#but the atmosphere that's meant to be conveyed here is. cold

[floral-comet-whump]

hello! this was supposed to be the original post where both I as a whump writer and walenty debut, but I got inspired by this post and wrote a snippet

contents: captivity whump, fantasy whump (hardly mentioned), institutionalized whump, interrogation whump/tortured for information, restraints, mention of suicide attempt, discussion and threats of death, off-screen past and future torture, lady whumpee (she will probably never appear again sorry), attempted conditioning, defiant whumpee, cold/impersonal whumper, remorseful whumper, minor whumper/whumpee (16-17), (non-combatant) living weapon whumper

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

Walenty blinks. That’s not the answer they wanted. Ruby looks right back, damp hair sticking to her face. They’d offered to move it out of the way if she answered a question.

“No,” Walenty puts their cheek into their palm, using it as an unneeded crutch for their head. “I don’t.”

“You do!” The prisoner snaps, yanking her head forward as best as she can. They internally note to secure it to the back of the chair before they leave so she can’t kill herself by slamming it back until her skull breaks. “You- You keep saying I’ll get stuff if I talk! I see what you’re doing with that reward system,” she hisses out, “And that incentive, and good behavior. I’m not some dog you can train!”

That’s literally just how interrogation works, they bite back. They wait to see if she’ll continue, tracing the stitching of their chair. Ruby's eyes are just as full of rage as when they’d gotten here. Maybe because they’ve cleaned her wounds? It doesn’t matter so long as they receive correct intel.

“Answer me, dammit!”

Their free hand pauses at the shout.

“This is my job,” gloved fingers interlace on their lap. “I need answers, Ruby. If tying your hair back isn’t enough, what would you like I do?”

“Let me go!” She demands loudly again, and they don’t flinch this time. “I’m not cooperating with the likes of you.”

She’s like a broken record, they think.

It’s gone in a loop for hours. They question and she refuses to answer. They threaten and she answers and they don’t know if it’s true. They question again, and she refuses again. They go through with the threat. She caves. They question. She refuses. She refuses. She refuses. They threaten something else. She caves. They question. She answers. They question, she answers. They question, she hesitates. She refuses to answer, and it restarts.

“That’s not how this works,” Walenty, too, is a broken record. “So give me something. At this rate, your wounds will get infected and you’ll die. Do you seriously want a torture chamber to be your deathbed?”

Silence settles over the dim room.

“...I’m not getting out alive anyways.” Her voice breaks, and so does eye contact with the interrogator. “At least I’ll go out nobly.”

Walenty looks down at their notepad. Everything’s encrypted anyway, so there’s no reason not to write draft reports in front of her. They close it, bookmarking their page with elastic and adding a loop for their pen.

“This isn’t working,” they finally say it out loud, standing to put the logs on a seperate surface. “And you’re obviously not gonna talk.” Walenty takes the scalpel and wipes it with already-wet cloth. “So I’ll leave you to rot down here.”

“...What?”

The enby finishes, putting both on the tray of to-be-cleaned instruments.

“You can’t be serious.”

They walk to the door, “You said you wouldn’t mind dying,” they reminded, removing their badge and imbuing the password in it, unlocking two of three locks. “So have fun succumbing to nature.”

“I haven’t told you everything.” Ruby points out as they walk back and fetch a blindfold. She’s returned to glaring. “You’re bluffing.”

They put the badge back and return to tie the blindfold around her eyes, utilizing the chair’s high back and fabric’s stretchy material to secure— “Stop that!” —the girl’s head too.

Walenty strolls over to the counter they left their notebook on and puts it in their bag. They detach the only key that’s actually just a key for this room.

“You’ll come back.” She insists, and they simply hum, inserting the key into the lock.

They twist it.

“They won’t let me die until they know everything and we both know it.”

She’s right, but she’ll begin to doubt herself soon. The heavy door creaks open. They slide the light glyph off, and only then take the key. They step out and slam it shut, showing the still-enchanted badge to the mechanism’s sensors. They hear it lock. Walenty inserts it once again, spinning counterclockwise this time. Click.

Walenty sighs, deflating. They resist the urge to actually slouch. Instead, the interrogator remains standing there. It’s so damn bright every they step out that it has to be its own kind of torture. They extract the key from its hole and clip it back in its place.

They sigh a second time, turning around to lean back against the closed entrance.

This is enough information for just one session, they think. She’ll get desperate next time, and start to believe that they really had left her to die in there, only to have her reality reshaped again when they're back.

It’s going fine.

It’ll work. Ruby will break, Walenty will have information, and then they’ll kill her. Or maybe she’ll be recruited, she’s young enough. They’ll ask around. Can’t risk wasting resources.

A third sigh leaves their lips, and the human glances around to make sure nobody is watching before resting their forehead on the door.

Breathe in. Hold.

They really have become heartless. It’s reasonable to get desensitized, they know that from observation and experience. It’s still jarring. They wish they could leave it all behind. Run away from the suffering they’ve inflicted and been complicit in without facing consequences.

Breathe out.

But they can’t. There’s no way. They’ll be found. They’ll be found again and they don’t think desertion will be pardoned this time. Even the execution will be extremely painful, but it’s not as if it’s nothing compared to the suffering they’ve inflicted. Screams and healing spells and bloodied clothes and the stench of vomit and disgustingly damp fabric and compliance and—

Don’t think like that.

Walenty sharply inhales at the still locked door, touching the corner of their eye with a glove. Flaky blood stays flaky. Phew. They spin around and begin to walk out of this dreadful place, because they’ve broken both themselves and others to have that privilege. Walenty won’t fall apart. They want to live. Even if they torture again and again, they don’t want to die.

Walenty doesn’t want to die.

[unabashegirl]

Vicious 5 || Harry Styles x Mafia

Summary: Harry Styles, the cold and calculating son of a powerful mafia don, must consolidate power after his father's passing. He faces challenges from his unpredictable younger brother, Silas, and navigates a complex world of alliances, ruthless decisions, and family loyalty. Amidst the intrigue, the elegant and alluring Y/N Castellano, the daughter of an Italian mafia boss, attends the funeral and finds herself drawn to Harry. As power dynamics shift and the future remains uncertain, the story explores the dark and dangerous allure of the mafia, the weight of family legacies, and the potential for unexpected connections in a world defined by secrecy and ruthlessness.

author's note: I just wanted to come on here and thank everyone who has joined Patreon and also everyone who has started following me on here! thank you so so much! I'll be forever thankful for contributing to my education!

warnings: violence, cursing and more.

masterist of vicious

word count: 2.1K

"He's gone." Federico had essentially abandoned her there. He denied her a place in the car, covertly ordered her bags packed, leaving her feeling betrayed by her own father. She wasn't prepared to move in; the prospect of residing in the unfamiliar manor, with its intricate family dynamics, intimidated her. Y/N sensed the impending challenges of being accepted into the family, particularly given her less-than-amicable start with Harry. Fear gripped her as she contemplated the potential difficulties that lay ahead. "I suppose I'm moving in now."

"Who gave you that order?" Harry's questioning tone cut through the air. The last thing he needed was an unfamiliar presence wandering the estate, potentially stirring up trouble. His distrust of her was palpable—she wasn't part of the family, and in his eyes, that meant she hadn't earned any respect or loyalty.

"My father," Y/N retorted, a hint of annoyance evident in her eyes. "Listen, I don't want to be here. The feeling is mutual. I'll be out of your hair as soon as I'm able to leave."

Harry turned to Charlie, seeking answers. "Where is Lex?" Confusion mirrored on Charlie's face, matching Harry's bewilderment.

"He's downstairs, disposing of some things," Y/N revealed, her eyes rolling in disdain.

"He's taking care of the body downstairs," she added, a subtle revelation conveyed to Harry. His sharp gaze turned towards the Italian woman.

"No one was talking to you. Mind your own fucking business," Charlie snapped at Y/N, an unspoken tension filling the room. Unfazed, Y/N merely shrugged, seemingly unaffected by the hostility directed her way. The stage was set for a collision of personalities within the intricate web of the English mafia.

"Go find Silas," Harry commanded Charlie.

"Where is he?"

"How would I know, Charlie?! Go find him. He is probably doing nothing as always," Harry retorted, his frustration evident. The presence of Y/N in the estate irked him; it meant he had to be more discreet about his activities. Her moving in seemed to symbolize a level of commitment he wasn't ready for.

"Who is Silas?" Y/N inquired, her tone laced with curiosity. "Also, can I get a room? Just to leave all of my stuff and shit?"

"Do you know that you ask too many questions?" Harry responded, fingers flying over his phone as he texted Lex, attempting to bring him into his immediate service. There were tasks at hand, and Lex was the only one capable of assisting him.

"You called?" Silas appeared, extricating himself from Charlie's grasp. She had essentially pulled him away from his haven, where he spent his days immersed in books, avoiding the inevitable clashes with Harry.

"Find Y/N a room and keep her out of the way," Harry ordered Silas. The strained atmosphere between the brothers had lingered since their father's funeral, the bitter taste of disappointment for Silas, who felt that Arthur's will had unequivocally favored Harry. Silas turned to glance at Y/N, sizing her up with a mixture of curiosity and disdain.

"Who do you think I am? Her fucking babysitter?" Silas spat, disdain dripping from his words. "I've got better things to do than to be at your beck and call." He pivoted on his heel, ready to leave, but Harry had other plans. Something had snapped within him—perhaps it was the insubordination in front of Y/N and his men or the lingering discomfort from Silas's entrance at their father's funeral. Whatever it was, Harry saw red.

Without warning, Harry reached out and seized Silas by the back of his shirt, forcefully bringing him back. A swift punch connected with Silas's nose, and the onslaught continued. The sounds of bones crunching and blood splattering filled the air, and Y/N, horrified, shouted, "STOP! YOU'RE GOING TO KILL HIM!" Desperation colored her voice as she tried to pull the enraged Harry away from his battered brother.

Y/N surveyed the room, taking in the unsettling sight of men passively observing Harry disfigure Silas's face. A chilling stillness gripped the air; none of them made a move, objected, or attempted to intervene. They knew the unwritten rule: interfering would redirect Harry's wrath onto themselves, and none dared to challenge the boss. The ominous tableau unfolded, a tableau of silent submission.

Harry eventually halted his assault, his knuckles worn and Silas's body limp beneath him. The room bore witness to a scene reminiscent of a crime documentary, with Harry rising from his knees to his feet. Specks of blood adorned the collar and sleeves of his button-down shirt, and his hands were stained, knuckles split open. Unfazed, he pushed his hair back, presenting a picture of calculated violence.

Without a word to Y/N or anyone else, Harry retrieved a cigarette from his pocket. As he walked past Y/N, a cold and sinister look lingered on his face, leaving an indelible impression on the room's atmosphere.

Y/N waited until Harry left the room and knelt beside Silas. His face bore the evidence of the brutal assault—cuts, a fractured nose, bruised and purple skin, busted lip, and injured eyebrows.

“Don’t touch him or move him,” Charlie warned, already dialing his phone.

“He needs help,” she argued, the memories of her father's similar actions resurfacing, though never with such hatred and never directed at his own brother.

“I know,” Charlie nodded, “What do you think I am doing?” Within ten minutes, the medic and nurse living on the grounds arrived. Silas was carefully transferred upstairs. Y/N could only hope he would recover.

Charlie guided her to a room, noticeably smaller and darker than what she was accustomed to.

“I'm sure this will be enough for you,” Charlie stated. “Dinner will be at eight,” he added before leaving the bedroom. The bed, though not as grand as her usual one, boasted a beautiful canopy, casting a shadow over the somber atmosphere of the English manor.

The bedroom held an air of antiquity, its walls adorned with dark, polished wood paneling that seemed to absorb the ambient light. Heavy drapes, drawn tightly shut, further dimmed the space, casting an almost melancholic aura. The canopy over the bed boasted intricate patterns, a testament to craftsmanship from a bygone era. Despite the opulence of the bed, the room's overall atmosphere felt cold and unwelcoming. An ornate vanity mirror stood in the corner, reflecting the somber scene within the room. The furniture, though well-maintained, bore signs of wear, hinting at the passage of time and the weight of secrets held within the walls of the English manor.

Y/N immersed herself in the task of unfolding and hanging the clothes that had been packed for her, all the while dialing her best friend, Giana. Their friendship had withstood the test of time, enduring since the tender age of five. However, Giana now lived in the clutches of an Italian marriage, leaving Y/N feeling the void of her absence.

"Hi," Giana whispered, orchestrating her escape from the bedroom into the bathroom, where the sound of running water provided a disguise for her voice. The last thing Giana needed was to be overheard by her husband, Augusto. “How is everything?”

"My dad basically kicked me out of the house. I am now staying con gli inglesi," Y/N shared, her voice reflecting a mix of frustration and sadness.

"How is Harry treating you?" Giana inquired, sensing an underlying distress in her friend's response. Y/N couldn't hold back tears as she recounted the distressing scene she had just witnessed. "Quello che è successo?" Giana asked, concerned and probing for details.

"He beat his brother almost to death. It was horrible," Y/N admitted between soft sobs. The realization of the kind of man Harry was had unsettled her deeply. "I don’t know if I can take all of this. I want to leave already. Maybe it is time to put our plan in action."

Giana glanced nervously at the locked bathroom door, a barrier between her and the turmoil of her own married life.

"I don’t know, Y/N," she hesitantly responded. "What if we get caught? The repercussions can be worse."

"But what if we succeed, G? What if we can finally get away from all this shit and live a tranquil life, running that little cafe that you have always wanted to open in a very secluded town? Far and far away from our fathers and nightmares?" Y/N proposed, yearning for an escape from the suffocating grip of their current lives.

Before Giana could respond, and while she contemplated her life, the door began to be pounded by Augusto as he screamed for her to come out.

“I- I can’t, Y/N,” she nervously said, attempting to stay focused on their conversation rather than her husband's escalating shouts. “He won’t let me. He'll search until he finds me.”

“We can do it. You deserve a better life, G. Remember how miserably our mothers were and how young they died,” Y/N urged, able to hear the escalating shouts and the incessant banging on the door.

“Bene, but it must happen tonight,” Giana clarified. Her husband had some business to attend to, which only meant that she would have time to devise a plan to escape the premises.

“Okay. Stasera. Call me when you are able,” Y/N finally said before hanging up. The urgency in Giana's situation only fueled their determination to break free from the shackles of their oppressive lives.

She couldn’t wait. Y/N had to leave before dinner. At dinner all the men would be gather and waiting for her appereance. She had to escape before. That was the only way that she wuld have a chance.

Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, her mind racing as she contemplated the escape plan. She glanced around the room, looking for any potential obstacles or challenges. The window seemed like her best bet; it was a risk, but she had to take it. The room's dim lighting and heavy drapes provided some cover, and she knew Harry would be too occupied with whatever he had happening to go check on her.

First, she quietly opened the window, praying it wouldn't creak and give her away. The chilly night air swept into the room, and Y/N took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. She gathered a few essentials into a small bag – some clothes, her passport, and a bit of money she had managed to save over the years.

Y/N could still hear Harry’s muffled shouts from the other side of the house, giving her a sense of urgency. She looked back at the bed, debating whether to leave a note, but to who? None cared enough for her to want to know.

She experimented with various drapes and bed sheets from her room, carefully easing them down the window. Surveying the scene from her vantage point, she concluded that the space below was empty, ensuring her descent would go unnoticed.

With a quick glance around the room to make sure she had packed all the essentials in her bag, Y/N took a deep breath, summoning the courage to execute her plan. She wrapped the makeshift rope around her hands, securing it tightly, and then began her descent, cautiously lowering herself from the window.

The night air brushed against her face as she descended, and each inch brought her closer to freedom. The silence of the estate enveloped her, and Y/N couldn't help but feel a mixture of fear and excitement. The ground neared, and with a soft landing, she released the makeshift rope.

Swiftly making her way to the edge of the property, Y/N took cover in the shadows, avoiding any security cameras or patrolling guards.

Waiting until the echoes of footsteps and voices faded into the night, Y/N swiftly darted into the dense woods. The moonlight filtered through the branches, casting an ethereal glow on her determined face. Each step carried her farther away from the imposing estate and the looming fate of an arranged marriage to Harry.

Navigating the shadows and weaving through the trees, Y/N pressed on with a sense of urgency. The forest concealed her movements as she sought a path that would lead her to a road, a lifeline to escape the impending union. The rustling leaves beneath her hurried steps seemed to echo the beats of her racing heart.

In the silence of the woods, Y/N contemplated the enormity of her decision. Yet, the prospect of freedom, away from the suffocating expectations and uncertainties, fueled her resolve. The night air carried both the weight of her familial ties and the promise of a new beginning, and she pressed on, guided by the hope of a life of her own choosing.

Chapter 6

if you'd like to continue reading and have early access to more chapters then I suggest you to visit my patreon!

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Francis Drake Main Story

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors.

(Drake?)

His aquamarine eyes gleamed coldly in the darkness.

Mitsuki: "Did I say something weird?"

Drake: "Nah, it's probably just the way you see things. I can't understand it, though."

Slightly furrowing his eyebrows, he turned his gaze to the water's surface.

Drake: "For me, betrayal meant death."

Drake: "There was the risk of dying from betraying and the danger of being killed in retaliation for betraying. No matter which side I stand on, death is always close by."

Drake: "I can't read people's hearts no matter what they say, and even if I believe them, you never know when they'll turn on you."

Drake: "I don't have the time or the ability to consider the other person's circumstances."

(There it is again.)

(He easily fits into social circles, but there's still this cold side to him.)

(I guess this is related to his past, after all.)

Drake's tone sounded as if he had cut off his emotions, giving a glimpse of what he must have experienced during his time as a pirate and a soldier.

Drake: "If I betray someone, I do it with the understanding that I may die. If I'm betrayed, I'll chase the other person to the ends of the earth for revenge."

Drake: "If I can't achieve revenge, I'll curse the whole world like a sailor wishing for destruction on an eternal voyage."

(.........)

The smile he wore had a somewhat cynical and pessimistic atmosphere, making me shiver.

(For someone who has lived through battles like him, my way of thinking might seem naive.)

It wasn't just his way of thinking.

Even taking just one aspect like 'betrayal,' it felt like everything about the world he had walked through was different.

(He feels distant.)

(But then again, he might think I still don't understand him.)

Mitsuki: "I chose to believe because I wanted to believe. You're the one who made me want to follow through on that feeling."

Drake: "Me?"

I nodded in response to his questioning gaze.

Mitsuki: "Don't you remember? You invited me on a boat before, just like today, and listened to me."

Mitsuki: "You said that living in a way that goes against my own wishes is the real betrayal."

