see in the still dim light of the room.

It's quiet, very quiet. You haven't heard anything but your thoughts all night. It grosses you out, so you wait for the clock to turn to six and press the button you've been hovering on for, at least, half an hour.

Park Seonghwa is your only hope right now.

The conversation doesn't go as planned.

“No, I will not go to the party with you and no, I will not pretend to be your boyfriend.”

Not even your great pitch could've turned him around to help you. Sighing, you replay the conversation in your pounding head.

“This is very inconvenient for me but I hope you and the cool girl I saw yesterday are happy together… Even if it ruins my happiness forever!”

Your happiness was probably ruined the day you were born. Sighing again, you turn to the window.

It’s raining.

You didn’t notice until you ended the call that was, if you’re being honest with yourself, your last resource.

Brain rotting away the entire night, wine drunk and edible high, you didn’t even notice the rain accompanied you through your misery.

The sound of the droplets hitting your studio window and the sun trying to break through the gloomy clouds adds insult to injury: You’re running out of time.

Any time now, your mother is going to call you up to let you know you’re possibly getting promised tonight. Not engaged, but promised and presented.

Like you’re some sort of property your parents can give away.

Nails connecting with your glass desk, the noise syncs up with the rain pattering on your window sill and, to your tired mind, it also mimics the tic-tacking an old clock would make.

You figured, if you show up with someone on your arm tonight, they might finally leave you alone.

And not marry you off to Jeong Yunho.

There’s not enough hours in the day to plan a perfect escape, there’s not enough will left inside you to reach out to someone else and make everything seem genuine, organic, like you’ve known each other for years and kept it a secret all this time.

There's not enough time to save yourself.

Because there's this… unspoken agreement you’ve known about since you were eight.

Your parents and Yunho’s parents are friends. Your mom went to school with his mom and your dad met his dad when they were teenagers and they all got married off respectively because it was what worked for their families at the time so, after hearing the superficial love story at the age of seven, you knew you were going to meet the same fate eventually.

And the next year, you met Yunho.

He was an hyperactive little kid with a lot of energy and facts about the earth you didn’t care to listen to because the second you started playing with him in his huge backyard and turned to check if your mother was watching you, you realized that was not a casual playdate.

Smiling ear to ear, both your mother and his, it signaled to you that it has started.

Your planned love story with Jeong Yunho had sailed smoothly in their eyes and there was nothing you could do about it.

Naturally, you have hated him since then. But you were taught etiquette and were media trained since you turned three and could form complete sentences, so your hatred only really showed when you two were alone.

Turns out, he didn’t really care if you liked him or not.

He’s always been good at pretending as well.

That chirpy personality, kindness and humbleness he exudes in front of everyone else? An act.

And you were proud of yourself when you saw right through his bullshit when you were both eleven and left alone so he could show you around their new, bigger house.

Gone too soon was that child who wanted to teach you about worms in his backyard and in its place there was this distant tween who’s smile disappeared as soon as your mothers were out of sight.

“Listen, I don’t know why we’re being forced to hang out but I don’t like you.”

Dumb kid.

“Good, because I don't like you either but they can’t find that out.”

He scoffed, crossing his arms and frowning at you “I’m planning on telling mommy that you… chased me around with a knife or something, so she can see how psycho you actually are and stop forcing me to be around you!”

Eyes lighting up, that was the first time you saw a possible escape from all of this “You think that would actually work?”

Annoyed and a little freaked out, Yunho pointed at the smirk on your lips “See? That’s exactly what I mean: Psycho.”

And you both only grew hostile at each other since then. Sure, saving face in front of your parents and older siblings was necessary to not get scolded and revoked of your privileges (and you actually liked to be alone with him, only if it meant you could take a break from your mother and her judging gaze), but pretending to like Yunho proved to be more difficult than what you had imagined.

Especially when you both outgrew the phase where you tried anything and everything under the sun to piss the other off. Not so harmless pranks were pulled and the petty behavior got you both in trouble with your oldest brothers a couple of times but, no matter how hard you tried, it never “accidentally” got to your mother. Or his, for that matter.

So when you two stopped trying to get your point across and grew cold towards one another, that's when it got really ugly. Vile words cut through both of your egos harshly, family vacations that include his were uncomfortable and holidays were your personal hell.

December thirty-first and January first have always felt like purgatory. Christmas was always spared because you have family living on the other side of the world who you travel to see every year but it's never truly enjoyable when you know that, in the next couple of days after that, you'll see his dumb face.

But you have always smiled brightly at him and hugged him when he comes in with his unnecessary luggage at your home. You hold his arm and bat your eyelashes when you know your mom is watching from a distance and it all but confuses him every single time.

Remembering the time you both were thirteen and you went through very sudden puberty makes you smile. The look on his face when your kitty heels helped show how tall you got over the summer was fantastic.

“Look at what the cat brought in!” Scrunching your nose and squeezing his cheeks in fake affection, you noticed it took a lot for him to not swat your hands away.

But you also remember noticing that he was blushing when you pulled away.

“You look like a very ugly giant,” he whispered with a smile, matter of factly and all “It doesn't really suit you.”

He was a pain in the ass. A manageable pain in the ass, but a pain nonetheless.

It all took a wrong turn when he caught up on your mothers plans by age fifteen. By that age, you've known for a while and the mercy you had on him, on explaining everything you believed to be true, was simply a way of keeping everything at arm's length from you.

The second he put two and two together, your guesses had automatically turned into a possible reality you couldn't cope with.

A reality that's about to hit you in the face and leave a bruise that doesn't really go with your polished image.

The rain picks up and you close your eyes in hopes of coming up with a new idea.

It only makes your headache worse.

You really should get going with your day.

There's appointments you need to get to, meetings you have to fill the space in because your brother is going to fail to show up as usual and you have to get your hair and make-up done for tonight.

You really shouldn't be crying right now.

Are you even allowed to cry?

Your fate was probably decided the day you were born, five months and a few days after Yunho.

“Shit.”

Sobbing is useless, so you get in the shower. You do your skincare routine and plan the outfit you're going to wear to the office while you cover your eyebags and try to make it look seamless, natural even.

If the struggle shows up in your face, you're going to get yelled at downstairs.

Living with your parents might be a bigger nightmare than getting presented with Yunho tonight but there's really nothing you can do about that, either.

Working in their company, gaining connections through them and being praised by simply having your last name attached to your first makes you completely useless when faced with a situation where you simply want to tell your mom to fuck off.

“Y/N, I hope you already weighed down the options for the dress you're wearing tonight,” is what greets you when you enter the dining room, breakfast laid out perfectly across the table both your parents sit at. She's glancing at you in warning “And I hope you know that the navy blue dress is the best option. It's on theme and it's classy, it shows your figure too.”

Fuck off.

You might've been taught a bunch of things while growing up in this tinsel bubble but never ever were you taught how to stand up for yourself.

It shows in the way you nod and smile and sit down on your designated spot next to your dad and in front of your mom.

“Navy dress it is, ma'am.”

The nod she gives in approval makes you nauseous. At least she's not saying anything about Yunho.

“Excellent choice, dear.”

You swallow the food on your pre-portioned plate with a tight throat and, after sipping your black coffee, you turn to your dad.

Feeling a little delirious on lack of sleep and a little bold, especially when it comes to work related matters, you take the opportunity to press on the other thing that kept bothering you the entire night.

“Father—”

He sees right through you.

“No, Y/N. It's not an open discussion, the deal is signed and sealed.”

“It's not a smart choice.”

“Kim Y/N!” slamming her utensils down on the table and making everything shake in the process, you barely flinch at your mothers warning “Are you calling your father dumb?”

“No, of course I'm not,” you defend yourself immediately, the softness in your voice hanging by a thread because all you want to do is scream at her to stop putting words in your mouth “All I'm saying is that he's too generous. That company is not profitable and he gave them half a floor in the building and an initial investment that's going to backfire,” you calmly explain to her what you told him the day before “There’s not really a market for physical media anymore.”

“And they're trying to bring it back,” your father returns, his eyes never straining from his food “I think it's a great idea. You said a couple of months ago that eighties and nineties style is coming back.”

“As a trend,” you remind him with a tight smile “And trends tend to die down rather quickly.”

“Sukwon approved it,” he finally looks up and his next words have you biting your tongue bitterly “You don't have a say on the final decision and you know it.”

Damn right you fucking know it.

“Are we clear on that?”

Glancing at your mother, you notice how she's picking on her food to try and avoid sticking up for you. Not that she normally would but you think, as the years pass, the mistreatment must give her some sort of guilty feeling she can only escape if she avoids your eyes.

Straightening your spine, you fix your face and smile with fake acceptance “Yes, sir.”

The tinsel bubble brings in unnecessary amounts of money and privilege, but it doesn't really save you from tradition and misogyny.

Sukwon is the firstborn, after all.

He's also a complete fucking idiot.

You love him a lot, but he's completely useless when it comes to this business.

Although trained separately and for completely different positions, you always paid close attention to the company.

You studied hard, you graduated early at the top of your class and went to business school as soon as you were able to. You even got to be valedictorian last year at your graduation and even then you knew you weren't getting your father's role once he took a step back from being the face of the company.

But you couldn't help but wish.

Wishing and imagining was your way of coping with it. What if you were born a boy instead? You surely wouldn't be in this predicament.

What if your brother wasn't pampered the way he was growing up? You surely didn't have to step in to save appearances with your employees.

Your day to day would probably flow so much smoothly if he actually wanted to do his job like he should.

Heels clacking on the marble floor, you strut the hallway into his office to aggravate your headache just a bit more: The space is a mess and when you glance at the tree you started to paint on his wall when he asked you to help him quietly turn the space around but never got to finish it brings your mind to the man who declined your offer this morning.

And the clock in your mind starts ticking again, faster and louder this time.

Sukwon’s voice comes out of a corner in the big office, behind some piled up boxes “Well that's not good.”

Snapping out of it and turning to him, you cock your head to the side “What is it?”

“You,” he comes out of his hiding spot, suit barely ironed and hair a little messy which makes you cringe “Usually, you complain as soon as you close that door,” he points at it with a tiny and concerned smile “So now I'm worried they cloned and replaced you, sis.”

“Well, you made a mistake yesterday and there's nothing I can do now to cover it up so,” raising your arms before tossing your purse on the free loveseat that serves as his lounging area, you sigh “Nothing to complaint about today, except—” you squint your eyes, making a show of pretending to be thinking about it “Oh! I'm probably getting married off tonight.”

The fake happiness laced in your tone makes your brother scoff. He walks to his desk, sitting down on his chair and shaking his head in disapproval.

“It's not an engagement, Y/N. It's more of a… Public relations matter.”

“Oh, so you agree with it?” Blood pressure skyrocketing, you quickly make your way across the space until you stand in front of him “You're fine with it?!”

“Don't act like you didn't already know this was going to happen eventually,” leaning back, he gives you an apologetic look. That's how you know there's nothing he can do about it either “Jeong Tech is the largest investor, or primary partner and basically the first big successful business we helped to launch here.”

The explanation is unnecessary. You know. You know he knows you know.

“And after the stocks falling over that little… Hiccup they had last year—”

“The selling clients information hiccup.” You recall with a tight smile.

Sukwon gulps.

“Yes, that, they need to rekindle their image with the press and, in the process, we gain a few reputation points in the market by association. You know how this works,” looking away for a moment, he bites the inside of his cheek before pressing on “And you two are loved and shipped by everyone online already. Grandmas swoon at the potential TVN drama they could make about your love story.”

What fucking love story?

It's more like a gruesome, slashy horror movie to you.

“Okay, is that why they don't marry me to Gunho instead?”

“No, Y/N, they don't marry you off to Gunho because he's in love and soon to be engaged to a complete nobody,” he responds right away with a shrug “Besides, you and Yunho—”

“We hate each other. We—”

“Now, I wouldn't say that—”

“—Completely and utterly despise one another. He's the unwanted dirt under my Louis Vuitton heel, he's the bee I want to kill but can't because they are needed for the environment,” you continue without taking a breath “He's somehow needed to this environment,” meaning the company “Although he's attending a public university and detaches himself from his responsibilities because he already has a brother who actually takes care of it all, unlike me!”

Sukwon doesn't seem hurt at that and you're annoyed he's not. That he knows you well enough to know you're trying to sink your claws into his pride because yours is flat lining as the minutes pass.

That does nothing but fuel your anger.

“Unlike me,” you repeat “Who has to take care of your responsibilities because you are too busy playing renovation simulator in your stupid office to attend your meetings! Because if you did attend them you would know yesterday’s decision was a mistake and—”

“There it is!”

“—You're going to cost us millions of won for nothing.”

Sukwon sighs and the way he scowls at the scattered papers on his desk lets you know he's not about to entertain this conversation any longer.

For the third time today, you are about to lose. And you're a sore loser.

“You're not getting engaged,” he reminds you, standing up and fixing his hair with his hand, his expression kind and sweet like you didn't just yell at him “You don't have to marry Yunho.”

You scoff “For now.”

“Or never, if you don't want to,” rounding his desk, Sukwon pats your head softly like you're a child “Just pretend for a bit and then let him break your heart publicly so that the media doesn't treat you like a stoned hearted bitch.”

“I am a stoned hearted bitch.”

He shakes his head “You're not but even if you were no one has the right to call you that,” your expression softens and you kind of want to cry at that, but you don't “Except me. Now, we have a meeting to go to, don't we?”

Duty calls, like it always does. Your brother steps away and rushes to the door.

Grabbing your purse and following him out, you fix your own hair in the reflection of the glass separating the cubicles from the hall “Do you even know what it is about?”

He smiles back at you “Nope but you're going to tell me on the way there anyway.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don't.”

The call comes after the meeting, when the sun is finally breaking fully through the clouds and your headache is starting to go away.

Only to come back in full force once you see Yunho’s face as soon as you make your way to your own living room.

Wearing a formal black blazer with matching trousers and a white shirt, the asshole doesn't even spare a glance at you even when you're sure he knows you just walked in.

The room started to fill with negative energy. He must have felt it, right? But he doesn't show it.

He's on the phone, eyebrows almost melting together as he pays attention to what the person on the line is saying.

“What do you mean he met this girl two days ago?”

Oh, he's gossiping. Your eyes almost meet the back of your skull when you roll them and, with a sigh, you throw your purse at him.

He catches it without making that much of an effort.

Asshole.

“End the call.”

“Wait, wait,” he covers the microphone with his hand and frowns at you instead “Shut it up, princess, this is an important call.”

“Princess? Who are you calling princess?” It's not hard to hear the person on the other line, a poor confused guy, talking back.

“My mother's friend’s daughter,” he shoots back and gives you a tired look, putting the phone to his ear again and signaling you to close your mouth “Anyways, is Seonghwa sure he wants to introduce us to her? Isn't it too soon?”

At the name, you perk up. Gears turn in your head, one by one because you're tired and your machinery probably needs another coffee to oil everything up there, but then it hits you.

That's where you knew Park Seonghwa from.

You were not proud of yourself for letting curiosity tickle you enough to check Yunho’s instagram page merely six months ago. On your burner account, of course, the one with a fake name and fake pictures so that people don't know you stalk them when you're bored.

There's this picture on his finsta where they're all sitting around a bonfire. It looked cozy, like they actually love each other which is a crazy concept for you.

All your friends are fake. Also, the concept of a bonfire is insane. Bugs? Acoustic guitars and careless laughter?

Insane.

