#friendship is important they wouldn't let it go

[noihavenosanitythanksforasking]

so this is based on my ramble in the byler discord but im gonna try and compress it into something readable n shit

So in the recent panel with my king Finn Wolfhard, my boy dropped a hint. A very important hint.

"The differences? Mike's a lot more brave than me. I don't think I'd be out there in a different dimension trying to save my friend and be in gunfights and stuff like that. Yeah he's way more brave than I could ever be."

A different dimension??

So Mike is going to the UD in S5. Im very unsurprised and im sure you are as well but lets fuckin talk about it bc holy fuck.

So I know this is the byler community but listen to me when i say, hold my hand and look me in the eyes when i say, I highly doubt that this friend Finn is talking about is Will. ESPECIALLY if byler is canon. Finn is very media trained and you can read legit anything he has ever said about the show and know how good he is about keeping secrets. If this friend was will we wouldn't have mentioned it. It's too close to the danger zone. He would have said something like 'i dont think i'd be out there fighting monsters and risking my life' or something like that. Which is much more vague and can apply to all seasons.

My theory is that this friend is max. CALL ME CRAZY. it could be anyone and I dont have exact reasoning on why its Max other than the fact that shes the only friend actively in danger rn and i adore madwheeler friendship with my heart and soul. But imo its def not Will and its not El.

Now if you go through the main characters there are only (if my memory is correct) 3 characters who havent been to the UD yet.

Lucas, Jonathan and Mike.

Other Characters:

El- Season 1 during the school battle (possibly sooner in the lab idk)

Will- all of s1 duh

dustin- season 4 with eddie

max - season 4 when she was vecna'd

nancy- season 1 in the forest or in s4 with robin and steve to kill vecna

steve- watergate and with nancy and robin

robin - season 4 with nancy and steve

hopper- im p sure hes been more than once but season 1 to find will

joyce- same thing i think shes been more than once but to find will in s1

So Lucas, Jonathan and Mike.

What do these 3 characters all have in common.

They are all a part of one of the main relationships that had issues in season 4. And what are these problems? Lets assess.

Jonathan is stressed because he doesnt want to go to the same school as nancy. He wants to tell her but he knows that she'll give up what she wants to be with him. He doesnt want to hold her back. Nancy feels shut out and afraid that Jonathan doesnt love her anymore. She wants to be together but she doesnt want to put Jonathan in a situation where he has to choose something over something else. They are having issues communicating.

Lucas is stressed about max because he wants to be there for her. Max is shutting him out due to the fact that she feels unworthy of his love or because she is scared of getting hurt and attached to someone. Lucas is hurt because he feels max doesn't trust him. They are having issues communicating.

Mike is stressed about about two people. El and Will. And for this brief moment we're going to look at this in a non byler pov. Mike is stressed about El because he doesn't know what she wants. He wants them to be happy but they aren't and he's not sure how to fix that. He also doesnt ask. Communication issue. Mike is stressed about Will because they aren't talking the way they used too. They dont tell each other anything anymore. They've drifted and Mike doesn't know what's going on anymore. Communication issue.

Interesting.

Thoughout the series the UD has been used as a symbol of all the hard things. Depending on what theories you believe (*cough* lonnie *cough*) this can have more or less meaning but lets assess how going to the UD has affected two of these relationships so far.

Jancy-

Jancy in season one was very tense. they were not friends for a good part of the season. They had constant issues with each other and fought a lot. Then barb goes missing. Will goes missing. They go to the forest in an attempt to figure it out. And Nancy ends up in the UD. Her going into the UD and making it out alive is the catalyst for her and Jonathan to get past their differences, to see each other for who they are and to put their pride aside enough to work together and appreciate the other as a fellow person.

Lumax-

Lumax had a lot of issues with communication and not being able to understand each other in the beginning of s4. They couldn't see eye to eye no matter what lucas did and max was very shut out. Then Max get's vecna'd and comes back. And then lumax finds the strength to communicate for the first time in the season, to see where the other is coming from and allow the other to be there for them.

So what does this mean for Mike. Well, both nancy and max had something that they we're struggling to overcome. A fear that they couldn't escape. Nancy's was barb and Max's was billy. Jonathan and lucas both have something they are afraid to express. Jonathan's is that he wants something diff than nancy and Lucas is that he wants to be there for her but doesnt want to intrude. All of these characters were pushed to solving these issues because of the Upside down (well jancy's recent issue hasn't been solved yet but ykwim).

Mike is going to go to the UD. Which is going to push him into a state of giving in on holding back his feelings. He's going to have to overcome something

El wants to be together, to be happy.

Will is afraid of his feelings, afraid of letting himself want what he wants and being hurt. He feels unworthy of love.

And Mike doesnt want what El wants. Mike loves Will but he is afraid of intruding.

So anyways thats why mike going to the UD means internalized homophobia thanks for coming to my ted talk i'd love to hear yalls ideas :D

[ngage2003]

To me, Marble Hornets partially works so well as a story due to its incidental use of parallels and when it contrasts them. Alex and Jay are both people corrupted by Operator influence who ultimately follow the same path and up in the same place, both of their differing selfish qualities (Jay's Curiosity, Alex's need for control) ultimately dooming them. Tim saw the Operator as a kid and implicatively so did Alex, yet those two end up being both our devil and martyr of the story, two totally opposites.

Marble Hornets does this though not only with characters but relationships, the most infamous example being Brian and Tim being friends before the former's death, and Masky and Brian being partners in crime after it.

A lot of this is probably to some degree incidental honestly, especially when we get down in the weeds, but I believe that there is another parallel to Brian and Tim's friendship in the narrative too, one that is more about contrasting it than paralleling it as with Masky and Brian.

Let's talk about the relationship of Jay and Alex.

⟦content warning: some vague talks of codependency⟧

Alright, so far warning, this is going to get a little "headcanon-y" but I really just want to talk about/analyze the fascinating relationship of these two and my personal thoughts on how they know each other.

Most of the time between Jay and Alex on screen is spent in season 2, but really their whole friendship is to blame for this series happening. After all, Jay was a close enough friend to visit Alex before he moved out, and to ask in the first place for his tapes.

I think its important to talk about what we specifically see of them though, as Alex's reluctance to kill Jay is by and large a defining feature of the series. If he hadn't been so hesitant after all, Jay would have never uploaded the tapes and the series wouldn't exist. But while Alex leads Seth to his death and as to be practically forced to kill Brian by the Operator—

Clarification: in Entry 51, the one where Brian is presumably killed the first time, Alex has to be tortured by the Operator before he is seemingly willing to hurt him. If you're wondering what I mean by that, please check my #ng.operatorture tag for elaboration. - Basically though, I think when the Operator teleports fully living people away, it tortures them, like how we see with Tim in Entry 65. This process is done as a way to sort of break people down mentally by the Operator, as a way of feeding and also to compel them or try to get them to accomplish a goal it wants. Tim only avoids this fate because he is a system and Masky protects him.

—he doesn't kill Jay, despite having ample opportunity too, and the Operator more than seeming to want him too. Sure, yeah, Alex attacks Jay when giving him the tapes Entry 71, but even then, even with Jay defenseless and unconscious and Alex thinking everyone else his dead, he can't kill him.

Why? What makes Jay special? Or rather, what makes him special to Alex Kralie?

Well, I believe that Alex and Jay are long time friends, a relationship purposefully contrasting the fast friendship of Tim and Brian in college that similarly runs deep for the both of them. I think they could have known each other in highschool, and maybe even a little before, both being neglected outcasts who ended up clinging together as they finally found community in the other. I think that foundational connection is why, despite all Alex's hard edges and his antsiness which harshly contrast Jay's passivity, he keeps Jay close, holding him at arms length as a script supervisor rather than a camera man but always near.

I don't think this deep of a connection could just be a college crush or something similar, because for Jay's part, we see a similar level of emotional connection from him, with how doggedly he is willing to follow Alex for many months before he finally snaps to get information, being led around in circle after circle and doggedly following at Alex's heels. Sure, Alex is a lead, but Jay's willingness to keep his head done and follow him is frankly ridiculous, especially after he witnesses certain things like Alex being willing to break their associate's leg and leave him got dead in a dirty, abandoned building.

The two enable each other in a way. Jay does little to press back against Alex's harsh will and rude remarks, not even helping Tim out of the building and often flailing with responding to his vitriol, and Alex uses Jay's curiosity against him, manipulating him onto the path he wants because he has the answers and he knows Jay wants them. I don't think they were always like this of course, but this is a pattern of behavior that is too easy for them to fall into, and honestly could come from them being isolated and only having the other as a friend for so long in the somewhat rural south. When you are two hurt people in a bad situation, you tend to accidentally do stuff like this, as you grow around the other much like a tree and a strangling vine. There isn't anything wrong with that, the problem comes in with the fact that Alex never changed and neither did Jay, and under the corrupting influence of the Operator they're getting worse.

Despite that, I think if there are things Alex Kralie holds near and dear to the core of his self, Jay Merrick is one them, and I think because of that it is very likely that early on in season 2, Alex was still subconsciously fighting the Operator's compulsion. Now, I don't think he was consciously aware of it—lets not get ahead of ourselves—but we know Alex is a stubborn person, and if Jay was important to him I think he could've been resisting to some extent. We know the Operator's mental manipulation isn't absolute, as even if it leaves people believing they're right, Jay pushes back against it in Entry 82, fighting subconsciously before the Operator straightens him out. Why couldn't Alex have done that too? Why couldn't that be why Jay lives so long? Despite the fact Alex tried to knock Seth, Brian and Tim all out within 24 hours.

Advertisement: Curious why I believe that? Read the Deluge section of my analysis/theory, "why the hell is Brian using Catholic Imagery?"

I think the moment Alex finally crumbles, and the moment he is beyond saving, is Entry 52. There is a lot going on at this point between him and Jay, but to some degree I believe this is because he finds out about the Marble Hornets channel, and his trust in Jay, his guilt at the idea of killing him, his resistance to the Operator's manipulations- it crumbles. After all, if he can't trust Jay, who can he?

Alex: I didn’t want Jessica involved! That’s why I told her I found Amy! That’s your fault! When I gave you those tapes, I told you to never mention them again! I thought that implied not sharing them with the world!

◉ Entry 52, at four minutes, 18 seconds.

In Alex's eyes, Jay is practically spreading this sickness like candy on halloween. He is taking a delicate matter and manhandling it and undoing all Alex's hard work to contain it. Bringing in Jessica was bad but this- this is a new low. I think its possible Alex could have even been considering bringing Jay in to help him "stop" the sickness, whatever strange way Alex believes he can/is doing that, but this straw, finding the Marble Hornets channel, on top of everything else, it broke the camel's back.