------------Flashback------------

Drake: "If you're always thinking about those people and sacrificing your desires, you'll miss out on life."

Drake: "In that case, you should choose the path you believe in."

Drake: "In my opinion, living in a way that goes against your own wishes is the real betrayal."

---------Flashback Ends--------

Mitsuki: "When you said that to me, it made me realize that I shouldn't betray my own feelings."

Drake: ".........."

At that time, it was undoubtedly thanks to him that I was able to let go of my negative thoughts and reconsider my own heart.

(His words back then still resonate in my heart.)

After conveying my feelings, he spoke up.

Drake: "You really are a strange woman."

Mitsuki: "Huh?"

Drake: “I could never trust someone enough to be okay with being betrayed.”

Drake: “And yet, you started to think that way because of my words.”

Mitsuki: "Yeah."

Drake: "I don't get it."

Drake: "Still, I'm amazed by your stubborn kindness."

He said something dismissive, yet he reached out and gently stroked my cheek.

Mitsuki: "Drake?"

Drake: “I don’t know why, but despite your ridiculously naive thinking, I can’t ignore that you secretly feel sad behind that stubborn kindness.”

Mitsuki: ".........."

His touch was so warm and ticklish, and it felt like heat was spreading from there.

(I don’t understand it either.)

(Sometimes I feel so far from you, yet you’re still here for me.)

Understanding him was like trying to catch a wave.

However, the warmth we shared at this moment was undeniably something I could believe in.

After a while, the sound of a bell echoed in the quiet night.

Drake: "We should probably head back soon."

Mitsuki: "Yeah, everyone must be worried."

(Although I want to stay like this a little longer.)

Drake: "Actually, maybe I won't go back."

Mitsuki: "Huh?"

Drake: "You said something nice, so I kind of wanted to go against it."

Mitsuki: "..........."

Drake: "Kidding, let's quietly leave before the city lights go out."

After exchanging banter, we returned to our usual atmosphere.

Mitsuki: "Thank you again today, Drake. I always end up talking to you about everything."

Drake: "I also talk however I want, so it's a fair trade. Don't worry about it."

He faintly smiled while rowing the boat.

I felt like I was slowly starting to understand him, yet at the same time, I still felt like I didn't understand him at all.

(For example, where does he get that coldness he sometimes shows?)

------------Flashback------------

Drake: "Trust, huh? People can easily betray you. You never really know what someone's thinking deep down."

Drake: "Well, I’m sure you’ll be fine, so you don’t need to worry about it."

Drake: "Real betrayal is much more merciless."

---------Flashback Ends--------

I remembered his words and actions that had been stuck in my mind for a long time.

Mitsuki: "Drake, there's one thing I'd like to ask."

Drake: "Hm?"

Mitsuki: "Have you ever had someone betray you badly?"

Drake: "..........."

Drake: "Well, yeah. Being betrayed and betraying others was just a part of everyday life for pirates."

Despite my bold question, Drake smiled.

However, his gaze momentarily darkened as it wandered across the river's dark surface.

Drake: "But the first memory of betrayal in my life was from my mother."

(His mother?)

Drake: "You see, my mother comes from a somewhat special and prestigious lineage."

Drake: "However, one day, she got pregnant and eloped with a man."

Drake: "With me in tow, my parents traveled from town to town to escape."

Drake: "Life was tough, but they were kind. My mother always looked at me with gentle eyes."

Drake: "But when I wasn't even ten years old, our escape suddenly came to an end."

Drake: "We were captured and brought back by the clan members who were chasing us, and my mother died as a captive."

Drake: "In her final moments, my mother averted her gaze from me and said,"

『 I should never have given birth to you. 』

Mitsuki: "She seemed like a kind mother, so why would she say that at the end?"

Drake: "Who knows? Maybe she couldn't take it anymore."

Drake: "Because I was born, she became a disgrace to the clan and was hunted down."

He shrugged his shoulders and let out a bitter laugh.

Mitsuki: "What happened to you after that?"

Drake: "I managed to escape on my own, but when I finally found my father, he already had a new family."

Drake: "I had nowhere to go, so I resorted to committing petty crimes to get by."

When he met Karen, he mentioned doing similar things around that time.

Drake: "One day, I sneaked onto a ship, only to find out it was a pirate ship."

Drake: "Instead of being thrown out, the captain took me in, and the rest, as you can imagine, is a tale of piracy."

Drake: "After I got my own ship, I began receiving missions from the Queen."

His words abruptly cut off in the middle of the conversation.

Mitsuki: "Drake? Sorry. If you don't feel like talking about it..."

Drake: "No, it's not that. I just had trouble recalling things I'd almost forgotten."

Drake: "Well, it just means I've gotten used to betrayal with this kind of upbringing."

He spoke nonchalantly, but deep inside, his heart must've been wounded when his mother told him that he should never have been born.

(That was his first experience of betrayal.)

(But did his mother truly feel that way?)

(She went through so much, even running away, just to give birth to the child of the person she loved.)

I suppressed the questions that arose in my mind.

It would be too optimistic and irresponsible to say that there might have been reasons behind his mother's words based solely on fragments of the story I heard.

Because I can't truly know the truth inside someone's heart.

(But...)

------------Flashback------------

Mitsuki: "I wonder if that girl has a family."

Drake: "Even if she does, having a blood connection doesn't necessarily make them a good family."

Drake: "I don't have a place to miss or a place to return to."

Drake: "I'm fine with being a flying Dutchman."

---------Flashback Ends--------

Drake's somewhat lonely mutterings crossed my mind.

(There is a deep and cold sea in his clear eyes.)

(Even if our ways of thinking are different, even if he says he can't understand...)

(Can I, even just a little, be there for him like he was for me during tough times?)

With these thoughts welling up, something natural slipped out of my lips.

Mitsuki: "Hey, Drake..."

Drake: "Hm?"

Mitsuki: "You might think that people can betray others, but no matter what, I won't betray you."

Drake: ".........."

Mitsuki: "I won't break promises or push you away. I promise."

Mitsuki: "So please try to believe in me."

Under the twinkling stars, I gazed at him sincerely.

He, in turn, stared at me as if trying to expose my heart.

Drake: "Mitsuki."

Drake: "Even if I were a villain trying to deceive you, would you still not betray me?"

(Villain?)

I couldn't imagine him deceiving me like that, but...

Mitsuki: "I won't betray you. I don't want to betray you."

(Having someone trustworthy will surely be a support.)

(I want him to have that kind of support, even though he has lived through betrayal.)

As I waited for his next words, only the sound of the rippling water filled our surroundings.

Then...

Drake: "Ha...ha...ahahaha!"

Mitsuki: "Drake?"

For some reason, he burst out laughing.

Drake: "No, sorry. Different people asked me to believe in them, but they all had excuses or were begging for their lives."

Drake: "You're the first one to ask me to believe without any benefit for yourself."

After laughing for a while, Drake gently placed his hand on my head.

Drake: "Well, if you put it that way, I'll try believing in you."

Drake: "You won't betray me, and I'll believe in you. It's our promise."

Drake: "Like a pirate's code."

Mitsuki: "Okay! I promise."

A special connection formed between us, and a smile naturally spread across our faces.

Later, when we returned to the mansion, I visited his room before going to sleep.

Drake: "What's up, lil' fawn?"

Mitsuki: "I wanted to give you something as a thank-you."

Mitsuki: "Will you accept this?"

What I handed him was:

Drake: "A shell bottle?"

It was a small empty bottle I got from the kitchen, filled with sand and seashells I found in a miscellaneous store. Looking through the bluish glass, it resembled the ocean.

Mitsuki: "You love the sea, right? Paris doesn't have one, so I made this so you can feel the ocean as much as possible."

Drake: "Heh. It's beautiful."

Mitsuki: "The sand inside is called star sand and sun sand. They say having it grants wishes."

Even if I don't know why he came back to life, I secretly hope that his wishes will be fulfilled.

Drake: "A sea in the palm of my hand. Nice."

Drake: "I'll treasure it. Thanks, Mitsuki."

(I'm glad he liked it.)

In response to Drake's smile, I nodded with a content heart.

Alone in his room, Drake threw himself onto the bed, playing with the shell bottle Mitsuki gave him in his hands.

With every tilt, the sand and seashells swayed inside, creating a sound akin to the rustle of gentle waves.

Drake: "Give believing a shot, huh?"

Drake: "Those words suit me the least."

Was Drake's sarcastic smile directed at Mitsuki or himself?

Outside the window, a crescent moon was floating, just one step away from being a full moon.

Previous Part╎Masterlist╎Side Story 2

[unovanhunny]

Feel free to ignore if you'd prefer a non-religious holiday, but what about a sweet christmasy plot thing? Like imagine a quick moment that's like a quiet character study of Emmet. He takes a break from the heists and crime around the holiday because even HE doesnt believe in ruining christmas for some poor sod. However, he doesnt really have a family to spend the holiday wit so he's left to just sorta wander around the city or something.

It was cold that night, near the end of the year, but far from dark. The lights lit up every display window with the promise of festive warmth. Though the holiday meant little to Emmet, usually seeing Elesa for a quick visit but otherwise not having any plans, he loved the atmosphere that would take over. It made him feel just a little less lonely.

As kids, he and his friends would snatch little trinkets while people were too busy shopping to notice and would share the spoils. That was the closest thing to a Christmas he would have. Not exactly a tradition that worked now as an adult.

He could hear the music blaring from the speakers placed along the main street, quieter from just the next block over. He had heard those songs all his life and there was a bitter nostalgia there. Enough to keep him from walking the Main street. The music made him think of things he never had and may possibly never have, and it was a sore spot as a kid. Now, he had made his peace, but he still remembered the feeling of lost hope. But though the music was the backdrop for the early evening, that wasn't his focus.

The chatter of people was what he was here for. The chatter of people was comforting. Families doing last minute shopping before the Eve hit, groups of friends heading to and from shops, couples getting dates in before the holiday Really began. It was like he could get lost in the elevated mood and not have to wonder if he would ever have something like this himself. It was isolating and lonely, but it was better being lonely surrounded by others than while being locked away in his empty apartment with just him and his parrot.

"Emmet!"

His heart stopped at the cheery voice calling his name and it took him a moment to remember. That was the name he gave Ingo, but Ingo knew it only for his civilian persona. Pulling a mask onto his face quickly and tugging his hat down more firmly, he turned to see the detective he spent more of his days playing cat and mouse with.

"Hello, Detective. Merry Christmas. Are you getting last minute presents?"

Ingo's smile may have been subtle, but his eyes were shining with a cheerful light that made it more than obvious. Emmet felt a flutter in his chest he tried to push down.

"I, well, yes. Honestly, I was wondering how I was going to give this to you, but I guess it must be a Christmas miracle!" And as he spoke, he reached into the back he was carrying to pull out a small gift bag. "I wasn't quite sure what you would like, but I hope this can convey my appreciation for you!"

Staring at the outheld bag for a long moment, Emmet finally took it with a hesitant hand.

"Are... You sure? You really did not have to give me anything. I-I do not have anything for you in return. If anything, I should be showing you appreciation!"

Ingo's laugh was loud but sweet, his eyes still bright. "I'm sure! And you don't need to get me anything, it's not an obligation. I appreciate having someone I can talk to, and I wanted you to feel that appreciation."

Emmet nodded slowly. "Well... I am glad to be that for you. And I will continue to be someone you can talk to. I will find some way to repay you, though, mark my words."

"Then I look forward to it! I'm sorry if I interrupted you, I couldn't pass up the chance. I do need to be going though. Merry Christmas!"

"Be on your way, then. Merry Christmas. And thank you."

-

At home once again, Emmet stared at the gift bag after placing it on the kitchen table. For some reason, he was nervous. A deep breath and he pried the bag open, careful to not rip the bag as he removed the staple's grip. He stuck his hand into the festive white and red tissue paper to pull out two things. A bag of peppermint bark and a frosted glass figure of a train. It was so thoughtful, Emmet thought he might cry. He did let out a little laugh under his breath as he unwrapped the bark to break off a piece and pop it into his mouth.

Now he would have to find something sweet and thoughtful like this for Ingo. And find a way to get it to him that wasn't simply dropping it off on his doorstep as usual. He would have to think on it. Definitely before New Years.

"I will have to wish him a Happy New Year in person."

[kinematografiayevsyd]

Creative Exercise No.2

In this project, I took up the role of the production designer and Ross was the DoP. It was challenging but good practice. I tried to approach every mood with clarity and simplicity, not oversaturating the designs with excessive detail.

Floor plan

What the space looks like normally

Grief. I aimed to convey solemn sickly post-funeral atmosphere. In the botom left corner there is a box with what is suposed to be the belongings of the deceased - a satchel, a porcelain figurine, a book, etc. There is a Crucifixion icon on the wall, symbolising death. You can also see a mirror half-covered with a cloth (in Orthodox Christianity it is traditional to cover all mirrors when somebody died in the household). In the mirror you can see reflected a grieving male figure. The colours are quite cold and grayish with occasional small specs of colour on the icon. My approach was to tell a story with a degree of ambiguity.

Gloom. Here the production design is really minimalistic and the atmosphere is mostly conveyed through lighting. Nehative spaces give off a feeling of mystery and liminality. The same applies to a contorted hand grasping the door and the smightly visible outline of the figure to which the hand belongs. The greenish-yellow colour pallette creates the unsettling sickly and slightly horror-like feel.

Romance. This shot is meant to show the interior of a romantic date. The signifiers of this are a candle and two wine glasses, one of them stained with bright red lipstic. There is also a leather jacket casually hung on the door. The colours are warm and inviting.

Nostalgia. Here I filled the shelves with as many antique-looking objects as I could and covered them in fake cobweb, trying to achieve a sense of forgottenness. Shooting through the doorframe helped us achieve the feeling of entering a different long-forgotten but preserved world.

Claustraphobia. This extremely simplistic priduction design hints at a story of somebody being trapped in a liminal empty space like a mental institution. The piece of paper has characteristic lines which somebody draws when they are trapped and counting days.

[writelikeyoubreathe]

Autumnal Melancholy

As autumn unfurls its vibrant tapestry of reds, oranges, and browns, it often evokes a sense of melancholy. The leaves fall like russet tears, marking the transition from the lushness of summer to the stillness of winter. This season, rich in symbolism, is a recurring motif in art and literature, representing transition, decay, and loss. Autumn forces us to confront the inevitability of change, reminding us that we are but a small part of the greater natural world and to bear witness to the death that follows the vibrant life of spring. While we may now associate this season with cosy sweaters, hot drinks, and crackling fires, its underlying melancholy lingers in the crisp air, serving as a memento mori. For those grappling with their own grief and loss, autumn poses unique challenges, compelling us to seek solace in a world that forces us to confront these harsh realities.

In literature, autumn is frequently portrayed as the twilight of the year, a liminal space between the vitality of spring and the bitter winter cold. Notably, this is illustrated in W.B. Yeats’ poem, The Wild Swans at Coole. He pairs the image of the trees’ ‘autumn beauty’ with the ‘twilight’ setting to demonstrate this cyclical and transient nature of life, imbuing the scene with a sense of stasis, reflection, and tranquility as the speaker contemplates ephemeral human existence with the ineffable immortality of nature. This evokes a part of grief that I had never considered before I had experienced it: our loved ones who pass away are frozen in time like a pressed flower, never to bloom again in the spring, while we are meant to continue to grow. At first, I felt indignant and outraged at the unfairness of it all. How am I supposed to continue without them? How can the world keep turning or the seasons keep changing without our departed loved ones here to witness it?

As someone who has a history of mental illness, it feels cruel that someone so precious, beautiful, and ready for life should be taken away so soon. A bright light was extinguished. Whereas someone like me, flickering and dim, continues to burn. It's not fair. I've always known it's not fair; the guilt tastes like ash in my mouth. Throughout Yeats’ poem, the speaker focuses on these swans’ stasis throughout the years despite this change. They remain a collective mass that implies a monolithic unity, creating an illusion of immortality. This image is a microcosm of the enduring vitality of nature. We, too, will one day enter the winter of our lives, fall to the ground, and bring new life to the soil, much like autumn leaves. It comforts me to apply the permanence of the swans to ourselves. Through the lens of Yeats’ poem, we can interpret this season as a reminder of the human condition, not just as individuals who cannot be resurrected and become lost to the ravages of time, but as integral parts of the regenerative whole of nature, forming a larger community that creates new life as it witnesses death.

Another one of my favourite expressions of autumn is found in Jackson Pollock's Autumn Rhythm (Number 30, 1950). He employs a dripping technique in which paint is splattered, flung, and pooled onto the canvas to create an expressionist, non-representative explosion. The arches, curves, overlapping colours, and frenetic peaks of colour vividly illustrate the boundless nature of existence, its continuous flow without a clear beginning or end. Both the melancholic atmosphere conveyed by the dark colours and the chaos of this tempestuous expression reflects an internal turmoil and emotional turbulence, as well as the larger mutability of nature . The all-consuming contrast between the black and white paint conveys a liminality, changeability, and duality within autumn - the bountiful harvests and the withering trees, the transition from summer to winter. The lack of typical autumnal imagery is striking as Pollock encapsulates a visceral feeling, a power beyond the individual, he illustrates the greater cycle of life just like Yeats’ swans. 

There’s a promise of change that lies beyond autumnal decay, one that promises more than ornate carpets of leaves and petals of breath that bloom in the air. The words of F. Scott Fitzgerald come to mind: "Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.” Perhaps in this lies a possible comfort to find in this autumn. It serves as a poignant reminder of our place within the vast universe.

[fckmini]

Autumnal Melancholy

As autumn unfurls its vibrant tapestry of reds, oranges, and browns, it often evokes a sense of melancholy. The leaves fall like russet tears, marking the transition from the lushness of summer to the stillness of winter. This season, rich in symbolism, is a recurring motif in art and literature, representing transition, decay, and loss. Autumn forces us to confront the inevitability of change, reminding us that we are but a small part of the greater natural world and to bear witness to the death that follows the vibrant life of spring. While we may now associate this season with cosy sweaters, hot drinks, and crackling fires, its underlying melancholy lingers in the crisp air, serving as a memento mori. For those grappling with their own grief and loss, autumn poses unique challenges, compelling us to seek solace in a world that forces us to confront these harsh realities.