But it seemed genuine the first time you saw it and it made you burn with jealousy of a life you could never have.

And in that picture, Yunho was hugging Park Seonghwa.

Huh. You wonder what would've happened if he accepted your proposal earlier today.

“Well, okay, uhm… I probably can't tonight. I know I said— Yes, Wooyoung, I know,” he sighs deeply as you sit down right in front of him, one leg over the other with rehearsed poise “I’ll see you all at Hongjoong's gig this weekend, yeah? Okay, bye… I love you too, oh my god,” he giggles and you frown, disgusted “Bye.”

You immediately go for it.

“Your boyfriend?”

“My husband,” his smile is fake and tight and it makes you want to punch him in the face “That's what I'm telling our mothers in fifteen minutes, by the way.”

Rolling your eyes again, you let out a tired breath “As if that would ever stop them.”

“So I reckon you know what's going on?”

“You don't?” eyebrow rising inquisitively and expression turning into a pitiful one, you wonder if that's why he seems so laid back at the moment “Please, indulge me and tell me you do.”

“Of course I know what's going to happen,” scoffing, he crosses his arms and looks at the living room double doors “Just trying to figure out if you're out of the loop so I can put you up to speed on our escape.”

“Oh, please,” you huff out a bitter laugh “If you really wanted to escape you would have been out of the country by now. Don't pretend you're not a people pleaser, Yunho,” looking back at you, that familiar wrath burns in his brown eyes and it makes you smirk “Passing the opportunity to hang out with Park Seonghwa and the rest of your public university crew is not usually what you do. You were probably given an ultimatum by your mother and that's why you're here, isn't it?”

Watching his expression shift from annoyance to confusion to anger in the span of seconds gives you the satisfaction your lost fights of the day took away from you.

“She's really pretty, by the way. His new girlfriend, the mechanic,” you smile, moving your eyes to the ceiling like you're trying to remember something “Didn't catch her name, though. Tell her I say hi when you see her. Oh, and tell Mr. Park I say hi as well. You don't really have to explain to anyone how you know me after tonight anyway.”

“How the hell do you know them?” he's full on frowning now and the corners of your lips twitch in amusement “Are you stalking me, Y/N?”

“Wouldn't you like that, hm?” clicking your tongue in disappointment of his guess, you rest your arms over your knees and lean your weight on them, like you're about to share your secret “I always know everything, Yunho. It's my superpower.”

He imitates your movements, jaw clenched and chest heaving “And here I thought it was being spoiled and annoying.”

Shaking your head, you lean a little further now “You're so silly, Yun, you know that's yours… When will you stop projecting your shit on me?”

“When you stop ruining my fucking life.”

Oh, he's so easy to mess with.

“Glad to know you think I have that much power over you,” you bite the inside of your cheek for a second and then sigh loudly and dramatically “Sadly, I can't control what my parents want me to do. Or do you really think I would choose you, the hypocrite who pretends to run away from his responsibilities, out of all the men in the industry?”

That cuts deep. His face lets you know it does, you also know it's hypocritical on your side to criticize him for getting the treatment you wanted to get to begin with.

He leans in a bit more “As if I would ever choose you, the most cold hearted snake out of the elite.”

Fuck him.

You lean in more, chin up “Mama’s boy.”

Doing the same, he griths out: “Spoiled brat.”

“Rakehell.”

“Psychopath.”

Laughing, you dismiss the fact that your noses are almost touching to shoot back “I hope you enjoy the way the media is going to tear you apart when it comes out that you cheated on me, asshole.”

“And I hope you enjoy when Dispatch digs up what you did at that party four years ago, princess. Falling off a table for mixing your drinks and your drugs and yelling at the staff as they tried to helped you out is quite embarrassing, isn't it?” he returns immediately and it fails to intimidate you but the fact that he knows about that angers you and it sparks in your eyes, so he smirks “Not that I would ever leak that information, of course.”

“You stupid fucking—”

“Ah, good! You're both here already.”

Pulling apart and standing up, you both try to regulate your breathing and conceal your flustered state as your mom and his walk straight towards you.

They're here early, you think. You couldn't possibly have argued with Yunho for fifteen minutes straight.

“I beg you save the public displays of affection for later, though,” his mom says and with a hand on your back she directs you to sit on the sofa Yunho was occupying before. You sit and he does too and you both make sure to leave enough space for the holy spirit and all deities in between you “We're going to need them for the cameras.”

Uncomfortable, you fidget on your seat until the warning look from your mother forces you to stop. Yunho gulps beside you, probably just as uncomfortable as you.

Both women smile brightly like they're not about to lay on you the saddest news of your life.

“As you both know, tonight's gala is a celebration of the twenty years Jeong Tech and Kim’s Innovation have joined creative forces and built the empire we have the pleasure to see unfold today…”

Is your mother reciting your dads speech? It sounds robotic, rehearsed, fake and forced and it's not something new from her but you hate it either way.

“And in celebration of our families friendship, loyalty and alliance,” Yunho’s mom continues and you take in a breath “We're finally making your relationship public!”

Finally?

“Finally?” Yunho asks and you lick your lips “Mom, Auntie… We don't have a relationship.” He tells them plain and simple and you don't look at him when you nod in compliance with the statement.

“Oh, you two have been in love since forever!” His mother dismisses what she just heard “It's only fair to finally let everyone confirm it. This way, you can actually be seen together without our public relations team having to rush to cover everything up.”

That has never happened. You prefer to stay as far away from Yunho as possible when your free will is actually yours to live with.

“Mom, we—”

“We are friends, obviously,” you interrupt Yunho before he dives head first into the depths of hell and his head snaps to you, eyebrows creasing a bit “But it's very much platonic. I don't feel—”

“Yes you do,” your mother interferes, tone stern and fake smile falling for a second as a result before she composes herself “You have loved him since you both were kids and he saved you from falling in the pool at you tenth birthday,” that never happened and slowly but surely you realize they have a whole story planned out for you “And you, Yunho, realized you loved her when she stayed by your side when you had the flu at age thirteen. When she cried over your high fever and came over everyday until you got better. Right?”

The question floats in the air for what feels like eons and she has successfully shut you up for good.

You knew, when you first met Jeong Yunho, there was no way of escaping this.

And he, ever so hopeful and foolish, can't seem to accept it the way you do.

Standing up, he looks at his mother with so much hurt you wonder if you still have that amount of delusion inside of you “You can't do this to us!”

“Dear, do not raise your voice at me—”

“This is the stupidest idea you had yet! I don't care how many years you've been planning this, it's not fair!” He paces around the space and you sigh, looking down at your lap. His voice echoes around the living room and you can practically feel your mom scowl with annoyance at the recklessness “You can't marry me off to someone like it's the eighteenth century! This is ridiculous, I—”

“You'll do it,” his mother stands up as well, voice firmer than you have ever heard. She's a soft spoken woman, a sweet woman even. She's never raised her voice in your presence and you don't let it show how by surprise it takes you “And you know what happens if you don't.”

You don't know why you relate to the pained expression on his face. You really shouldn't because you two are, clearly, on two different ends when it comes to pleasing your family.

His family seems loving, the way his mother treated him growing up felt so genuine you always wished you could switch places with him. Even at times where they thought they were alone in the room and you hid to witness the cracks on the foundation of their love, it never happened.

Until now, when he storms off and she seems rather unaffected by his pain. What she gives off is annoyance, just like your mother, she's annoyed that this didn't go as smoothly as imagined. She moves to follow him.

“Jeong Yunho!”

After she leaves the room, there's screaming in the distance, probably at the end of the long hallway. And then, there's silence until your mother breaks it.

“Well that was an unfortunate mess.”

Your throat feels like it's closing up but you push through it, standing up when your mother does too.

“Mother, I don't really think this is the best way to—”

She frowns at you.

“What are you wearing? A suit?”

“W-what?”

Dumbfounded, you look down at your choice of outfit that she saw this morning and then back up at her.

“I understand there's really nothing that can be done about your body shape but wearing silhouettes like these makes you look very masculine, Y/N.”

She's doing that thing where she belittles you into submission. Vulnerable because of what you just lived and what you just witnessed, you stand there and take it.

“And are you wearing makeup? Your eyebags, darling… I can't believe you let Yunho see you in this state.”

If only she knew you stayed awake the entire night trying to sabotage her plans.

This triggers you beyond belief. It starts with your heartbeat picking up, with your inner child begging you to stand up for yourself and banging at the walls of the safe you locked her up so many years ago.

When you both hear footsteps coming down the hallway, she looks down at her watch and your chest starts heaving.

“You need to get your hair and makeup done in an hour and a half. No need to go to the salon, I arranged things and they're coming over,” she informs you calmly, putting on her fake smile when Yunho’s mom sighs at the doorway and when she turns away from you to get to her and loop her arm around hers, you catch his eye as he makes his way to you “Now, how about I show you what they did with the garden, dear.”

They walk away from the wreckage with a giggle that only raises your panic.

The fire of it burns your pride, your self image and your capability of keeping it together in front of your sworn enemy.

It doesn't help that he comes in with full vengeance, ready to take out on you what he obviously couldn't take out on his mom.

“Why didn't you say anything?!” his voice fills the room once again and you physically recoil, which makes him reconsider. He looks you over once and then takes a deep breath before pressing “Why did you tell them that we're friends? We're not friends, Y/N! You should've… You should've told them that you hated me, that y-you were in love with somebody else, anything!”

Tears cloud your vision and you can only reply in a faint whisper that sounds far away “Yunho, shut up.”

“Are you seriously letting them get away with this?” his index points at the door and he looks at you like he doesn't know you. He doesn't but he does know what your family is like, so you don't know why it surprises him “Are you seriously going along with this stupid charade?!”

Air leaves you. You can't breath but you try to and you faintly hear him say something else but it sounds bottled up, like you're underwater.

“I c-cant.” You try again but it barely comes out.

Breathing in with your mouth, you close your eyes and focus on the way your head pulses. Migraine in full force, it only aggravates the feeling of complete loss of control over your body. But your feet move before you can think, to the couch, to look through your purse because damn it if he finds out.

He follows you.

“Is this some sort of sick revenge against me or—”

They're not there. Why didn't you bring them with you today of all days?

God damn it. Yunho is, somehow, still talking.

“Because if we don't go out there and let them know that—”

“Yunho, shut the fuck up! Stop it!”

Turning around with tears streaming down your face and hyperventilating seems to shut him up for good.

“What's wrong?”

He stops, breathing hard with a confused look on his face and his eyes follow you when you quickly move around him to get out of the room.

“Y/N, wait—”

You don't wait to see if he's following you upstairs. You only know he is because when you trip midway, his hands are there to catch you.

Physical contact with him is so strange and unfamiliar that you have to push his helping hands away and, quickly and still hardly breathing, you make your way to your room.

Neatly done by the staff assigned to ready it up everyday before you get home, the order gets destroyed by your panicked state. You look through your vanity drawers messily, full on sobbing and mumbling incoherently as you do and you slam your fist down on the thing when you fail to find your pills.

“Where the fuck is it?!” You sob out, hand hurting and shaking until you fall to the ground.

You try to recenter, pressing your shaky palms into the soft material of the carpet and sinking your nails hard in it until it starts bunching up beneath your fingers. Eyes closed, you can't see when Yunho knees down next to you but you do jump in fear when his hand touches your arm.

Looking at him, you see when he removes his hand until, hesitantly, he places it firmly on your shoulder “I need you to breathe with me, Y/N,” he starts demonstrating, breathing in once, holding it in for a few seconds and letting the air go next. You choke out a sob “Breathe with me so you can tell me what I can get you.”

You want to scream at him to stop pretending to care and get out but you can't.

Instead, you listen to him. You breathe in when he does, hold the air a second longer than him and let it out afterwards. You do a few rounds of this, just staring at him with tears still falling down your cheeks until the fog in your brain starts clearing.

It's agonizingly slow and it pains you to let yourself be seen in these circumstances, especially by him.

“Now, what were you looking for?”

Coughing uncomfortably, you attempt to get up the floor but he stops you from doing so “You can leave, Yunho, I can get it myself.”

“You're shaking, Y/N,” it takes for him to say it for you to look down at your hands, which are barely grasping the carpet now and just hovering above it as they tremble “What do you need?”

“My pills,” you tell him in a murmur after a few seconds, closing your eyes because, to you, this whole thing is very embarrassing “I don't remember where I put them, m-maybe in my nightstand?”

“Drugs?” he asks with a frown and you shake your head, too panicky to get offended at the insinuation “Ah, actual pills, I see, um…” He gets up and you open your eyes to him walking over to your bed, sitting down to open up the drawer of your nightstand “You have a lot of shit here. What do they look like?”

“Prescription bottle, not a blister. Translucent, white cap.” You're taking control over your own body now, breathing starting to normalize and mind syncing up with the situation again.

Your head hurts still, but it's better than five minutes ago.

“Here it is,” you hear him say and he's on his knees next to you a second later. You take the bottle from his hand, unscrew the cap as fast as you can and shake it to get a pill out of it “It was behind a bunch of stuff. I'll get you some—” putting the pill on your mouth, you crane your head back and force yourself to swallow it “Water.” He finishes in a whisper.

When you look back at him, he looks a little freaked out.

“What?”

“N-nothing… Do you still need some—”

“No. Thank you for getting me these, you can leave now.”

Your tone is cold. The memory of him yelling at you downstairs returns so now you're pissed off and still very, very vulnerable. He's not allowed to see you this way or any way for that matter.

But he just did.

He stays still and you're about to ask him if he didn't hear you or what but then you follow his eyes and notice he's staring at the way your hands still shake a little while trying to get the cap on the bottle again. You presume he's trying to read the label on it, too.

“How long have you had them?”

“The pills? This is a new prescription, so like… A month or so.”

He sighs, closing his eyes and sitting fully on the floor next to you “You know what I'm talking about, Y/N.”

Looking away, you hate that the cat is out of the bag. If only your mother didn't comment on your appearance maybe, just maybe, you could've kept the secret to yourself and taken it to the grave with you.

You hate that Yunho, out of all people, found out.

But he helped you, so you decide to please him with an answer.

“I started getting them when I was ten, I think. I didn't know what was happening for a while and then at fourteen I learned what a panic attack was,” you recall, tone sounding breathy and tired and a little annoyed. He nods “And then I got officially diagnosed with panic disorder at twenty, so not that long ago.”

Eyes back at him, you see him frown and then nod again as if the information you just gave him is hard to digest. It's not, it's actually extremely normal for someone like you.

It makes you wonder if he has ever felt the same.

Taking another calming breath, you speak again “I would appreciate it if you keep this in between us. Not tell your brother or anything,” you clarify before he can respond “Because your brother is going to tell my brother who is going to tell my mom and that's a whole disaster I don't really want to deal with.”

“They don't know?”

“Of course they don't know,” a bitter laugh makes it past your lips “If they knew, don't you think I would be the image of a visibility campaign against anxiety or something like that?”

“They're your family, though.”

“Blood is thicker than water but I'm allowed to have my secrets,” it's pathetic, the way your vision clouds once more and tears trail their path down your face once nor3 “And you of all people know how exploitative they are, so don't tell them.”

What happens next takes your breath away again. Not for the reason you expect but it does and, for the first time in your life, Jeong Yunho is able to make your brain malfunction.

You don't really think he realizes his hand is on your cheek, thumb whipping away your tears so softly it turns to you to a puddle right away

The last time someone handled you with that much care was…

Never?