That is when he finally, properly threatens the life of one of the most important things in his.

Alex only continues to decline after this point in the series, his death as a husk of who he once was being inevitable.

Footnote: For the record, I do not think Jay is some hapless victim of Alex, don't be silly. Jay is just as bad as him in a lot of regards, but is just actively less influenced by the Operator and more subtle with it. Honestly, he is a low empathy autist to me, and that doesn't inherently make him bad, but he also just doesn't act to try to be kind to people when he does inevitably pick up on things, instead prioritizing his own wants most the time or ignoring them unless he has a reason otherwise. He is selfish, and he acts selfishly throughout the series, and that is important to acknowledge about him. I think both he and Alex came from broken homes and I think their behavior and codependent relationship reflects that. Cougjs. If folks are interested in my highschool Jaylex headcanons feel free to send me an ask.

[itsdafavone]

❝𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧' 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤?❞

cw: kinda fluff - light cussing, mention of fighting.

tropes: friends-to-lovers (kinda enemies), grumpy x grumpiest.

pairing: best friend!katsuki bakugou x f!reader.

if there was something that for the surprise of both of us never made any truly mad, that was probably how neither of us could've won. Each other, of course.

me, and him that have always "allowed" me to follow him around; we never won from a fight against one another. Always truly infuriating but we never thought about it that deep since our friendship was way more important than this shit, even if none of us would admit it out loud. But here am I, I've stopped to take a brief moment and think about it all, since Mina called me out:

"girl y'know that ain't normal for such talented person such as yourself..."

she took a pause, trying go figure if that was what she was going to say, frustrated because couldn't find her "right" words, kept going

"and your, uh, friend?" giggled "it's not possible that none of you are able to win."

it's frustrating how kats' spends more time in my mind than I would find enjoyable... not that I would find enjoyable thinking of him; but lord it could be way less.

so it all started to descend in ruins in our first spar in a while. I wasn't feeling really good, but denying something to him, mainly when it comes to a fight, it's something that you'll never forget. Why? the spoiled brat will make sure you never forget how weak, self aware and fearful you were; afraid of losing to a god like him, even if he was completely convinced it was obvious you wouldn't. He is a complete fool, a natural.

but how I was delighted to fight with this fool every time. All of our fights were so deep highlighted by not holding back ever. A dance only we could pull up, our momentary show that makes everything worth it, even losing. Letting go all of the social cues, obligations and images of ourselves; only pure and raw anger.

until we are too tired to keep going, to sick of using one another to it's own sake, quirks denying their activation and lungs burning like hell.

a good visit to recovery girl (who couldn't stand our bullshit anymore), a bath in an almost shared dorm; and a nap. Him not insisting, but sleeping in the ground, me in his oh so sweet scented sheets. An ether aroma that never failed into embracing me to sleep, never.

"wake up." he would throw a pillow at me, even if his voice was almost tender when he commanded. I would look annoyed at him taking my deep breath, too sore from the day before to discuss, just like him.

"what time is it?" monotone voice, almost closed eyes, he would smirk. Shit, he made me late on purpose, and I fell for it again.

"shit kats', I fucking hate you!" got up and went all fast to my dorm, luckily the door aside.

"but I love you..." he murmured, before I could get out the door. What the fuck?

I turned to look to him, in total disbelief, a hint of hope in the corner of my eyes, for sure. He fixed his uniform belt.

"Tyler the creator." looked deeply at me, felt like it was through my soul and back. "IFHY." how well I knew him, he was trying act nonchalant.

"sure" even for that tiny brief moment that the stars aligned and time has peaked its final form, stopped and stood completely between us; I've still left for my dorm, looking desperately for my uniform.

the classroom had a weird taste as the day follow its steps, I wasn't in the mood for conversations and my friends respected my boundaries. Just feeling nostalgic for things that wasn't that much time ago, and for others that were way to long.

and feeling melt under his gaze.

all classes finally had their ending, stretching myself close to the door after finishing cleaning, taking my shoe's and being stopped mid-going-away.

"wanna go buy groceries?" he was legit serious, like, drop dead serious. Even if it was out of nowhere; I said a weirdly uneventful: "yeah, why not?".

walking there was awkward, a constant feeling that there's something being unsaid. I didn't dare looking his way, too afraid I would spill what I've been thinking, and how it have been almost all of the time about him. He wasn't particularly comfortable either, not from the way he was constantly itching the nape of his neck.

I stopped, because my body suddenly told me to. Not that it was right, but it felt right and necessary. He made the same, turning to face me.

"what?" he was feeling the nitroglycerin escaping from his palms, his body telling him to fight but not to talk.

"there's something you want to tell me?" he did a micro reaction, his eyes briefly grow bigger and went back to usual as fast. "there's something you need to tell but feel like you can't?".

he laughed not too hard, more in disbelief than anything.

"you're a pain in the ass huh?" unbelievable how you could predict, what himself couldn't say out loud.

"yeah, with the ones that deserves it!" you both giggled, feeling the tension in the air fade away.

he leaned towards you, just enough so he could see all of you. Not only outside but inside too, your eyes telling him exactly what he needed; the weird reassurance of your presence.

"you're makin' me sick." he told you calmly, brows furrowed in concentration.

"makin' you sick?" you said half smiling, almost teasingly. Until it snapped. You knew katsuki, he wouldn't say that in a appropriate way. Your face giving away the fact you've already got everything figured out.

he gave you that shit-eating grin, turning his back and keeping his steps not so steady so you could easily catch up.

he made you sick to your guts too.

✸notes: that was actually so fun to write, even if it's short 😭

[wewringmagicfromtheordinary]

#it’s perfectly valid to interpret steve bucky as platonic but why should we#platonic male friendships is literally the norm of superhero and military genres#the writers and directors and actors all admitted bucky was the emotional lynchpin for steve’s story#seb didn’t put his whole pussy into giving steve/cevans the sad gay gaze just for bucky to be straight 😂#the world has its share of straight macho heroes#let them be soft and let them be gay 😌 via luna-rainbow

#I get that there are different interpretations of a text#but like Bucky is very much central to Steve’s journey to becoming who he’s supposed to be#he’s the guy he’s avenging in Captain America: The First Avenger#Cap 2 is literally Steve: Bucky#CACW sees Steve going against half the Avengers to defend Bucky#idk I feel like you missed a lot if you don’t think Bucky was that important#and also like even if you just want to see them is good pals or whatever#it shows a lack of comprehension of a very simple story#or at least that it’s interpreted through a biased lens#as for Steve joining the army you have every valid reason to think it wasn’t purely for Bucky#but it’s very conveniently stated that Bucky’s regiment is the one he requested to join moments before he was rejected#so whether Joseph and Bucky coincidentally happened to be in the same regiment we can only guess#but it’s very plausible he was just lying to be in the same regiment as his best friend via cosmicmechanism

#whether you ship it or not (which is irrelevant btw?) in canon Bucky is a huge part of Steve's motive...#as explicitly stated by Steve himself when literally asked by Bucky what his motive is the night before Bucky is shipping out...#in the movie named after avenging Bucky -- which makes no mention of Joseph 🤦‍♀️#this ain't rocket science folks!#sidenote: this is ALSO technically bad writing in the sense...#...that longtime-friend Bucky (who has ALREADY made explicit references to his knowledge of Steve's propensity to get into fights)#...wouldn't/shouldn't need to ASK Steve why he wants to fight... sth he would (obviously!) already know!#could've easily written dialogue where they discuss Steve's motives organically (so Erskine can overhear his Hero Monologue)#...without making such an obvious rookie writing error#but that's just my opinion! 👀☕#'I don't like this ship I'll pretend I'm too dense to see it' ok that's embarrassing and a skill issue not an argument#listen fox & friends if you see some queers whose existence upsets you just clutch the pearls and move on#no need to clog up this poor person's inbox with flimsy cringe rationalisations via amarriageoftrueminds

No offense but I think maybe people are overstating the influence Bucky had especially on Steve's desire to join the army. Maybe he was influenced by his father Joseph even though he never met him more? Like he didn't just want to join the army he wanted to join the 107th because originally that was the division his father was in. Bucky joined but Steve wanted to join even before that because of his father. Kind of like Luke Skywalker wanting to go off in adventures because of the image of his father.

I normally take these asks in good faith but do you know how passive-aggressive it is to start a conversation with “no offence but”? Because not only are you aware you’re about to cause offense you’re also intending to.

Canon doesn’t give us a lot to go on in terms of Steve’s inner thoughts about joining the army. The interpretation that Joseph was the inspiration is perfectly valid. As is the interpretation that Bucky’s draft was the motivation. And I’m not sure why they have to be mutually exclusive?

I will say though, because the MCU was very thin on details for Steve’s parents, many fanfic writers turned to the comic books for inspiration. The 616 iteration of Joseph, an alcoholic (likely from untreated PTSD) who subjected Sarah and Steve to abuse, is likely the reason many fans don’t lean into him being an inspirational figure for Steve.

The Cap fandom is big and diverse, and all kinds of headcanons exist. All I can say is you need to curate your experience better if seeing Steve-Bucky centric headcanons bothers you this much.

[whoopssteddiefeels]

If you think the CC boys aren't looking for Eddie, you're wrong

----

Steve opened his trunk and placed the groceries inside, Eddie’s special requests next to his usual staples and the excessive number of snacks he had grabbed for this week’s check in at Hopper’s cabin. Eddie was probably just being cute, requesting the same thing they had brought him in the boathouse, but Steve figured it would be just as cute to refill the request anyway. Anything to make Eddie smile and call him a sap in that overly sweet way he had.

He closed the trunk, pulling his keys out of his pocket. Already excited to get home to that amused smile and twinkling eyes.

“Where the fuck is Eddie?”

Steve jumped about a foot in the air, spinning on the spot, fumbling his keys in an embarrassing 3-part scramble that still ended with them clanking to the ground. He’s effectively trapped against his car, three boys glaring at him from a few feet away. How the hell did they sneak up on him in tandem like that?

They stood in a V-formation, arms crossed and eyes angry. The one in front, a black boy with braces and close-cropped hair who was doing his best to stare down at Steve despite their roughly even height, spoke again. “We don’t know what is going on, what happened, but you and Henderson are definitely involved.”