In literature, autumn is frequently portrayed as the twilight of the year, a liminal space between the vitality of spring and the bitter winter cold. Notably, this is illustrated in W.B. Yeats’ poem, The Wild Swans at Coole. He pairs the image of the trees’ ‘autumn beauty’ with the ‘twilight’ setting to demonstrate this cyclical and transient nature of life, imbuing the scene with a sense of stasis, reflection, and tranquility as the speaker contemplates ephemeral human existence with the ineffable immortality of nature. This evokes a part of grief that I had never considered before I had experienced it: our loved ones who pass away are frozen in time like a pressed flower, never to bloom again in the spring, while we are meant to continue to grow. At first, I felt indignant and outraged at the unfairness of it all. How am I supposed to continue without them? How can the world keep turning or the seasons keep changing without our departed loved ones here to witness it?

As someone who has a history of mental illness, it feels cruel that someone so precious, beautiful, and ready for life should be taken away so soon. A bright light was extinguished. Whereas someone like me, flickering and dim, continues to burn. It's not fair. I've always known it's not fair; the guilt tastes like ash in my mouth. Throughout Yeats’ poem, the speaker focuses on these swans’ stasis throughout the years despite this change. They remain a collective mass that implies a monolithic unity, creating an illusion of immortality. This image is a microcosm of the enduring vitality of nature. We, too, will one day enter the winter of our lives, fall to the ground, and bring new life to the soil, much like autumn leaves. It comforts me to apply the permanence of the swans to ourselves. Through the lens of Yeats’ poem, we can interpret this season as a reminder of the human condition, not just as individuals who cannot be resurrected and become lost to the ravages of time, but as integral parts of the regenerative whole of nature, forming a larger community that creates new life as it witnesses death.

Another one of my favourite expressions of autumn is found in Jackson Pollock's Autumn Rhythm (Number 30, 1950). He employs a dripping technique in which paint is splattered, flung, and pooled onto the canvas to create an expressionist, non-representative explosion. The arches, curves, overlapping colours, and frenetic peaks of colour vividly illustrate the boundless nature of existence, its continuous flow without a clear beginning or end. Both the melancholic atmosphere conveyed by the dark colours and the chaos of this tempestuous expression reflects an internal turmoil and emotional turbulence, as well as the larger mutability of nature . The all-consuming contrast between the black and white paint conveys a liminality, changeability, and duality within autumn - the bountiful harvests and the withering trees, the transition from summer to winter. The lack of typical autumnal imagery is striking as Pollock encapsulates a visceral feeling, a power beyond the individual, he illustrates the greater cycle of life just like Yeats’ swans. 

There’s a promise of change that lies beyond autumnal decay, one that promises more than ornate carpets of leaves and petals of breath that bloom in the air. The words of F. Scott Fitzgerald come to mind: "Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.” Perhaps in this lies a possible comfort to find in this autumn. It serves as a poignant reminder of our place within the vast universe.

[paqoe]

Congregation (review!!!)

i believe this is the best extreme in the game in just about every way, and i don't see it being dethroned any time soon.

starting with the song choice: i think this is the best song in any extreme demon by a pretty large margin. Koraii is extremely talented (albeit not a good person), and this is one of his best pieces by far. i don't think Congregation would have anywhere near the same impact if Presta chose any other song.

every single detail feels meticulously thought out, and there genuinely isn't anything i would change in the level (other than the line coloring in the cube portion of the drop).

the choice in color palette is (generally) phenomenal, and the way Presta weaves in slightly more and more variation and detail as the predrop develops is perfect. i know people think the predrop is boring, but i honestly couldn't disagree less (and it doesn't matter much to me how it plays in the first place). i think part of what makes the predrop work so well is how long it lasts!

although the drop is definitely weaker in terms of visuals (especially colors), the way in which the movements are choreographed is almost mesmerizing. despite being quite repetitive in nature, presta somehow manages to keep the drop fresh from start to finish.

i've heard some people criticize how similar the ending is to the predrop, but i feel that the level tends itself to the direction of the last cube quite well considering how much the sense of progression is reliant on the song developing over time.

what truly sets congregation apart from other levels for me, though, is how it manages to create such powerful environmental theming with so little.

as an aside, i think "environmental theming" is a good way to refer to level theming that you can place yourself in. it's extremely uncommon for a level to properly pull it off with an abstract setting -- the best example i can think of is "reviens" by vrymer -- but levels that pull it off are among my favorites. extending the concept to other games, it's part of what makes undertale so appealing for me -- i absolutely love how easy it is to put yourself in the protag's shoes and imagine you are actually traversing these abstract environments. i've never seen another game pull it off so well, and it's why i don't think Deltarune will ever have the same effect on me as Undertale.

what Congregation, Reviens, and Undertale all have in common, and a HUGE part of what makes them work, is that they all force you to imagine yourself in a place that has no proper real-world parallels. whereas games like Omori and & levels like Night Rider and Black Flag fill in the blanks for you and don't leave much of the setting up to interpretation, the more abstract previously-mentioned media force you to construct these settings entirely differently -- much more is left up to your interpretation, as they're more focused on eliciting a specific mood or atmosphere than painting a clear picture.

some people may criticize Congregation for being too empty, but i feel like that's exactly what the level's environment is. i know that is am definitely assigning meaning to something that has none here, but when i try to construct the environment the level creates, i imagine an endless void, inhabited only by the pillars and platforms seen in the level. led by only the illuminated blue accent lights, you are the only living being in this world. one feeling in particular stands out to me in this cold, lifeless setting i've described: isolation.

it's important to note that due to the abstractness of the level, this interpretation is not laid out for you at all. i completely understand that this meaning i've assigned is personal only to me and is swayed by my experiences, but this post is meant to convey my opinions on the level, and i'm not going to change the way i see the level to write a "better review".

there are other levels that have made me feel certain emotions (SAVE AS comes to mind, obviously), but Congregation's usage of environmental theming (for me) to elicit those emotions is truly phenomenal work on Presta's part.

i'm aware that everything I've said here can be summed up by the phrase "it has atmosphere", but i feel like i'd be doing the level a disservice by chalking it up to that.

9.9/10

[hoodhookage]

Congrats on 200+!!!! Ive only just seen your page and i am instantly in love with your writing 😢😢🙏 feel free to ignore this but could you do a scenario about xiao giving is super shy fem s/o oral for the first time. Just some fluffy reassurance is all that we need. If you dont feel comfortable tho i completely understand. Hope you have a fantastic rest of your day 🤗🤗

thank you so much💗 I COULD NEVER PASS UP THIS SORT OF OPPORTUNITY! i’m so grateful you wanted me to even attempt to try this out for you<3 i hope it’s not too long & that i met your expectations!! here’s xiao eating out his so for the first time

xiao let’s his fingers run through your hair, gentle eyes focused on you as you lay beside him fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie. you close your eyes when he lifts his hand now to your jaw, stroking your cheek. his touch is soft, instinctively allowing yourself to melt into his caress. xiao is many things; he’s everything you want him to be. he’s willing to make you happy and comfortable, going far lengths to achieve it.

he’s understanding and caring, in the sense that he’s always keeping an eye on you to make sure you’re never in any sort of discomfort. xiao is loving. physical or not, you always feel so appreciated by him. he does little things to make you happy, you remember how he likes to squeeze your thumb with his when you hold his hand. you both have come so far with one another, growing with every passing day.

xiao loves you in every way imaginable, getting frustrated with himself when he can’t truly show you what you mean to him when his words alone fail him. he wants you to be happy, to tell you he values your company, just being able to be with you. he appreciates you and wants to be able to take care of you the way you do for him, feeling as if he’s entirely at your mercy for the way you’ve patched that sense of longing he once felt on his own. all of that now washed away completely when you’ve brought yourself into the picture.

his presence alone makes you feel so jittery, no matter how serene or still the atmosphere may be. he’s gentle, and warm…so warm you sometimes feel as if you’re burning up at his touch, no matter how light it is. you find yourself drawn quiet even while with xiao next to you, letting your mind entertain frivolous possibilities revolving the both of you. what he makes you feel is a mix of apprehensiveness and exhilaration, just with his face leaning in to your forehead close to place a kiss.

the faint breeze from the window lingers inside and you welcome it with a deep inhale, letting it bring you back to your place between xiao and his bed. your exhale quickly allows itself to take over you, shuddering in reaction to the coolness continuously hitting your skin all over. xiao rests his lips against your forehead, another small and delicate show of affection. “you’re getting cold” responding with a sigh to how he acknowledges your change in body temperature before turning over to face him and let your chest rest against his.

even the air xiao expires so softly across you from the closeness of the both of you is warm. his chest is warm, the arms that keep you close are warm, he’s already letting you get lost in this feeling of heat he provides you with. “xiao” your face is in his shoulder when you call him, snuggling closer. he whispers your name back and begins to hold you closer “what is it?”

you try to conceal the small shake in your voice. “you make me feel really, really, warm when we’re like this”

you mumble, already wanting to hide the show of emotions he makes you feel inside so unexpectedly just from the call of your name. you breathe in, smelling xiao and his clothes as one together. “are you saying that like it’s a good thing?” he rubs delicate circles on your back, holding you with care. you nod and push your face closer into his chest almost like a final attempt to breathe him in again, he overwhelms your physical senses this way.

he pulls you back, a stern look on his face as you look up at him. “you’re nearly freezing” xiao rolls his eyes, a small smile forming on his lips as he brings his hand to your jaw to give you a small kiss. he breaks it but stays just inches away from your lips, giving you a teasing remark when you just stare at his mouth. xiao does a lot of things to you…and right now, whatever it is he’s doing to you to make you feel like this, it has you hot all over again:

this burning sensation reaching all the way into your chest and stomach, impossible to avoid. he takes you close and into another kiss as you pout, this time longer than the first. you close your eyes and let him take charge, your cheeks beginning to feel that same sensation that spread through your body when he slowly slides his tongue inside. you cup his face, gasping when he gives you a playful bite to your bottom lip before tugging on it.

“i can’t stand it when you lie to me, here” he begins to remove his arms from the sleeves and slides his hoodie off from above, his shirt getting caught with it momentarily. it’s hard to look away when you can see the bare skin of his abdomen, making you grow a little desperate for his touch. xiao motions for you to lift your arms up and you do as he asks, putting your head through to now properly wear it.

you turn your head to the side and look down at your hands, “thanks” all of these different kinds of warmths feel good when they’re from xiao. you start to wonder if he’s ever experienced this same kind of feeling. you both have that look in your eyes that tells the other you want more, stuck as if there’s no possible way to convey it aloud. all those thoughts leave your mind as soon as he pulls you in for another kiss.

you tremble into his mouth when his hand rests at your hip, giving an experimental grab as you pant and try to kiss him back just as needfully. “xiao, i think what i meant to say, from before. it was just-“ you interrupt the silence but he shushes you. “you’re alright,” he gives you a tiny kiss at your bottom lip. you think you understand now, “…you want me to take care of you, i can do that for you” stopping between sentences to give you more, this time across your face and jaw. “-but will you let me?”

he does experience that same feeling, your heart is beating twice as fast. “please”

xiao treats you with the same amount of gentleness as always, starting by taking a pillow from under his head and propping it beneath your lower back. he looks at you, “i want to try something for you- and i as well” his hand moving to lace yours. “i’ll always ask this of you, do you trust me?” you nod and let out a shaky yes. he begins after hearing your approval “alright, show me exactly where you want me the most”

you feel your body quiver as he trails his hand across your stomach, your fingers guiding his palm. you feel embarrassed when you have to stop, recollecting yourself as he looks at you. “you pleaded for me to take good care of you. i promise i want nothing more than to be able to” he reassures you. you continue until you reach your abdomen, xiao’s hand slides down a little further on his own now. “good” he sighs, getting worked up himself.

“ remove this for me” he murmurs referring to your clothes, tone still sweet when speaking with you. you start with the bottoms, pulling them down off your legs. you keep your panties on, knowing xiao will be happy to do the honours of stripping those off you himself. you hold onto the hoodie “xiao, i want to keep this on” you whisper. he would never deny you anything, but hearing you ask to keep something of his on during a moment like this has his chest swell with pride.

xiao’s hand rests at the hem of your panties, letting his middle and ring finger stretch out just a little further onto the material that starts to dampen the farther you reach. “to think you would want to let me leave you in this state” he almost whispers to himself. he lets his hand dip into your underwear, his fingers immediately met with how wet you’ve become. “your body knows exactly who it’s with right now and i can already tell” he marvels in the little to no friction his finger tips experience as he slides hands over your cunt.

“close your eyes, just let me” he strokes your hair again as he lets his finger trail around your entrance. you gasp at the feeling but it’s slow, allowing you to await and prepare for the feeling of when he enters. the push is perfect, your soaking cunt pulls his finger in with no resistance. he praises you again for how you take it, letting you relax under his touch once more. xiao pulls his finger out back to your entrance, rubbing at your clit with two of them. the contact making you squirm as he lifts his hand.

he brings his finger up to both of you before opening his mouth to clean it off. he can’t help himself when it comes to you, always wanting a little more. you feel yourself pool even harder between your legs at his action. he holds his finger out to you, “would you want to try yourself?” opening your mouth to meet him. you can still taste yourself on that finger, it’s tarte even after xiao had licked most of it off.

“do you still want to follow through with what i had in mind this time for us” he rasps. he’s only ever fingered you, and the thought of letting him try whatever it is he wanted to right now makes you feel weak. your knees instinctively press together as he waits for your answer, “you want to go…further?” your voice is unsure but still with excitement in your tone. he wants to go as far as you’ll let him, indulge you in whatever it is you want from him right now. but he has to start slow, somewhere. it’s progress.

he wants to ask again to reassure you but you’re past that, kissing him as you’re caught in a tiny adrenaline run he’s been unaware he was fuelling this whole time. all this time he’s been feeding into the fire, but this was a tiny bit of gasoline, and it’s beginning to spread. you know it’ll wear down once he begins again but you want to ride it out as long as possible.

he’s always happy when you are, but now was your turn to embarrass xiao, catching him off guard. “can we?” you try to sit up but he keeps you in place, laying you down. “as long as you want this as much as i do” he gets up from beside you, knees against yours as he holds your thighs. his hands look so much bigger from where he’s moved now, you give him another nod and he holds your panties to finally remove them.

you’re back in your original place; being naked from the bottom down right infront of xiao makes you feel unnerved. you let him slowly spread your legs as he continues to hold eye contact with you to keep you calm. he looks more enamoured by your cunt now than ever, situating himself so that his face is right above your clit, arms weighted on your thighs.

his hands come to lock yours on your sides as his you feel his hot breath, making you clench on the air. “relax, close your eyes if you need to, but i’m right here…exactly where you need me” you let your eyes close before your lips part at the feeling of xiao’s tongue swipe across you. it makes you shiver, his tongue feels long and warm, almost a bit pointy. wet like the rest of his mouth, you’re already gasping again at the feeling.

you bring your head up to look at him, xiao has his tongue running along your folds ever so slowly, eyes never leaving yours. you let the back of your head hit the pillows again as you let out a cry, his tongue is hot when it circles around your entrance. you pull the hoodie up on you in an attempt to hold your thoughts together, only to breathe in and be reminded of who’s conquering every piece of your mind, xiao. you grip his hands a little tighter while you buck into his mouth.

allowing yourself to succumb to him has you thrashing when he sucks on your clit. how he prods his tongue towards your hole to make you squirm. xiao is slowly beginning to devour you; lapping, licking, sucking, darting his tongue onto you. he lets go of one of your hands and lets a finger slide in, “i know what your body can handle, and right now it’s beginning to ask for more. i promise to only give what i know you can take” focusing his concentration and movements back on your clit.

cries and whimpers of his name fill and go beyond his room, letting yourself continue to get lost in the pleasure xiao is bringing you so intensely. the curling of his finger now turning into pumping, his mouth never leaving your messy cunt. “good, it’s really good xiao” you whine, gripping his hair as he moans into you. “i cant-“ you thrash at the feeling of him pull at your clit. “you’re perfect like this right now, finally experiencing the sort of pleasure you always bring me” he leans back down, rocking you against his mouth.

every single shock he manages to send through you has you enjoying it more than the last. it feels good, how he constantly lets you know he’ll give you what’s good for you within your limits. you feel your body course with the kind of build up that has you struggling to stay still, the kind xiao knows how to give you regularly just in other ways. this one is far more intense than the last.

you let out a broken moan of his name, trying to find the words to tell him. you properly call out his name and he looks up at you, both his hair and mouth messy from how you held onto him. “i’m going to cum” you squeak, feeling his fingers rub your gspot. your body cant hang on any longer, as if you’re on the edge. “cum for me, right here against me. i’ve got you” you shake your head furiously.

your back arches off the bed and against xiao, whos still giving you every kind of sensation imaginable and all at once. he feels you squeeze his fingers, convulsing against his mouth.

your back hits the bed as your legs still shake around his head, in complete shock at what he was able to bring you. he can feel you still pulse against his mouth and he slowly pulls off. you both stay still as he lets you calm down. he stares at you in awe, panting from his actions.

he moves back to his side on the bed and embraces you, feeling your body go limp against his. his chin rests on the top of your head as he pulls you into the covers properly. you let his forehead lean onto yours as you move away and cup his cheek, catching xiao shyly turn his gaze away.

you’re right. xiao loves you in every way imaginable, willing to go far lengths to prove it.

frustrated when even he himself has trouble to explain how he feels in just words.

a feeling that he can only describe as gentle and warm…warm enough to feel as if he’s burning up at your touch. no matter how light.

just like he does to you.

[cheri-translates]

Headcanon - Your son isn’t cute at all

Original title: 儿子一点都不可爱

Original author: 君兮耶君兮 (jun xi ye jun xi)

[ VICTOR ]

You’re certain that the strength of Victor’s genes resulted in that little guy at home being an exact replica of him. Even Victor can’t deny that your son resembles him greatly in terms of appearance.

However, this doesn’t mean he acknowledges the resemblance of their personalities. At the very least, he feels that he wasn’t as studious during his childhood years.

Furthermore, Victor has half-jokingly pointed out that your son’s dislike for exercise is exactly the same as his mother’s.

“Victor, your son is bullying me again!” 

Although your opponent is a little brat, you’re still unable to win. In this short round of Go, your white pieces have more or less been “eaten” by your son’s black pieces.

“Dummy. Don’t blame your son if your skills can’t match up to his.” Victor sets down the documents in his hand, walking over to observe.

Is this something he should be saying in front of the kid!? What about your dignity as a mother? 

You turn around with a glare. “You were the one who taught me how to play Go. My teacher didn’t teach me properly!”

In the past, you’d typically respond to Victor’s remarks with a stubborn retort. Nowadays, you simply toss the bucket to someone else.

“If you make that move, you’d be sending yourself straight to a loss,” Victor comments, seeing that you’re once again putting a white piece where it’d definitely be “eaten”.

“Who says that I’m making that move?” You flick your wrist, salvaging the fate of the white piece, along with your pride. With a dignified air, you continue. “A true gentleman keeps silent while watching a game.”