Unable to look away, you catch the second he notices what he's doing and, by the time he does, he already leaned in a fraction into your space.

Snapping out the weird, dizzy moment you two just had, he lowers his hand and you clear your throat to try and shake your feelings, all of them, off.

Off. Away. You need to get your shit together and work on depuffing your face before the makeup artist and hair stylist arrive.

“Listen, if you want to mysteriously disappear tonight and miss the gala you can totally do it and I'll cover up for you. I wouldn't blame you and I don't really care if our parents take it out on me,” your words are fast and your tone lighthearted. Like you're making a joke but, also, you're totally not “In return for you to keep your mouth shut about this,” you shake the pill bottle “I wouldn't do it out of kindness, of course, after all I am the most cold hearted snake of the elite.”

Scoffing, he closes his eyes and lets his head hang low for a few seconds “You’re so—”

“Beautiful? Smart? Outstanding?” You offer.

He looks back at you again “Insufferable.”

You squint your eyes at him before your lips turn upwards in a sardonic smile.

Yunho lets out a heavy sigh “I'll do it.”

“Run away to Timbuktu and change your identity?”

“Be there,” he corrects, clearly tired of your antics “I’ll be there tonight. We are up to our necks in this bullshit, both of us,” he reminds your “And I'm sure my mother wouldn't let me get far if I did try to run away.”

The ghost of a genuine smile curls in your lips “Pussy.”

He rolls his eyes.

“See? Annoying as fuck.”

Your smile fully widens at that. Finally, some sense of normalcy after whatever the hell happened a few minutes ago.

“What dirt does she have on you to make you bend to her will all of the sudden?”

“She—”

“I'm sorry to interrupt,” both looking up at your doorway, you try your best to hide the pills under your thighs as you eye the staff member suspiciously at his interruption “But misses Jeong is calling for Yunho downstairs. She says that you have to leave to get ready and misses Kim urges you, miss Kim, to get a shower.”

“Yeah, she smells kinda bad, doesn't she?” Yunho jokes but the staff member doesn't laugh at his quip. Instead, he earns a push from you before getting up “I'll get going then.”

The guy bows and disappears at that.

“Finally.”

You feel like you have to thank him again for what he did. With words, not actions. But he doesn't look like he's expecting it and the words hang on your tongue without making it past your lips because it's against your morals to thank Jeong Yunho for absolutely anything.

“See you tonight, Y/N,” he says and you make a face that makes him smile for some reason. He moves to the door but stalls and, as you get up, you see him turn to you one more time “Bring them with you,” he points at the bottle on your hand “Just in case.”

You huff and close the drawers of your vanity, stashing the pills in one of them “Don't tell me what to do.”

“I wouldn't dare,” mimicking the staff member, he bows dramatically and you groan “Goodbye, princess.”

You close the last drawer with a little more force than you intend to as soon as he's out of eyesight and then whisper and amused: “Asshole.”

Now that's a couple of hours later and your head allows you to lock back in, to focus on the matter at task and prepare for what's to come.

Sitting in the car, your chauffeur takes the hill up to the Jeong’s so you can pick up Yunho and show up together to the event.

Hair beautifully done and makeup beat to the gods, it irks you that your mothers have everything so planned out down to the last details. There's a tablet on your lap and you're rehearsing the backstory they put together for this made up relationship.

As they told you earlier, you have to pretend you two have been in love since childhood. There's some paragraphs narrating how you supposedly felt like you owe him your life after he “saved you” from failing into the deepest part of the pool when you didn't know how to swim.

Which is true, you didn't know how to swim at that age but Yunho never saved you from anything.

Except maybe today, only after aggravating the situation to the point you couldn't help but break down in front of him.

Pressing a finger down on your temple, you close your eyes and try to wipe the image of him helping you away. Instead, the way the washed your tears away pops into it and you groan, earning a curious look from your driver.

“Is this hill endless?” you ask in a way to cover up your true grieving and he laughs a little, which makes you smile before complaining again, as a joke. Kind of “That's why they usually come to our house, it takes a whole business day to get here.”

That seizes your driver's curiosity and you look out the window when their mansion comes in full view. It's majestic, it's modern and it looks really pretty from your balcony at night, when it's all lit up even when you know the probability of someone actually being there is scarce.

His dad and brother are always at the office, his mom is always at a meditation class or the gym or the mall with your mom and Yunho, well, you can only assume he's never actually there. He seems to have a very active social life and you don't think his mom would necessarily approve of his public university friends being there.

When the car comes to a stop in his driveway, you look back down and scroll to that part of the document: You're supposed to be supportive on his choice of avoiding a private education, call him humble and down to earth if the question gets asked but not praise the public education system because your dad endorses a really expensive school, the one he and your fake father in law graduated at.

The one you graduated at.

It was so freeing not looking at his face in the halls when you started uni and you, quite frankly, don't think about him often enough to wonder why he was allowed to attend the university of his liking and study what he pleases.

Now you're curious but, as you see him descend the stairs that lead to his massive front door, you're not sure you want to talk to him outside of business for too long.

He's all dolled up in a navy three-piece, color matching your dress and all. Hair done and out of his forehead, you hate to say it does more for him than the usual style he wears it in. You don't remember the last time his bangs didn't cover his eyebrows and now you're wondering if you pushed all the times you did to the back of your mind.

It'll be hard to pretend you don't think he looks good because he does and you don't want it to show in your face, so you stay focused on the tablet as he makes his way to the car.

The driver gets out and attempts to open the door for him but you hear Yunho telling him it's okay.

“I'll do it, thank you, thank you,” he opens the door and so you hear him more clearly now and he slides on the seat next to yours with ease, a disappointed look on his face when he notices you “Ah, you're here.”

“They didn't tell you?” sounding boring as hell, you scroll to the bottom of the document and pass the tablet to him, avoiding to look at him again “We're supposed to arrive together so the photographers waiting outside can start speculating and reporting to the media outlets that something might be going on.”

He grabs the tablet, looks at the document for five seconds in total and then hands it back to you “Oh, yeah, I didn't read that.”

Your driver gets in his seat and starts the car, maneuvering out of the driveway in seconds and so you have to brace yourself on the seat to avoid sliding down on it as you're driven down the hill.

“You didn't read it?” your head snaps back at him and he shrugs “Yunho, we're supposed to pretend we're madly in love with each other and you didn't study?!”

“We've been pretending to get along in front of our moms for over a decade, Y/N,” he deadpans “We're doing the same tonight, only at a bigger scale. It's not that complicated,” shrugging again, he looks out at the street for a second before looking at you again, a disgusted expression on his face “I hope you're not expecting me to be all over you because now that I can't fake.”

“Because you're never felt the touch of a girl in your entire life? I know that, loser,” he's about to retaliate but you stop him with your index finger “You've been away from the spotlight for way too long. You don't know how ruthless and scrutinizing the people attending are, I do. So sit pretty and study this.”

You shove the tablet back and he groans, looking through the document briefly again.

“And how do you know who's attending?”

“Page ten through twenty five. There's a detailed list with names, occupations and hobbies so you can have possible topics of conversation. I also took the time to highlight in pink the ones I want to avoid,” you point out and he moves his finger on the screen until he gets to the list, scoffing in amusement a second later “You should avoid them too. Especially the Hwang’s,” he gives you a look, asking for an explanation “They gossip too much, their friend groups are filled with snakes who can't take an NDA seriously and the girl is a little in love with you, so she'll flirt with you the entire night.”

“I don't even know her.”

“You don't have to, she's in love with the idea of you and your family's influence. Seriously, Yunho,” you let out an annoyed noise, crossing your arms over your chest “It's like amateur hour with you. You should know this.”

“I live a normal life, princess, I don't know any of this because it's not important to me,” he states as simple as that and you shake your head in disapproval “It shouldn't be important to you or to anyone, really.”

“Oh, but it is,” you return and when you look at him he's looking back. There's this electricity passing in the space in between you, something dangerous that's the tail tale of how different you both are and you start asking yourself how are you going to pull this whole thing off “And now, it is to you. You're about to enter a ballroom filled with people who admire you for simply being a Jeong, people who want to be you. It's hard and it’s pressuring but you declined my offer to not show up earlier today, so fucking own it.”

There's a pause where you see his jaw clenching, you see him shift uncomfortably and adjust his tie before presumably telling himself to relax.

“And study as much as you can, I'm not covering up your mistakes.”

The rest of the ride to the venue is silent and, when you get there, you exchange a look with your driver that's both apologetic and a request for discretion. You know your staff is discreet but you thank them every time you can because it's a lot of shit to handle.

“Here you go, honey.” The pet name almost makes you gag but you take the electronic from his hand, lock it and give it to the driver to safekeep.

“I prefer Y/N,” or even princess, because you're used to it “Don't try that inside.”

Rolling his eyes, he sarcastically lets out “Anything else your highness wants from me before we get off?”

“Yeah, for you to shut up and leave me alone forever after tonight but that's not really going to happen, hm?” You can see through the tinted windows how people gather outside to try and see who's inside the car and so you fix your hair with your fingers and then turn to fix Yunho’s tie. He makes a noise of disagreement but you shush him “Oh and for you to open the door for me?”

He levels you with his stare “Can't do it yourself?”

“Fucking do it and stop asking questions, Yunho.” You say under your breath and he smiles a little, triumphant like he just won something only for pissing you off.

Neither one of you want to lose the staring contest you suddenly have going on and it's, once again, electric. The tension is palpable and not in a positive way but you have to act quick when his brown eyes scan your face and linger where they don't need to. Hand still on his tie, it's tempting to try and choke him with it so instead you just tighten it a little more and it serves as a

“Now, Yunho.”

When he gets out of the car, you hear people gasp. He's not usually at these types of events because his mother must indulge him a lot. But also, he's usually seen with a frown whenever he does attend, so it must come to a shock to everyone he actually showed up.

It came with a shock for you too, you're not going to lie. You fully expected him to back out on his word and leave you hanging to deal with the shitshow yourself, no matter what he said this afternoon.

Rounding the car, he doesn't make the dramatic pause you were hoping for before opening the door and offering his hand to you. The gasps intensify once you elegantly get out, flashes going off and blinding you for a second before you take your surroundings in and loop your arm around Yunho’s.

There's people screaming both your names, asking questions that you don't get to answer because it's not the time for that and this is not a red carpet you have to walk through.

You wave your hand at the cameras, bow to the photographers and smile brightly when a girl behind an iphone tells you how pretty you look.

That would be the first person to compliment you today.

You don't turn to see what Yunho is doing, probably handling the attention in his own weird, detached way like he normally does and when someone signals you both to get going inside, you follow the person until the doors of the venue closing behind you drown out the paparazzi noise.

In the solitude of the initial hall, you see how Yunho lets his posture fall and lets out a breath “Well, I hated that.”

Condescendingly, you smile at him “Poor baby,” you lean in a bit into him “We’re only getting started.”

The horror on his face as he stares back brings out a nervous feeling inside you, but soon you're dragging him by his arm and following the staff member down the hall.

And when she opens the door into the ballroom, you let the feeling overcome you for a second and you gulp because of it.

Only getting started indeed.

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. This is part one of three (possibly more if the story extends that far). Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

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azrielbrainrot · 1 year ago

Text

You Take Me Higher

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: What happens when you run into Azriel at a bar after a long mission?

Warnings: Smut, Public Sex

Word Count: 4220

Rating: 18+

Notes: This is basically pwp except it's part of a new universe I'm working on. Still, you can read this as a standalone since there's no actual plot here. I just felt like writing mindless smut since "She Laughs Like You" is so plot heavy. Hope you enjoy <3

Spy!Reader Masterlist

You normally don't come to Rita's, preferring calmer bars to the loud and suffocating club, it's too much of an assault to your senses. But your friends had invited you enough times for you to accept, not wanting to turn them down again. You hadn't seen them in a while after a particularly long mission outside of the Night Court so it was nice to catch up with them even if it meant dealing with the headache that always follows your trips here.

You'd seen the High Lord and his Inner Circle as soon as you arrived. Their commanding presence allowing your eyes to find them immediately among the rest of the club goers. Upon seeing them, seeing him, you almost regretted coming out, not knowing how to act around him outside of work or your escapades and definitely not wanting to do it in front of so many people.

You decide on a simple wave, nodding discreetly at him and the rest of his family, turning your attention back to your now gushing friends after they wave back politely, making sure you didn't linger on his hazel eyes or the unbuttoned silk shirt, keeping up with the “friendly acquaintances” narrative you've crafted for yourselves. Intending on keeping away from him for the rest of the night.

Azriel seemed to have a different idea as he signaled for you to follow him not even an hour later. And, as soon as you excused yourself from your friends and stepped out into the hallway, he grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers and discreetly guiding you through a back door, to a dark alley behind the popular bar. Your back was against the wall and his lips on yours, hands roaming all over your body, before you could even question him or get a good glimpse at him under the moonlight.

“Azriel,” you whine, trying to get his attention away from your neck, where he has been leaving tiny bites followed by soothing open-mouthed kisses, effectively making you lose your mind. Your hand tightens around his collar at a particularly hard bite, one you're sure left the imprint of his sharp canines on your supple skin.

Just when you were about to call out to him once more, thinking he didn't hear you or was choosing to ignore you, the shadowsinger finally lets out a hum against the column of your throat, at last acknowledging you were trying to talk to him.

You swallow before speaking, trying to get rid of the dryness in your mouth. This backfires as it only makes him use his grip on the back of your neck to pull you even closer to him when he feels the movement, and a moan leaves your mouth before you find your words.

“Someone could see us,” you push through the desire steadily building inside you, trying to be the voice of reason, but you barely get the words out as he keeps nibbling on the soft skin of your throat, making you struggle to hold onto your composure.

When he simply lets out another amused hum before continuing to mark up your neck - to the point you're not sure the glamour magic you can use will be enough for covering them up - you tangle your fingers around the strands of dark hair and pull hard, effectively getting his attention. He grunts softly but allows you to move him away from your neck, and you're finally able to meet his eyes for the first time since he's taken you to the alley.

Your heart stalls in your chest when you take him in. Pupils blown out behind half-lidded eyes, the beautiful hazel almost imperceptible in the midst of all the desire. Dark hair messy, falling into his eyes, and shirt half undone from your tight grip on his collar, the illyrian marks you've grown to love peaking through. He was breathing heavy, chest rising and falling rapidly as he took advantage of the break you've given him to catch his breath.

The sight almost makes you forget your protests, brain going numb at the raw hunger reflected on his face. He's always been mesmerizing, you've been caught by his beauty ever since the first time you met him all those decades ago, but in moments like these you sometimes have trouble believing he's even real. He's like a God walking among mortals.

Azriel smirks when he notices your eyes glazing over and your scent deepening with arousal, taking the opportunity and leaning down for another, slower but equally passionate kiss. He's been so focused on your neck that he barely even tasted you since you've been outside. He wants to take his time with you for a moment.

Your mouth opens for him immediately, melting into him and releasing the grip you had on his dark locks in favor of grabbing the back of his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to you, needing to feel all of him while he explores your mouth.

Eventually, you break the dizzying kiss again, your senses catching up to you in between the desire fogging up the air. He lets out a sound suspiciously similar to a whine and leans his forehead against yours, barely moving a breath away from your lips. Resigned to hear what you have to say before being able to continue indulging in your enticing taste.

“We'll get caught if we stay here,” you whisper, lips brushing against his soft ones with every word.