“I… I don’t…” Steve looked around quickly, hoping something would appear and save him from this conversation. Nothing did, the parking lot was empty except for them. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit, man!” the smallest of the three exclaimed, pointing angrily in Steve’s face. “Whatever the fuck happened involved your stupid basketball team and our freshman members and god KNOWS what else but there’s no way Eddie would ever-”

“He didn’t do anything to that girl,” the first boy interrupted, Jeff, Steve’s brain slowly supplied, based on stories he’d heard from both Dustin and Eddie. This must be the rest of Corroded Coffin. Jeff, Gareth, and… shit what was the third kids name? Doesn’t matter, he needed to come up with an exit strategy fast.

Steve raised his hands, painfully aware that his keys were still on the ground. “Look, guys, I don’t- I don’t know what you want from me. Yeah, I don’t believe Eddie did anything to Chrissy. Henderson is at home, I haven’t even seen him in days. I don’t know where Eddie would’ve gone after the earthquake, you’d know better than-”

“You’ve got his battle jacket in your back seat.” Unnamed member cut in, voice hard.

“You just bought honeycombs, yoo-hoos, and camel cigarettes.” Gareth, the little one, chimed in.

Jeff took a step forward, making sure Steve was looking at him before he slowly reached forward and carefully pulled on the chain around Steve’s neck, drawing the guitar pick out from where it had rested under his shirt. The younger boy just raised his eyebrows, emphasizing the implication.

Steve sagged against his car, and Jeff let the necklace slip from his fingers as it was pulled back with his movement. It fell against the outside of his shirt, the red and black guitar pick stark and damning against the light blue of today’s polo.

Steve rubbed at his face, refusing to meet the trio of accusing glares. These were Eddie’s friends. His brothers according to the metalhead in question. There was no reason for Steve to be wearing that necklace other than what it was: a claim. They would know that, better than anyone. There was no getting out of this.

“Jesus H. Christ, okay. Okay. He’s… at my place. Just, follow me, I guess.”

[acerikus]

The ironic part about that tag ramble I just did is that I actually like vengeance and neutral best in uty. (Neutral>vengeance>pacifist for me lol)

Pacifist is fun and I like how much we learn about the characters and the ceroba fight, but out of the three routes it's the one that captivates me the least. Don't get me wrong, that first run was magical and I still really like it! I think most of that is bc it's clover and flowey's relationship and how it's used that captivates me most about this game.

But even then, clover inherently being someone who didn't immediately lash out at the monsters (be that through wanting to be kind or due to fear/some other reason) is so so important to their character.

We (and Flowey) can make them worse. But they put thought into their judgement when given the chance. It took hundreds of resets for clover to choose violence and even then, it wasn't of their own volition. It's not who Clover is at their core - they want things to be fair and they get easily drawn into caring for people. Hell, martlet in vengeance even calls them out for trying to find reasons to hate her in her memories, because deep down they don't want to at all, and even in flawed/aborted vengeance they're sincere in wanting to live with her, to the point flowey is shocked and angered. Their care for martlet is a constant regardless of route and that's one of my other favourite parts about this game.

[origami-butterfly]

Ok but sometimes the most infuriating political stance a person can have is point blank refusing to discuss social issues with you when you bring it up because they "don't want to get political". Don't open the tags unless you want to read a rant

[oceanicwriting]

smile for the camera.

summary: ever since you confessed to your friend that one of your fantasies was to record a sex tape, everything has been strange. one day, after finishing the week, he is waiting for you in your dorm with a camera and ready to do whatever he wants with it.

pairing(s): bsf!lorenzo berkshire × fem!reader

a/n: second lorenzo fic! i liked this one a lot more than the last one. i hope you enjoy it ;-).

+18 smut, masturbation (f!m receiving), oral sex (m!receiving), doggy, praising, cursing

ㅤㅤㅤit's been a week since you confessed to lorenzo berkshire, your best friend at hogwarts, that recording yourself having sex was one of your fantasies. whenever you remembered it, a shiver ran through your body. although he had made fun of it the night you confessed it, he hasn't said anything else since then, maybe because you've avoided him or he knew the jokes made you feel bad.

ㅤㅤㅤ—everything okay? —you look at your potions desk mate, luna lovegood, who has her eyes filled with worry—. i’ve been talking to you for a while now.

ㅤㅤㅤyou nod frantically, assuring her that you’ve been thinking about something else, but nothing is happening.

ㅤㅤㅤthinking about what? lorenzo and your best kept secret.

ㅤㅤㅤwhen class ends, you know that it wasn’t just luna who had noticed your disconnection from the real world, being called by master slughorn to ask if something was wrong outside of class. of course, you lie, because nothing would be more embarrassing than admitting what was eating away your thoughts.

ㅤㅤㅤwhen you return to your dorm, your books hugged to your chest and shuffling through the exhausting week, you could only think about how much you wanted to hide in the sheets of your bed until monday. that wasn't going to be possible because lorenzo is leaning outside your door waiting for you to arrive.

ㅤㅤㅤ—what are you doing? —you question, instantly catching his attention—. everyone can see you here.

ㅤㅤㅤ—come on, it's not like they don't know we're friends.

ㅤㅤㅤyou deny, opening your bedroom door and noticing that your roommates aren't there.

ㅤㅤㅤ—no, but imagine what are they going to think if you wait for me outside my bedroom.

ㅤㅤㅤhe smirks at your unusual reaction. in any other situation, you would have greeted him with a huge smile, inviting him in to hang out and talk all afternoon. the problem is that this wasn't just any situation.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i need to talk to you —he says. you're standing, holding the door to stop him from passing—. it's important.

ㅤㅤㅤyou look up at him, noticing the dark spots under his eyes. lorenzo berkshire, who always had such perfectly smooth skin, had dark circles under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept properly in days.

ㅤㅤㅤ—please. —his eyes make you flinch, pushing yourself aside so he can pass—. thank you.

ㅤㅤㅤwhen you’re both inside, you close the door behind you, and lorenzo sits down on your bed. you stand a step away from him, waiting for him to start the conversation.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i imagine you already know what i want to talk about, —he says, relaxing into his spot—. about your fantasy.

ㅤㅤㅤthe mere mention of your secret makes your cheeks flush a bright red, making you uneasy at the way he’s looking at you from his position.

ㅤㅤㅤneither of you had admitted that there was something much bigger than friendship between you. lorenzo had never accepted it for fear of losing you, but you for fear of getting hurt. you knew each other too well to know that any relationship beyond friendship might not last long. although he had found a possible solution that would manage to silence the force that attracts you.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i'm sorry if i made you feel bad with what i said, but... was it necessary to avoid me all week? did you think i wouldn't notice?

ㅤㅤㅤ—enzo, it wasn't because of that. i mean, yes, you made me feel bad for judging me. it's just that i was embarrassed to see you again.

ㅤㅤㅤhe sighs, letting a soft laugh escape his lips.

ㅤㅤㅤ—you should have told me.

ㅤㅤㅤyou smile, shrugging and looking him straight in the eyes. then you notice lorenzo rummaging through his black and green cloak, pulling out of the darkness a black device that you can't identify until he lets it rest on your bed. a video camera. lorenzo damn berkshire had just brought a video camera into your bedroom.

ㅤㅤㅤ—why did you bring that? —you question, looking for the door behind you to escape.

ㅤㅤㅤ—listen to me, please, listen to me —he begs, getting up from the bed to approach you—. your fantasy... your fantasy could help us take all the weight off our backs.

ㅤㅤㅤyou look at him, stopping your hand on the door handle.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i know you can feel it. i can tell how you long for something to happen between us. isn't that right?

ㅤㅤㅤ—what do you mean?

ㅤㅤㅤhis smile widens when your hand stops holding the door, lowering your defenses at his proximity. he looked cute when he smiled, showing all his teeth, reaching his cheekbones and making his small brown eyes shine.

ㅤㅤㅤ—that you and i can take advantage of your fantasy to get rid of what we want —he says, his hand caressing your cheek to remove a small lock of hair—. if you just say yes.

ㅤㅤㅤyour hand reaches for the door handle again, but this time, it is to emit a soft click that locks the door. then, your hands wander over lorenzo's chest, removing the cape that falls to the floor and the tie. when you both reach the bed, he falls with a huge smile drawn on his face, eager to feel you, touch you, listen to you, and taste you as he had long hoped.

ㅤㅤㅤyou remain standing, looking at him lying on the bed in such an appetizing way that you can feel your panties getting wet. he knew exactly how to put you that way, although you had never done it.

ㅤㅤㅤ—record me —you whisper, making the boy's eyes shine at the order—. focus on me.

ㅤㅤㅤhe reaches for the camera at the edge of the bed, turning it on and starting to record. through the small screen, he watches you take off your cape, tie, and blouse that was squeezing your bra.

ㅤㅤㅤ—don't take off your skirt —he says, patting her waist twice—. get on here.

ㅤㅤㅤyou obey, straddling his member that slowly gets harder with the movements of your hips. lorenzo lowers the camera's focus until he records how your panties rub against his pants, lifting your skirt to get a better view of the bulge that is pressing against you.

ㅤㅤㅤ—how many nights i dreamed of fucking you using your skirt —he says, his voice hoarse and deep making you tremble—. a true beauty.

ㅤㅤㅤ—give me the camera —lorenzo passes it to you, and you focus on him from the head to the end of his chest—. take off your clothes, enzo.

ㅤㅤㅤhe unbuttons his shirt so slowly that you have to look at him angrily, making a narcissistic smile form on his lips and hurry his nakedness. his bare chest looks so exquisite in the lens that your hands can't help but run over his body.

ㅤㅤㅤ—do you like what you see?

ㅤㅤㅤyou nod.

ㅤㅤㅤ—you are so precious, enzo.

ㅤㅤㅤlorenzo snatches the camera from you in one movement, pinning you to the bed with his body. his bare chest collides with yours, and his arm holds the camera inches from your faces facing each other. your breathing mingle with his, lighting a flame deep within your core.

ㅤㅤㅤ—kiss me, lorenzo. please kiss me until i can’t breathe.

ㅤㅤㅤhis lips latch onto yours with a demanding, electrifying force that makes you reciprocate with the same force. his hot tongue thrusts inside your mouth to fight with yours, making you laugh against his lips. lorenzo then sets the camera down on the bed and moves his hand down to your wet panties, moving them aside to massage your clit with his thumb.

ㅤㅤㅤthe sensation runs through your body with an electrifying exquisiteness that makes you moan in his mouth. then, lorenzo kisses your bare chest, sucking some parts of your skin and leaving a last kiss where your skirt begins. then, he stands up, his hand still working on making you writhe against the massage of his finger.