“Mom, putting your piece here isn’t any different from the other spot.” Your son notes expressionlessly. With a thud of his black piece, he is only one move away from “eating” your white piece.

“...”

Despite the truth in his words, being ridiculed by your son truly upsets you. “We’ll continue. What happened earlier was a tiny mistake.”

In the following rounds, your white pieces grow sparse on the board while Victor observes the mother-son battle calmly. Or rather, watching as you get obliterated by your son.

Wanting to prolong the competition despite the lack of prospects, you courageously seek Victor’s assistance. “Hubby, help me out!”

Ignoring his son’s awkward expression, Victor rubs your head in a comforting manner. Picking up a piece and placing it onto the board, he instantly rescues several white pieces from a tragic ending. “Next time, give your Mom a chance. You need to give some confidence to opponents who are weaker than you.”

Your son nods in half-understanding.

“...”

Victor, don’t think I can’t tell that you’re calling me a noob!

[ GAVIN ]

Just as you wished, you had a son. However, there are times when you really think your son isn’t cute at all!

Your son watches you sternly, hands on his hips.

“Mommy, Dad said that you can’t eat ice-cream these days.”

“Be good. If you don’t say anything, your dad won’t find out. Also, I’m not the only one eating. You can have one too~” You attempt to bribe the little fellow who is utterly loyal to Gavin.

He rejects your suggestion decisively. “No way. Dad will get angry.”

This so-called anger is simply Gavin displaying a cold expression momentarily. Away from his son’s gaze, you’d play coy and Gavin would release a sigh of resignation before gently reminding you not to commit this offence again. To you, this isn’t a deterrence factor at all.

Since your son can’t find out about this little secret, you huff while returning the ice-cream into the fridge. Then, you grab a bag of spicy sticks from the snack basket.

Before your fingers touch the jagged edges of the opening, your son stops you.

“Mom, no spicy sticks either.” 

“...”

It truly isn't a good feeling to be ordered around by a child. 

Bored out of your wits, you bury yourself in the sofa, watching as your son stuffs the packet of spicy sticks back into the snack basket. “What other things did your dad prohibit?”

Your son tilts his head as he recalls. “Aside from ice-cream, mala soup, snacks, fried chicken, there’s nothing else.”

“...”

And he called that “nothing”!?

With the loss of snacks, you feel like your entire life has turned dim and gloomy. You get up coldly before walking into the bedroom listlessly. “I’ll take a nap. When your dad gets back, tell him to face the corner and stay there.”

Your son obediently agrees.

Close to dinnertime, your honourable husband returns home. Even before he removes his shoes, his son calls out to him. “Mom asked you to stand at the corner.” The little rascal gloats slightly.

“???”

Gavin is left dumbfounded, and has no idea what he did to anger you. “Where is she?”

“She’s asleep.”

After standing at the corner for ten minutes, there’s no stirring from the bedroom. Gavin pokes his son, who is sitting at the entrance and reading a book. “Go and check if your mom has woken up.”

“Nope.” Your son refuses instantly.

“Why not?”

“Mom said that if I supervise you until she wakes up herself, she’d buy me the latest model aeroplane.” The little child’s eyes brim with anticipation at the thought of the new toy.

“...”

So he abandoned his father for a new model aeroplane?

[ LUCIEN ]

“Mom, do you really not know how to do this question? Dad said that this question is very simple.” Your son looks up with a frown, only to see your frustrated expression as you rip up a sheet of rough paper.

“...don’t listen to your dad’s nonsense.”

The way Professor Lucien defines the word “simple” is completely different from ordinary people, all right?!

“Dad won’t lie to me. Mom can’t do it because she’s too stupid!”

Ever since the little fellow followed Lucien to the research centre, his admiration for his father has risen by another degree.

Having your self-esteem trampled upon, you toss the pen aside. “Why don’t you ask your dad then? I’m done with this!” 

Isn’t making cream puffs more enjoyable than solving problems? Why should you continue torturing yourself?

“...”

The little rascal pinches the booklet and heads into the study room. “Dad, I think I made Mom angry.”

“What happened?” You rarely lose your temper in front of the child.

His son shows him the question in the booklet. “Mom couldn’t solve it, so I called her stupid.”

“Apologise to your mother!” Lucien thinks that aside from him, nobody else can bully his Little Miss. Not even his son.

“Okay.” Your son responds obediently before going downstairs.

By the time Lucien finishes his work and heads into the kitchen, he spots you stuffing a cream puff into your son’s mouth. “It’s fine, it’s fine. Next time, just ask your dad directly if you have any math questions.”

“All right.” The little rascal’s puffy cheeks resemble a hamster’s. When he sees Lucien arriving, he returns to his room to read books, giving the both of you space.

Amused by the mother-son interaction, Lucien waits till his son leaves before entering the kitchen and reaching out for a cream puff. Before he can even touch one, you whack his hand away.

“Hm? It seems that my wife is angry with me too?” Lucien wraps an arm around your waist and nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck. Even though he’s exerting very little force, you're still unable to free yourself.

“I’m so sorry that I can’t do a question which, according to Professor Lucien, is very simple.” While he continues hugging you, you transfer the cream puffs from the baking tray onto a small plate. 

“That’s okay. Having one adult who can teach him is enough.”

You pout. “Your son called me stupid earlier.”

“Nonsense.” Lucien gives you a tap on the head. “My wife is the smartest. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have taken so long for me to win you over.”

Lucien’s sweet nothings are becoming smoother and smoother. Pushing him away with your elbow, you pick up the small plate. “Go and give the cream puffs to our son.”

Initially thinking that the plate was meant for him, Lucien is stunned momentarily. His son had a cream puff personally fed to him, while he hasn’t even managed to touch a cream puff. “What about mine?”

You release an icy “hmph”.

“Considering Professor Lucien’s high IQ, I’m sure he can make them himself. I want to give these to my son, who is also unable to solve that problem.”

“...”

Why does he have to bear the consequences when his son was the one who angered you?

[ KIRO ]

“I’m back~” 

You’ve just returned from a business trip which swept you overseas for close to a month, and it’s been a long time since you saw the two suns in your home.

“Mommy! Welcome home!”

“Miss Chips! Welcome home!”

The father-son duo exclaim unanimously, rushing over to the door with their similar faces and equally dazzling golden hair.

Your adorable son stumbles over to you, and you respond by squatting down and stretching your hands to give him a full hug. The little fellow tightens his grip around your neck to express his joy and how much he missed you.

Apple Box leaps around beside you to convey his welcome, and you can’t help but reach out to give him a pat on his fluffy head. In the time you weren’t around, he had put on quite a bit of weight.

The small entrance hall brims with a warm atmosphere... aside from Kiro.

At this moment, Kiro feels that his position in the home has deteriorated, and he shoots a killer glare towards your coquettish son and Apple Box, who weren’t sidelined by you.

“Miss Chips, did you not miss me... QAQ”

Despite the passage of time, Kiro, who has even become a father, seems to have become more childish.

You purse your lips. “Who said so? I missed you very much.”

“But you hugged him first and even patted Apple Box. You didn’t give me a hug.” The more he talks about it, the more insignificant he feels.

“Dad, you’re so heavy. Mom won’t be able to carry you.” Your son rubs salt into his wound.

Sure enough, Kiro gets offended by this. With a darkened expression, he pulls his son away from your arms, lifting him into the air. “Say that again!”

The little rascal struggles for a while before escaping from his grasp, then buries himself into your arms again. “Mommy, I drew you a picture!” With this, he sends Kiro a competitive glance.

Amused by the usual competition between father and son, you feed off your son’s excitement. “Really? My darling is incredible!”

“I’m incredible too!” Kiro is deathly afraid of falling behind. “Go away.” He pulls his son away from you once again. His left hand reaches behind your knees, and he bends down to carry you up. When he feels your hands tightening around his neck, he lets out a satisfied “hmph”.

“I can pick your Mom up in a princess carry. Can you?”

“Once I’ve grown up, I can do it too!” Your son gives him a glance of disdain. “Also, you’d be old by the time I grow up. I’d also be more handsome than you. Mommy will definitely like me more~”

“Looks like you need a spanking!” Kiro places you down before reaching for his son.

“Kiro, you’re not allowed to hit our son!” You hurriedly stop him before he can do anything.

“He was challenging my authority as his father.”

You tousle his hair in a comforting manner. “Be good. Actually, our son wasn’t wrong. When you’re old, you’d...”

“Miss Chips!”

“When you’re old, you’d still be handsome!” You chuckle gently, tugging him on the sleeve to make him bend down slightly. A sweet kiss lands on the side of his face. “Superheroes are the most handsome~”

[ SHAW ]

“Don’t make a mess out of our house!”

The moment you see the unsalvageable mess on the coffee table, the only thought that runs through your mind is sending this troublemaker back to the oven to be re-made.

“Dad said that an overly neat doesn’t have a homely feeling.” Your son tilts his head upwards confidently, continuing with his work on hand.

“So why are you doodling on the wall?”

The originally pure white wall has been morphed beyond recognition. And why does the style of this abstract art look so familiar?

Your son wipes his hands on a damp cloth at the side, then picks up a crayon. “Dad said that aesthetic sense must be picked up since young.”

Seeing the patches of postmodern art on the wall causes your blood to boil. “Can’t you use paper?”

As compared to your frantic state, your son is much more composed. “Dad said that I should strike while the iron’s hot when it comes to being inspired. I didn’t have time to find paper, so I drew on the wall.”

No matter what, you have to find the main culprit.

“Shaw, get over here!” Your twist your head and roar towards the living room.

“Did you allow him to draw on the walls?” You glare at him fiercely, causing his initial “yes” to quickly turn into a “I did not.”

Your son lifts his head in confusion. “Dad, didn’t you say that I should draw wherever I wanted to? You even said a child’s talent shouldn’t be stifled.”

“...”

With a grim laugh, you toss him a rag. “Since you allowed him to do it, you’ll be the one to clean up.”

“...son, use paper next time. Don’t draw on the walls.” Shaw finds a smaller rag and hands it to his son. The both of them begin wiping off the colourful traces on the wall pitifully, wishing they could travel back in time to stop this from happening in the first place.

Sitting on your son’s small bed while scrolling through your phone, you occasionally look up to supervise their progress.

Once they’re more or less done, your son suddenly pipes up.

“When can we head out to do graffiti?”

“Graffiti?” Why weren’t you aware of such plans?

“...” 

Shaw has a bad feeling about this.

“Shaw. Explain.”

“It’s just... nurturing his artistic side...” His voice dies off at the end.

“Okay. Right now, I’ll be nurturing his mathematical side. Stand at the corner of the wall and count from one to a thousand.”

After tidying your son’s bed, you head out to pour yourself a cup of water.

Shaw tosses a sympathetic glance at his son. “Every man for himself.”

“As his father, you’ll keep him company.”

“...”

More translated and original works: here

-

[ Permission to translate ]

君兮耶君兮: Can, just state the author and the source

[violettelueur]

GOJO SATORU || BECOME A REAL COUPLE

| featuring : gojo satoru from jujutsu kaisen

| warnings : grammar errors other than that n/a

| form : imagine (with she/her pronouns)

| word count : 2700

| published : 05 december 

| request : Hi hiiii!! I saw that your requests were open again :) I would like to order a black coffee please! a fake dating → feelings realisation where (fem) reader is from one of the big 3 clans and is pressured into finding a SO by her clan. So Gojo offers to fake date her; meeting her parents etc. Only for them both to realise that they ended up falling for each other. Would love to see how you determine the way they handle it and confess for real. Thank you!! Love all your work so far x

| barista’s notes : can i be completely honest with you? this little piece isn’t really my best ʕ ﾟ ● ﾟʔ even though it’s only been 2 days but i already feel like my writing skills have disappeared ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ but other than that, thank you so much for loving all my work ʕ•ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡ i really hope you enjoy your cup of classic black coffee (jujutsu kaisen request!) and please come again soon!

“You have to get married soon Y/N! You’re 27 and we have no heir for the Kamo clan!”

“Didn’t I leave the clan 10 years ago? There is no way I’m going to listen to someone like you nor my child is forced to become a jujutsu sorcerer, and what makes this more irritating is that you came all the way to my workplace to tell me this,” you snapped back at the man in front of you, before turning around trying to walk away from the situation. However, it seemed like the old man wasn’t going to give in to the situation or to the rejection of your answer, he was stubborn - just like you were, after all, that was the only thing you inherited from that man.

“Y/N! I am your father and I demand you to listen to me!”

“Shut up!” you shouted before turning to look over your shoulder. The man that stood there pride and arrogance running through his veins - something that you didn’t inherit, fortunately. There was no way you could call this man your father. The same ‘father’ that criticized you for not having the same blood manipulation like the rest of the family - well that’s what he gets for being with a woman from a different clan that had a different curse technique that you inherited - an outcast, that was what you were within the Kamo clan, yet they still demanded you to get married and have a child to keep the lineage going. There was no way in hell you were going to follow their rules.

“What a disgusting father you are, no wonder mother left you,” you commented with a smirk before continuing to walk away to go back to where you were heading. On the other hand, it seemed like someone else wanted to disturb your plans.

“Y/N~”

                                     ꕥ

At this current moment in time, you were standing in front of one of the very few vending machines that were located within Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College wondering what you were going to choose since you were still undecided. Cold Water? Milk tea? Coffee? Maybe a carbonated fruit drink to satisfy your sweet tooth? You weren’t so sure.

“Have you put money in the machine yet honey~?” someone asked you from behind, causing you to quickly turn around to see a tall white-haired figure standing before you with a teasing smile painted upon his face.

“Satoru? Ah...no I haven’t” you muttered as you scratched your cheek with your finger, trying to occupy yourself with something to not look at him. “Let me pay for you then,” Gojo then offered as he reached over to the side, accidentally brushing his arm - causing you to tense up - before he placed some of his coins within the slot to add some currency into the machine before you could even deny his offer.

“I could pay for myself you know, and we’re alone, you don’t have to act,” you stated before sighing in defeat, as you turned back around to decide what you were going to choose once again. “I know,” Gojo commented back to you before gently placing his chin upon your shoulder, leading you to tense up once again from the physical contact before slowing relaxing, “but what type of boyfriend would be I if I didn’t treat you a little?”.

‘Well fake boyfriend Satoru’

                                        ꕥ

“Your family pressuring you again?” Satoru cheerfully asked as he walked beside you, trying to lighten up the tense atmosphere from the conversation that you had with your ‘father’ just a few seconds ago.

“More like the Kamo clan than the L/N clan, get married this, get married that. Is that all I am good for? Marriage? Augh, I just need them to leave me alone, I left for a damn reason,” you ranted as you put your hands in your pockets, restraining yourself from punching something to let out some steam.

“How about I date you then?” Gojo suddenly asked, leading you to look at him with the most wide-eyed expression like he had just said something completely stupid - to which he did - but before you could even augre what he just stated, Gojo quickly began to explain what he meant by his little statement. “What I mean is let’s fake that we’re dating, we deceive everyone that we’re together and the Kamo clan will finally leave you alone once they realise that you are in a relationship with someone from the Gojo clan aka me, they can’t augre with that,”.

Still looking at your colleague with a dumbfounded expression, you turned your head to look in front of you before thinking about what he had just suggested. What Gojo stated to you was somewhat a clever idea. The Kamos family was obsessed with bloodlines and for you to be with Gojo means that they would foolishly believe they can become more powerful. Even though you didn’t physically inherit the blood manipulation curse technique, you still had in somewhere in your veins due to your father meaning they would believe they still have a chance for a powerful heir. However, that would mean you have to announce this to the clan as well as your mother’s clan - which wasn’t much of an issue for her side - it was just too much effort for a fake relationship.

“Satoru that is so much effort, you’re going to have to meet the Kamo clan then,” you commented, after realising the pros and cons of this little ordeal. “I know, but once we end this little fakery of a relationship, they don’t have to know, you don’t have to report your every move to them, remember you left,” Gojo explained back, leading to any worries that you had manifesting to instantly fade away with the wind. 

Taking one last sigh, you turned back to him and nodded. “Fine, let’s fake date Satoru,” you finally declared before taking your hand out in front of him for a handshake, leading to the powerful shaman to take hold of your hand before firmly shaking it, “okay fake-girlfriend! Leave it to me,”

                                ꕥ

Sitting in front of your dad across a table was something you never wished on your worst enemy, you hated that you were back in the four walls that you had escaped from many years ago. However, for some odd reason, when Gojo was by your side, you felt completely safe.

“Since when did this little association between the both of you come to play?” your father asked in a suspicious tone as he eyed both you and Gojo - yet, knowing how greedy your father was for power, you could tell he was delighted at the fact you were ‘together’ with the most powerful jujutsu sorcerer. 

“Ah~ We have been together since our last year at Jujutsu Tech,” Gojo explained as he turned to look at you with a cheeky smile on his face to which you smiled back at him, trying to keep up with the facade of being a fake couple. “And you didn’t inform me this Y/N?” your father then asked to which then you explained, “well, I did leave the clan a year after that, so I had the right to no inform you. After all, I’m not your daughter like you stated beforehand,” 

Angered by your sudden statement, your father immediately slammed his hand on the desk as if the statement wasn’t true at all. “I demanded you to come back, I demanded you to respect the name of the Kamo Clan and this is how you taint it,” you father roared in fury, causing Gojo to put an arm out in front of you as if he was protecting you from anything that could happen to cause you to look at him in shock.

“Technically, Y/N didn’t even taint your name, she took their mother’s, so you’re in the wrong here, don’t do something that you will regret,” Gojo sinisterly threatened the man that was in front of both on you, before taking your hand in his as a way to comfort you - surprising you once again from his actions, yet for some reason, you gripped on his hand somewhat conveying him that you were thankful for him standing up for you.

                                      ꕥ

“Ah Miss Y/N, did you come to see your mother?” a maid asked in a surprised tone, once she noticed that you came out of your designated room with you adjusting your red obi sash around your waist as your wore your family’s kimono, white was light in colour embroidered with the minimalist design of flowers and butterflies - giving you a somewhat soft feminine look, contrasting the portrayal of your character somewhat.

“You know you don’t have to put the ‘Miss’ in front of my name, and I do apologise for the sudden visit, I forgot to inform you all,” you told the maid with a gentle smile, leading to the maid to smile at you back before you then continued with, “Ah, I did come to meet my mother, but have you seen Satoru? Like a tall man with white hair, who is also wearing sunglasses,”. However, before the maid could answer your question.