You needed to keep your head leveled, wanting to avoid getting caught in such a risky position by any of the drunk party goers or, even worse, your High Lord. You don't even let yourself wonder what anyone would think if they found you tangled up with someone who is technically your superior, outside of a bar of all places. You'd both be in a lot of trouble.

“I won't let anyone see us,” he assures, and as the words leave his mouth, the dark shadows always accompanying him start swirling around the both of you, as if corroborating the statement. “I can keep us well hidden.” He finishes the sentence with a chaste peck on your lips and moves back to look into your eyes, searching for any doubts and waiting to see your response. Always so respectful even in the throes of pleasure.

You bite your lip, holding his gaze as you realize what he's implying. It's not that you would consider yourself a prude by any means but you've never done anything like this in public. Well, aside from the first night that started it at all, but the circumstances had been completely different then. Drunk fae could stumble out through the back door at any moment here, it could even be one of your friends or his. There was no anonymity in one of the most popular bars in Velaris. This might be the most irresponsible thing you'd do.

And, as much as that's true, you can't deny the heat spreading in your belly at the suggestion, the wetness pooling between your legs.

Azriel is looking at you like he could eat you whole, and you're more than aware of his abilities, of the delicious pleasure he can bring you. He wouldn't lie to you either, if he promised he'd keep you hidden then you know he will follow through with it. You'd trust him with anything.

Without the danger of really getting caught, what's stopping you from letting this irresistible male have his way with you right here? You'd be a fool to deny him and yourself the pleasure.

Your lips are back on his before you can talk yourself out of it, wrapping your arms fully around his neck and letting him take charge. He gets the message quickly, grabbing your waist and pressing you against him, letting you feel his bulge on your stomach, so close to where you need him most, making you both moan into the kiss.

Azriel has never been anything short of passionate when fucking you, always giving it his all and completely drowning you in mind boggling pleasure, but today he's acting differently. His rough touch is hungrier, greedier, as if he couldn't get enough of you no matter how much he took. It feels like he's untamed in his desire and it just so happens that he desires to have you.

His hands move all over your body, soon finding their way under your dress so he can grab at your thighs and pull you closer. You let yours wander down his chest, taking advantage of the mostly unbuttoned shirt, raking your nails softly over the tan skin.

When he abandons your mouth and starts leaving kisses down your jaw, moving to the slowly healing love bites, you notice the shadows have thoroughly covered you when you try to look around, suddenly aware of the loud music.

They're acting as a protective barrier to the outside world, the same way they hide him when he's in enemy territory fulfilling his Spymaster duties. Any last bit of remaining doubt evaporated with the realization. He's never been caught after all.

You let your head fall back against the brick wall, letting out a breath that soon turns into a moan when he bites into your throat hard at the same time his hand finds your folds, teasing the sensitive skin through the drenched fabric of your panties. Feeling him grin against your skin at the reaction he pulled from you.

“Always so ready for me,” he praises and then licks a stripe up your throat, tilting your head further back to reach your chin and connect your mouths once again. You accept him greedily, grinding down on his hand, needing him to touch you properly.

After all the attention he's been giving you and the thought of trying something new with the enticing male, your underwear is absolutely soaked through and you need him to take responsibility for it already. You feel like you'd been doused with hot oil.

Thankfully, he seems to take pity on you, pushing your panties to the side, moving up and down to gather some wetness before slowly starting to circle your clit in time with each lick of his tongue into your mouth.

He's swallowing the desperate sounds trying to escape past your lips and your nails start to dig into his shoulders, trying to ground yourself somehow. You'd be embarrassed at how close you already were if this wasn't Azriel. Each stroke of his scarred thumb against your sensitive clit was taking you higher.

He stops his movements as if sensing how close you were. You were about to protest when he also breaks the kiss, needing him to keep touching you, but hold your tongue when he pushes your dress up to your waist, exposing your soaked underwear to the cold night air. He curses softly as your scent reaches him.

“Keep this up for me, pretty.” His voice was deeper, rough with pleasure and restraint.

Your body catches up to the order before your mind has the chance to, doing as you're told and holding onto your dress so he can have an unobstructed view of you. He breathes out a “good” without ever taking his eyes off the wet fabric clinging to your folds, the praise and need in his eyes only adding fuel to the fire burning inside you.

Azriel gets down on his knees between your legs, now eye level with your cunt as he pulls the panties right to the side, his other hand reaching up, encouraging you to part your thighs so he can feast on the mouth watering sight in front of him.

You can't help the cocky smirk when he lets out a low groan at the sight. You had bought the white skimpy lace in hopes he'd be taking it off, you just couldn't have predicted it would be happening in a dark alley behind this bar.

He looks up at you then, holding your gaze as he leans closer to your heat, licking you from hole to clit, making a show of moaning at the taste. Your hands move to grab at his hair instantly, letting your mouth fall open in a silent moan as he repeats the action.

Your legs threaten to give out when he starts kissing and sucking, not wasting a single drop of your wetness. His thumb circles your hole as he moves to tongue at your clit, swirling it around once, twice before his finger is filling you up.

He throws one of your thighs over his shoulder, diving into your cunt. Soon adding another finger and pumping both into you, getting you ready for him. You start grinding your hips against his face, chasing his fingers, his mouth, the mind numbing feeling he's giving you. He hums into you, the vibrations making you tremble and let out an embarrassing mewl of his name.

You don't know how he can have this effect on you, this male could probably make you melt into a puddle with a simple look. He pulls away with a harsh suck so he can watch his fingers move in and out of you, can watch the wetness almost dripping down your legs and his wrist, replacing his tongue with a scarred thumb, the rough texture so different from his wet tongue, adding an extra bite to the pleasure.

You only notice your head was thrown back against the wall, eyes closed as you chase your orgasm, when you hear him call your name. Eyes moving down to meet his dark ones again.

“I need you to cum on my fingers so I can fuck you, alright?” You nod, half delirious already, even though he's barely gotten his hands on you. You'd do anything he told you to.

It doesn't take long before a familiar knot starts tightening in your lower belly, your walls clenching around his fingers. He starts nibbling at the soft skin of your thigh, leaving marks similar to the ones decorating your neck and chest. Mumbling sweet praises against your skin, words you can't even focus on with the blood rushing through your ears.

Your orgasm catches you by surprise, making you almost lose your balance as your eyes roll to the back of your head and your mouth opens in a silent scream, hands trying to find purchase on his shoulders and his hair, forgetting about the dress and holding onto his instead. His hand abandons your clit so he can grab onto your waist, helping you stay up.

He keeps his fingers moving slowly as you come down from your high, breathing heavily and letting out soft gasps. As your mind clears up, he leans over to leave one last kiss against your heat before taking his fingers out carefully and standing up. Grabbing your chin so he can kiss you once more, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

You pull away with a tug on his lip. The orgasm only made you hungrier, you wanted to feel him inside you, stretching you out. “I need your cock, Az.”

“So greedy,” he moans, though you can't figure out if disapprovingly or otherwise. He moves one hand to start unbuttoning his pants so he can free his painful erection at last. You follow the movement, saliva gathering in your mouth involuntarily at the tantalizing sight of his hard, leaking cock. He pumps his fist around it, relieving some of the need. You swallow, moving up to meet his gaze when you feel the intensity of his stare.

He's probably thinking the same thing as you. Remembering how his heavy cock feels against your wet tongue, moving down your throat. You see him grab the base of his cock harder, internally debating if he wants to let you suck him off or fuck you. Your cunt clenches at the thought and apparently the sentiment is clear on your face, the desire written there enough for him to make his decision as he grabs onto the back of your thighs, lifting you up against the wall.

The movement has his cock press right against you, feeling the hardness slide across your sensitive heat. You grab hold of him, not resisting giving him one teasing stroke before guiding him to your hole, needing to have him inside you desperately.

Azriel starts pushing in slowly, stretching you out deliciously. It doesn't matter how many times he fucks you, it will always take you by surprise. You've never had anyone fill you up so well, it almost seemed impossible how he even fit inside you sometimes.

He takes his time filling you up, knowing your body well enough to recognize any twinge of discomfort. In this position, it feels like he can go in deeper, the angle hitting every sensitive spot.

When he finally bottoms out, Azriel presses his whole body against yours, holding you up with his own hips and moving one of his hands over your chest so he can tug the front of the dress down and give your neglected breasts some attention as you adjust to him.

You can feel your walls flutter around his cock, moaning out his name when his mouth finds its way over one of your nipples.

Feeling more than ready for him, you push your hips against him, urging him to finally fuck you. He chokes out a breath, taking a vengeful bite at your nipple, as you move yourself on him, pulling his hips back to thrust back into you, feeling you clench around him. His mouth abandons your chest and meets yours again, hands tightening around your waist as his thrusts' rhythm increases.

It's like all the hunger from before comes back tenfold, his grip most likely bruising your skin as the sounds of wet skin slapping against each other fills the alleyway, your moans rising in tempo with each snap of his hips.

Just as you start losing yourself in the pleasure, one of his hands comes up to cover your mouth. You still let out a muffled whine when he slows down to warn you, whispering in your ear, “The barrier the shadows create isn't completely soundproof. You need to be quiet for me.” You whine in response, making him add, “Alright?”

You almost forgot where you were, and that anyone could walk by you at any moment, but in the heat of desire, the fact only makes you wetter, hips moving of their own accord against him, prompting him to pick up the pace.

“You said we wouldn't get caught.” The last thing you want to focus on right now is to keep quiet when he's making you feel so good.

“We won't,” he moves back to look into your eyes, “Unless you want us to.”

Maybe it's the drinks from before or the way his cock throbs inside you, but you almost wish someone would see you, so they would know you're the one this bewitching male chooses to fuck, you're the one making him cum time and time again, it's your name he moans out in pleasure.

The possessive feeling coils around your heart, a feeling you have no right to have. You have no sort of claim over him after all, but luckily he doesn't let your linger in such thoughts, and starts fucking you hard and fast again, effectively pushing all thoughts out of your mind.

“Gods, you feel fucking perfect,” he growls against your ear, making you let out a long muffled moan. He draws his cock out almost completely before slamming back into you, just so he can hear the gasp that still escapes through his fingers, before picking up the pace again, keeping to shallow thrusts.

His hand moves from your mouth eventually, confident you won't scream too loud, or simply not caring if you do anymore. Both of you get lost in the feeling of each other, tongues battling inside your mouth, your hands roaming all over his shoulders, coming up to tangle in his silky hair. Time almost stands still around the two of you as you hide in his shadows, completely separated from the outside world.

You start getting closer, and knowing you won't be able to hold out for much longer but wanting him to finish with you, you move your trembling hand down his back, finding the raised skin where his wings meet his back and tease them over his shirt.

Illyrians are extremely protective of their wings and you know how sensitive they are, so when he let you touch them around their base for the first time, you were more than flattered even though you can't fully run your fingers over the leathery skin yet, and you're almost sure this isn't the most sensitive spot. You know this is a big step for him, considering all the trust issues you've seen him display, so you don't mind being patient.

Your fingers barely make contact before he's growling and his pace falters, nails digging into your skin. You'd caught him off guard, but he recovers too fast, pushing you even harder into the wall and speeding up, fully intent on making you both fall over the edge now.

“I'm so close,” you breathe out, feeling yourself right at the precipice.

“Me too,” his thrusts turn even more erratic, confirming his words. And with another snap of his hips, you're falling over the edge, moaning out his name with no care for who hears it.

He follows you soon after, thrusting deeper and grinding into you, pumping you full of his cum as the both of you ride out the mind numbing orgasms. You don't remember the last time you came so hard, every nerve on your body is alive with pleasure, if it hadn't been for his hold on you, you don't think you would have been able to stay up.

His lips find your pulse point after a bit, leaving soft kisses around as you massage his scalp, watching with amusement as his wings twitch softly. You would stay in this position for the rest of time if you could, everything just falls into place in these soft moments between you two.

Unfortunately, you get a stark reminder of your surroundings when you hear the back door open, the music filtering through it. You tense immediately, suddenly hyper aware of your compromising position. Azriel leans away from your neck to look into your eyes, his serene expression and the way his wings cocoon around both of you calming you down.

Just as he promised, whoever stumbled out of the bar didn't even suspect you were hidden in the shadows, walking out onto the main street as if they were alone. When you don't hear any footsteps anymore, you let your head fall back against the wall, finally relaxing and breathing a soft, “Fuck.”

He watches you for a moment before speaking up. “We need to get out of here. People are starting to leave,” he tells you, a glimpse of amusement behind his words.

You nod in agreement, knowing he's right but, even after your scare, still hesitant to let go of him, reveling in the warmth of his skin against yours and his soft touch for as long as possible.

The longer you've been sleeping together, the harder it is to accept that outside of the bedroom you're nothing more than acquaintances, you wouldn't even call him your friend. Aside from moments like this or the rare occasion of running into him when you're working, you don't see or talk to him at all.

You always find yourself missing him, not only his body. That's something you need to hide from him, the implications would be enough to have him call off this agreement between you. There is no space for feelings in it, both of you made it very clear from the beginning. You should do yourself a favor and end it before the fluttering of your heart morphs into something more dangerous but you can't bring yourself to even consider it.

He pulls out of you gently, none the wiser to the internal conflict raging inside you. Getting you down from his hold and carefully helping you stand on unsteady legs, muscles still spasming faintly. A rag appears through his shadows and he helps you clean yourself up with it before even worrying about himself, making sure your dress falls back into place as well. You were truly playing a losing game with him. How could you not fall for Azriel?

When you're both decent enough, he calls his shadows off and you put up a glamour around yourself, hopefully masking his male scent clinging to your skin.

“I need to find my friends and let them know I'm leaving.” You try to think of excuses, knowing they'll know you're running off with someone but praying they can't figure out who.

He nods at you, looking over your body with an indecipherable look in his eyes as he takes note of his marks disappearing. “I'll wait for you here.”

“What?”

“My family is used to me sneaking off in the middle of outings,” a smirk grows on his face as he adds, “And I'm not done with you quite yet.”

taglist: @tinymarklee

#azriel smut #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel acotar #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fic #acotar x reader #acotar smut #divider by saradika #my writing

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love-jelly · 1 year ago

Text

RIGHT HERE.

sypnosis: you're soft for yuuta. more than you should be, considering that he's spoiled with your endless mounts of affection, basking him in the purity of your love.

contents: slight yandere!yuuta, cunninlingus, fingering, porn with plot (?), pet names (baby, pretty baby, etc)

word count: ~2.1k

a/n: i don't think i've ever wrote this much in my life, especially for a fic!! i lightly (barely) proofread this so if it sucks.... well, hopefully it doesn't. i listened to right here by chase atlantic for this fic because it reminds me of yan!yuuta sm so you can listen to it while reading if you want! i hope you enjoy !! minors dni. ageless / blank / minor blogs will be blocked if seen interacting!

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yuuta is never far from you, always a step ahead, always ready, always a steady presence in your life, from your teenage years to now.

how could you not be soft for him, knowing he's the only person that's ever stayed in your life? laying in bed with him, twirling the locks of hair that have started limiting his vision, an energy of tranquility enveloping the room that you both inhibit. a sudden call from your phone causes vibrations and loud rings that shake the peace that you both felt prior. you sit up tiredly to answer, sighing.

"hello?" you answer, not bothering to check who called. no one usually ever calls you at this time of day.

"are you down?" a voice you recognize emerges from the voicebox of your phone, demanding an answer to her sudden question. it's your best friend.