ㅤㅤㅤ—smile for the camera, beautiful —he says, taking the camera to focus on your face when it stops being touched by his hands—. do you want me to record what i do?

ㅤㅤㅤlorenzo brings two fingers to your mouth so you can fill them with saliva and suck them before bringing them to your entrance. the simple image of the boy with the camera in his hands, pointing towards your tight pussy under your skirt and bringing his fingers to fuck you was enough to make you shudder.

ㅤㅤㅤ—here we go. —he runs his fingers from your clit to your entrance, making you squirm eagerly for his touch—. fuck, you're so hot.

ㅤㅤㅤand lorenzo makes his way inside you. his fingers sink so deep that it's impossible to avoid the gasp that leaves your lips. he pushes in the right places inside you to make you moan louder and louder, stretching your insides when he separates his fingers a little and slowly masturbates your clit with his thumb. the sensations were endless at that moment.

ㅤㅤㅤ—you look so damn gorgeous. —the camera paints your face again, this time more messy and whimpering from the intrusion of his hand—. take off your bra.

ㅤㅤㅤyour hands, shaking from the waves of pleasure that run through your body, manage to take off your garment. he films your breasts moving with you from the shudder, tasting from the screen the perfect shape and size he had dreamed of having in his hands. although that would have to wait.

ㅤㅤㅤ—touch yourself, —he says, his thick, demanding voice filling the entire room—. come on, don’t be shy.

ㅤㅤㅤyour hands travel to your breasts, squeezing and playing with your nipples as lorenzo’s hand continues to do its thing. there are so many sounds mixing together that it’s impossible to focus on what’s happening, making you squirm more and more and whimper at the sensations spreading throughout your body. you were feeling all your libido build up in your core, right where lorenzo moved his hand one last time, and your whole body convulses.

ㅤㅤㅤthe camera in lorenzo's hands doesn't waste a second in recording your wet and satisfied pussy, to focus on your face trying to catch your breath.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i can't believe you're letting me see this, gorgeous. so perfect when you cum in my hand, don't you think? —he says, leaving the camera on the bed at the height of your hips—. i'd like it more if you cum on my cock.

ㅤㅤㅤhe catches your mouth with an initial delicacy that turns into a murderous desire. your tongue fights against his, seeking much more by attracting him from the neck. lorenzo tangles one hand in your hair, and the other travels to your waist to turn you on the bed.

ㅤㅤㅤ—should we try? —he asks, running a hand down your back to your ass, removing your skirt along the way—. you don’t know how long i waited to see this ass of yours smack into my pelvis while i’m taking you.

ㅤㅤㅤ—who’s a needy boy? —you can hear his laugh behind your back and his hand lift your hip to leave your entire ass exposed. his hand still tangled in your hair forces you up—. i’m going to take you so good, enzo. i promise.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i know you will. —he turns the camera screen to notice that it’s at the perfect angle—. and i want you to see it.

ㅤㅤㅤlorenzo forces you to bury your cheek into the bed so that you can see the small screen where you can notice your body against his. he unbuttons his pants, letting them fall down his legs at the same time that he takes his erect cock, masturbating himself. you push your ass back in search of helping him with that.

ㅤㅤㅤ—let me help you —you whisper, feeling it slide down your buttocks, staining it with the accumulated precum—. e-enzo.

ㅤㅤㅤhe growls at the feeling of your soft, warm buttocks squeezing his member, generating a gentle rocking that you squeeze from time to time. the view was like any other dream, although this time everything was much more perfect.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i'm going to lose my mind, love. i've wanted to have this view for so long, and now you're giving it to me with honors.

ㅤㅤㅤ—because i know you'll make me feel good —you whisper, lorenzo searching in your folds for a little moisture to separate and spread it along the length of his cock—. i'm so ready for you.

ㅤㅤㅤlorenzo positions you, one of his hands gripping his member and the other, squeezing your waist to keep you in the perfect position. he slowly makes his way inside you, scraping every corner of your entrance with pain that turns to pleasure instantly after.

ㅤㅤㅤ—are you okay?

ㅤㅤㅤyou nod, causing lorenzo’s hips to move back and thrust into you again. the growl combined with your soft moan is enough to make him lose his mind, beginning to increase the movement of his hips against your ass. each time he thrust into you again, he did with more force and speed than the previous one, taking your hip to deepen the shock of your body against his.

ㅤㅤㅤclap, clap, clap. the sound getting clearer and louder makes your head hurt, mixing exquisitely with lorenzo's embarrassed sighs and moans behind you. seeing everything from the camera screen was stirring up all the sensations in you much more than you wanted to admit, squeezing his cock inside you and moaning louder and louder.

ㅤㅤㅤ—you're doing perfect. keep it up.

ㅤㅤㅤlorenzo tangles one of his hands in your hair again, forcing you to get up to reach your neck, ear, and shoulders with the wetness of his mouth. his movements have not stopped at any time, attacking your breasts with his free hand and kissing your cheeks softly.

ㅤㅤㅤ—l-lorenzo —you moan, stretching your arms back to hold onto his neck.

ㅤㅤㅤ—tell me, baby. what's wrong?

ㅤㅤㅤhe can feel you squeezing him the same way he squeezed your fingers a moment ago.

ㅤㅤㅤ—j-just keep doing that. keep moving. —your hands tie themselves in his hair, pulling his head closer to yours—. kiss me.

ㅤㅤㅤlorenzo smiles at the pleading tone of your soft voice. his free hand stops squeezing your nipples, moving down your abdomen until he finds your clit.

ㅤㅤㅤ—as you wish.

ㅤㅤㅤhis mouth captures yours at the same time his hand begins to massage your overstimulated clit. you were both restless, close to exploding and throbbing in every imaginable part of your sweaty bodies. your mouths move messily over each other at the endless moans escaping you and lorenzo's faster movement against you.

ㅤㅤㅤ—shit.

ㅤㅤㅤand your entire body tightens in a spasm that makes your juices explode all over lorenzo's cock.

ㅤㅤㅤ—just a l-little more, love —he says, still moving and growling against your ear. your entire body is exhausted, but you try to keep up with the pace that lorenzo hasn't stopped—. i'm close...

ㅤㅤㅤhe lets go of you, letting your body fall against the mattress and pulling out of you to masturbate a little to wet your back with the semen that shoots out of his member. you can hear him catching his breath standing there, burning your broken body on the bed with his gaze and laughing softly.

ㅤㅤㅤ—wasn’t this fun? —he says, you can see him taking the camera, while his other hand helps you turn on the bed—. what a dreamy view.

ㅤㅤㅤyour cheeks heat up because now that everything was over, the embarrassment begins to form in the pit of your stomach.

ㅤㅤㅤ—one last kiss?

ㅤㅤㅤyour eyes travel down his body standing there. and maybe you could take advantage of the situation a little more, because if you were going to make a video like that, you had to do everything to save the memory, not only on that camera.

ㅤㅤㅤyou move on top of the bed, getting closer to the edge. one of your hands hugs his flaccid member, making him jump a little. the boy's expression is the one you expected, confused and unfinished.

ㅤㅤㅤ—one last kiss —you say, just before kissing the tip of his penis that was beginning to harden in front of your eyes.

ㅤㅤㅤ—what...

ㅤㅤㅤyour tongue moistens its entire length, making it harden instantly. then, smiling as if you were about to try your favorite sweet, you embrace his cock with your hot mouth. one of your hands helps you cover the length you can't, allowing yourself to suck on what your hand shamelessly masturbates him. he moans every now and then, pointing the camera at your face.

ㅤㅤㅤyou kiss, suck, and taste, wanting to remember every part of his length in the most secret part of your mind. lorenzo grabs your hair and sighs before pushing his hips against you, announcing that he needs much more to be able to finish inside your mouth.

ㅤㅤㅤ—take it well, babe. —your eyes fill with tears at the feeling of his tip hitting your throat—. you're doing so well. don't be afraid.

ㅤㅤㅤlorenzo's hips pushing deeper and deeper, mouth salivating from the edge of your lips and camera pointing from every possible angle. everything was happening so fast that your blurry eyes couldn't notice much more than lorenzo's glorious sounds.

ㅤㅤㅤ—so delicious and appetizing —he whispers, noticing how your mouth does its best to keep up with his own movement—. incredible that you let me see this.

ㅤㅤㅤyour tongue runs over the tip of his member that begins to tremble inside your mouth. lorenzo growls, letting go of your hair and clenching his hands on the camera that continues to point in your direction.

ㅤㅤㅤ—almost...

ㅤㅤㅤone last thrust is enough for all of lorenzo's semen to end up burning in your mouth. his brown gaze observes you without being able to believe the remains of substance that escape from your lips, while the rest travels from your mouth to the bottom of your stomach.

ㅤㅤㅤ—you're going to drive me completely crazy.

ㅤㅤㅤyou laugh, running your forearm over the stains on your mouth.

ㅤㅤㅤ—enough recording —you say, raising your hand to reach the camera—. enzo!

ㅤㅤㅤ—let me record you a little longer or i'm afraid i'll forget your body.

ㅤㅤㅤyou get up from the bed to reach the device and end the recording in the middle of a laugh. you look at lorenzo, who still looks at you mesmerized by the nakedness of your body.

ㅤㅤㅤ—lorenzo, you could never forget my body —you say, pulling him with you to the bed completely undone. your hand brushes away some strands of hair on his face—. because if one day you forget, you can come find me.

ㅤㅤㅤlorenzo looks at you, one of his hands holding all his weight on you and the other clenched on your hip.

ㅤㅤㅤ—you will make me the happiest man in the world.ㅤ

[yinyuedijun]

TOKYO VICE | part 2

“Do you remember,” Suo begins, voice light, “how our master always talked about how important it is to engage with each other’s feelings?” You tense. “No,” you blurt out, and Suo laughs. “Of course not,” he plays along. “You were always so terrible at it. But I've been doing a bad job too, lately. So”—he reaches beneath your dress, hooks your thong with his fingers and starts pulling the fabric down your sticky thighs—“I wanted to have an honest conversation with you.” (Or: Tired of your lies and self-deception, Suo takes matters into his own hands and forces the truth out of you.)

12.8k words. suo x fem reader. deeply unserious yakuza au ft. yandere suo. mostly unrepentant smut, comedy, angst. warnings: sex work. nsft tags: afab reader, emotional sex, fingering, dacryphilia, orgasm denial, pussyjob, just the tip, creampie. suo is mean and makes you cry but there's no degradation, he's just a bastard lol. he also manhandles you a lot and you sit in his lap. dividers by @/cafekitsune!

part 1 here

You're surprised at Suo’s indifference to your sex life.