“Y/N~”

Turning around, you found Gojo walking towards you with your mother by his side, causing you to freeze in shock as you didn’t expect him to go to your mother without you. “I thought we agreed to greet my mother together Satoru,” you commented as you pointed your index finger at him to emphasise your point, only for him to smile at you cheekily before scanning his eyes up and down at your new outfit. “You do look beautiful in your kimono though, is this what you wear when you come back home?” Gojo then asked, to which you nodded at his question - trying to ignore your pending blush being slowly painted in your cheeks - before you quickly greeted your mother, who was watching from the sideline.

“Good Afternoon mom, I apologise for coming to visit you so suddenly,” you said to her, to which your mother softly smiled at you before cupping your cheeks in her hands. “There is no need to apologise, I’m happy that you came back home since you are so busy back at the school, but also I’m happy that your boyfriend introduced himself to me, he is quite a different character must I say,” she commented with a light laugh, causing you to turn to him wondering what he had said to her, only for him to put up a peace sign as if that would answer your wondering thoughts. Although, before you could even vocalise your confusion, your mother linked her arms with yours before guiding you down the corridor to welcome you home.

“I can tell he really cares about you Y/N,” your mother stated, causing you to look at her with a perplexed expression to which she then smiled back at you before beckoning Gojo to follow the both of you to invite him for some sweets and tea that were being prepared.

‘If only you knew mom, if you only knew how much I care about him as well even though this isn’t real’

                                      ꕥ

“You’ve been staring at the canned latte for some time, do you want that one?” 

Suddenly, you instantly snapped out of your thoughts - not realising that you were in a daze - causing you to then immediately click on the button indicating on the mentioned drink. “Ah, sorry I was just wondering if I should go with the strong or light one,” you then answered, trying to hide the fact you were looking back on the moments that you had with Gojo.

“Are you okay?” Gojo then asked as he removed his chin from your shoulder, letting you crouch down to grab the coffee from the dispenser before collecting the coins from the other dispenser to give back to Gojo, only for him to shake his hand and say, “if you need another drink, you can use it,”

‘Is that why he put extra in?’

“Are you sure?” you quietly ask, only for the cheeky shaman to nod his head before he deciding to walk with you to wherever you were heading off too. “Like I said before, what type of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t spoil you a bit?” Gojo then asked once again, causing you to tilt your head in confusion.

“You know we’re not really dating right? We are a fake couple,” you mentioned, as you opened the can of coffee to take a sip after reminding him about the little plan that the both of you came up with to avoid the whole ‘marriage’ drama from the Kamo clan.

However, you didn’t hear an answer from your friend. Only pure silence surrounded the both of you, causing you to be perplexed on why you didn’t instantly hear a sassy comment back from the shaman, leading you to pause and turn your head to the side, only to see the man look at you dead in the eyes with his crystal blue ones.

‘Since when did he?’

“What if I don’t wanna be a fake boyfriend anymore?” Gojo questioned you with an uncharacteristic serious tone, causing you to look at him in bewilderment before quickly coming to the conclusion that he was probably teasing you.

“You mean you want to end this facade? If you want we can, there is kind of no point in continuing this little act,” you replied, as you took a sip of the caffeinated drink causing you to gain a little bit of energy in a short amount of time.

“Y/N, I’m being serious, I don’t want to be your fake-boyfriend anymore, I want this to be real,” Gojo then declared, causing you to suddenly choke on the liquid in shock before letting out a coughing fit as you tried to clear your throat leading to Gojo patting your back to help you out.

“Ha?” you then expressed, not sure on how to react to his declaration as you tried to look for any deception in his eyes. “Oh you are being serious Satoru,” you then commented to which then he nodded as if he didn’t already convince you that he hadn’t already.

Quickly looking away from the man, you were trying to hide the rose hues that slowly was coming upon your face. You thought you were the only one feeling this way. You thought you were alone on this. Ever since that moment when you and Gojo met your father, you always wanted to stay by his side, you felt like you were important, you felt safe, you felt warm. 

It was like what your mother explained to you when you were young, ‘don’t make the same mistake as me Y/N, when you find someone you want to be with, make sure they make you feel safe and protect and not just the ‘butterflies in your stomach feeling’, I want you to feel loved and important, I’m so sorry for putting you through this’

“Y/N, come on say something, I’m not a nervous guy but this is something else you know,” Gojo pleaded as he wasn’t really enjoying the long silence that was going on around both you and him, only for you to suddenly grip his dark blue jacket before pulling him closer to press your face upon his chest as if you were still trying to hide but somewhat trying to express some confidence in what you were planning to do.

“Are you absolutely being serious ?” you then asked, once again asking how serious he was being.

“Absolutely serious,” Gojo then replied as he placed his large hand on the top of your head before caressing your hair, trying to comfort you from your embarrassment.

“Then I don’t wanna be your fake girlfriend anymore….please,” you then murmured as you gripped his jacket more tightly as you confessed your long time thoughts, only to suddenly feel a peck being placed on the crown of your head.

“Of course honey~ let’s become a real couple”

[writerpeach]

Expensive - Part Deux

Twice Mina x Male Reader

smut, oral, anal, richgirl!mina

4941 words

masterlist

“Here you are, ma’am. Please enjoy your meal.”

Myoui Mina thanked the waiter while flashing her signature gummy smile, reaching for the newly opened bottle of ketchup placed in front of her. She shook the bottle a few times, drawing a smiley face on her over-easy eggs and cutely giggling to herself before taking a bite.

“Delicious,” Mina said, taking a strip of bacon elegantly eating it. She took a sip of strawberry milk, using a napkin to wipe her mouth afterwards. Even in such a quaint and simple diner, Mina stayed prim and proper to the very end. It was quite the juxtaposition, the blonde Japanese girl being dressed to the nines in a restaurant where sweat pants and a t-shirt was the unspoken dress code.

Mina had traveled the world, dined in several countries and expensive Michelin star restaurants, sampling various cuisines in several different continents but there was a time where a girl just needed bacon and eggs to start the day, especially when you were lucky enough to be accompanying her to breakfast.

Your plates had been cleaned off, your stomachs filled and appetites satisfied. The only thing left was what Mina had planned for the day, and you were willing and able to obey whatever needs she needed fulfilled.

“Where to?” you asked, finishing your own glass of cold milk as Mina took her black card from the waiter, replacing it with a crisp one hundred dollar bill and signing the receipt with the prettiest signature. Mina never allowed you to pick up the check when you were in her presence, insisting on you never spending a dime. You stopped arguing after the first few times she had done this, it was one of the few things you learned she wasn’t going to budge from and you weren’t going to complain about a free meal.

“You’ll be accompanying me to several places this morning, I have to prepare for a gala this weekend and need new outfits.”

“Sounds fun.”

“You’ll be trying on clothes too, I can’t have you looking like a slob next to me.”

✦✦

The way your back was pressed against the inside of the dressing room door meant you were doing anything but trying on clothes.

“We’ll be out until midnight at the earliest, so there won’t be anytime to play with you later,” Mina said with one hand pumping your leaking cock. Several potential outfits were hung out on the wall, but Mina had taken your pants and boxers off down to your knees as soon as the door had shut.

“Look at me when I’m jerking you off.”

Mina’s tone was cold as the small hand slowly stroked your cock. Her free hand had cupped the side of your face and demanded your attention as she squeezed every bit of pleasure out with her delicate slow strokes.

“I could make you cum in ten seconds if I wanted to,” Mina said, squeezing your throbbing shaft harder with every pump of her slender fingers and running a thumb over your swollen tip.

Your breath hitched at her touch as she gave your balls a firm squeeze, running a finger alongside your shaft from base to tip and rubbing the underside of your leaking cockhead.

“Let’s make it interesting. If you can make it to thirty seconds you can fuck me against that mirror.”

“Ready?” Mina asked, her ice cold gaze staring into your soul as she bit her lip and gave one long stroke from base to tip, making sure to twirl her hand around every inch of your shaft. You took a deep breath and nodded nervously.

The painfully slow pace she had been using up until now dramatically changed as Mina gripped your cock harshly, picking up speed with every stroke.

“Twenty six...twenty five…”

“You already know how loud I get in the bedroom. You’ll have to cover my mouth to keep me from moaning your name while this nice dick is inside me,” Mina said, keeping her eyes tightly focused on your own as you moaned.

“Seventeen...sixteen…”

“You’re doing well. Do you want to fuck me that badly? Do you want to fill my tight little pussy with this throbbing cock?”

It was bad enough you were forced to look into Mina’s lustful bedroom eyes while she jerked you off in the dressing room, counting down with that sweet voice dripping with honey whispering in your ear at the same time.

“Nine...eight...six…”

“Almost there. I can’t wait for you to make me cum on this cock.”

You gritted your teeth and dug your toes into your shoes, trying to desperately find any sort of outlet for the pleasure shooting through your veins. Mina blew hot air into your ear after every five numbers. You couldn’t make it much longer, trying to think of anything but the sexually charged Japanese woman stroking your shaft.

“Bet you’re just dying for me to walk out of here with your hot cum dripping down my thighs...”

Mina went for the killing blow as she furiously pumped your cock, using her other hand to play with and massage your full swollen balls.

“Four...three...two…”

The end was in sight in more ways than one. You tried everything in your power to hold back, but as soon as Mina’s luscious lips said the word, you grunted and erupted uncontrollably, thick spurts of milky white semen firing out of your cock and coating her fingers and the unfortunate dressing room’s tile floor underneath.

“That’s too bad, I really wanted to be fucked before tonight.”

Your body trembled as those few final moments of climax subsided, the disappointed look in Mina’s eyes as she jerked you off past the point of sensitivity. She gave your depleted shaft a few more rough squeezes before licking her fingers clean.

“I like the black shirt, try that one on first. Get dressed and I’ll see you outside.”

✦✦

Mina had an affinity for handcuffs.

The cold steel wrapped around each of your wrists matched the cold atmosphere in the room as each of your arms were spread wide as an eagle and secured to the headboard of her canopy bed. The expensive silk sheets against your naked body were the only comfort you felt as Mina’s cold hands were caressing your bare chest.

“Do you like being Minari’s little fucktoy?” she asked, cocking her head to the side and demanding an answer which was rather difficult to give as she had stuffed her wet panties in your mouth.

You answered the only way you could and frantically nodded your head, knowing Mina hating repeating herself. You were rewarded with a slap to the face as she relentlessly rode your cock, her ice cold gaze staring daggers into your eyes.

“Good answer.”

There was little you could do in that moment as Mina took you in and out of her slippery tight hole, using you for her own selfish pleasure which was arousing in its own way. Perhaps had your dressing room romp got the way she wanted it you would be in a different situation,

Spending a night with Mina was never the same twice in a row. There was always some changing aspect of it, something she had changed to keep you on your toes. At times it was a quick blowjob before you finished inside her, sometimes it was hours of her edging and torturing your cock as she devilishly cackled the entire time. You hated to admit it but you loved the unknown mixture of fear and anticipation.

You didn’t mind the position you were in, limbs splayed out on Mina’s bed as she worked out her frustrations and took her second orgasm of the night. The naked blonde had straddled your waist, riding your cock for what seemed like eternity, each pop of her wide hips bringing you closer to orgasm.

You weren’t sure what was louder, the constant moans and gasps that escaped Mina’s sinful lips or the creaking of her luxurious bed, both competing in a stalemate.

Mina spent several movements grinding away her orgasm as her wetness drenched your shaft, taking every last second of pleasure from your body as her pretty eyes stayed half-lidded.

“Are you not going to cum as well?” Mina asked, and you found yourself unsure at how you had lasted this long as the tightness pulsating around your cock continued.

“I-I was waiting for you to be satisfied,” you said, not trying to convey the obvious fact that you were wrapped around Mina’s little finger.

“Well, that’s sweet but you’ve done your job for tonight. You were a perfectly capable toy for me to use tonight. Now I expect you to cum, I don’t have all night.”

It wasn’t as if you had several options as you were merciless at her whims, unable to do so much as lay a hand on her pristine naked body as much you wanted.

“Hurry up and cum inside me.”

Mina’s words weren’t so much of a request, but that of a demand, as if she grew tired of using you and wanted to move on. She was quick to urge you past that point of no return, the slap of her plump ass bouncing on your crotch as the tightness in your abdomen grew harder to control.

The look in Mina’s eyes was enough to drive you over the edge. The way she rode you mercilessly drove you insane, you couldn’t last another second if you wanted to. The bed squeaked in protest and you swore it was liable to collapse at any second as her tight small body slammed down on your cock, filling up her warm little hole was too much to handle.

“F-fuck, Mina, I’m gonna cum,” you moaned out, sending a desperate sense of relief inside the woman you were buried inside. Mina’s eyes beckoned you to give in to her body, not that you had much of a choice. With one more intense slam against your cock Mina sent you past your limits, causing your throbbing cock to fill her dripping slick walls with thick hot cum, causing endless grunting as her cunt milked every last drop out.

It felt like you had blacked out from the sharp pleasure, every muscle in your body on fire as your climax ran its course through your trembling body as Mina carefully watched. Once you had nothing left to give, your balls fully drained at her hand she gradually ceased her movements and left you gasping for air as your shaft rested inside her.

Mina didn’t say another word as she gingerly lifted her body off of your cock, releasing you from deep inside her with a loud plop as your thick load began dripping down her thighs and down your crotch. She quickly reached for the key to your handcuffs off her bedside table and unlocked them, the relieving click music to your ears.

"You have five minutes to rest, then you are to join me in the shower."

✦✦

It wasn’t often Mina was caught in anything other than expensive designer brands, colorful long flowing dresses that accentuated every curve of her body, or form-fitting pant suits that were tight in all the right places.

After a late afternoon business call Mina had neglected putting clothes back on after her scalding hot shower, getting out in a cashmere robe and slippers as she took a seat on the couch, tablet in one hand and a glass of red wine in the other.

“Try some,” Mina said, gesturing to a half-full black bottle resting upon the kitchen table. You retrieved your own glass before joining her back on the couch, giving the glass a swirl as you watched the dark colored liquid splash around in your glass before indulging.

“What do you think?” she asked, scrolling through her tablet, catching up on various events and aspects of her day.

“It’s good. I’ve never really had wine except out of a box in college, but this is really good.”

“That’s a shame, I’ll have to catch you up. It’s one of the finest bottles from my parent’s vineyard.”

“Your parents have a vineyard?”

“They have several. One of my responsibilities is to check in to make sure everything is running smoothly from time to time.”

Every time Mina opened up just a little you felt grateful, feeling just that bit of closeness that existed.

“Do you know what the best way to drink wine is?” Mina asked, putting her tablet down on the glass coffee table in front of her.

“Can’t say that I do.”

Mina paused, downing the leftover wine in her clear glass before carefully placing it away and taking a seat on your lap, letting you feel the softness of her bare thighs. Her small hands grabbed each side of your face, planting a deep kiss on your lips and spitting wine from her mouth to yours.

“The best way to drink wine is off the body of a naked woman,” Mina said, loosening her robe and giving you a peek of her bare chest as you swallowed the wine she had deposited into your mouth.

“Well, clearly you’re the wine expert, but I think I’ll need a demonstration.”

“I’ll be happy to give you one,” Mina said, dismounting your lap as you carefully laid her on her back with one hand, the other keeping your glass upright. She untied the belt of her robe completely, opening it up to expose her perky tits and killer set of abs that complemented such a perfect body.

Mina didn’t linger for a second, taking your glass from your hand and aiming it at her naked torso, tipping it over as dark wine stained her pale skin, the contrasting colors so gorgeous to gander at.

You admired her beauty for a moment before planting a kiss on her tight abdomen and gathering the wine on your tongue, drinking it all up and licking every inch of her sexy midriff.

“You’re right, this is the best way. It tastes even better,” you said, continuing to run your lips and tongue over the surface of Mina’s body, licking in in between her cleavage as she idly watched. Mina had been licked clean at your own accord, the delicious taste of wine lingering on your lips as you kissed her breasts and sucked on her nipples.

“I’ll give you something else to taste,” Mina said, the look on her face as devilish as possible as she pushed your body off hers, causing you to fall flat onto the couch. Moving rather quickly Mina divested her robe from her body, letting you take in the view of her beautiful naked body.

That moment didn’t last long, Mina now fully nude was delicious candy for your eyes but you only got to sample it as you felt her thick supple thighs locking around your head, using you as her seat cushion as she took a seat on your face. It was so abrupt that you barely had any time to react as you were smothered with the warm flesh of her wet heat, the slickness of her cunt introducing itself to your lips.

“You know what to do, don’t you?” Mina said, the cuteness of her tone contrasted with her sinister expression, and you didn’t dare keep her waiting as you darted your tongue and licked her pink slit several times. Mina gasped and began rolling her hips, gyrating her body and riding your face.

Mina’s taste was unforgettable, and this close you were quite literally breathing in her scent as you ate her pussy out, being suffocated with dripping pink flesh as you explored her folds with your tongue.

“I know you can do better than that,” Mina said as she put more of her weight down on you, smearing your lips and chin with her essence. You made sure not a single inch of her delicious pussy went without a swipe of your tongue as you took her swollen clit into your mouth and devoured Mina.

“There you go, eat that fucking pussy,” Mina demanded, grabbing the back of your head as she moaned and dug her nails into the back of your skull, aching to feel your tongue deeper than it was already. Her aggressiveness always caught you by surprise no matter how many times you had seen it, not that you minded for a second as your head was buried in between her luscious thighs.

Mina’s taste was so intoxicating, so satisfying to your palette more than any of the fancy restaurants that she had taken you that you could have done this all day long until the muscles in your jaw gave out.

“Almost there, don’t you dare fucking stop,” Mina moaned out as her thighs squeezed your head, pulling roughly at your hair with her fingers tangled in strands of it. You were powerless to do anything else, pinned to her couch and being a toy and you wanted nothing more.

There wasn’t anything quite like when Mina achieved climax, moaning in a mixture of Japanese and English and practically slurring every word that escaped her lips while her thighs vibrated around your head, hips bucking wildly out of control.

When Mina came was the highest her voice rose, the usual quiet demeanor of her was replaced by such filthy words filth would make a sailor blush. Screams and lustful moans filled the air as her honey dripped into your lips and you lapped up every drop eagerly.

Mina had finished the vigorous use of your face to climax all over, and you lamented the loss of her thighs squeezing your head, but if the look in her eye was anything to go by she wasn’t done with you.

“Good job. You’re proving to be quite useful.”

✦✦

(2:02 a.m.) My place. Now.

It didn’t matter that you had just brushed your teeth, put on your comfiest pair of pajamas and slipped under the covers. When Mina demanded her 2 a.m. booty call you answered, not even bothering to change as you entered the black sports car sent by her personal driver.