"down for...?" a confused tone is prominent in your voice.

"is yuuta hogging you again?" she jokes but you still see yuuta furrow his eyebrows at the comment. "read the groupchat! are you down for a girl's date today?"

"ohh, i didn't see the notifications, let me see." even before checking the messages, you know you don't really feel like going. today's your first day off in forever and you really wanted to spend it with yuuta but when you see the all uppercase texts clearly exhibiting extreme excitement from your best friends, you put your phone back to your ear. "i'll go."

your friend squeals excitedly, "okay!! text you're going in the groupchat, all the girls are finally free today to get together!! i can't wait to see you all again! see you later!" and promptly ends the call.

you turn back to yuuta, his eyebrows still furrowed. you smile softly and gently press your fingertips to his face to rid him of the wrinkles. "i'm sorry, baby, i know you wanted to spend all of today with me... i'll make it up to you, i promise."

his face relaxes but his eyes are still troubled. "it's okay... when are you leaving?"

you check the groupchat one more time, filtering through all the messages including exclaims of excitement to search for the details. "it starts at 2:30pm so i should leave at 1:30... which means i should start getting ready at 11:30 max. it's 10:00 so we still have time together."

yuuta pulls you back into bed, wrapping his arms around you and noses his way into your neck, making you giggle slightly from the ticklish feeling.

yuuta lightly bites your neck, leaving a light indent of his teeth. only slightly satisfied, he stares at it before he gets up, leaving you in the receding warmth of the bed.

frowning slightly, you call out "where are you going?"

'show her she only needs you', the devil on his shoulder whispers.

he hums. he turns backwards and picks you up gently, taking you with him. he kisses your cheek softly. "breakfast." he answers.

_____________

you softly groan into your closed fist. this was your weak point. yuuta, with his messily but cute tousled bedhead, shirtless, and cooking (especially when its your favorite breakfast). you had forgotten how badly this scene made the pit in your stomach ignite.

"hm?" his eyes flit over to you for a second before settling back onto the food in the pan in front of him, hiding a small smile that you don't catch.

you sit up quickly, adjusting your legs. "nothing, love!" your voice sounds tight and somewhat strained.

he knits his eyebrows together, "are you sure?" he glances at you, for longer this time before focusing back on the hot pan.

"yes..." you trail off, your eyes laser beamed at how he grips the pan handle and spatula. the tight grip of his hand on the pan.... then on your thigh.... then onto your waist....

shaking your head abruptly, you smile as you see yuuta plating your food. how could you think of your sweet boyfriend like this? poor yuuta, just wants to cook you breakfast... but the filthy thoughts continue to plague your mind.

his tongue flicking the fork (getting the remnants of the food left on it), a tongue you feel between your legs often.... his fingers wrapped around the fork (to feed you, of course), fingers you feel inside you often... you're in a daze, staring at him with the hungriest look yuuta has seen in your eyes in awhile. it's not his fault you've been so busy that you can't spare time for him and that you both haven't your fill of each other in awhile.

your running rampant thoughts are interrupted by the conspirator of your current fantasies himself when yuuta swipes at the side of your mouth to rid you of some crumbs and move them into your mouth.

and you can't catch yourself fast enough. your tongue darts out and collides with his finger and he pauses, frozen. in your starved haze, you grab his hand to pull him closer, sucking on the tip of his finger. now in his own mind-fogged state, he hyperfixates on your plush lips wrapped around his thumb and retracts it to replace it with him index and middle finger.

sliding his fingers into your mouth, he lightly presses down on your tongue. "you're so pretty..." he says, his eyes watching your eyes water.

taking his fingers out, he pulls you into a hard kiss. with teeth clashing and tongues dancing, he easily picks you up and carries you back to the bedroom.

in the bedroom, yuuta's rough with you. dropping you on the bed, watching you bounce on the bed for a second until he follows you, crawling on top of you. he quickly rids you of your flimsy tank and boy shorts, smiling smugly as he sees the wet spot in your panties. he kisses you your lips to your waist, sucking hickies along the way as if he's drawing a trail from his favorite place to kiss to his favorite place to make you cry out in pleasure.

when he reaches your waistline, he looks up at you. "you're so gorgeous" he whispers as he pulls apart your legs. you smile gently, it's so yuuta to compliment you in any situation.

your smile, however, is quickly contorted to a face of pleasure when you feel a light and wet pressure at your core. yuuta always knows exactly how to make you feel good, like he knows you better than he knows himself, like he crafted you himself.

his tongue makes quick work of your folds, lapping at the juice that leaks out of your pretty cunt, making you shut your eyes and cry out from the stimulation. diving into your hole and nudging your clit with his nose, you both simultaneously moan, him from your taste and you from the stimulation. your hands quickly find purchase in his hair, slightly pulling it to ground you while yuuta works on you, worships you like you deserve. through the pleasure, you find it in you to, somehow, open your eyes.

you can never get enough of this sight; yuuta's blown out pupils dizzy and drunk on your slick, slacked jaw taking in whatever your messy cunt gives him, and hair messy from your pulling and pushing. he's not usually a messy eater but with your cunt gushing out sweet elixir, what is he but a hopeless man amidst with a goddess- his goddess?

"y-yuu" you choke out, one hand pulling his hair and the other holding one of his hands tightly. "yes, love?" he kisses your clit, making you gasp at the sensation.

"need it!" you cry out right as he thumbs your clit to replace his lips.

"hm? what do you need? use your words, baby." he knows you, knows you can beg better, knows if he says the right words and pushes the right buttons, you'll crumble prettily, all for him.

the tips of your ears feel like they're burning, your cheeks like they've been set alight. "need to cum... please make me cum."

and just like that, yuuta feels like he's been set on fire, the match being your words. "well why didn't you just say so, baby?"

with that, he pushes two fingers into your weeping cunt and licks at the sweet delicacy you present to him. with the added stimulation of his long fingers that curl just right that it bumps into your g-spot, it doesn't take much for you to reach the edge.

yuuta knows your signs and tells. he knows when you open your legs a little wider, thighs start twitching, moans get a little whinier and right when he says "cum for me, pretty" you'll come undone like a lovely scroll depicting his ultimate downfall; you. and you'll go lax, all the tenseness in your body dissipated as if it was never there in the first place. your lips will open to let out the final and loudest moan, the melody of his hymn in which he worships you. your body shakes as he tongue-fucks you through your orgasm, from the intensity of it rocking your core.

when you've fully come down from your high, he kisses his way back up to your lips, following the same trail of hickies he embedded into your skin prior. once he reaches your lips, he crashes your lips together like you're his oxygen (you are). you taste yourself but you don't care as you greedily devour whatever he gives you.

"can i put it in, baby?" he begs softly as if he didn't just devour you like his life depended on it and a whine present in his voice like you would ever tell him no.

"put it in me, yuu."

he pants heavily as he slowly slides his cock into your leaking cunt. "so good- so perfect for me-"

loud rings come from your phone, startling you both.

"ignore it." yuuta whines, still slowly sliding into you.

"yuu- let me pick up- f-fuckk hold on- yuu!" you smack him lightly on his chest and he looks back at you sadly, looking like a kicked puppy. "it could be important! hold on."

you answer the phone quickly, before the phone rings loudly again, "hello?"

"where are you, girl? you're not usually late!" your friend exclaims.

you quickly rip your phone away from your ear to check the time. 3:00pm. "oh my god."

yuuta, still looking like a kicked puppy, mouths 'what?'

still in shock that you lost track of that much time, you whisper-yell "i'm late to go to the girl's date!"

yuuta starts sliding himself in more as he whispers back, "don't go... stay with me."

"hello?" a voice from your phone disrupts you two.

"oh um... i-i got wrapped up in something..." you watch yuuta as he mouths at you 'say something came up, say you can't go anymore'. you can't exactly say you want to go either, especially when he's pleading with you like this and already sunk his cock halfway into your more honest cunt.

"oh... well, are you still coming? everyone's here tonight!"

weighing your options (get an amazing orgasm, maybe two or three actually, or hang out with some of your best friend who you haven't seen in awhile), you decide.

"i'll g- ohh." yuuta, seeing you were about to leave him, shoves the rest of him into you, bottoming out and mouths 'don't leave me'. your moan goes unnoticed by your friend, thankfully.

"you're coming? eek-!!"

noticing your boyfriend's neediness and noting your own wants, you quickly respond. "ah no- um, something came up. i'm actually a little occupied right now so-"

yuuta visibly perks up at your decision and you smile softly.

"awww, okay. i hope everything's alright! come to the next get-together, alright?"

"mhm, yeah, of course. i'll be there next time." you promptly end the call after exchanging goodbyes.

"i'm glad you're staying... with me." yuuta smiles, an unfamiliar emotion you've never seen in his eyes.

"of course-" you're cut off by his abrupt thrusting and you release a whiny moan.

"shhh, let me make my pretty baby feel good." he kisses your face and threads your hands together.

he pulls you into a hug and with his face hidden to you, yuuta finally lets out the smile he's been holding in all day long. and he thinks:

'i win.'

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a/n: i've been having the worst (best) yandere yuuta brainrot ever, something about it feels so canon. but omg this is my first time actually writing full on smut so please give me feedback/constructive criticism!! also i'm a virgin. CAN U TELL??? LOL hopefully not. but hopefully you enjoyed!! thank you for getting this far :)

#cw yandere #yandere yuuta #okkotsu yuuta #yuuta x reader #jjk yuuta #yuuta smut #yuuta x you #yuuta x y/n #jujutsu kaisen yuuta #i love yuuta sm #yuuta the loml #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #i tried #can u tell i'm a virgin writing smut for the first time

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hirschkuh-traumvoll · 3 months ago

Text

Sunbeam

the plot is: you and alastor got soaked to the skin in the downpour so he takes you to his home

part one, part two

words ≈ 6k

warnings: i've never mentioned first love so i mention it now, smut, p in v, praise kink, loss of virginity, creampie, so many kisses and love bites, fingering, licking of fingers, multiple orgasm, nipple licking, soft slightly posessive alastor, let me know if i missed anything

author's note: I AM SO MAD that i couldn't post it earlier and now it's even parted from the previous part not just with a looooong time but with a whole new blog?????? anyway, i hope you like it ♡♡♡

*. ⋆ ✧.·:·.* ☽ ･｡ﾟ･ ☾ *.·:·.✧ *. ⋆

Alastor grabbed your hand and pulled you deeper into the forest. Your feet slipped on the wet grass as you catched up with his long steps. Your heart beat in your eardrums, head was dizzy. The first kiss with Alastor was heavenly, you could swear your soul almost left your body the moment his lips descended on yours, it made you as happy as unexpectedly it was. And you craved more. You pulled Alastor by his hand so he turned to look at you. Before you could grip him by his shirt, Alastor read everything in your eyes. His lips appeared on yours again, and again you lost yourself in this bliss. Thunder cracked somewhere afar, but before your instincts could take over you, your back hit a tree as Alastor deepened the kiss and pressed his body to you, stealing your moan. The rain poured more, or perhaps it was drops falling from the leaves under the gusts of wind. Alastor's hands, body and mouth were the only sources of warmth now and you clung to them desperately. He showered your neck with kisses, his knee appeared between your legs, making you tremble more, not with cold but with desire.

“Will you be mine?” Alastor whispered between the kisses. His breath was burning hot against your ice skin, he could see a little scarcely visible cloud of steam emitting from his mouth. Seemed like heat radiating from him and the cold around made you weaker, so he placed another kiss on the juncture between your neck and shoulder.

“Y-yes…” He could barely hear you whisper, but as soon as you leaned closer to him, his hands began to wander over your soaked clothes and frozen limbs, his lips left warm traces on your face, ears and shoulders. Every time when the sky growled again and Alastor felt your body tensed, he squeezed you harder, leaving a love bite on the lower part of your neck. He tried to distract you and draw your attention to him completely. But no matter how persistent he was, he couldn't ignore your uneven and short breaths, and your too red fingers.

“Although I'd really wouldn't like to stop now,” He growled as his fingertips brushed the oval of your face, from chin to temples, and stopped at your red nose to bump it. “You seem to be cold.”

“Warm me, then.” You glanced up at him.

“I will.”

The ground disappeared under your feet, and you wrapped your hands around Alastor's neck, as he took you in his arms. It was raining. The large drops were falling down as if from a water can, blurring the landscape, but the sun began to peep out from the dark blue clouds, shining vividly in the cascading drops, and it seemed as if the air itself sparkled to blind you. You hoped to see a rainbow later. Rain washed over your face, soaked your clothes, making the thin fabric stick to your knees and hips and forming a little puddle on your stomach. But it seemed the downpour didn't bother Alastor at all, he carried you somewhere deeper into the woods, somewhere where his home was supposed to be. Chill ran over your body and you pressed yourself closer to him. Somehow his body still radiated heat even with his skin wet from rain and shirt worth wringing. You looked up at Alastor. His round glasses became steamy and covered with drops reflecting the dim light of the overcast sky.

“Are they really helping you now?” You asked, pointing near your eyes.

“Mm?” Alastor peered down at you, and although you couldn't see his eyes property you still felt his look was penetrating. “I see enough, my dear.” He murmured with a mischievous smile and accelerated his pace.

The air around shone even brighter, turning the forest into a fairy picture; the sun poked through the clouds with sharp rays, and when Alastor went under them it felt like the rightest way to be as a blessing. Your thoughts were away from you now, your look wandered over Alastor's face and sometimes slipped to the view around. His arms holding you reminded you of his strength, and you wondered how far could he go while carrying you, and you also

couldn't help the yarning thoughts to creep in your mind, to think about his body closer, his hands tighter, his hot breath all over you…

Finally, you discerned a house ahead, which stood alone among the woods.

* ☽ ･｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

You started in the mirror. You dried your hair with a towel and wrapped yourself in another one. Skin was still wet but at least you were warm now. The steamed air of the bathroom laid on you like a duvet, consoling your nerves and refreshing your mind.

As soon as you stepped into Alastor's house he carried you to the bathroom, instructing you to take a bath to prevent possible illness. Hot shower soothed your frozen body, now your thoughts were clearer and you could reflect on the events of this long day. Long and viscous as honey day, and so dreamful that you were afraid you would wake up. Every time you had such dreams, something would make you wake up in the most inappropriate moment, so in the middle of the night you were left with nothing but a bitter taste on your lips and fading traces of phantom sensation on your body. Those dreams were always so real, you could never guess it was just a play of your lovesick imagination, and now you were afraid too. Every time Alastor placed a kiss on you, you worried it could be the last; his every sweet word could be the last; this house, this forest, this very day could be blown away with the screaming sound of an alarm clock. But the sound never came. In reverse, the singularity of these hours delved to your bones, ran in your blood and made your heart beat faster; and the heartbeat wasn't the cause of trembling of your soul but there was a physical reason behind it. And it made you glad, made you believe you were not dreaming. And Alastor did kissed you, and did brought you to his house. And nothing would end abruptly, it would last as long as you wish, even forever.

* ☽ ･｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

Alastor placed his cleaned glasses on the bedside table and was now rubbing a towel against his hair, whilst thoughts were stirring inside his head.

Everything was complicated. From your side: your youth and dependence, from his side: his wishes and secrets. Alastor used to listen to the voice of logic, telling him about the consequences, and now it was telling him the truth he wanted to ignore. He wished to delve into the desire you shared without thinking twice. But he worried too much about you to not worry about the consequences, which you seemed didn't mind for your young age. He knew there was no way for him to leave you in the future, or to lie to you. But there was also no option of letting you go now. No, he would never do this. But if he could let you stay at his place whilst it was raining, why couldn't he make this time pleasurable? Just a little bit? Just a little foretaste of a real pleasure?