A month has gone by, and he’s made no comment on your habit of sleeping with customers, nor on the hours during which you come home—which are now even later than usual, since you have express permission to sleep with people and have no need to rush back to the penthouse after your ‘appointments’. And it isn't as if he's ignoring the reality of your late nights either. In a stunning show of respect for your personal freedom, he now actively offers to arrange for someone to pick you up from whichever love hotel you'll end up at. (You always decline, of course—if you're going to pretend to be his wife, you'd rather pretend to be a faithful one.)

Ironically, you had initially thought that Suo’s approval wouldn't matter either way. You had found the sex with your clients to be so uninspiring that it made you miss celibacy, so you were planning on stopping. But it turned out that you were deeply affected by the experience of sitting in Suo’s lap as he talked about his expectation of deciding whose cocks you should be allowed to take. It did something horrible to your sex drive, and thus you turned to work as your only outlet.

You spent around three weeks desperately trying to find a customer to satisfy your urges—or at the very least, to fuck you in a way that could get you to stop thinking of Suo whenever you got even a little horny. You were faced with utter failure in this pursuit, and in the end, bleakly resigned yourself to the reality that your shameful attraction to your best friend is incurable. You’ve now given up on the love hotel visits and simply take care of your needs with a vibrator instead. At least this way, you can actually say Suo’s name while you cum, rather than constantly reminding yourself to say your customer’s name instead.

The freedom of letting yourself fantasise about Suo has been exhilarating, but terrible for your friendship. It’s just difficult to sit across from him at breakfast and act like you haven't touched yourself at the table while he was gone, fantasising about what it would be like if he bent you over it and fucked you dumb. But you are a decent actor—hostessing demands that of you—so you don't think Suo has caught onto your carnal desires for him. Hopefully, he never will.

Another couple of weeks pass like this. Things are so calm that you come to believe that Suo is genuinely fine with you having some degree of sexual freedom, at least at work. This, however, turns out to be nothing short of naïvete.

After all, Suo is never forceful when he's upset with your decisions—but he also never fails to redirect them.

One spring evening, you show up at the kyabakura and are told that you’re only to see one customer tonight, and that it will be a private session.

“But we don't do private sessions here,” you say, blissfully unaware of your imminent suffering, “and we don't even have private rooms at this establishment.”

To this, your mamasan responds that the club is making an exception for this one guest, and that this guest has rented out the rooftop bar just to see you. When you ask just who this person might be, a look of mild panic flashes through her eyes. She grabs you by the shoulders and tells you to be careful. Just keep him happy and go home after, okay? she says. Don't go out for drinks, and definitely don't go to any love hotels. Don’t tell him your real name at any cost. You don't want to involve yourself with a man like him.

A sense of dread fills you as you step into the elevator.

A cool breeze greets you when you step onto the rooftop patio. Normally bustling with a raucous crowd, it almost feels eerie in its emptiness. Aside from the glow of the red light district beneath you and the city skyline in the distance, the only light is coming from the candles lighting one of the booths.

Your anxiety intensifies as you approach it.

You aren't very surprised at the sight of Suo lounging on a leather couch, dressed in full criminal regalia—infamous eyepatch, tassel earrings, and all. Sakura once mentioned that this club is connected to some colour gang, so you figure that the manager likely recognized Gui Yanzhao on sight. He probably suffered a minor angina when he did. The mamasan herself has no criminal ties to your knowledge, but she was probably informed that one of her girls was to entertain a high-profile yakuza, and she was likely worried that you'd been maimed in the process. Gui Yanzhao has a bit of a reputation for being a sadist, after all.

While you appreciate her concern, it is not Suo’s history of violence that scares you, but his history of antagonising you. On good days, there's nothing that delights him more than seeing you flustered or off-kilter. On bad days, there’s nothing that consoles him like spiteful retaliation against whomever's managed to piss him off—and you have, without a doubt, managed to piss him off.

You groan as soon as you see him, fearing the worst for your mental health.

“What are you doing here,” you say, and Suo smiles.

“Oh? You're not happy to see me?”

“No,” you moan. “How are you even here right now? Aren't you worried about being assassinated or something? Who did you terrorise to get an entire rooftop bar to yourself?”

“I have a very cordial relationship with all the major organisations on Keisei Street and was promised immunity during my visit tonight,” Suo says neatly. “And I didn't terrorise anyone. I simply walked into this fine establishment and politely asked for a private space to enjoy with my preferred hostess.”

Neither of you need to mention that the sight of the tassel earrings alone would be enough to terrorise someone. The manager probably felt like he was being extorted just from being on the receiving end of Suo’s smile. Actually, you currently feel like you're being extorted too.

You spend a good few moments giving him a look of open distress, to which he smiles.

“You know,” he says, “for a top-ranking hostess, you're not showing much hospitality right now.”

“Oh, for the love of—”

You force yourself to stop, remembering that you are, in fact, at work. Despite your mixed feelings about your industry, at the end of the day, you pride yourself on your work ethic. You take your job very seriously, and your job right now is to entertain your customer—even if said customer is your fake yakuza husband who is toying with you as a cat would a mouse.

Resigning yourself to a night of probable humiliation (one of Suo's greatest passions in addition to lying for comedy), you walk over to sit yourself next to him. And just like in Red Dragon’s lounge, Suo overturns the decision by pulling you into his lap. Your eyes go wide as he settles you on top of him—because unlike the intimate space of that crime scene, this is expressly forbidden behaviour at your club.

Also, unlike that other night, you are currently wearing the shortest dress imaginable and the tiniest thong you own.

You find yourself shivering as Suo's hand settles on your lower back, which is fully exposed thanks to the cut of your dress. You try not to focus on the calloused press of his fingers against your bare skin, but this is an exceedingly difficult endeavour, as his touch has been featured in your sexual fantasies for the past several weeks. Worse yet—your dress is now riding up your ass, and your thong isn't doing much to cover you. Whatever material his pants are made of—light, delicate—feels incredibly good against your thighs too.

If this continues, you might cum on the spot.

“Wait,” you say, and Suo raises a brow.

“Oh?”

“You aren't supposed to touch the hostesses here.”

He smiles. “I'm sure this place might be able to make an exception for me. But only if you are personally willing to, of course.”

“...”

Making an exception for him, in your current situation, would be among the worst decisions you've ever made. But after two of the most sexually frustrating months of your life, you’re ready to make horrible decisions.

“Fine,” you say. “But you better not cheap out on the drinks. The mamasan will only overlook this if you make it worth our while.”

“Of course,” Suo says. “Though I think she’d overlook a lot of things for me regardless.”

Suo makes good on his promise and orders a great deal of alcohol. All top shelf, of course. He laughs that his goal is to bring you to the number 1 ranking with his patronage alone tonight. It’s a hideous display of wealth.

As you pour him an absurdly expensive drink (a Hibiki 30 year-old blended whiskey), you reminisce on how little money you both used to have as teens. He had to be so careful with his wallet whenever he felt like visiting you—or rather, checking in on you—at work. Especially after your master passed. The two of you were very good about staying financially independent, but there was something comforting about your master’s promise to support you if anything ever happened.

With him gone, you and Suo had only financial paranoia and each other.

You guess that might have affected Suo more than you thought. Perhaps he didn't join the yakuza to spite you, but to support you. Certainly, he seems to enjoy spoiling you right now—treating you to drinks that would easily clear a year of his salary as a teen, buying out an entire night of your time at a high end club, renting out a whole floor just so that he can have you to himself. When you point out that his tab must be getting catastrophic, he only laughs.

“I did always say that I wanted to spend money on you,” he recalls. It had been a running joke during your days at the girls’ bar, when you scolded him for paying 3000¥ per hour just to visit you. You hated that he was wasting money on the red light district; he always replied that it wasn't a waste, because it was money spent to see you.

You feel your stomach flutter at the comment. You didn't think he'd remember words from so long ago. As a teenager, you had a tendency of clinging onto small, inconsequential moments with him because they brought you so much joy. You’ve always assumed he would have forgotten them, writing them off as instances of shallow teasing—but if he remembers, then surely they meant something to him too?

This would all make you feel sentimental if you weren't outrageously horny.

Suo has kept you on his lap the whole evening, even as you pour him drinks. Every movement to serve him has you involuntarily rubbing on his thigh, and you're quite certain at this point that he's been lifting your skirt up inch by inch with every casual touch on your waist. You don't bother accusing him of it, though. He'd just give you an innocent look and say that it was an accident. What a horrible man.

Accident or not though, it doesn't change the fact that your nearly bare cunt is pressed right against him. You keep trying to shift positions to pull down your skirt or lift yourself off him, but each attempt only makes it worse—brings the soft fabric of his pants right against your pussy, or makes your clit drag against his thigh, with only your thong separating your bodies. You try to suppress your arousal, but to your overwhelming horror, you can't seem to control yourself. You feel yourself getting wet, folds quickly becoming slick as you’re forced to grind on him. Your body, already warm from all the cocktails and shots, grows even hotter as you squirm on his lap.

In a desperate move to regain some control, you fully get up to reach for another drink. But then you feel a pair of hands on your waist, and Suo pulls you back onto his leg—this time forcing you to straddle it. You can't help the whimper that leaves you as your dripping cunt is spread and pressed against him, your clit throbbing against his thigh.

You pray that he doesn't notice the noise, so of course he does.

“Hm? Is something wrong?” Suo’s hand drifts over your waist and down to your thigh, where it ghosts over your bare skin. He leans in, and his voice is silky as he speaks into your ear: “You're moving around a lot. Do you need to get up?”

He’s giving you an out. It's quite considerate of him, as staying like this would not be a good decision. But for better or worse, you have a tendency to make bad ones.

“...no, I'm fine.”

“Good,” he says. “Let me know if you’re uncomfortable at all. I'm happy to move if you'd like.”

As if demonstrating, Suo shifts the leg you're sitting on, directly rubbing it against your core. You try not to shudder, feeling yourself get even wetter, clenching around nothing.

Trying to ignore how empty you are, you grasp for other topics of conversation, something to distract you. A little scrambled from the alcohol and catastrophically aroused, you of course land on the one that's been making your sex drive unmanageable.

“Remember a month ago,” you say, “how you talked about choosing who gets to touch me?”

“Yes.” His palm is warm against your thigh. He isn't moving it, so there's plausible deniability, but the amused tone of his voice suggests that he knows what he's doing. “Does that bother you?”