Mina answered the doorbell naked, without even so much as a hello you were brought into the familiar bedroom. Within seconds clothes formed a crumpled discarded pile. Build-up wasn’t a word used much in Mina’s vocabulary as she took you into her warm wet mouth for just a dozen or so strokes, if only to make sure you were rock hard and nothing else.

You quickly found yourself inches away from Mina’s naked body, her long legs spread wide in a familiar position that you couldn’t wait to dive into. Your throbbing shaft ached to feel the warmth of her body, but she had other plans as you felt something being jammed into your leg.

“My pussy is off-limits tonight,” she said, leaving you unsure to her reasons but you certainly weren’t ever going to complain about anal with Mina and welcomed the change of pace. She aided in lubing up your cock, using a freshly opened bottle and guided you towards her tight puckered hole.

Mina demanded your full attention, this time not bent over ready to be taken but kept on her back, wanting you to see her as you penetrated her back entrance. It was regrettable missing the view of her bent of beautiful ass, not that this position was lacking in anything while having the benefit of granting full vision of her Mina’s features.

“Don’t keep me waiting.”

You wouldn’t dare as you pushed your cock into the tight opening of her asshole, earning a loud gasp from her lips as you penetrated her. It was a feeling that never got old, the intense tightness that surrounded you as your tip disappeared into her warm hole was breathtaking.

“I want you deep,” Mina said, clearly no stranger to anal as she was able to relax her muscles to allow your shaft to sink deeper into her tight asshole. It didn’t take much, just a few smooth strokes until you filled her ass to the hilt.

“Fuck, you’re so big,” Mina moaned out, letting herself get used to the motions as she instinctively rubbed her clit on one hand as you fucked her ass, keeping her knees up and her feet flat on the sheets as her toes curled with pleasure.

You found a rhythm to fuck Mina with right away, watching the pure unadulterated bliss in her eyes as you slid in and out of her puckered hole, feeling the tight clench of it as you stretched her out little by little.

“So fucking tight. You like how that cock feels in your ass?”

“I do, but I’ll like it better when you stop talking and pound me.”

You got the hint and upped your pace, driving your shaft repeatedly into the overwhelming tightness of Mina. She freely moaned in response, the look in her lustful eyes always demanding more and you readily obliged, moving your hips even faster until you were pistoning into her gripping hole.

“Just like that, show me what that cock can do.”

Placing your hands on Mina’s soft creamy thighs, you gave into everything she desired and more as you fucked her deep as possible, giving perfectly smooth strokes into her ass without pause.

You had a hard time finding what to focus on, the tight little hole that was filled to the brim with cock, or Mina’s pretty face now contorted with pleasure and moaning with delight. The sensations around your body drove you insane, the intense tightness and heat surrounding your cock set your senses ablaze.

Mina had an equal sense of pleasure if the moans escaping her throat were anything to go by, and in no time you were absolutely drilling into her asshole, trying to force your shaft as deep into her body as it would go.

You loved every second of it, the way her tight hole squeezed the life out of your cock, it was a moment you wanted to last forever. The look of ecstasy in Mina’s eyes as you were balls deep in her ass, you wanted time to stop for eternity so you could spend every bit of it fucking her.

Sadly, your body had other plans for you, as it often did. The intensity of your thrusts picked up, and you felt that familiar feeling in your abdomen that you wanted to go away, trying to focus on how amazing Mina made your cock feel.

“Mina, I-I’m close.”

“Don’t even think about pulling out.”

You couldn’t, even if for some reason you wanted to it would be impossible to remove yourself from the tightness you felt yourself buried in. You kept Mina’s perfect features in your view, watching the deep satisfaction as you drove yourself towards orgasm. The end was near and you wanted to savor the last few moments, pumping harshly into her tight ass repeatedly.

“Give me it...give me all your cum in my ass...fill me,” Mina demanded, staring at you as sweat dripped down your brow. It wouldn’t be much longer, just a few more thrusts inside her was all you could take as you used what little remaining you had left.

With one more satisfying thrust you buried yourself to the hilt, filling Mina’s ass as you throbbed inside her, flooding her hole up with your abundant creamy load and grunting with every shot fired.

Your climax lasted what felt like forever as your balls were emptied into Mina, her tight cavern milking you dry until you were able to slowly withdraw from her gaping hole as a stream of thick semen leaked out that was the evidence of your combined pleasure.

“I expected more,” Mina said, taking a finger to her rawly used hole and taking a sample of your cum, licking it clean.

You held back on giving any reaction, unable to do much but try and catch your breath as you watched the mess you had left inside Mina.

“Clean yourself up, my driver will be here in ten minutes.”

✦✦

One of the many benefits being Mina’s companion was getting to visit countries you had only dreamed of, seeing them only in movies. Your passport went from being blank to having pages filled with dozens of stamps from places that some you hadn’t even heard of before and experiencing the comfort of first class.

You had seen so many different places yet it never got old, seeing a new place, full of new culture to learn. It had become tradition that with every new place came a new hotel suite, staying in rooms you swore were bigger than some apartments you’d lived in and you never got used to it.

It also became tradition that Mina loved breaking in hotel rooms by being fucked in them. The thrill of being in a different country with a different language and a different timezone was only second fiddle to knowing the sheets were going to be stained with your combined bodily fluids. Mina always left large bills as compensation for cleaning staff.

Between business meetings and visiting important tourist destinations, Mina still had time to fit in being fucked daily, this time outside of the balcony, giving anyone who looked outside their window a free show for all to see.

Mina was always busy which was par for the course during business trips, but her schedule had been packed to the brim the entire morning. The free time let you roam foreign streets on the lookout by yourself without any blonde eye candy on your arm, a rare instance where you felt naked not having her by your side.

The nighttime view was remarkable, the curtains drawn on the balcony window revealed one of the most gorgeous skylines you had ever seen in your life. It failed in comparison to the view of Mina on her knees with her soft lips wrapped around your throbbing shaft.

“F-fuck, Mina,” you kept moaning out loud, keeping a hand resting on the cold glass window as she loud slobbered on your cock. It wasn’t often that Mina treated you to a blowjob without anything in return, maybe she felt apologetic for being gone all day, maybe she just had an insatiable urge to shove your cock down the back of her throat.

You had to forcibly pry your attention away from the magic Mina was working on your shaft, not wanting to finish in her mouth right away. Looking up you saw the outside view, noticing the night sky filled with beautiful bright stars, tall lit up buildings with neon that could be seen miles away and a gorgeous full moon made up the perfect backdrop of the city.

It was all impossible to focus on.

The only thing that caught your attention was the blonde bobbing her head rapidly, keeping her eyes glued on you as she sucked you off and covered your shaft in her warm saliva. Mina was no slouch when it came to her oral skills, and it was up to her whether she wanted you to last thirty seconds or ten minutes.

It always caught you off guard, the contrasting nature of Mina in the bedroom and outside of it. She was always so elegant, so prim, so proper - and yet here she was so goddamn loud as she gave the sloppiest blowjob without a care in the world, throwing her former inhibitions away.

“Your balls must be so full, I do feel bad I didn’t have time to drain you earlier,” Mina said, letting her eyes do the rest of the talking as she pleasured your cock, holding on to your thighs firmly as her mouth and tongue went wild. You could only take so much from her, the look in her eyes almost taunting you to try and last any longer.

Mina knew all your weaknesses and focused on hitting them all at once, going for the killing blow. Soft lips swallowing every inch of your cock, her wet tongue wildly playing around all while keeping a seductive look on her features, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Mina, I-I’m gonna fucking cum,” you moaned out, trying desperately to hold out for just a few moments longer.

“About time, let it all out. I expect you to cover me,” Mina said, removing your cock from the warmth of her mouth and aiming it towards her stunningly beautiful face. The air in the room became harder to take in as you took deeper breaths, watching Mina furiously stroking your cock and encouraging your release.

Your climax didn’t wait for you, the shared anticipation at its peak as you erupted and painted Mina’s face in thick white streaks, splashing her forehead, cheeks and those talented lips, groaning audibly with every spurt released. Mina didn’t stop until she was satisfied you were emptied, sucking the sensitive tip of your cock as your generous load began slowly dripping down her face.

It took the leftover strength you had to not collapse to the floor, the satisfied look of Mina’s gorgeous face now stained with hot semen was an unforgettable sight.

“You made quite a mess,” she said, flicking against your sensitive head and cleaning your cock with her tongue to make sure not a drop was wasted.

“I’m not done with you so you better have some saved up for me later. I’m going to have a very fun night with you.”

[pascalpanic]

Cooking in the Crest (Din Djarin x gn!Reader)

Summary: You become sick of the endless prepackaged food you eat while living on the Razor Crest. From a holovid, you and Din try to learn how to cook.

W/C: 3.2k

Warnings: FOOD is a big warning here; this is all about food, cooking, and eating; some language, and mentions of violence and blood because Din is a hunter.

A/N: this was a request by lovely @binarydanvvers !! I hope you guys like it too :))

The Razor Crest was not exactly built to be a home. The beat up old ship, a pre-Imperial piece of garbage, was mainly meant to be a freighter, to carry loads and supplies around. It had a bunk, yes, but that was mainly for the pilot to sleep. Some ships were elaborately built and crafted to house people, even families; this was not one of them.

You could tell that from the moment you walked aboard. This was not built to be a home, but the Mandalorian and his little green child had made it one. It was endearing, really. It was still cold and harsh, not exactly welcoming, but there were little touches. A sling for the baby to sleep in above the man’s bunk. A few scattered toys for the kid. Extra clothing tucked away, and what seemed to be a makeshift kitchen.

It can hardly be called a kitchen. It’s more of a food storage area. The Mandalorian man has stored packets of food, dried or wrapped, water, and other assorted food necessities in a small corner of the ship. There’s also a device for heating meals, like the just-add-water foods he carries so many of.

The baby doesn’t complain. Well, he really can’t, considering that he cannot speak yet, but he never pushes away the food. Of course, his favorites are frogs and occasional organic things he picks up on the surface of the latest planet, but he’s never refused a nutrient bar or an instant bread loaf. The kid is always hungry; he’ll take anything.

You’ve been traveling with Din for a while now. He entrusted you with his name not long after he entrusted you with the care of his foundling. He’s a kind man, surprising beneath the layer of impenetrable beskar, with a warm laugh even through the modulator.

In this time, you’ve become exhausted over the endless routine of microwavable carbohydrate packs with dried proteins. A nutrient bar is a nice switch, but it’s endless days and nights of bland food. “Do you even eat? Does your species photosynthesize or something?” You’d asked Din once, teasingly knocking on his beskar.

“I’m human,” he assured you, voice dry. He presents himself as tired of your endless teasing, but you both know he could never be. You’re the energy, the entertainment to him and his little green child.

“I doubt that,” you teased, nudging his hip with your own as you walked past, the baby on your other side, giggling at your words.

The kid is smart. He can’t yet speak, but he can recognize meaning in words and the emotions you convey with your tones. You’ve been steadily working on teaching him the right morphemes to form words, but he’s just not quite there yet. He made a little babbling noise at his father, then turned and looked up at you, grinning with tiny white teeth.

Din must eat, you’ve come to notice. He never takes the helmet off; you’ve never heard his voice without the modulator, you’ve never seen him eat. But the stock of food dwindles at a quicker pace than it would for one and a half people, so he must consume some of it. You’ve noticed that the dried proteins or instant spicy grains go quicker- those must be his favorite. You’ve made mental notes several times to pick up extra when shopping.

As the three of you take off from the last planet, a lively and populous city center, your stomach is happy with its contents: you and the baby had gone on a culinary tour, trying different local delicacies. You glance at the kitchenette in the corner and wince at the protein bars. Surely you’ll be reduced to eating the dry and chalky sustenance the next time you’re hungry.

The baby sits in your lap, bouncing excitedly as the ship lifts off. He coos and waves his hands excitedly as Din turns and navigates, though it’s nothing too bumpy for the little thing to handle. There’s a jolt when you leave the atmosphere, and the baby squeals as the stars rush past when Din maneuvers the Crest into hyperspace.

Once the course is set, Din turns to you. You wonder what he’s thinking; it’s a shame you can’t see his face. “We should be at our next location in about a day.”

Your curiosity gets the better of you, heightened over the prospect of eating more dried, flavorless food. “Do you know how to cook?”

“Do I know how to what?” Din asks, cocking his head.

“Cook. You know, make food in a way other than using the microwave.”

Din stares at you for a minute. “No, I really don’t. I’ve never had reason to.”

“You don’t consider eating this bland shit eternally a reason?” You ask, folding your arms. The little green baby on your lap mirrors your actions, looking at his father. “I don’t either, but I think we both need to learn. I’m sick of this endless dried food and nutrient bars and instant grains.”

His shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep breath. “Fine. How?”

“How what?” You ask, taunting him back from his earlier sarcastic question.

“How are we going to learn how to cook?”

You shrug. “We could take a cooking class on some populous planet. They have them for couples.”

Din looks at you, sharply even though you can’t see his face. “Okay, well, two people,” you chuckle, though you can’t help but notice the rigidity of his body. You’re skilled at reading his body language by now; something changed in him when you said couple. “Why the hell not?”

“Because, cyar’ika, I am a Mandalorian. I’m not exactly going to fit in with the happy honeymooners at a cooking class, searing bantha for my beloved.”

You frown at him. “You’re such a pain in the ass, Din. Work with me here.”

Din is frowning beneath the helmet. You can just tell. “I don’t exactly take orders from you.”

“It’s not an order,” you roll your eyes. “It’s a request. Please.”

Din sighs. He’s quiet for a minute. Then: “Fine.”

“Yay!” You grin and brace his beskar helmet in one hand, pressing a kiss to the visor. “It’ll be fun, come on.”

“I don’t know how fun that can be,” he grumbles.

-

The holonet turns out to be a surprisingly vast resource for cooking and recipes. You’d never expected this much to be uploaded to it. There are traditional dishes from Tatooine, Naboo, anywhere really. The first struggle is deciding what to cook.

You stop at another populous planet next. Thank the Maker, you mumble as you put the baby in the wrap carrier that straps him to your chest. “We’re gonna make something good, huh kiddo?” You ask and smooch the baby’s little green head. He just coos in return.

Wandering through the planet, you find various little specialty shops, and you mark off the list you’ve created. Spices from the shop specializing in them, fresh vegetables at a stall, meat from a grocer. When the foods are all collected, you return to the ship, where Din has purchased a portable heat source to be used for cooking.

The business Din has on the planet goes quickly and he’s back before you know it. You’ve barely had time to clean the vegetables under the small refresher sink before you hear the clink of beskar and the baby’s excited laughter at his return.

You carry the bowl of vegetables and grin as you spot Din on a crate in the corner, wiping down his armor of blood. “Welcome home, bounty hunter,” you tease as you arrange some crates to form a table and chairs and set the holoprojector in the center. “How’d we do today?”

“Wonderful,” he grumbles as he wipes a smear of mud off his chest plate. He finishes then looks at your arms, holding the ingredients. You set them down and the hot plate as well. “We’re cooking now?”

“I’m hungry,” you shrug.

Din nods. “I suppose. Do you want me to get piloting us out of here and then we can start?”

You shrug again. “We paid for a full day and night. Might as well use it.”

He nods and begins removing his beskar, leaving him in just his flight suit and helmet. You cock an eyebrow at him and tilt your head in confusion. “Don’t wanna get any food on the beskar.”

This makes you genuinely laugh, throwing your head back. “Oh, blood and dirt and mud are okay but no food? You have some odd standards, Din.”

No one has called him by his name since he was a child. You’ve never even said it aloud save for once or twice. The sound of your voice saying it is like the sweetest music; he could listen to it eternally. He’s a little nervous inside, tingly and fluttery from the feeling. Thank the Maker his helmet doesn’t let it show.

“Go wash your hands and let’s get going,” you order him, stacking two extra crates and setting the child on top so he’s the same height as the two of you. He’s delighted by the view, looking around.

You put the vessel on the hot plate then turn it on, unsure of how quickly it heats. Din returns not long later, sitting on his crate across from you. “First step?”

To answer his question, you turn on the holovid. A cheerful Zabrak narrates for you and shows you the steps, starting with the first: to chop the ingredients. Din reaches for his leg and you shoot him a glare, pausing the video. “You were not about to use that knife to prepare our dinner.”

Din just looks at you. “Why not?”

“God, you’re impossible,” you laugh, though it’s lighthearted teasing. “No, use this, a clean one.” You hand it over along with a few vegetables. Din starts cutting with neat precision, the yellow tuber vegetable falling in perfectly round slices to the surface you’d laid down before.

The baby whines in protest; he wants in. Looking around, you scramble for something before giving him the softest vegetable and a plastic utensil. “How’s that?” You ask him.

He’s delighted, slicing his vegetable and mirroring his parents and the video. When the step is finished, you press play again and it informs you to add some of the oil and cook the vegetables first.

Din pours them in, causing a sizzle from the hot cooking vessel. “Ooh, it must be ready,” you grin and drizzle some oil over the top.

“I don’t think that’s the order we were supposed to do it,” he points out, rewinding the video.

“Oh well,” you shrug and stir the vegetables. The aromatic plants waft from the steam, making you sigh in happiness at how wonderful the recipe smells, even now. “Can you smell under there?”

Din shakes his head.

You frown. “I’ll close my eyes. Lift your helmet and take a smell, it’s delicious.” You squeeze them shut as if to prove you’ll do it.

He would never trust anyone else like this. He’s surprised he even trusts you enough, but he unlatches his helmet and lifts it just enough to catch a whiff of the delicious smell. He sighs happily too and puts the helmet back on. “You can look again.”

You open your eyes and smile at him. “Well, we’re not doing terribly! What’s next?”

The video plays a little longer, telling you the next steps: add the spices to the cooking vegetables, stirring them in, then the broth you’ve purchased.

Picking up the bag, you rummage through for the intended spices. “You wanna do this part?” You ask Din.

“I’ll probably mess up.”

“Give it a shot,” you say with a warm smile and hand him several small pouches of spices and a measuring stick.

His fingers are thick and worn without the gloves, and the sight of them pinching the bright orange powder and sprinkling some in the pot is truly humanizing, indicative that this man is Din, not The Mandalorian like you knew him as before. He does that with the required spices, choosing to go by heart rather than the measured values.

You go next, adding the broth to the pot and closing your eyes to listen to the beautiful hiss of the liquid against the hot metal. “Do you think you could cook on beskar?” You tease Din. The man just shakes his head.

The recipe then indicates for you to cut up the meat and add it before covering and letting it boil. Din uses the sharp knife you’ve provided to once again, neatly slice the meat and add it to the pan. “You’re quite precise with that thing,” you inform him with an impressed nod.