The sun hid behind the rain clouds again, and the room was suffused with pale greyish light; it aroused drowsiness, made every movement so lazy, and the rhythmical tapping of rain only lulled more into sloth. Actually it was good weather for caring about someone.

Alastor threw a shirt on his shoulders, fingers began to do bottoms, but every corner of his mind was still busy with you, and he noticed a missed bottom only as he went up to his collar. With a sight he undid the shirt and began from the start. You indeed made him act stupid.

“Thank you,” Alastor heard your quiet voice. He immediately turned around to see you leaving the bathroom.

He stared in wonder at you, and blush slowly began to bloom on his cheeks. From the open door of the bathroom the steam was floating, drawing intricate tracery around your frame, and you stood in front of him in a bathrobe. His bathrobe. Your hair was slightly wet and became a deeper shade of your natural colour, some strands stuck to your neck and cheeks, cheeks of a so lovely hue of red after a good bathing.

“Thanks for allowing me to use your bathroom,” You mumbled.

“Oh, you're welcome, dear!” He answered, taking a step closer. Your eyes roamed over him in an almost feverish motion, and you couldn't suppress that crooked smile no matter how hard you tried, your look flew up to his face again and your teeth bared in a wide smile again. But Alastor saw you were a tad worried or even thrilled – you couldn't stop pulling on your own digits.

And the reason for your excitement was simply him. Alastor looked younger with uncombed hair and in simple clothes, but his figure still towered over you, and you still felt yourself little near him, and you would be lying if you told that you didn't wish to have him as your protector. Last few days you felt surviving, almost dying, but since you met him in the rain, it felt as if he took the weight from your shoulders. Just his presence gave you strength, and his_ touches and kisses_ made you feel truly invulnerable.

Your eyes roamed over his face adorned with a slightly visible blush, until you dropped your look lower and flushed. He looked so informal and homey, not only because of that tousled wet shock of hair, but also because of his ensemble, if you could call it that. His shirt was undone just as his cuffs, and the the view of his slim frame was partly visible for your eyes, leaving not much for your imagination and making the eye contact harder to maintain. And you let your look trace lower to see that he was bare feet and was wearing pretty fashionable wide leg trousers, although the belt was not fastened yet. Seemed you left the bathroom too soon and caught him in the middle of his changing.

“S-sorry, I thought you-” You began, taking a small step back.

“No-no, don't go, dear!” In just two steps he appeared in front of you, so close you could smell his cologne. Any trace of past wonder dissolved from his face, giving place to smugness in a widely stretching smile and an arching eyebrow.

“You know, cher, this robe looks pretty on you.” His forefinger ran along the edge of the collar in a teasing fashion without touching your skin, his finger slid lower and stopped at the knot of the waistband. He harshly twisted his wrist, wrapping the edges around his fingers and pulling you closer in a single short move. “Indeed, so lovely.” His low growl smoothly flowed into your ears, and you swallowed. Your stomach ached from the whirl of strange emotions. How could the feeling always dwelling in your chest now sink to your guts and twist them in such a painfully way? But this ache was so pleasant. And you leaned in to the man who brought this sickness on you.

Alastor held your-his robe on you tightly but as you stood on tiptoes, his palm slid to the small of your back, pressing you, bringing you closer to him. Your lips met in a soft but demeding kiss. His palms embracing your waist and cupping your cheek wouldn't let you move an inch from him, just as your fingertips lying on his naked chest and counting the beats of his heart; your touch was soft but it melted through him right to the core, without a chance for a retreat for him. Alastor leaned in closer, letting your palms rest on his palpitation, letting you feel what you made to him. In a manner he gave you your first kiss, you shortly moved your tongue along his lower lip, and Alastor immediately dipped his tongue into your mouth, brushing your palate, exploring your oral once again.

Your palms went down to the waistband of his trousers, your fingers crossed the edge only slightly. Alastor hid his face into the hollow of your shoulder and neck as if hiding, but right away, as if noticing a new perfect place for his lips and as if following some instinct, he peppered your neck with deep and light kisses – before he stopped.

Your fingertips were still there, on his abdomen, not daring to cross the border, and Alastor didn't know if that was your fear or respect for him or even for you both. His head was on your shoulder, deep exhales of him crawled down your skin, sending you shivers.

It was embarrassment, fear, desire. He had never felt such a need and didn't know how to act now. But hadn't he decided to give in? Right, he did, but only for a moment, just a little bit, only for tasting. And now it was too late for “just a little closer”. His hands held you firmly, the traces of his kisses became redder and would be visible for quite a time, he felt his body betraying him, reacting to you in a scandalous way. But despite all the doubts Alastor knew: just one word, a single word from you would be enough to fuck away the consequences.

Your eyes traced down, where your palms froze in an unfinished gesture. You saw a bulge in his pants and an uneven sight escaped you. He did wanted it. So was he waiting, or wasn't sure, or was he afraid..? Should you show him your approval? But weren't your fingertips the proof? You licked your lips, rubbing your cheek against his chest, lowering your fingers to finish what they started. Slowly and carefully you undid his trousers, leisurely ran your palm down him. You had no doubts and you had to show him that.

“Please, Alastor, let's do this…” You murmured quietly, but these were the words Alastor longed to hear so even if you were a mile from him he would run up to you.

Alastor bared your shoulder, only now you realised how heavy and hot his robe was. His palm, which was resting on your waist, now traced up and gently squeezed your breast, causing a little sigh from you. His other hand tried to undo the knot, while his mouth showered your collarbone and neck with new kisses and love bites.

“Damn,” You heard his chuckle, “Why did you tie yourself so tightly?” And then he dropped on his knees.

“Oh! What- what are you doing?” You were about to step back, but his hands seized your hips, keeping you in one place.

“Don't move.” He commanded and brought his mouth to the robe belt, his eyes were on you. His teeth worked with the tight knot, pulling and bit by bit untying it, and you propped yourself against his shoulders to not fall, so duly he worked.

“Alastor! It's ticklish!” You laughed and clutched firmer on his shoulders, you saw that the tie was loosened and could be undone in one movement of a forefinger. Alastor looked up at you with a playful, genuine smile. His look was soft and waiting.

“Are you ready, cher?” You nodded and he gave you a wider smile, as his fingers began to slowly unwrap the stripe, slowly putting the edges of the robe aside, demonstrating you to him.

He kissed your belly, your navel and abdomen. He softly kissed down his way to your pubic hair and kissed there, inhaling the scent of you and soup. His palms slid under the fabric and brushed your buttocks, while his lips continued leaving tender kisses on your thighs, and hips, and hairy mound.

“Oh, you're so beautiful,” Alastor lifted his eyes to you, while his palms were stroking the intimate parts of you, making the first moans fall from your lips. “So beautiful, my dear. Come here.” He repeated softly and harshly pulled you down by the robe.

As soon as you fell on your knees in front of him, he captured your mouth with a deep kiss. As his hands traveled all over your body, caressing and squeezing your sides, you let your clothes slide down your body and fall on the floor. Immediately Alastor nuzzled himself in the crook of your neck, but his hands froze in a millimeter of your skin. He felt your breasts pressing closely to his chest, felt every breath you took. Warm palms cupped your face and you met Alastor's penetrating gaze. His dark brown eyes stared deep in you, you didn't dare to look away as hypnotised by his thoughts you couldn't read. Suddenly the silence accompanied only by the rhythm of drops against the window was broken,

“Let's do this properly.” He pronounced and lifted you up to carry you to bed.

He gently lay you down on the duvet and crawled to you, settling himself with his hands on either side of your head and his knees surrounding your hips. His eyes flashed with lust as he bent down and pressed his lips under your ear and traced a little lower with light kisses, right to the place, as he learnt, made you arch your back and moan his name. His tongue made kitten licks on your skin while lips brushed around, pressing harder with each bite-kiss he left. You hands traced down his back, savouring each tensed muscle of him and each scar, until your fingers reached the waist of his trousers and you pulled them down,

“Get rid of them,” You muttered grumpily. With a low chuckle Alastor grabbed your wrists and placed them on his shoulders. He followed your command, kicking the clothes off. You didn't have time to have a better look as Alastor grabbed your chin, smashing his lips on you. Loud wet kisses covered your neck and chest again as he descended; your eyes widened as his mouth captured your nipple. Hot tongue licked the sensitive skin, mouth slightly sucked in, whilst his fingers played with your other nipple, lightly pinching and caressing the softness, causing your body wave in growing pleasure.

“Tell me, cher,” You looked down flushed, seeing a thin bridge of saliva, connecting his mouth with your skin. “Did you at least do that?” He asked, raising two fingers in front of you. You didn’t answer, not with words. Hesitantly you took his finger and slowly bent it, only now comprehending the size difference between you, as his large fist with a pointing up forefinger was lying between your palms. Tilting his head, Alastor watched with amusement how your tiny fingers covered his palm. His eyes followed your hands as you lay them on your chest, waiting for his reaction.

“Very well,” He smiled, “We'll start with a one,” And softly bumped his forefinger on your nose.

His palm sank to your core and he cooed with satisfaction, feeling how wet you were. His finger drew gentle circles on your clit, going to and fro between your folds, spreading your juices over you, teasingly massaging your hole. All the time Alastor didn't take his eyes from your face, studying your pleasure, and when quiet moans falling from your lips became louder he repeated a movement, rewarding himself with another sweet noise of you. He added another finger. They gently slid up and down your labia and then you felt him dipping in. Alastor curved his fingers, leisurely pushing his fingers further, and as deeper he went the harder his thumb pressed on your clit. You bent your knee, moving your leg to the side and let him press your other knee to the mattress, giving him the full view of you.

“Good girl,” His husky voice as a sparkle ignited a burning feeling in your guts, “Tell me how do you like it, cher? If I do that?” Making another thrust, he curled his fingers deep in you, touching your wall and causing your prolonged moan,

“Ah, ahh, y-yes, ah!”

“I'll continue then.” He made the same thing a couple more times before you came on his palm with a moan of his name, and he continued playing with your pearl, though you had little tears in your eyes. “Such a good little girl for me,” He cooed and gave a small kiss on your knee.

Your breath was uneven, you heard streams of blood echoing in your eardrums. He brought the first orgasm quickly but so thoroughly. You felt a weak pain in your thighs and could foresee that it was impossible to stand up without your knees shaking.

Alastor stood up on his knees and before your foggy look appeared his erection. He closed your legs, lifted them up by your ankles and watched your nectar dripping down on the sheets; you could see his cock throbbing at the view in front of his eyes. As if unconsciously you brought your palm to him. His eyes followed your movement.

“Curious, aren't we?” He growled as your fingertips traced up his length and slid down along the vein, his tip buried itself in your palm, covering your skin with precum. Alastor didn't suppress his sigh turning into a moan as your fingers carefully, testingly travelled around his cock. You gave him a squeeze and caressed him, you lifted your indeed innocent look up to his face, as your fingers fondled his balls, and you saw him blushing but still keeping his smug grin,

“Ahh, perhaps I was hasty, mhm, calling you a good one, huh?” His fingers found your core again, and you brought the palm you caressed him with to your mouth. His eyes flashed as you took your fingers in your mouth, licked them, sent what he left on you in you. You cried out when he removed his fingers from you but fell silent as he placed his fingers on his lips, took a lick before putting them in his mouth completely. For a while you were staring at each other, while your tongues were collecting every sour drop of one another. Then he harshly crouched to you, nestling himself between your thighs,

“I cannot wait anymore, cher,” He pressed his forehead to yours, “I want you.” The head of his cock brushed your entrance, your eyes wandered over his face, waiting. “Tell me, cher, if you need a break.”

“Okay.” You nodded, embracing him by his neck and moaning as he entered.

“Mph!” He stopped and retracted to push further with a low moan, “Ah, so tight, dear, ahh… so tight!” You firmly held onto him, feeling him stretching you more with the next thrust. He was delicate, slow, and so big. Never had you felt yourself so full, so connected to anyone. Alastor saw your face, how you parted your lips and closed your eyes, and he buried his face in your shoulder and stopped.

“I-is this all?” You murmured and heard him swallowing.

“Look down.” He answered after a little silence. You obeyed and lowered your look to where your bodies connected to see that there was still a little more of him. You smiled. Your hand brushed Alastor's hair – they were so soft and fluffy – your other hand took its place on his waist.

“Please, go on.”

“Are you okay?” He murmured against your skin, not lifting his face.

“Yes. Please, Alastor, it feels so good.” It was painful but you didn’t want to stop. His cock throbbed inside you, and you were anticipated to get everything, feel every inch of him, every vein, feel this delicious pain as he stretched you wider.

Alastor paused for a moment before slowly burying himself with a final thrust till his balls slightly brushed against your skin. You let out a loud moan, sank your nails in his back, but didn't have time to take a breath as he began to thrust in a faster, firmer way.

You nustled up around him so tightly, your warm walls enveloped him as if never wanted to let him go, and although he wanted to fuck into you, he held himself back not wanting to ruin you at least not this time. But just shoving himself in you slowly, savouringly, was divine. You were snug and hot, your body fitted him perfectly and with the way your nails scratched his back it all gave birth to an addictive blent of pain and pleasure. Alastor knew he would ask for more, he would need more, but for now he would leisurely bring you delectation and revel in your moans and the way you squeeze him.

Alastor hissed as your nails grazed too deep, breaking his skin. He grabbed your hands, crossed your wrists and pinned them above you. Though he would be a liar if he said he didn't enjoy the pain, but he couldn't let you know this now.

“What a bad girl,” He purred, giving a light bite on your neck, which was already all red with the traces of his adoration. Your legs closed around his waist, bringing him closer, and he growled feeling how close you were, “But s-so good, dear.”

Alastor's praises only ignited your lust and desire to show him how much you liked everything he was giving. So you let your hands wander all over his body, scratching or caressing him depending on how his cock made you feel, until he pinned your wrists above your head. But you still had your mouth screaming out his name and lewd moans, and you had your legs pressing his pelvis closer.

As he gripped your wrists he grabbed your chin, forcing you to not turn away. But you were too unconscious to maintain the eye contact, your eyes rolled back, you felt dizzy and couldn't suppress those lascivious sounds even if you wanted to. Moans you let out were a continuation of exhales Alastor made, burying himself deeper and deeper in your core, and soon the creak of bed, slaps of skin against skin and your moans overrode the noise of rain outside.

“Yes, my little one, do it, cum on me.” You barely heard his words in your condition, as he was drawing you to your second orgasm so slowly and duly. His grip on you became tighter, you arched your back and he shoved himself in you as you came with a silent scream. The orgasm lasted long, your body waved in aftershock, and Alastor supported you by your waist. You collapsed on your back and he slipped out, let go of your hands as well but remained towering over you.

You panted unevenly, looked at him with an unfocused look and all flushed. He ran his finger over your jaw and cupped your cheek,

“Did you like that, darling?”

You only exhaled in response. You were so exhausted, sleepy, you only wanted to cuddle with Alastor and wake up in the morning in his embrace. But there was still one thing unfinished.

“You,” You pronounced, and he looked aside. You touched his shoulder and looked down between your bodies. His cock grazed your belly, the tip was red and soaked with precum, “We- you still haven't…”

“Cher, I-”

“Please, Al… I won't be satisfied until you come.” His eyes found yours. “Please.”