Of course it should bother you. It's a level of control that's appalling even to your anxiously-attached ass. But it’s also making you wetter right now. You try not to cry—from misery or sexual frustration, you're not sure.

“Well, yeah. Come on, Suo—even you should know that's really weird of you.”

“I do,” he says, smiling like he isn't admitting to deranged behaviour. “But how else am I supposed to know you're safe? Or even aside from being safe—if your needs are being met.” His hand runs up and down your thigh before settling at the hem of your dress. “I wouldn't want you to go unsatisfied. Who knows what kind of people you'd seek out if that happened.”

You actively stop yourself from putting your face in your hands. The gall of him saying this after forcing you into extended celibacy is beyond words, especially as you're being forced to rub up on him, effectively ruining every attempt you've made not to think about him sexually for the past several years. There are many materially consequential reasons for your decision to not fuck Suo—you should not be soaked through your panties, your thighs sticky with need, as you sit on his lap.

“That's,” you say lamely, “not very normal of you.” Trying for a less sensual conversation, you go for the reliable topic Sakura’s romance radar: “Also, if satisfaction was your concern, why did you choose Sakura? I love that guy a lot, but he has literally no experience. And I think he'd blue-screen trying to keep a friend with benefits. You know he can't handle a fuckbuddy.”

You are not trying to be mean. What Sakura objectively needs for his first time is someone sweet and emotionally competent and, most importantly, not an absolute freak like you. This is a failure of your character, not his.

You can hear Suo’s smile in his reply: “I don't think you're giving him enough credit.”

“He has the social skills of a feral cat.”

Suo genuinely laughs. “Sure, when he first came to Makochi. But he's much better now. Plus, you have no room to talk. I mean”—his breath sweeps over your ear—“you used to be pretty wild yourself. I've just domesticated you is all… though you've been misbehaving lately.”

His words do something horrible to you. Trying to distract yourself from the mounting sexual tension, you turn to him to give him a biting retort, but you're abruptly stopped by the look in his eye. Distinctly hungry and unrepentant in its desire, his gaze roams openly and shamelessly along the curves of your body.

You feel like you're being eaten alive.

Plenty of customers have looked at you in such a way when you wear this outfit, but none have had this effect on you—which is to say, making you clench immediately.

You try not to cry. You actually will cum on the spot at this rate, and you don't think you could be subtle about it. You're barely keeping it together right now, with how your pussy keeps fluttering and dripping. Coupled with the way that the alcohol is melting the edges of your self-control, you're shocked you haven't at least moaned yet.

In a last ditch effort to save your friendship, as well as your rental (house arrest) situation, you slap a hand over his mouth.

“Stop that.”

Suo laughs. He grabs your wrist, lifts your palm away. “Why?”

Why? Because if you keep talking like that, I'll bend over and start begging you to fuck me! you think. But even in your inebriated, horny state, it feels like a poor idea to admit this aloud. You end up saying, “Hostesses aren't paid to flirt like this. Strictly speaking, we’re paid to be conversational partners.” You frown at him. “You're breaking a lot of club rules right now.”

This reprimand backfires on you, as you are suddenly filled with intrusive thoughts of breaking every single rule in this establishment with Suo, including the ones preventing you from climbing on top of him and riding him raw. You squirm at the thought, wishing you could close your legs rather than making a mess of your underwear (now a lost cause), but Suo’s grip stays firm on your waist.

He, himself, is unbothered by your scolding. “Okay,” he says simply. “Then I won't speak to you as a hostess. I want to speak to you, seriously, as a friend.”

His smile is so disarming, it makes you nervous. But he sounds earnest enough for you to be curious, and anyway, you're desperate for something to distract you from your wet cunt.

“Alright,” you acquiesce, “What do you have to say, as a friend?”

“I just have one question.”

“Sure. Shoot.”

His hand comes to rest in your thigh again. He leans in, breath so hot against your ear that your heart jumps.

“I can accept that you wanted to see customers just to satisfy your urges. But tell me why you didn't come to me first.”

You freeze up. Look at him, wide-eyed.

“Wh-what?”

Suo just smiles. Looks so fucking innocent you wonder if you misheard, but his voice is sharp when he replies: “Let me put it another way. Why have we never slept together?”

For some reason, you’ve never thought that he'd ask you this question point blank, even though you've asked it to yourself many times. It takes you several moments to piece together a response, during which Suo’s expression turns distinctly wicked. A sign that he smells blood.

“Why would you think we would have?” you ask carefully.

“Because we’ve both clearly thought about it. You especially.”

You try to keep a straight face. “No I haven't. I don't know what you're talking about.” You raise a brow. “How would you even know?”

“Because,” he says, hand inching up your thigh, “you’re so wet that I can feel it.”

You're mortified.

Shame floods your body, first because of the accusation, and then because you know it's true. You were tipsy enough not to think about this, but now—sobering up from sheer panic— you're acutely aware of how you've soaked through the fabric beneath you. Something that Suo had certainly known, and chose to encourage.

What a horrible man.

When you don't reply, he tilts his head. “Don't tell me you haven't noticed. Do you want me to show you?”

His hand is moving so slowly, you know he's giving you another out. You could easily get off his lap. You could even slap him and call him a sleazy drunk and grouse at him to go home. You could forgive him in the morning for coming onto you and say he'd obviously made an inebriated mistake, as opposed to a very calculated decision. Your friendship would stay mostly intact. His grip on you might tighten, but that would be fine. You would still get to stay with him.

And that's all you've ever wanted. Just to stay with him.

But you're so wet, so empty, so aching. You want to be touched. You want to be touched by Suo, and only by Suo. You want to be fucked by him, to be owned by him, to be ruined by him. You’ve wanted it so badly and so long that you can't even remember when it started—only that you want it to end.

So instead of moving away, you sit there and endure the humiliation of getting your cunt inspected by him.

Suo hums as he opens your legs. You suppress a whimper as a finger moves along your folds, at the noise it makes as it runs through your slick. “Look, you’re so wet,” he murmurs into your ear. He finds your clit—swollen, neglected, and you whimper as he starts to draw slow, lazy circles around it. “Poor thing.”

“It’s only because you had me grinding on you the whole night,” you say through gritted teeth. “It doesn't—ngh—doesn’t mean I’ve been wanting to fuck you.”

You sound pissed enough that you'd convince anyone else, but you know, even without seeing his face, that Suo can tell you're bullshitting.

“You’re not a good liar,” he remarks. A fine teacher even when humiliating people, Suo can't help but add, “If you have to tell a lie, at least come up with a believable one.”

“What makes it unbelievable?” you reply, words clipped off by a sharp inhale as he starts rubbing your pussy.

“Well,” he starts nonchalantly, as if he isn't toying with your cunt, “after you were targeted in that succession conflict, I put hidden cameras in the area, and also in our suite.”

Your eyes go wide. Even in your aroused state, the implications are making you panic. “You—you what?”

“It was for security purposes,” he dismisses casually, as if he's not admitting to a serious invasion of privacy. “Only near the front door and the common areas. I just wanted to catch intruders and any suspicious behaviour from my men. But imagine my surprise”—you feel his fingers start to press into your cunt—“when I instead caught you fucking yourself on the couch and moaning my name.”

You’re mortified. Humiliated. Mind racing with every instance you were horny and stupid enough to touch yourself in a common space. You think about yelling at him about the cameras, but then you feel two fingers sinking into you, and now you aren't thinking about much at all.

Your mind goes blank as you're stretched open by him. Your cunt is so wet, so empty, but the feeling still makes you whine. Your brow furrows, and you give him a pleading look. Slowly, please.

“Don't worry,” he says in a soothing tone, “I know you can handle this. I've seen you take much bigger. Though”—he shifts, pulls you so you're in between his legs, and now you can feel the length of him against you, hard and aching and huge, what the fuck—“maybe not big enough.”

You tighten around his fingers as he grinds against you. You want him inside you so badly, it hurts. Suo laughs when he feels your desperation, and he sounds so amused that you can't help but feel ashamed. But even more than shame, you feel aroused. You take the rest of his fingers easily, down to the knuckle.

“What the fuck, Suo,” you eventually manage through your panting, though not with much bite. “You weren't—ahh—meant to see any of that.”

“Sorry,” he says, sounding deeply unapologetic. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn't watch much, and I deleted all of it. I didn't need to see that to know you have feelings for me.”

You tense. “What feelings?” you ask, and Suo stops. He pulls his fingers out of you—you breathe sharply at the loss—and manhandles you until you're straddling his lap. Forces you to look at him, into his one eye. It's knife-sharp, brutal, but familiar. You don't struggle, nor do you feel uneasy.

But you do feel like prey.

“Do you remember,” he begins, voice light, “how our master always talked about how important it is to engage with each other’s feelings?”

Fuck.

“No,” you blurt out, and Suo laughs.

“Of course not,” he plays along. “You were always so terrible at it. But I've been doing a bad job too, lately. So”—he reaches beneath your dress, hooks your thong with his fingers—“I wanted to have an honest conversation with you.”

He smiles at you. Actually looks kind and even sounds earnest. What a fucking sociopath. You allow him to slide your underwear down your legs, kicking them off. Now your pussy is completely bare to him, and you can hear the way his breath stops as he touches it again. Three of his fingers push in this time, and you pant openly at the stretch, leaning against him as your body trembles from the stretch. He flexes his fingers experimentally, watching your reactions—your whimpers, your sighs, the way your eyelashes flutter when he brushes that one spot inside you.

“I’ve always had feelings for you,” he starts, using that nonchalant, delicate tone—the specific one that suggests danger, “and I know you’re too smart to have missed that. I’d be fine with it if you didn't return them, but you do.”

“I don't,” you protest, and then his fingers curl and press into your g-spot. You're cut off immediately, gasping at the sudden wave of heat in your belly.

A hand comes up to your chin. He forces you to look at him. “I said I wanted to have an honest conversation, remember.”

“I–I am being honest, I—” Your voice breaks as he starts pumping his fingers. It's slow, gentle, but precise. Tension builds in you at an alarming rate, your thighs getting as slick and messy as his hand. You bury your face into the crook of his shoulder, breathe in his cologne and gasp into his skin, and your mind goes hazy from the euphoria of his touch. Sure, you've hugged Suo before, been held by him before, and god knows you've been touched like this by a ton of other people before—but it feels different now. It feels different when it's Suo who's touching you, different when you’re this close to him while he's drawing all this pleasure out of you. When one hand feels so good inside you and the other one is holding you so intimately.