He snorts. “I know the ten quickest ways to kill someone with it.”

“Still, precise to do that,” you laugh. You cover the pot and sigh, setting a timer on the holopad to the amount of time needed before the meal will be ready; thanks to the specialized tech in the hot plate, it won’t take long at all.

The baby shows you his knife work with the mushed vegetable. It’s considerably less impressive than Din���s, but you ooh and ahh over it all the same, making the baby beam with pride. “Your knife work rivals your father’s, little man,” you tease the baby and poke his side.

“Yeah right,” he snorts again and leans back against the metal wall of the Razor Crest’s hull.

While the food carries on its quick cooking, you prepare three bowls and spoons to eat with, setting each in front of where the three of you sit. The bowl is much smaller for the child, but he seems just as pleased.

The timer dings and you clap your hands together in excitement. “Let’s see!”

Lifting the lid, the smell that wafts out makes your stomach growl. “Oh, this is going to be good,” you sigh, setting the lid aside on the heatproof surface and scooping some into each bowl. “Careful, it’s hot,” you warn your boys as you a hand them their respectful bowls.

“It sounds wonderful but… you know I can’t eat it,” Din reminds you.

That makes you frown. “Of course you can. We made it together.”

“No,” he sighs. “I can’t eat it because I’d have to remove my helmet.”

The idea crosses your mind as quickly as his words. “Well then.” You stand and push your crate aside, then pull him up and do the same. With your bowl of stew in hand, you plop down on the floor and turn your back to him. “Now you sit with your back to me.”

“Cyare, I-“

“Just humor me, Din. Please.”

He sighs and gets on the floor, groaning at the creak of his joints and popping of his back. Din presses his back to yours, sitting with his legs splayed carelessly to either side. “There. This what you wanted?”

“Yes,” you nod. “Now eat. I won’t look, and the kid is your foundling, he can see you.”

Din is hesitant at first. He sits there for a moment while the baby slurps his dinner, pondering what to do. Then he remembers how much he trusts yoh. How you’d do anything for him and he’d do anything for you.

He removes his helmet, setting it to the floor with a heavy clunk. “There we go,” you smile and reach behind you to pat his chest. “Eat up. I bet you’re hungry from that hunt.”

“Hungrier from making this,” he grumbles as he scoops a spoonful, ungracefully shoving it in his mouth and moaning in content. “Oh, that’s damn good.”

“Isn’t it?” You laugh, eating some yourself and smiling at the flavor. “Seasoned just right,” you affirm him, resting your head back against his own. You can feel that he has hair- well, now you know he isn’t bald.

“Cooked properly thanks to you,” he reminds you.

“Ha! I don’t know shit about cooking. Thank that holovid,” you chuckle, nestling your back against his. You can feel every little notch of his spine, the lumps in a perfect line cascading down his body, as his back presses against yours. He’s warm, and you can feel him breathe in and out slowly- he’s relaxed. Good.

There’s a comfortable silence between the two of you as you eat your meals. The kid has long finished his tiny bowl and has passed out in his seat, which makes you laugh. He’s missing the sight of his helmetless father thanks to a post-meal nap.

No words need to be exchanged. There’s meaning in the silence, in the fact that you can hear his breathing and his real voice, the hard gulp of his throat as he swallows yet another bite. Maker, he’s so wonderfully human. You absolutely adore it.

When you’re done with your stew, you set your bowl to the side. Din does the same, and his back relaxes against yours. Neither of you are quite ready for him to put the helmet back on, so you breathe the unfiltered air with him, listen and feel him breathing, try to take in every detail of what his body feels like pressed to yours, even if it’s back to back.

“Din?” You ask softly after a few moments.

“Yes, cyare?”

“I promise my eyes are closed,” you tell him.

“What do you mean-“

Din is cut off when you close your eyes but turn, kissing his cheek. You can feel stubble beneath your lips, and above it smooth skin. God, he feels so damn warm. With your eyes still closed, you hug his neck. “Thank you for putting up with me.”

Din breathes slowly, forcing his heart rate not to accelerate into hyperspeed. “It’s not putting up with you,” he admits. “It’s enjoying you. I really do.”

The words make you flushed and flustered, honored that this strong and silent type has used such eloquent words to compliment you. “Thank you. For all of this, Din. Thank you for letting me know you.”

He’s grinning ear to ear, and he turns his face to kiss your cheek back. “You can know me all you want to, mesh’la.” Din puts his hands over your arms and takes one last moment in your arms. “Well, we need to put the child to bed, and I’m legally supposed to be wearing my helmet right now.”

You turn and sit with your back to him, smiling and nearly giddy from the moment. “Who’s gonna yell at you if you don’t? Mando police?”

Din groans and puts his helmet back on, ignoring you. When you both stand, you hug him for real this time, chests pressed together. “Thank you for a wonderful meal,” he mumbles through the modulator and presses his forehead to yours in a keldabe kiss. “Let’s do this more often.”

“I agree,” you nod and kiss his helmet one last time.

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @princess76179 @starless-eyes-remain @tacticalsparkles @queridopascal

[rpgchoices]

Sometimes I really want to read a short summary of what to expect from a game… and thankfully people can also submit their summaries of games they played and help me (and others) find games that cater to their interests!

submitted by @lairofsentinel

(click here for other videogames)

what to expect from MOSAIC

Dystopian, dark, surrealistic, and atmospheric adventure game about urban isolation and the dread of being a piece in a giant machinery.

It is not a scary game, but its environment is scary. Everything seems cold and dark.

According to the devs, the game was meant to convey the feeling of being a cog in a capitalist machine, and working in a system that oppresses you just as much as it claims to help you. The game’s oppressive atmosphere was partially inspired by members of the team moving from more rural areas of Norway to the more populous capital of Oslo.

This game has a unique style: It’s minimalist; works with limited palette, deliberately low-poly models, and smooth blank faces for all the people around the main character. 

It’s not a challenging game. It’s very focused on narrating a story.

Its beginning is very boring since the game makes you follow the grey routine of “getting up, going work, coming home, sleep, and repeat” cycle of an office worker for a week. Don’t be discouraged by this heavy, boring beginning since it sets up a mindset that the game explores later.

 Very short game, about a couple of hours.

 ——- Plot? ——-

You control an anonymous office worker who has a smartphone. You play through a loop of waking up, going to work, performing your duties, and then going home. You do this by simply walking along corridors and interacting with objects when prompted on screen. Your actions and options within this cycle are limited to simple things like brushing your teeth and checking the messages on your phone, reinforcing the rigidity and absurd futility of the situation. 

However, it’s not a game of dead ends. While travelling through your daily routine, you might come across a reverie in the form of looking out of a window and stealing some sunshine, listening to a street musician, or even controlling a butterfly. During these moments the game transforms. Colour warms the screen, and your senses immediately liven. Your character has started to daydream. 

——- Gameplay? ——- 

You follow the main char’s routine: You get up, check the phone, receive some messages that you are getting late to work, brush your teeth, ride the subway, go work, and then return home and sleep. This goes on several times, making it a bit boring. You can change this very slowly by checking the character’s phone, playing games there, checking the love app, etc.  Mosaic's gameplay is purposefully opaque, the meaning behind your actions blurred to a point where continuing on may seem pointless.

Once a week of work finished, the surrealist elements start to appear and become stronger the more the character leans into them.  It may not always be engaging, but those with patience will unravel an uplifting message about human connection. The irony is hopefully not lost on the player; that a game about freeing oneself from your phone... is played on one.

——- Characters? ——- 

The  anonymous office worker.

 ——- LGBT? ——-

The Love app asks you if you are interested in seeing the profile of men or women, which is an appreciated detail. 

——- Sadness level? ——- 

A lot. More than sadness is this oppressive sensation that most dystopian stories leave you with.

——- Happy ending? Deaths? ——-

It has a happy, liberating, non-capitalist ending. 

[fyeah-bangtan7]

Jimin: “There’s people who’ve been rooting for us throughout this difficult time”

In the “ARMY Corner Store” video posted by BTS on their YouTube channel BANGTANTV to mark the eighth anniversary of their debut, Jimin talked about the leather riding jacket that the older members passed down to him when he was still a trainee. The jacket was first worn by SUGA, handed down to j-hope after SUGA’s debut, then given to Jimin with the words, “This riding jacket is passed down from generation to generation.” Jimin still wears the jacket when it’s cold. Many things change, and, even in times when they must, there are things that do not.

You released three songs in a year: “Dynamite,” “Butter” and, finally, “Permission to Dance,” and BTS grew more popular all the while. How do you feel? Jimin: At some point, it stopped feeling real. The reactions from fans, the cover videos they uploaded and the dance challenges they did—I’m just so thankful for that. It lit up my life. We made those songs with a good purpose in mind, so just hearing people say they enjoyed listening to them was fulfilling. And that was our original goal. “Permission to Dance,” in particular, was the perfect message for right now, so I think I got a lot of comfort from it, too.

How so? Jimin: I think it was both the atmosphere and the actual content. It was comforting right from the title. Thinking about it now, the fact that it made me think, Oh yeah, I might not be able to see ARMY right now, but I will soon, was one good point. I’ve been thinking by myself about how the future’s going to be better, and being more careful, and ended up waiting longer. And meanwhile, we had a fan meeting in the middle of all that. So my thinking changed to be more positive. That was great.

Was there any part you placed particular emphasis on to express such positive emotions in the song? Jimin: I think I just followed my heart. Before, there’d be some kind of concept, and I wanted to show off something about myself in that context, but lately I’ve just been following my heart, following the feeling of conveying the feelings I want to share with others. At first I was worried whether the feelings we were trying to convey in the songs would get across to people since we’d never tried songs in those styles before, but after giving the performances a shot, we found out they’re really fun and easy for us to follow along to, too. So I thought it should be easy enough for people to approach these songs, thankfully.

Even though the three songs—“Dynamite,” “Butter” and “Permission to Dance”—all have something in common, I imagine they were all completely different when it came to figuring them out. You did “Butter” before “Permission to Dance”—how was that? Jimin: They’re totally different. The attitudes I take on are different, the thought process is different, and I think the emotions I feel are all different, too. I think “Butter” was a bit hard for me. It wasn’t a style I was used to, but I thought the actual dance was elegant when I saw the video and it had a lot of footwork, so I thought I’d be good at it, but it was way harder than I thought. During practice I even thought, Why am I so bad at dancing? If you look at our usual choreography, it has very powerful parts with big movements and lots of power, but “Butter” felt really difficult because all the power went in at the same time even though it was loose. So I watched Hoseok dancing a lot, and since every member has their own style of dancing, I watched the way Taehyung loosened up, and the way Jung Kook danced by the book, and I combined all those. So for some of the broadcasts of “Butter” I really loosened up and for others I used a little more strength. I tried all different things.

Maybe that’s why even the style of clothes you’re wearing seems to change the way the dancing feels. It felt like you danced a little differently in a suit than when you were dressed casually. Jimin: I never noticed before but the songs do sound different depending on what I’m wearing. Sometimes I danced all excitedly when I wore casual clothes, but when I wore a suit, something about the song sounded sexy. There’s a different vibe when I dance alone versus when I dance as part of a group, so I visualize how I should dress to make my dancing look cooler every time.

The “Dynamite” performance at the Grammys was very impressive, too. I felt that the music, clothing style and poses where you jumped out were all a perfect match. Jimin: I think it all depends on what kind of outfit I wear, where I am for a given part, and how much I weigh. There’s a pronounced difference to the way a dance looks and feels based on how much I weigh. I think the dance and outfit were a good match in “Dynamite.”

On that note, when you performed “Black Swan” at the end of the year, what pair of shoes could you dance the best in? Looking at the fancam focus video, your dance changes in feeling slightly depending on the design of your shoes. Jimin: For me, it’s barefoot. I think it’s got to be barefoot when I’m doing a classic style dance. It looks sharp and attractive when I wear dress shoes, but it always feels more natural to express myself barefoot. It’s more dynamic, I guess you could say. So I wanted to go barefoot for all my other performances, too. I wanted to be barefoot for when we recorded “ON” at Seoul World Cup Stadium at the end of the year, too, but I gave that up because it could’ve been dangerous.

The performance of “ON” at Mnet 2020 MAMA, right? I was curious about something while watching that video: I wondered how the members of the group could perform with such effort in that big, audienceless stadium, with the new solo performances added into the original choreography and everything. What helped you to find strength even under those circumstances? Jimin: There’s people who’ve been rooting for us throughout this difficult time. I think we have to give them a reason to root for us, then. If we’re going to make them want to see us and make it fun for them to watch us, I wanted to give them a good reason.

Then how did you feel when you performed at the Grammy Awards? Surely it must’ve been meaningful to you in a number of ways. Jimin: I wanted our performance to show what it meant for us to be up on that stage. A group of kids from Korea, each from their own neighborhood, can do this, too, so what’s the big deal about winning an award? That’s one thing I thought. Of course you can’t get it if you’re not capable enough yet, but the important thing is that the people who like us can be proud of us, too. We did the performance in return for all the support they show us.

It must be hard being unable to see your fans since you can’t hold any concerts. It’s hard to tell how well the performance was able to convey that return of their support. Jimin: I learn a lot from going on tour. I combine the audience’s immediate reactions and the parts I wasn’t satisfied with and practice based on that, and ask the other members about it too, but right now there’s no time to review that. So I keep practicing a lot, but it’s hard to tell how the things I’m doing will end up looking, so I keep trying things out on my own but without any feedback.

That must’ve made it harder to get ready for “Dynamite,” “Butter” and “Permission to Dance,” especially since you still have to sing in English and the emotions in the songs are a lot different from your previous ones, and it’s hard to feel the reaction in the concert hall under these circumstances. Jimin: Even the pronunciation is definitely different, and the part of your throat the sound comes from changes depending on the pronunciation. I think that’s why I was a little flustered. On “Butter,” if I had done it the way I always do, it wouldn’t show up. So I studied a lot on how to sound more clean and simple.

It felt like you had to meet all sorts of conditions; you have to keep it breezy and hit high notes, all while maintaining your unique voice. Jimin: I guess you could call it the song that most made me think like I was just starting out again. I think I practiced harder than ever before. I think I’ve worked extremely hard to have my own unique style, but then I hit a wall and had to go back to the beginning to find a new way. And I went over it a lot with Jung Kook. What if I sing it like this? Or what about this way? How should I practice? I asked so many questions like that and practiced a lot, too. But I enjoyed the process. At one point I was like, I can get that kind of voice out of my throat too? Even though it didn’t make it onto the final recording, I tried doing different adlibs while singing other parts and I found my strengths that way.

In previous songs you had fairly strong emotional vocals when you sang high notes, but this time around they’re cooler. How does it feel having different emotions in your vocals? BTS also sought to allow people to feel more positive emotions during the pandemic. Jimin: It was hard to adjust to the changes, but in other ways, since the group saw a greater outpouring of love, I thought we should be featuring emotions and content that’s a little more comprehensive. Personally, it was hard adjusting to a situation where I couldn’t perform. But after “Butter” was out and we moved on to “Permission to Dance,” I saw how lots of people took positively to the way I put so much effort into attempting to change things a bit more with these songs, and I realized that we could find a new side to ourselves in the process.​

I saw on “ARMY Corner Store” that you were drinking with the other members recently and all talking together, which makes me think you’ve had a lot of thoughts since the pandemic started. The world’s changed so much, and the group’s status has changed since “Dynamite” came out, too. Jimin: It wasn’t just the time mentioned in “ARMY Corner Store”—we also talked while going here and there by car, whenever we would get together, and when we were on set. I think it took me a long time to calm my nerves. It took around four or five months, I guess, but after we kept dealing with it and talking with each other, I think that’s when we got used to the new normal and our new selves.

When you performed “Daechwita” at BTS 2021 MUSTER SOWOOZOO, the part you did was, as it happens, “Remember, remember days gone by remember.” Maybe it was a coincidence, but now that BTS, the team who debuted with “No More Dream,” currently sits at the top of the Billboard Hot 100, I’m wondering how you feel about the days gone by. Jimin: I only realized it recently, but I used to be really unstable. I was acting like I was well-grounded when I was around other people, like my family and friends. It meant I had to pretend a lot. I worried about others by saying things like, I’m fine, but how are you? I spoke like I could always take care of anything that came up, but looking back, that wasn’t the case.

What made you think like that? Jimin: I’m still young, and because I’m making a lot of money at a young age, I end up wondering what money and success ultimately mean. Because I’m young, I hear a lot of people talk, and some people can be jealous or envious. But there’s a lot of people I have to repay and a lot of relationships I need to hang onto. I thought I could take care of all these problems, but looking back, that wasn’t the case. It hasn’t been very long since I realized that I was the one to grab on and forced everything to happen.

Was it some sense of responsibility? It reminds me how you called yourself “the kind of person who likes to be loved” in your last interview with Weverse Magazine. So I imagine you probably try your best for the people in your life. Jimin: Yes. I was just being headstrong, you know. Being headstrong. (laughs) It’s the kind of situation where people look at you and they might say, You can’t even take care of yourself. (laughs) But there were still a lot of points where I kept thinking things like that. Now I think I didn’t have to go quite that far, and as times went by, I started to think, Oh, I’m glad I can think about this now so I can let things that I should let go of, go. When I couldn’t let things go, my resentment kept growing. My pain, too. Rather than admit I had those feelings at that time, I’d say there were emotions in different situations that I came to unconsciously accept, and I started to feel like I could see how much of a hard time I was having after some time passed.

You’ve tried so hard. How did you feel after letting go of all those feelings? Jimin: I felt like I was becoming empty sometimes, at first. I felt like I was denying my own thoughts and beliefs. But I talked a lot with my parents, and I said, Did you know I was going through all that? And they said, We didn’t know what you were going through, but we knew it was something. So finally I shared what I was feeling with them, and my mom and dad talked to me like they were my life coaches. After coming out of that whole period, even when I do similar things, I can tell my mind has changed a lot. If I was more focused on my surroundings before, now I’m able to focus on myself as well. My mom told me it means I’m growing up, and that I’m finally becoming an adult. So I said, I don’t wanna be an adult—it’s too hard. (laughs)

It seems like you ended up doing a lot of self-reflection during the pandemic. Jimin: Last year I saw how lots of people were having a rough time and how there was a big social crisis, but as time dragged on I started to feel like I was trapped. But it was mostly okay when I was working.

What would you say work means to you these days? Jimin: I guess it’s hard to separate it from myself. I’m me, and there’s also a separate me who works, but it’s hard to tell the two apart.