Alastor nervously licked his lips, gently cupped your face to place a tender kiss on your lips, then he pressed his forehead to yours. You smiled, already knowing it was his way to show how much he cared about you and wanted you. You wrapped your legs around him again, he pressed his tip to you, and you smiled in foretaste of him stretching you again.

“You're indeed a greedy little thing,” He whispered, hovering over you. His palm hooked your hip, and he entered with two thrusts taking breath out of you.

“Oh! A-alastor!” You threw your head on the pillow, already knowing you wouldn't last too long.

“Please, dear, I want to see you.” He softly spoke, turning your face to him with his thumb. You only moaned louder in response as you felt him deeper, but this time without turning away. Alastor scrutinised your face, watching how your emotions changed, he explored how he made you feel to learn how to make it even better for you. His gaze caught your every blink, frown, smile, roll of your eyes; ears listened closely to your words and sighs; hands collected every shudder and curving; he was all the explorer of your pleasure. And you felt weaker with every passing second with his eyes fixed to you and seeing that he enjoyed not only his own pleasure but yours as well. You nodded when he asked if that was good and whispered an approval when he demanded words. You squeezed his palm holding yours, nails almost cutting through his skin but no complaint fell from his mouth, he only brushed hair from your face and shoved himself deeper in you, capturing your mouth with his in a tender kiss and swallowing your moans. When he kissed you, he slackened his pace and cupped your cheek, his hips moved smoothly, hitting and rubbing your sweet spot, whilst his tongue intertwined with yours and his palm gently squeezed your fingers. Then he parted his lips and looked at you again, and his heavy breath was brushing your face.

The deep brown colour of his eyes seemed darker with lust, or perhaps it was a shadow of his long eyelashes. Alastor half frowned, half watched in wonder, lips formed words he was afraid to pronounce, and you understood how complicated he felt. You couldn't know the reason but wanted to dissolve his confusion, so you began to move your body in the rhythm he was conducting, letting him reach the sweetest point in you, when he suddenly pinned you down.

Alastor looked deeply into your eyes, slightly watery and radiating happiness. Too much gentleness was in there. More than he expected. And with every thrust he felt himself weaker, as if making you see the stars he lost his own grip on the universe he built just for himself. In this world of him there was no place for anyone else. But… Here were you, under him, so devoted and full of love designed only for him alone. And he greedy consumed it, until for the first time he paid his attention on how exactly it made him feel – vulnerable. But also so strong. Only he made your bodies sing this melody of heartbeats, exhales and slaps, such a sinful and beautiful melody. He, only he, made these pretty eyes light up. He filled you with it, with that love. With the thing he longed to swallow but was afraid to even taste. But now as much you were taking from him as much you were returning, even in doubled size. He definitely felt as if you swept him off his feet. And if he wasn't hovering over you right now, like a shelter, protecting you from this world, the world which brought you to tears that day, he would fall for sure. Oh, he had already fallen. There was too much love in your eyes. He couldn't stand it, only fell deeper.

Once again you moaned his name, looking directly in his eyes, and though he was the one who asked you to hold his gaze he hid his face into the hollow of your neck and shoulder, and you immediately buried your fingers in his hair, causing him to softly moan your name into your ear. You held onto him tighter as he took a new pace, igniting your whole body as if with electricity. The salacious sounds Alastor didn't suppress anymore echoed in your eardrums and were the most beautiful thing you'd heard.

“D-darling, I… I don’t think I can- s-stop..!” He growled.

“That's okay, okay, ah!” You patted him by his hair, your other hand clutched at his shoulder as you felt your own release coming. “Let's do this, p-p-please, Ah-lastor!”

And shoving himself one more time he came just as you did. He continued thrusting through your high, when your back arched, and your legs trembled in shockwaves. He slowly slackened his pace, trying to prolong the moment he had already ran through and you seemed not. His fingers found the right place, drew circles on you for what he deserved a shocked look from you and another sweet plea. He kissed you cheek and temple, helping you ride out your orgasm until you collapsed all sweaty and breathless. Again. He kissed your cheek before he lay down next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and hips.

You both were breathing heavily, catching your breath, but you stared at the wooden ceiling above you, and Alastor's eyes wandered over you. The thoughts stirred in your head but among all the things you wanted to say, you could catch only one sentence to wrap it in words. You looked at Alastor, soft smile was on his lips. You kissed that smile and looked at him again. The sun came out, this time for good, and the raindrops languidly slid down the window, and the bedroom was all suffused with golden light of evening sun. Alastor was lying with his back to the window, and in this glow it seemed that his whole body radiated light, but at the same time he hid you from the blinding sun and let you delight just in his glory. Alastor enjoyed the view too: a sunbeam enveloped your body, colouring your form with a goldish hue; your skin actually shone, his love bites on you flashed with lovely shades of red and pink, bronze threads appeared in your hair, and your look became lighter, more piercing; when you smiled at him your teeth shone like pearls.

“I love you.”

Alastor felt how warm the sunshine was on his back. Next second you clung to him, your palms were on his chest like that time, and you hid your face as if afraid of the words you’d just let out. You indeed were a tad afraid but not regretful, but all the fear dissolved as soft hands lay on your back. Alastor pressed you closer, his arms held you gently but tightly. You felt him leaving a peck on your crown and then heard his soft whisper,

“I love you too, cher.”

You were lying together for what felt like eternity, though it was only a couple of minutes in peaceful, sunny silence in the arms of your beloved, but even the eternity wouldn't be enough for those who were in love.

Alastor inhaled the scent of your hair, grazed his fingertips against the small of your back.

“Cher. Cher, don't sleep, we have to clear ourselves.”

Hearing his whisper, you lazily brought your eyes to him, “Why? I like it… when you're in me.” You murmured.

Alastor raised his eyebrows but smiled right away, “Haha! I like it too, cher, trust me,” His husky whisper burnt your ear shell, but then he continued with his usual cheerful tone, “But your awakening will be much more pleasant with your body clean!”

Your fingers draw some thoughtful patterns on his chest, “But I can't stand up.”

“No problem, cher.” He smirked at your words. Why wouldn't he?

Next moment you were not in bed anymore but in Alastor's arms. You wrapped your hands around his neck, your fingers played with the ends of his hair. Your eyes caught something flashing in the corner. It was Alastor’s glasses, reflecting sunlight and leaving a tiny rainbow circle on the wood. You smiled, remembering your earlier wish from the forest. When you remembered something more,

“How is there so much strength in you? How are you not tired yet?” You finally asked him the question formed yet in the woods.

“You know, love,” He said, heading for the bathroom, “It's not hard work to carry you in my arms.”

With these words the bathroom door closed behind your back.

*. ⋆ ✧.·:·.* ☽ ･｡ﾟ･ ☾ *.·:·.✧ *. ⋆

#hirschkuh's works #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel #alastor fanfiction #alastor #alastor x you #alastor x reader #alastor smut #smut and fluff

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devilish-cherry · 2 months ago

Text

ᨳ♡₊➳ jujutsu kaisen x reader

ᨳ♡₊➳ crack with plot

"You hate your job. The pay is bad, your manager is worse, and customers are somehow both entitled and clueless. Just as you finish contemplating whether unpaid breaks are a human rights violation, weird new people keep showing up to the café. They all seem to know each other. Sometimes they talk in cryptic phrases. What the hell is this domain and why do they want to expand it? One time, a man with stitches on his forehead walked in, made prolonged eye contact with you, and then left without ordering anything. You’re pretty sure he was a serial killer. Another time, the one with white hair and sunglasses indoors mentioned a "higher mission", and you’re 90% sure this is how cult documentaries start. One of your regulars only speaks in weird food-related phrases. You assume he has some kind of medical condition, but no one explains anything to you. But you are not about to ask questions, because ignorance is bliss and also job security. And unfortunately, they are all weird and they seem very interested in coming back."

꒰ masterlist ꒱ ₊⊹. ꒰ chapter 5 ꒱ ₊⊹. ꒰ chapter 7 ꒱

ᨳ♡₊➳ or read on archive of our own!

ᨳ♡₊➳ a/n: HELLOOOO BELOVEDS!!! first of all, thank you for all the kind comments and unhinged reactions, they are genuinely fueling me like a questionable energy drink. you have no idea how much it means to me to see people enjoying this ridiculous little fic. i had so much fun writing this chapter (probably too much fun honestly) and i would love to hear what you think!!! scream at me. leave your thoughts. tell me which character is making you lose your mind the most. i am here. i am listening. i am emotionally invested in your reactions. as always, thank you for reading!!! hope you enjoy this chapter! 🫶

The morning had been relatively uneventful, meaning that the espresso machine had only threatened violence twice, Greg had not yet committed a fireable offense (debatable), and Muffin Guy was, as always, engaged in his thousand-yard stare into the abyss of his pastry.

And then Gojo burst into the café.

"Barista," Gojo declared, striding up to the counter with the urgency of a man reporting a crime. "We have a Code Red."

You blinked. You had not emotionally prepared yourself for this.

"Gojo," you said slowly, already exhausted. "What?"

He slammed his hands onto the counter, leaning in like he was about to deliver classified government intel. He removed his sunglasses for dramatic effect, which always meant whatever he was about to say was extra stupid.

"My punch card. It’s missing."

Silence.

Gojo stared at you. You stared back. Somewhere in the corner, Muffin Guy continued to stare at his muffin like it contained the meaning of life.

"...Why did you even have one?" you asked, already regretting engaging with this conversation.

"For fun," Gojo said earnestly. "But now it’s not fun. It’s personal."

You sighed and crossed your arms over your chest, feeling a headache starting to come on. "Gojo, you made the punch cards. You wrote the ‘rewards’ yourself. You even give out the rewards yourself. You know they’re literally useless to you, right?"

"I support small businesses." Gojo simply said, as if that explained everything. It didn't.

You exhaled. "I can just give you another one."

Gojo gasped. "You would just replace it? Just like that? Without even trying to find the original?"

"Yes."

"Barista," he whined, looking deeply wounded. "You are everything wrong with modern society."

"Because I refuse to track down your own punch card? That you did not need?"

"Justice must be served!" Gojo declared, slamming his hands onto the counter once more. You swear you start to see it crack a little.

"Fine," you surrendered. "Where did you last see it?"

"It was last seen right here," he asserted, spinning around to dramatically point to the table he was sitting at a while ago like it was a crime scene. "Someone took it. And I will find out who. Last time I saw it, I had exactly four punches. And it even has 'The Strongest' on it with a doodle of me!"

You glanced down at the rewards.

Buy 5 coffees, Get a Pat on the Head from Gojo!

"You—" You inhaled sharply. "Gojo, you cannot give yourself head pats."

Gojo looked appalled. "Why not?"

"Because that defeats the entire purpose!"

Gojo pouted. "So you're saying self-care is illegal now?"

"I am saying you're an idiot."

Gojo pointedly ignores you in favor for straightening up, adjusting his sunglasses with the solemn air of a detective on the brink of uncovering a grand conspiracy. He pivoted on his heel and surveyed the café like a man on a mission—because he was, in fact, a man on a mission.

A very, very stupid mission.

Gojo, self-appointed detective of this entirely unnecessary case, wasted no time causing problems. He began his investigation in the most Gojo way possible: by harassing every single person in the café, and dragging you along with him as his unwilling accomplice.

"Alright, one of you took my punch card," he announced loudly, pointing to the entire café. "I’m giving you a chance to come clean before I unleash my full investigative abilities."

No one reacted. It was dead silent other than some old guy doing one of those gnarly old man coughs.

"Okay. Hard way it is."

He leaned over a table and pointed directly at a college student buried under their laptop. “You. Where were you approximately forty seven minutes ago?"

The student, looking up with the dead eyes of someone who had seen too many midterms, just blinked. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” Gojo said, crossing his arms. “I know a criminal when I see one.”

“I—” They looked at you in distress.

You sighed. “Gojo, leave the customers alone.”

“Never.” He turned, zeroing in on the next suspect: Muffin Guy.

Muffin Guy, as always, was sitting at his usual table in the corner farthest from the door, staring at his usual muffin.

Gojo approached the man like he was in an interrogation scene of a cop drama. You trudged along behind him, silently screaming inside your head at the fact that you have to babysit a fully grown man. He pulled up a chair, turned it around, and sat on it backward like an absolute menace.

"Alright, pal," Gojo said, pulling out a notebook that he absolutely did not need. "You wanna tell me where you were when my punch card went missing forty nine minutes ago?"

Muffin Guy did not even acknowledge Gojo’s existence. His eyes remained locked on his muffin, like he was waiting for something.

Gojo narrowed his eyes. "Suspicious."

Silence.

"Listen, I get it. You don’t wanna snitch. You’ve got a reputation to uphold," Gojo said, nodding like he totally understood Muffin Guy’s plight. "But I need you to talk. Where. Is. My. Punch. Card?"

Nothing. Muffin Guy did not move. Muffin Guy did not blink. Did not acknowledge him. Did not react in any way whatsoever.

Gojo narrowed his eyes. “Ohhh, you’re good.”

You massaged your temples. “Gojo, he hasn’t moved in like, four weeks. I doubt he even knows what a punch card is.”

“That’s exactly what he WANTS us to think.”

Gojo tapped a finger against the table like he was waiting for a confession. Muffin Guy continued his unwavering, soul-searching gaze into his muffin.

“…Fine,” Gojo said finally, standing up. “We’ll be watching you, muffin man.”

Muffin Guy did not respond.

Muffin Guy never responded.

Gojo jotted something down in his notebook anyway.

You sighed. "Are you done?"

"Not even close," Gojo said. "We have another suspect."

Gojo’s next suspect? The espresso machine.

Yes. The espresso machine.

Gojo stormed back to the counter, which was for employees only mind you, heading behind it with all of the confidence of a man who owned the place despite him very much not even working there. His energy was even more unhinged now, which you hadn’t thought was possible.

"It knows something." Gojo said seriously, surveying the espresso machine.

You glanced at the espresso machine, which had been through a lot. Its buttons were worn down, its exterior was dented from years of abuse, and it did act like it was on the verge of achieving sentience and declaring war.

But it was just a machine.

"You’re losing it," you said flatly.

Gojo did not respond. The espresso machine let out a deep, unnatural groan. The lights flickered. A faint screeching noise echoed from within its depths.

Gojo nodded. "Hm... I see, thank you for your time."

Was he... talking to the espresso machine?

You took a step back. "Okay, I think we’re done here—"

"No," Gojo interrupted, eyes snapping open. "We are not done."

"Listen up!" he announced. "Since no one wants to confess, I have no choice but to conduct a full-scale investigation."

Oh no.

Gojo was determined. He took things to their logical, insane conclusion.

That was how the café ended up with a full conspiracy board pinned to the back wall, complete with string, random photos, and several unhinged notes like "Muffin Guy = SUSPECT 1????" and "Greg = Wild Card. Cannot be trusted."

Nanami walked in, took one look at the board, and immediately turned around and left.

“Smart man,” you muttered.

Gojo jabbed a finger at the board. “We’re close, Barista. I can feel it.”

You glanced at his so-called evidence, which consisted mostly of:

A blurry photo of Muffin Guy.

A napkin with "Who benefits from this crime???" scrawled across it.

A drawing Gojo made of himself shirtless.

“Uh-huh.”

After approximately an hour of complete nonsense, the truth was finally revealed.