“Suo,” you whimper, overwhelmed by hot tension in your belly, “I-I’m close, I’m close, oh fuck—

He stops.

Before you can comprehend what's happening, he’s withdrawing his fingers, and all the heat in you is melting away. Your orgasm lost, you come down from your high—nerves frayed, emotions taut.

“Suo,” you say, “what the fuck?”

He gives you a smile. It almost looks nice. “I'm not letting you cum until you tell me the truth.”

You’re going to cry.

You're so wet, so empty, so desperate, and now you feel oddly afraid. You don't like the way he's staring you down. You don't like this line of questioning, this bullshit of engaging with other people's feelings. You’ve never liked it. But you need—need—him to fuck you. You need his fingers inside you and you need to cry into his neck while you finish.

You say, very quietly, “Please, Suo.”

“Please, what?”

It's funny. You've performed begging and crying and submission for countless clients, sometimes during annoyingly rough sessions. You've done it for years. But nothing has ever felt so humiliating as this moment, when you ask your best friend, in the smallest voice possible, “Please touch me.”

“No. Not until you start being honest with me.”

Suo's mouth curls at the devastated look you give him. You hardly even notice that he's adjusting you, having you straddle his thigh again—this time, facing him. You don't register it until your cunt is pressed into the wet spot you left earlier and he's saying, “You can move if you'd like. But I'm not touching you.”

“You’re fucking horrible,” you say with all your heart, but your pussy is throbbing and you're desperate for release. So you finally do what you were desperately trying to stop yourself from doing the whole night—you start grinding on him. Like a fucking animal in heat. It's embarrassing, especially because his leg feels so good against you. The friction on your pussy makes you pant, your eyes squeezing shut as your clit finally gets some pressure. It makes up for the way he’s looking at you, which is sly, handsome, and rage-inducing all at once.

“You really do need to be touched,” he remarks softly. “You said your customers satisfied you. Was that true? Did they properly fuck you?”

“N-no,” you gasp. Your mind feels so cottony now that you're getting some relief. You can barely think, and definitely not enough to lie. “It was—it was—fuck, I never came.”

He hums, satisfied. “There—see? Telling the truth isn't so hard. You can do it again.”

He sounds so condescending. You would ordinarily hate it, but for some reason, it's going straight to your pussy right now, making you drip so much you know you've ruined his pants. You’re getting close, too, just by rubbing yourself on his leg. It doesn't feel quite as good as when his fingers were in you, but it’s something. And it’s making it hard to focus on what he's saying.

“It’s fine if you can't be honest about your feelings,” Suo continues. “Let's assume you're telling the truth, and all you want to do is fuck me. Why haven't you?”

You try to answer him, but you can't. You're too focused on the roll of your hips against his leg. There's too much tension, too much heat. You melt against him again, breathing heavily into his shoulder as you tighten around nothing. His hands come to your waist, as if grounding you, and somehow this makes everything feel even better. You start panting, babbling, I'm close, I'm getting close, Suo, Suo—

His grip tightens, and he stops you in place. You cry in frustration—no tears, but the noise you make is broken.

“Answer my question,” he says. You feel a hand glide along your bare skin, stopping at your inner thigh. “Answer me and I'll touch you.”

“Okay,” you say, as desperate as you are distressed. “Okay, I'll do anything. Anything.”

“Good.” He sounds so pleased.

You put your arms around his neck, for no reason other than you want to. Lifting your hips, you part your legs for him, and you feel so relieved at just the touch of his hand that you sigh—even though all he's doing is running a finger along your slick folds.

You shudder as his fingers play with your sex. Lean your head on his shoulder as he starts to move. You’re so desperate that you start grinding against his hand, whining for him.

“Well, then,” he murmurs. “Tell me why you didn't come to me. This is all you wanted, isn't it?” He rolls your clit between two fingers, making you squirm. “Just to get off, right? I could have done that. You'd have enjoyed it more.”

“It”—your eyelids flutter shut—“it would have been too complicated. Y-you’re my boss, and I pay rent to y-you, and we’ve been friends for so long, I didn't want to make it weird—”

Suo delivers a sharp slap to your pussy.

The contact is so sudden that you yelp. It only stings a little, but it makes your clit ache. The noise it makes is so wet, so filthy, telling of your desperation. And to your shame—even though you have never once in your life enjoyed being handled roughly by your customers—your cunt starts leaking in response.

You whimper, about to burst from frustration. You need to be touched so bad. You need to be touched by him so bad, and you need to cum on his cock or else you'll lose your fucking mind.

“Suo,” you complain, or beg, and you don't even realise that you're tearing up until he swipes his thumb under your eye.

“Try again,” he says gently, but not kindly. “The truth this time, and then I'll make you cum. Why didn't you come to me first? These past few months, or any other time?”

You don't answer him. “Suo, please—” And he moves back so that you're no longer leaning against him. Your lip trembles at the loss of the warmth, which somehow feels worse than the loss of your orgasm. An actual tear rolls down your cheek, and he doesn't wipe this one away.

“Answer me,” he says firmly. Instead of replying, you try to reach for him—wanting to be pressed against his body again, wanting him to draw pleasure out of yours again—but he stills you with his hands.

You feel devastated.

Out of horny, emotional desperation, and an all-consuming need to be fucked, you admit, “I was just scared!”

This is the worst mistake you've ever made.

The minute the words dislodge from your throat, you feel yourself choke up. You don't know why. All you know is that you suddenly can't hold back your tears from your sexual frustration, which for some reason is starting to feel distinctly like a non-sexual kind of angst, which is also strangely painful for your chest.

Because now that you've said it out loud, you can't ignore it.

You want to hide. You want to crawl out of his lap and run out of the establishment. Surely, the mamasan will forgive you for leaving a shift with such a frightening and horrible man, who is currently trying to extort your feelings out of you. But Suo’s grip is solid and unforgiving on you, and all you can do is squirm.

“Scared of what?” Suo asks. His voice has gone soft. Actually soft—not in a way that suggests danger, but a way that suggests you're loved. It makes you tremble.

His arms circle you, and one rubs at your back. It makes you relax very slightly. Or at the very least, it makes you stop wanting to bolt.

“What were you scared of?” he prompts again.

A feeling of defeat washes over you. Suo will figure you out sooner or later. He always does. So you tell him, very quietly, “I was scared that—that you'd leave me.”

You realise that you just stuttered. You stuttered because you're crying. You're actually, genuinely crying. Not from sexual frustration, but because you're just frustrated in general. And miserable. You've been chronically miserable for most of your life, and that misery has had nowhere to go until now.

You press your face into Suo’s shoulder, and he lets you. You breathe deeply in an attempt to stop crying, his cologne washing over you. It's nice, but what feels most comforting is just the scent of him. You're used to it from the days before he'd ever thought about using a fragrance, let alone a fragrance that would bankrupt the average person. It's calming, even when overlayed with ambergris and vanilla. Familiar.

Your breathing evens out a little—but only a little.

“Why would I leave you?” His voice is so kind, patient. More tears bead on your lashes.

“Because you might not want me anymore.” You sound so fragile. Shit, you are fragile. You can't stop the splintering feeling in you, the same one that ate at you two months ago when you thought he was going to leave you. “You could get tired of me or resent me or get bored with me. You could—you could want to throw me away, for no reason. Or—” You breathe in sharply, clinging to him harder.

“Or?”

“Or you could die—you joined the yakuza, so you could die. Why did you do that?” An actual sob leaves you. His shirt is getting wet. You ruined so many of his silk changshan like this in the past, when your boyfriend cheated on you and when your parents kicked you out and when you slept with your fifth customer.

And when your master died.

“I'm still so fucking mad at you for it,” you bite out around your tears. “If you got fucking killed—oh my god, I can't even think about it. I can't—I couldn't take it if—if I kissed you, and we had sex, and then I didn't have you anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re the only thing I have.” You squeeze your eyes shut, a terrible realisation hitting you. “And…”

“And?”

“And,” you say, voice breaking, “I think because I love you?”

You know it as soon as you voice it. You do love him. Not just platonically, but in the way where you want to hold his hand and kiss him and marry him. In the way a miserable nineteen year old girl is so in love with her miserable best friend that she refuses to leave him despite how terrifying he’s becoming. You loved him in this way before you realised you wanted to have sex with him, and even after that, you loved him so much that it didn't matter that he wasn't having sex with you.

You love him so much it disgusts you.

You want to hide, but Suo forces you to look at him. He brushes away your tears, cups your face. The Pavlovian response takes over: your heart rate slows, and you calm down.

“There,” he says gently. “That wasn't so bad, was it?”

He’s wrong. You bet he knows he's wrong. That was objectively one of the worst experiences of your life. You feel wrung out, tenderised. You never thought you'd say any of that. You're not sure you knew most of that.

But in Suo’s arms, plied open with his words and his hands, you actually find yourself shaking your head. You lean into the touch of his palm.

“I love you,” he continues, his tone so authoritative and calm that it leaves no room for doubt, “probably to the point that it should scare you. Do you understand that?”

“Yes,” you say quietly.

“And we won't be separated. I won't allow anything to take you away from me. Do you understand that too?”

You make a noise, halfway between a relieved sigh and another sob. This declaration should not be a surprise from a man who’s effectively locked you up in his house. Still—your heart feels so light when you hear someone say, for the first time in your life, that they’ll stay with you no matter what. It's like Suo has just unearthed a weight that you didn't know you'd been carrying.

“I’ll try,” you reply, voice small.

“Good.” He strokes your cheek. “Do you want to keep going?”

It’s absurd. You just cried and confessed something terrifying. With anyone else, this would be an experience so horrifying that you'd leave right now and never come back. Your sexual desire should not just be gone, but permanently erased. At the very least, you shouldn't feel the slightest bit horny.

But somehow, being gutted by Suo hasn't left you feeling bad. It's left you feeling lighter. Kind of like you've been purged. You feel exhausted, but in a malleable way. Dazed and relieved to be in his lap. Your thighs are still embarrassingly sticky, heart still embarrassingly wobbly, and you just heard him say that he loves you.

Now you want to hear him say it while he's cumming inside you.

“Yeah,” you admit immediately, pathetically. You sniffle.

“You're sure?” Another stroke. “I want to hear you say it clearly. What do you want to do?”

Your dignity is gone. “I want you to fuck me.”

He smiles. A fond hum leaves him. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and you feel a flutter in your belly. “I'll take care of you now.”