© source

[thefinalcinderella]

Kaze ga Tsuyoku Fuiteiru Chapter 9 - To Beyond (Part 2)

Full list of translations here

Previous | Next

There was a huge upheaval in the Leg 2 of Flowers.

Rikudou and Bousou were in the lead. Those two schools were being furiously pursued by Manaka University, which relayed their sash in ninth place at the Tsurumi relay station. Yokohama University, which had been in second place at Tsurumi, had dropped significantly in the rankings in the opposite direction.

The lead group, which had become a three-way struggle, was in a dead heat clash of willpower and spirit. But even in the lower-ranked group, there were developments one couldn’t take their eyes off.

Jounan Bunka University, which had been in eighteenth place at the Tsurumi relay station, was running at a pace that was close to the leg record. Naturally, the schools running in front of and behind Jounan Bunka were also maintaining a high pace in order to not be overtaken or lag behind.

Musa, who had left Tsurumi at the tail end of the race, was hot on the heels of Doujidou and Jounan Bunka and on the verge of running side-by-side with them. A student staff member was standing on the roadside, holding up a placard that read “one kilometer.” Musa checked his watch; he had completed the first kilometer in two minutes and forty-eight seconds.

It would be impossible to run the entire twenty-three kilometer leg at this pace. It was obvious that the second half would be difficult, but there was no way he could improve his ranking if he faltered here. Musa overtook Teitou University and was a little behind Doujidou and Jounan Bunka. The gap between Musa and Teitou, which had been seventy meters at Tsurumi, was reduced in an instant.

The roadside was crowded with people. So this is what “a mountain of people” is, Musa thought. People holding the small flags distributed by the co-sponsoring newspapers lined the sidewalks in every direction. Everyone had cheerful expressions on their faces as they cheered on the runners who passed by in a flash. The excitement of the qualifiers and the Ageo City Half Marathon were incomparable to this.

This was the Hakone Ekiden. Furthermore, he was running in the ace’s leg.

Musa was happy. He wasn’t born in this country, and there were people who didn’t welcome him. He knew that. But, at this moment, what a free and equal place I am in! I'm sharing the same time and space as the runners running alongside me and the leaders so far ahead I cannot even see them.

They had been practicing and practicing, transforming their bodies into bodies for running, and now they felt the same wind on their skins.

What Fujioka had said was correct—as a foreign student in the Faculty of Science and Engineering, he would never have been able to experience such excitement and unity. Only those who had faced running in earnest could feel the buzz of boiling blood.

The cheers became noticeably louder, and Musa finally realized that he had passed in front of Yokohama Station. It was the 8.3 kilometer point. When had he run this far? The elevated tracks of the Third Keihin Line curved away to his right overhead. Pale sunlight descended from the cleared sky. Musa continued to run with Jounan Bunka and Doujidou on the road surface that was beginning to dry.

As Musa got into the rhythm of the race, both the fact that the landlord had told him “slow your pace” at the five kilometer point and that the tough spot of the second leg—Gontazaka—was ahead of him completely slipped from his mind.

---

“He’s going too fast.”

Kiyose pulled the radio earphones out of his ears and called the landlord.

“Yes, this is the coach car.”

“Did you make sure to tell Musa at five kilometers?”

“Don’t sound so scary, Haiji. I told him, I told him. But he didn’t listen, so what can I do?”

“At the ten-kilometer mark, call out to him to hold himself back again.”

After hanging up the phone, Kiyose rested his head against the hard back of his seat. He furrowed his brow, closed his eyes tightly, and sighed.

“He's been completely swallowed up by the atmosphere.”

Kakeru put his hand on the back of the seat and stooped a little to take in the scenery passing by outside the window.

“It’s a good thing there’s no wind today. I still can’t see the sea.”

He saw Kiyose open his eyes and look up at him as though to say, “What are you being so carefree about?”

“I’m sure Musa-san will notice before it’s too late. Let’s believe in him,” Kakeru said, still looking out the window. Kiyose put an earphone into his ear again.

“We can only hope so,” he muttered.

---

Of the ten legs of the Hakone Ekiden, the second leg, which ran from Tsurumi to Totsuka, was the longest at twenty-three kilometers.

Moreover, after fourteen kilometers, there was a 1.5 kilometer uphill slope, Gontazaka, ahead. There were small ups and downs even after overcoming the slope, and in the last three kilometers after the twenty-kilometer mark, there was another uphill.

With a distance of twenty-three kilometers and plenty of ups and downs towards the end, the course was both difficult and flashy enough to be described as the “leg of flowers.” In addition to overall running ability, runners were required to have strong mental strength and persistence to overcome pressure and pain, and they also needed to have a clever mind to read the race development and the dexterity to change their running style according to the ups and downs of the course.

Musa ran in a steady rhythm on the relatively flat road to Yokohama Station. He charged onto Gontazaka with that momentum and four seconds into the ascent, he realized, “Oh, it’s Gontazaka.” His legs no longer moved forward, as though weights had been attached to them.

The gap between him and the Jounan Bunka and Doujidou runners, who he had been running alongside, was getting wider and wider. Musa rushed to keep up with them, but realized it was impossible.

What was I doing? Musa finally became aware of the cold wind hitting his face. The tight-fitting arm covers had absorbed his sweat and were now damp.

It seems like the blood was rushing to my head. Musa’s surroundings flowed into his eyes and ears, like the wind blowing through a room and shaking the curtains through an open window. Small stores lined up one after another along Route 1; loud cheers from the spectators forming an uninterrupted wall; it was a peaceful New Year’s scene in the suburbs.

Didn’t I watch the TV with Kakeru at the Tsurumi relay station? Eleven of the runners in the second leg have a time of about twenty-eight minutes for ten-thousand meters, and the same goes for Jounan Bunka and Doujidou. Even if I tried to keep up with those two outright, I would only destroy myself.

What’s the fun in a competition where it’s easy to guess the outcome based on the athletes’ times, the twins had said. But that’s not true, Musa thought. Even if the difference in ability can be easily clarified by the simple numerical value of time, this isn’t a track event; it’s an ekiden. I’m running now because I was handed the sash and I need to pass it off to the next person. It’s not like the ten-thousand meter where we all start running on a flat track—this undulating twenty-three kilometers is only a tenth of the distance from Tokyo to Hakone. It’s only a small part of the huge race that’s put together by ten people.

The second leg is just the prologue, something from which one can derive the unknown development of the race in the future. I should not be overwhelmed, but rather run in a way that’s appropriate for the prologue; in other words, I should run calmly and steadily to improve our ranking as much as possible. Even if I cannot match their speed, I should read the race carefully and look for an opportunity.

First of all, let’s get some water at the fifteen-kilometer point, Musa thought. He had expected it to be chilly, but he had been running at a fast pace and sweating quite a bit. And then…that’s right. Musa remembered the warning Kiyose had given him.

“On the descent of Gontazaka, be careful. On the way up, if you’ve been running well up to that point, you should be able to keep the rhythm going, but that doesn’t mean you should rush down the slope, because you’ll definitely fall down. On the descent, you need to hold back a little to conserve your stamina. The real battleground of the second leg is the uphill slope in the last three kilometers. Control yourself and keep chasing until that point.”

Understood, Haiji-san. Musa nodded to himself and silently ascended Gontazaka. The highest point of Gontazaka was fifty-six meters above sea level. In front of Yokohama Station, it was 2.5 meters, so they would have to run up more than fifty meters in one go.

Just before the highest point was the fifteen-kilometer mark. A member of the short-distance team, wearing a Kansei jersey and a water supply bib, held out a drink bottle provided by the tournament to Musa.

“You’re in eighteenth right now. There are seven people huddled together in front of you. You can make it.”

In the short time they were running together, he was able to convey the information quickly and efficiently. Musa nodded and slowly rehydrated himself, holding the water in his mouth. He drank just enough to keep his stomach from getting too heavy and then tossed the bottle to the side of the road.

He was in eighteenth, which meant that he had already passed another team besides Teitou while he had lost himself in running. The water supplier said there were seven people in a huddle, but two of them were probably Jounan Bunka and Doujidou—those two would probably go further ahead. He wondered which teams the other five were from.

Taking advantage of the gentle descent of Gontazaka, Musa looked ahead. A broadcast van was following the Doujidou runner, who was spurting ahead, in order to capture him on camera. The coach cars for each school were also hurrying ahead to give instructions at the fifteen-kilometer mark. The cars were in the way, so he couldn’t get a good look, but it seemed that several people were competing with each other.

Musa moved a little closer to the center line and took an angle. From the other side of the cars, he could see the green and white vertically-striped uniform of Eurasia University.

Eurasia? I believe they left the Tsurumi relay station in fourth place.

It was only then that Musa realized that there had been a major upheaval in the rankings.

The fact that Eurasia's runner was so far back was a sign that he wasn’t in a comfortable position. Maybe he was sick, maybe he wasn’t feeling well, or maybe he couldn’t get into a rhythm.

The broadcast van was getting further and further away; Doujidou and Jounan Bunka must have broken away from the group. Musa decided that it was possible to catch up with the remaining five. It was possible to overtake them. Let’s not rush and close the distance little by little.

From the coach’s car behind him, he could hear the hoarse voice of the landlord.

“Musa! I hope you’re not snorting and shrivelling up your balls like an excited racehorse!”

The voice over the speaker stopped for a while—it seemed that he had been given a warning by the watchman in the car. With a cough, the landlord spoke again.

“You remember what Haiji warned you about, Musa-kun! If you do, do three somersaults on the spot!”

How is such a haphazard person our coach? Musa laughed. He felt his shoulders relax as he laughed, and his brain became calmer and clearer.

Musa lightly raised his right hand and sent an OK sign to the coach car.

---

At the Totsuka relay station, Jouta and King were sitting on a plastic sheet, talking as they watched a portable TV.

“They barely show the lower ranked teams. I wonder if Musa’s doing okay.”

“It can’t be helped, there’s so much competition at the top.”

On the screen, Manaka University was finally starting to gain a wide lead on Rikudou and Bousou.

“But I’m sure Musa-san will be fine.”

Just then, the rankings at the fifteen-kilometer mark appeared on the screen; Kansei was in eighteenth place. Excluding the selection team, they were in seventeenth place. The camera switched to show the offense and defense of the lower teams. Musa was rapidly approaching the five runners ahead of him.

“There he goes!”

“Yes!”

Jouta and King happily shook hands.

“There’s no time to sit around, Jouta. Musa might be here pretty soon.”

“I think I should sit still before I run.” Jouta, who had finished his jog a long time ago, was doing stretches as he sat. “Anyways, King-senpai, how’s your job hunt going?”

“Why are you asking about that now?”

“If we don’t talk about something else, I’ll get nervous.”

“You know I get sweaty when it comes to this topic.” King got sulky, but his mission now was to keep Jouta’s mind at peace before he ran the third leg. He reluctantly answered, “I’m not doing anything. I don’t have time to look for a job with this life.”

“Huh, so what are you gonna do? You’re gonna be a jobless graduate?”

“I guess I have no choice but to stay another year.” King hugged his knees, sighed, and looked up at the sky. The blue winter sky was covered with thin white clouds. “I wonder if my parents will forgive me.”

His sighs spilled out and drifted slightly, melting into the air with the same texture as the clouds.

“Stay a year, stay a year.” Jouta sat grasping his knees as he rocked his upper body back and forth with his bottom as the fulcrum. “Then, let’s go to Hakone again next year.”

“Idiot, the year just started and you’re already talking about next year. I’m not doing it. I won’t be able to go look for a job again,” King dismissed Jouta’s suggestion at high speed and then suddenly shut his mouth. “…Are you going to participate next year too?”

“I am.” Jouta stood. “Of course I’m going to participate.”

Jouta’s eyes had a seriousness in them that had never been there before. He’s motivated. Feeling Jouta’s fighting spirit right before his turn, King was also inspired.

“Alright.” King also sat up from the plastic sheet and stretched out his knees. “Let’s do some dashes one last time.”

Jouta and King began to run back and forth through the crowded Totsuka relay station.

Musa was running the last three kilometers of the hellish ascent with nothing but his willpower.

He had overtaken Eurasia before the slope. Running alongside him was Tokyo Gakuin University, Akebono University, Kita Kantou University, and the runner from the selection team. He couldn’t catch sight of the runners ahead of him; he couldn’t tell if the distance was great or if he just couldn’t see them because of the competition vehicles and terrain.

For now, he had his hands full just watching the movements of the four running with him. They couldn’t afford to fall behind here. If possible, they wanted to put on a spurt, pull ahead of this group, and hand over the sash to the runner of the third leg; Musa could feel everyone thinking the same thing and planning their moves.

No one wanted to come this far and be the first to drop out of the group.

His physical and mental strength were at their limits, but his tenacity was enough to keep him going without dropping his speed.

The Totsuka relay station was midway up the slope. Five hundred more meters. The view to the left was blocked by a soundproof wall, but the crowd on the sidewalks told him that the relay station was close. Musa saw that the selection team runner, who was right in front of him, was sweating more than he was. All the runners were breathing hard. Of course, Musa was too.

He had to go right now. Musa passed the selection team runner and got to the front of the group. It was his final spurt, which he put on with all his might.

As long as I can get this sash to Jouta at the Totsuka relay station. I don’t care if I collapse and can't get up; my time was far from the record for this leg, but I’m running with all my strength. I’ll show this running to everyone, without crashing in the last few hundred meters.

His chin was up and his form was unbecoming of a long-distance runner, but he couldn’t care about his appearance. He could see the relay station. He could see Jouta slowly raising his arm. Musa bent forward and dashed. He wasn’t sure when he took it off, but the fist he held out to Jouta had Kansei’s sash in it.

“That was an ace’s run.”

Jouta slapped Musa’s arm twice with the hand that had received the sash. Musa could hear Jouta’s light footsteps as he ran off coming directly from the asphalt he had fainted on.

The next thing Musa knew, he was lying on top of a plastic sheet in what appeared to be the parking lot of a ramen shop and a used car dealership. The whole place was filled with the buzz of the race officials, the runners who had finished running, and their attendants. It seemed that he had only lost consciousness for a short time.

“Are you awake?” King’s tearful face filled his vision. “You’ve done well, Musa.”

Musa received his explanation and then took stock of the situation: Musa had won the final battle and arrived at the Totsuka relay station in thirteenth place. He overtook seven teams and ran twenty-three kilometers in one hour ten minutes and fourteen seconds. That was the twelfth fastest time among the twenty runners of the second leg.

Even though they had moved up to thirteenth place, they were twenty-seven seconds behind Shinsei University in twelfth place and only had a six second difference with Tokyo Gakuin University in fourteenth place. It was still a tricky position to be in, but thanks to Musa’s tenacity, there was still hope for Kansei.

“Jouta was so enthusiastic seeing you run.” King rubbed his nose, which was red from being outside all day.

I’m glad. I was able to run well.

Musa’s lips trembled and he nodded silently. If he said anything, the tears would overflow, pouring out of him along with the words.

---

After arriving at JR Odawara Station, Kakeru and Kiyose walked through the station to transfer to the Hakone Tozan Railway.

“I see, understood. Good work.” Kiyose finished his conversation with King and snapped his phone shut. “He said Musa woke up immediately. The two of them will be heading to a hotel in Fujisawa.”

“Is that so.”

Kakeru was relieved. He had been worried ever since seeing Musa collapse at the Totsuka relay station on TV. King had seemed shaken as well and hadn’t answered his phone for a while even when they called him. Finally, King had called to report that Musa was okay.

“Shouldn’t we have called Jouta before he ran?”

They bought their tickets and went through the ticket gate. Kiyose checked the electronic bulletin board for the departure time of the train; the Odakyu line, which would take them to Hakone-Yumoto, seemed to be arriving in about ten minutes.

“The twins will be fine even if we leave them alone. They’re the type who would call themselves if they’re anxious.”

He has a point, Kakeru thought. They walked down the stairs side by side. On the platform, there were a few people wearing their best clothes.

“Putting that aside, the real problem here is Shindou’s condition.”

Before the train arrived, Kiyose began dialling a number on his phone. “Is that Yuki-san?” Kakeru asked, and Kiyose nodded. Then it seemed that Yuki picked up.

“It’s me,” he said. Kakeru reached for Kiyose’s phone from the side and pressed the button to switch it to speaker phone, thinking it was probably fine since they were in the middle of a crowd. Kiyose's head was tilted and Kakeru grabbed hand, changing the way the phone was held so it was right before their eyes.

“How’s Shindou’s condition?”

“I don’t know,” Yuki’s voice answered. “I can’t see his complexion, and he absolutely refuses to let me take his temperature. I guess it’s not good.”

“What do you mean you can’t see his complexion?” Kiyose’s eyebrows raised. “I do hope you’re attending Shindou.”

Yuki was supposed to be at the Odawara relay station with Shindou, who was running the fifth leg. Kiyose felt frustrated that he couldn’t go check on him even though he was so close.

“Shindou is next to me,” Yuki said. “But he's covered everything below his nose with a towel and he’s wearing masks on top of that. He’s wearing two masks: one’s for colds and the other’s for pollen allergies. I can’t even see his face, much less his complexion. Can you breathe, Shindou?”

Shindou had apparently put himself in full quarantine in order to not infect the attending Yuki with his cold. They heard Yuki handing over the phone.

“Hello.”

It was Shindou’s voice. It was a mumbling, unintelligible voice, like a kidnapper demanding ransom.

“How high’s your fever?”

Kiyose had cut straight to the point, but Shindou only answered, “It's not at all. I’m at the normal temperature.

“Kakeru is there, right?”

“Yes,” Kakeru said and took a step towards the phone.

“If you can, I want you to buy a mask on the way. I’ll leave the ones I’m wearing to Yuki-senpai.”

“If you have a normal temperature, then there’s no need to be so cautious,” Kiyose said.

“How did Haiji-san hear me?” The shock could be heard in Shindou’s voice. It’s the speaker phone, Kakeru explained in his mind.

“Got it. I’ll buy one, so don’t worry,” he answered out loud.

“Shindou, drink as much water as you can,” Kiyose instructed. “Even if you wet yourself while running, it’s better than being dehydrated.”

“I don’t want either of those things,” Shindou laughed, and then the call went dead.

“That’s a pretty useful function,” Kiyose said, staring at his phone. Kakeru turned off the speaker phone.

“Didn’t you know about it?” he asked.

“I never even noticed.”

Then what did you think that button was for? Kakeru cocked his head in puzzlement as he ran to the store on the platform. The train to Hakone-Yumoto arrived right as he returned to Kiyose after buying the mask.

Kiyose got onto the train, looking down slightly.

“It’s hard not to say, ‘You don’t have to force yourself to run.’”

Kakeru tucked the mask into his pocket and silently followed Kiyose.

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