Toge walked in.

The second Gojo saw him, his eyes narrowed. "Wait a minute."

Toge tilted his head, then casually reached into his pocket.

And pulled out Gojo’s punch card.

There was silence.

Toge smirked. "Salmon roe."

Gojo gasped dramatically. "You little fiend."

Toge shrugged, completely unbothered.

"Okay, listen, we can work this out," Gojo said, already shifting into negotiation mode. "What do you want? Money? Power? Name your price."

Toge tapped the menu.

He wanted a free drink.

Gojo immediately caved.

You handed Toge his iced vanilla latte. He took one sip, gave an approving thumbs-up, and walked out with Gojo’s punch card still in hand—because, apparently, Toge was not only a mastermind but also a scammer.

Gojo stared after him, stunned.

"Did I… did I just get played by a kid?"

"Yes," you nodded, not surprised in the slightest.

Gojo groaned and ran a hand through his hair. "Man, this is not my day."

You rolled your eyes before grabbing one of the punch cards, wrote Gojo’s New Punch Card on it in thick marker, and slid it across the counter.

Gojo picked it up like it was a sacred artifact.

“This is why you’re my favorite,” he said solemnly.

You ignored him and went back to work.

And then, somehow, in less than thirty minutes, he lost the punch card again.

This time, Muffin Guy had it. (It had somehow accidentally fell into his lap, but Gojo isn't convinced.)

And thus, an eternal rivalry was born.

Gojo was a man of many talents. He was the strongest sorcerer alive. He was an esteemed mentor, an agent of chaos, and a connoisseur of sweets. He had faced many formidable opponents in his life. Powerful curses. Dangerous sorcerers. Nanami’s disappointed stare.

But nothing—nothing—compared to the enigma that was Muffin Guy.

And the worst part? Muffin Guy had no idea they were rivals.

A customer who had never spoken a word. Never made an order. Never blinked (as far as anyone could tell).

And now? Now, he had Gojo’s punch card.

The betrayal was immeasurable.

It all started when Gojo realized his brand new punch card was missing.

And then he saw it, sitting in the lap of Muffin Guy.

Now, here’s the thing: Muffin Guy had not moved in approximately four weeks. You had once joked that he was actually a statue, and frankly, the evidence was compelling.

He simply sat at the same table, day after day, with an untouched muffin in front of him. Staring at it. Unwavering. Unmoving. A man and his pastry, locked in some kind of profound, spiritual journey that no one else could understand.

It was unclear if he was contemplating the meaning of life or if the muffin had personally wronged him in a past life.

But today—today—Muffin Guy had unknowingly committed a crime.

Gojo marched over, stopping just short of Muffin Guy’s table. His expression was grim. His sunglasses reflected the dull café lighting like he was in some sort of low-budget action movie.

"Alright, muffin boy," he said. "Hand it over."

Muffin Guy did not react.

The punch card remained where it had fallen, untouched in his lap. Muffin Guy himself continued his muffin-induced trance, oblivious to the war he had just ignited.

Gojo narrowed his eyes. "Oh, so that’s how it is."

He placed his hands on the table and leaned in slightly. "Listen. I don’t know what kind of mind games you’re playing here, but I’m not leaving without my card."

Muffin Guy did not move.

The muffin remained uneaten.

Gojo squinted. "You’re good," he admitted. "Too good. But I’m better."

Still, no reaction.

At this point, you were 100% certain that Muffin Guy did not even know Gojo was talking to him.

But Gojo was not deterred. No—if anything, the complete lack of response only fueled him further.

"I see," Gojo murmured. "So this is psychological warfare."

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "Gojo. He did not steal your punch card on purpose. That man is completely checked out. He has no idea what’s happening right now."

Gojo ignored you. A slow, confident smirk spread across his face.

"Okay, buddy," he continued, "if you wanna play dirty, then so can I. You want to make this a battle of endurance?" he mused. "A test of willpower? Oh, you poor, poor fool."

He leaned in.

"I could sit here for hours."

The café collectively turned to look at you, silently asking Are you going to stop this?

You did not intervene.

Because, honestly? You kind of wanted to see where this was going.

Gojo and Muffin Guy remained locked in a tense, one-sided standoff.

Gojo leaned on the table like he was interrogating an international spy. Muffin Guy continued his usual thousand-yard stare into the muffin’s nonexistent soul. The café was caught in the crossfire, helpless witnesses to a battle that absolutely did not need to happen.

The customers were starting to look uncomfortable. Even Greg, who had an impressive tolerance for nonsense, peeked out from behind the counter with an expression that said, "Is this my problem? No? Cool."

You folded your arms and sighed. "Gojo. Just take the damn punch card."

"I can’t," Gojo whispered dramatically. "That would mean he wins."

You deadpanned. "I don’t think he even knows he’s playing."

Gojo shook his head. "No, no. This is a power move. He’s asserting dominance. Look at him."

You did.

Muffin Guy had not moved a millimeter. His posture was slightly slumped, the kind of relaxed yet oddly rigid stance of a man who had fully merged with his chair. His hands rested in his lap, motionless. His expression was blank, unreadable.

"You’re reading way too much into this," you muttered.

Gojo scoffed. "Barista. Sweet, naïve, simple barista. You don’t understand the art of psychological combat."

"Please stop talking."

"This is a game of patience. And unfortunately for Muffin Man over here, I have the patience of a god."

You stared at him. "You literally don’t."

Gojo grinned, pushing his sunglasses up his nose. "Don’t I?"

Thirty minutes passed.

Thirty.

Agonizing.

Minutes.

Gojo had not moved. He remained seated across from Muffin Guy, chin resting in his hand, staring intensely.

Muffin Guy? Unbothered. A picture of serenity. He had reached a state of enlightenment that Gojo could never hope to attain.

You were nearly impressed.

"Gojo," you finally called from behind the counter. "Are you actually going to do anything or…?"

Gojo, without looking away, reached for his drink, took a slow sip, and set it back down with exaggerated precision.

"This is deeper than just a punch card now, Barista," he said solemnly. "This is a battle of souls."

You rolled your eyes and went back to work.

By the one-hour mark, the other customers had started placing bets.

Nanami, who had returned to the café during this mess, stood near the counter with his arms crossed, observing the situation like it personally offended him. He scowled. "This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen."

You nodded. "Yeah."

"…I put 500 yen on Muffin Guy winning."

You blinked. "Oh my god."

At another table, Yuji sat with a wide-eyed look of concern. "Uh… should we stop him?"

Nanami, looking unimpressed as ever, just sighed. "No. Let him suffer the consequences of his own actions."

"Okay, but like—what if he never gives up?" Yuji asked. "Like, what if this is it? What if Gojo-sensei just lives here now?"

Your expression darkened. "I don’t want to think about that."

Meanwhile, Gojo was starting to crack.

The problem was… Muffin Guy was too powerful.

Gojo shifted slightly in his seat. He flexed his fingers. His leg bounced a little. His energy was starting to get restless. He was like a dog that had been told to "stay" for longer than his attention span allowed.

Muffin Guy remained perfectly still.

Gojo exhaled sharply, then abruptly straightened up. "Alright," he announced. "I’m initiating Plan B."

Plan B, apparently, was Gojo very dramatically standing up, taking a deep breath, and—

"HEY, LOOK! A DISTRACTION!"

Gojo threw his arms out and gestured wildly toward the window.

Muffin Guy did not look.

Muffin Guy did not acknowledge this in any way.

Muffin Guy simply continued to stare at his muffin.

It was an incredible display of indifference.

Gojo groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Why won’t he break?!"

"He doesn’t care," you pointed out.

"No one is this unbothered," Gojo muttered in despair. "He has to be suppressing some deep, hidden rage. A darkness within him."

You eyed Muffin Guy, who had not reacted to literally anything this entire time. "Yeah, sure."

Gojo sighed and slumped back into his seat. He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling like he was questioning every life choice that led him here.

And then.

Then.

It happened.

The door opened and a breeze moved the punch card off of Muffin Guy's lap, onto the floor. It lay there. In the open. Right at his feet.

And then.

Muffin Guy… moved.

Barely. But he did.

His shoe—slowly, deliberately—rose up.

With an almost absentminded motion, he stepped on the punch card then kicked it away.

Gojo, eyes wide behind his sunglasses, slowly looked down at the fallen punch card.

Gojo’s hands clenched into fists. He looked back up at Muffin Guy, mouth slightly open in betrayal.

"You—" he whispered. "You absolute bastard."

Muffin Guy blinked once. And then, finally—finally—he moved his gaze away from the muffin.

And looked Gojo dead in the eye.

For the first time ever.

It lasted only a second. Maybe two.

But it was enough.

It was enough to shake Satoru Gojo to his very core.

And then, Muffin Guy returned his gaze to the muffin, as if nothing had happened.

Gojo staggered back. "Oh my god."

He turned to you, expression shell-shocked. "Did you see that?"

You glanced up, having been working on an order. "See what?"

Gojo clutched his chest. "The raw intimidation. The absolute menace of it all."

You looked at Muffin Guy.

He was back to staring blankly at his muffin.

"You’re making this up," you said.

"No, Barista. No." Gojo shook his head solemnly. "That was real."

He bent down, picked up the punch card, and held it in his hands like he had just recovered a stolen artifact.

"I have won," he declared. "But at what cost?"

And with that, he turned and walked away.

And Muffin Guy? Muffin Guy continued to sit there, unmoving, as if none of this had ever happened. As if he had already ascended beyond human concerns. As if this was all just a blip in his long, unbothered existence.

Gojo, shaken but victorious, walked up to the counter and carefully placed his now-returned punch card in his pocket.

"I have faced many things in my life, Barista," he said, shaking his head. "But nothing—nothing—compares to him."

You did not care. "Are you gonna buy something or not?"

Gojo blinked. "Oh. Right." He grinned. "One Death By Sugar, please!”

After the whole Gojo and Muffin Guy fiasco, it had been a long week. A really long week.

Longer than usual. And that was saying something, considering your usual weeks included existential crises, cryptic nonsense from regulars who seemed vaguely cult-adjacent, and whatever the hell Greg did instead of actual work.

Just this morning, a man had thrown his coffee at the wall and shouted that it had “too many molecules.”

You had simply stared at him, dead inside, until he shuffled out of the café like a scolded dog. Greg the Manager, who had watched the whole thing, just shrugged and said, “You know, sometimes science, like, gets to people.” Then he went back to his very important task of playing Candy Crush in the back.

Another customer demanded a “non-liquid latte,” which led to a long and painful conversation about what a latte actually was.

So yeah. The bar was low, but somehow, this week had still found a way to dig beneath it.

In short: You were done. Completely, utterly, cosmically done.

So there you were, leaning against the counter, staring blankly at nothing, dark circles under your eyes so deep they could have been considered voids of the abyss, when Choso entered.

Choso was—how to put this?—an experience.

It wasn’t that he was bad. He was just… weird. The kind of weird that made you wonder if he was raised in a cave by a wise old hermit who only spoke in riddles. Or wolves. Possibly both.

He took one look at you—slouched, dark circles under your eyes, contemplating whether you could get away with faking your own death to escape this job—and immediately panicked.

"Barista."

"Choso."

"You are unwell," he declared, voice heavy with alarm.

You blinked slowly. “I’m tired.”

“Dying,” Choso corrected gravely.

“No.”

“Yes.”

This was going nowhere.

“What do you need? Please, tell me. I will get it.”

You, in a moment of sheer exhaustion-fueled stupidity, decided to mess with him. “I need a million dollars and a nap.”

Choso didn’t even hesitate.

He just nodded. Then vanished.

Literally.

One second he was there, the next? Gone. Like a cryptid retreating into the woods. You didn’t think much of it. Maybe he had finally reached his weird quota for the day.

Five minutes later, Yuji Itadori sprinted into the café, looking like he’d just witnessed a national emergency.

"CHO’S TRYING TO ROB A BANK," he wheezed.

Your brain short-circuited.

“What.”

Yuji, barely holding it together, flailed his arms in the air. "HE SAID YOU NEEDED MONEY AND REST, AND I TRIED TO STOP HIM, BUT HE JUST SAID ‘IT MUST BE DONE’ AND LEFT."

You stared at him. "You’re joking."

"I’M NOT JOKING."

That was all you needed to hear.

Without another word, you threw your apron onto the counter, ignored Greg’s halfhearted “Hey, where are you going?”, marched past a shocked line of customers (who had given up on understanding anything that happened in this café), and stormed out of the café, because apparently, preventing your customers from committing felonies was now part of your job description.

Outside the bank, you spotted Choso standing by the entrance, looking deeply contemplative.

His expression was tense, brows furrowed in serious thought, like he was weighing the logistics of a full-scale heist.

You marched up to him. "Choso. What the hell are you doing?"

Choso turned to you with the heavy sincerity of a man about to make a life-altering decision. "I have realized I do not know how to rob a bank."

"Good," you said. "Fantastic. Let’s go."

He looked vaguely disappointed, like he had really been hoping for a step-by-step guide. He hesitated. “But you need the money.”

"I do not need bank robbery money, Choso."

“…Are you certain?"

You grabbed his sleeve and started dragging him away. “Very certain."

He did not resist. Just nodded solemnly as if he was allowing you to stop him.

Yuji, breathless from running after you, skidded to a halt. “Oh thank god.”

Choso turned to his brother. “You should have more faith in me, brother. I would not have gotten caught.”

“THAT’S NOT THE POINT."

Back at the café, you reclaimed your position behind the counter, mentally adding Prevented a Felony to your resume.

Unfortunately, that was not the end of it.

Because Choso still believed you were dying.

Which is why, for the rest of the shift, he kept handing you random things to “help.”

First, a protein bar.

Then a full meal from some restaurant down the street (you had no idea how he got it so fast, and frankly, you were scared to ask).

Then vitamins.

Then—at one point—a whole ass bucket of water.

“Hydration is important,” Choso said solemnly.

You stared at the bucket. Then at him. Then back at the bucket.

"...Where did you even get this?"

Choso simply nodded, as if that was an answer.

You groaned. “Choso—”

“I will not let you perish,” Choso said, his tone eerily similar to when he’d considered robbing a bank on your behalf.

This was getting out of hand.

At some point, Gojo had walked in, witnessed Choso wordlessly draping a blanket over your shoulders like a solemn warrior, and nearly died laughing.

Choso, unfazed, simply turned to him and said, “They are unwell.”

Gojo whistled. "Aw, Choso, you’re such a gentleman."

Choso looked pleased. "It is important that they do not perish."

Gojo, whispered to you with a teasing grin. "I think he just confessed."

You refused to acknowledge this.

But it didn’t stop. For the entire shift, Choso kept appearing out of nowhere to hand you various life-sustaining items. A banana. A juice box. An entire bag of rice.

By the end of the day, you had somehow acquired a small mountain of food and drinks, and Choso was still watching you like he expected you to keel over at any second.

Greg the Manager, walking by, looked at the pile and nodded approvingly. "Nice. Free snacks."

Before you could stop him, he reached for a rice ball—

And Choso slapped his hand away.

Greg froze.

Choso glared at him.

Gojo, somewhere in the background muttered a "Holy shit."

Greg backed away.

Choso nodded to himself, victorious.

You put your head in your hands. "I need a vacation."

"I will acquire you one."

"No."

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#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #choso x reader #nanami x reader #toji x reader #shiu x reader #naoya x reader #higuruma x reader #mahito x reader #kenjaku x reader

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