He kisses you this time, before he touches you. On the neck, on your jaw. You bare your nape to him, shivering at the feeling of his lips on your jugular, at his nipping teeth on your skin. You realise he's leaving marks, and with each one, you shudder. It feels so intimate. You're on a rooftop bar, in a skanky hostessing dress, crying and strung out—but this is the closest thing you've ever gotten to one of your fantasies about him. Not the nasty ones that you think about when you're home by yourself, but the ones you think of when you're in bed with various salarymen. The ones where you get to lie with him in bed and press your lips to his.

“Suo,” you start.

“Hayato,” he corrects you. “You're my fiancée now, remember? We should be on a first name basis.”

Your stomach flips. “Hayato,” you try again, breathless. “Please.”

He takes a moment to reply, busy sucking another mark into your skin. “Please, what?”

You hesitate. Suo pulls back, looking at you. You whine, feeling shy all of a sudden. You flirt for a living and yet you feel embarrassed about your request. It's humiliating.

“Please, what?” he repeats. His mouth is curled in a smile, and you can't tell whether it's endeared or entertained. “Please let you cum? Please fuck you?”

“Please kiss me,” you say, in a small voice.

Suo pauses.

“What?”

“Please kiss me,” you beg. Close to tears again, for some reason you don't know. You think it surprises him as much as it does you.

It takes him a moment to recover, but when he does, he gives you a look that’s fucking ravenous.

His thumbs away the wetness from your eyes. “You're so cute sometimes. Did you know that?”

You flush. Plenty of customers have called you cute, but none have had you feeling so indignant nor shy.

“I’m not,” you reply, “and stop that.”

“But it's true. And I want you to know it.”

Suo presses his mouth to yours before you can respond. You're so eager for him that you part your lips immediately. Your instinct is to make your first kiss with him messy and desperate, but he’s in full control, and he’s taking his time. His tongue is careful and precise. Full of intention. His lips are slow, languid, and lazy, like he's savouring the taste of you. A hand plays with the strap of your dress. You feel him slide it off your shoulder—the other one quickly follows—but you’re so absorbed in his kiss, you hardly pay attention.

You're vaguely aware of the breeze against your bare chest. One of his hands moving up, feeling out your curves. He hums into your mouth when his fingers ghost over your nipples, and they harden under his touch.

“Suo,” you whine as he teases them, and he pinches one of them, watching as you squirm.

“Hayato,” he corrects you promptly, and you give him a worn, teary look.

“Hayato.”

“Yes?”

“I need more,” you say quietly.

He smiles, clearly enjoying your desperation. “Be patient,” he teases you. “I’m getting there.”

He kisses a line along your jaw, down your neck. Traces your collarbone with the path of his mouth, works his way down to your breasts. At the same time you feel the heat of his tongue on your nipple, his hand reaches between your legs. You're so wet already that he doesn't need to work you open again—just sinks his fingers inside you until you're sighing for him.

You discover that when he's not antagonising you, Suo is frighteningly efficient with pleasuring you. He learns quickly how you like your tits played with, and how to fuck you so well with his fingers until you're gushing around them and keening. He said he'd take care of you, but you think he's mostly forcing all this pleasure from your body for his own enjoyment. There's no other explanation for how he keeps bringing you to the edge and pulling you back, swallowing each of your whines and complaints with his mouth. The only time he isn't kissing you is when you're begging—and you don't miss the way his breathing deepens every time you do.

But no matter how much you beg, he isn’t letting you cum.

“Look at the mess you're making,” he murmurs as he plays with your cunt. You're sitting between his legs again, your back against his chest. You can feel the length of his cock against your ass, and you hear how his breath hitches every time you squirm against it. Except for that one tell, he sounds completely unaffected by what he's doing—forced you to open your legs wide for him, spread your glistening folds to tease you. The leather beneath your ass is wet, ruined by your need.

“Hayato,” you whine.

“Just a little longer,” he promises, “and then I'll let you cum.”

Your mind is so fogged with pleasure at this point that you can't focus on anything other than Suo’s touch. You’ve actually forgotten where you are—not a truly private space, but part of a club. The girls would normally only come up if you put in an order, but you haven't for a while now.

Long enough for someone to check on you without warning.

You tense as soon as you hear the door open. You recognize the server—she knows you well, by face, stage name, and real name. Your eyes go wide as she calls for you. You try to sit up, close your legs, but Suo grabs one of your thighs and forces it open.

“Suo, wait—”

You whimper, incapable of words when his fingers push into you again. He starts fucking you with them, and in earnest this time—curling his fingers until they're pushing into your g-spot, doing it over and over and over. Your eyes roll back and you stop struggling, and Suo takes the opportunity to touch you with his other hand too, playing with your clit. A strangled moan leaves you as the heat in your gut ratchets up. Pleasure swells in your belly; you feel like you're going to burst.

“Suo,” you cry, tears pricking your eyes, “wait, wait, my coworker—wait, I think—I think I'm gonna—”

“Go ahead,” he says into your ear, voice silky, and he pushes against your sweet spot in a way that gives you no choice but to obey him.

You cum so hard that you squirt all over the seat. Your whole body is wracked with intense pleasure—hips bucking violently, legs twitching, crying so loudly and shamelessly that your coworker naturally hears. She catches you spread wide open in Suo’s lap, his fingers deep in your messy, swollen cunt as you drench them.

Her tray clatters to the floor.

Fighting the mindless haze that your body is in, you glance at the other girl, whose hand is over her mouth. She looks appalled. She’s going to yell at you. But then you then watch, in real time, as her eyes travel to your customer’s face and she realises who he is. If she was red when she saw the two of you, she's now a pale white.

“Did you come to check on us?” Suo asks. He sounds amused. She flinches at his voice, and actually takes a step backward. “We’re fine for now. We’ll order something in a bit, and call you up here as usual.”

“O-okay,” she says, voice high and tense. “I—I’ll leave you two, then. Please—please enjoy yourself, sir. We'll be available in case you require any other services.” And she walks away briskly, almost in a run. She doesn't even bother to stop the expressly forbidden act that you're engaged in.

Once she’s gone, Suo allows you some dignity. He pulls his fingers out of you, lets you catch your breath.

“Oops,” he says. “It’s too bad they caught us. I suppose they won't want to keep you on as an employee, since you broke such an important rule.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed. Your emotional and sexual pliability quickly dissipates, replaced by disbelief.

“You—you did that on purpose,” you say between pants, too fucked out to be truly angry, but still appalled.

Suo raises a brow, gives you an innocent look. “Did I? I was just making you cum, like you've been begging all night. It was just unfortunate timing.” He then smiles, which makes him look incredibly kind despite the apparent sadism of his person. “But it's fine. They're going to fire you for this, but you know my club will always take you back.”

You close your eyes and groan. “You’re horrible.”

“I am, aren't I?” Suo puts his arms around you, kisses you on the shoulder, his voice getting low. “But this is a better arrangement, don't you think? You won't need to see customers this way. Every time you need relief, you can come upstairs and I'll give you my cock instead.” He grinds against you, letting you feel how hard he is, and you whimper. He laughs, probably entertained at how desperate you sound. “Or maybe I'll just make you take it whenever I feel like it. I think at the end of every shift makes sense, doesn't it? Since that's how often you've been touching yourself on the couch.”

“S-suo.”

“It’s Hayato now, remember. What is it, dear?”

He sounds so smug, mocking you. You should be furious. But in your fucked out state, all you can focus on is the idea of being forced to take Suo's cock every night. Despite already being ruined, your pussy starts throbbing again. You squirm and press your thighs together, trying to get it to stop—you’re so fucking tired—and you bleakly realise that you can't control your body’s reactions around him. You're getting wet again. It makes you want to cry.

“Hayato,” you whimper, on the verge of tears.

“Ah, you addressed me properly. Good.” He’s so satisfied. “What is it?”

“I…”

“You?”

“I”—your voice is so small and embarrassed, you can hardly believe it—“I want you to fuck me.”

He feigns shock, as if he wasn't actively provoking this. “Really? But you just came.” A hand prods between your legs. You obediently spread them for him, and he checks your pussy with two of his fingers. You moan a little at the intrusion, but there's no resistance at all.

Your cunt, still dripping, tightens around him, and he laughs softly.

“You really do need a cock in you. Who knew you had such a needy pussy.” He curls his fingers. Probably feeling the way it makes you gush, delighting in the gasp it draws out of you. “No wonder you have to use that toy every day.”

You're about to die of embarrassment. “Hayato. Please just fuck me.”

Suo turns you so that you can look at him. He’s wearing a kind, benevolent face when he says, “No.”

“...what?”

“I'm not going to give you my cock.” He hums, contemplative. “Not for a while, I think.”

“B-but,” you say, genuinely upset, “but you were just talking about doing that at work.”

“Sure—after we get married. It's only proper, don’t you think?”

“What?” Your eyes are wide in disbelief. “You—you just made me cum with your fingers. In a public space.”

“Yes. But that's different from letting you have my cock. It wouldn't be gentlemanly of me to do that before we’re wedded.” He can't keep the amusement out of his voice as he bullies you. “I'm sure you can wait until the summer, right? Since that's the season you chose for us. August, I think you told Nirei.”

“Hayato—”

“Actually,” he muses, easily sliding a third finger into you, making your voice clip off in a whimper, “I think you shouldn’t be allowed to have anything in you until then. Except for my fingers and tongue, of course. But no toys, and no other men either. That definitely wouldn't be proper.”

“I'm going to,” you say spitefully—and tearfully. “If you don't fuck me right now, I will sleep with other people.”

“I don't think you want to find out the consequences if you do.”

“How would you even—ngh—know?”

“Good question.” He starts pumping his fingers, and to your horror, your cunt needily swallows them with each motion, your body as desperate as he's been saying. “I guess I'll need to check your pussy every night. See if it's been stretched out by someone else’s cock. Maybe upstairs in the lounge at the end of each night, so I'll know that you haven't fucked a customer during a shift. Clearly, it's not impossible that you would.”

You try not to sob. Not only are his words utterly humiliating, they're making you wetter. After fucking so many people in so many ways, you didn't know it was possible for you to feel this much shame during sex—but then again, shaming people is one of Suo’s specialties.

You give him the teariest look possible, because by now you've figured out that he likes seeing you cry. Sadistic motherfucker. You're happy to use it to your advantage though.

He gets that hungry look in his eye again. “Please, Hayato,” you beg, voice trembling with need, “I want more. I thought I was your beautiful wife already.” You grind your ass against his cock, and he inhales sharply. “Don't you wanna cum in your wife’s pussy?”

Suo stops, deeply affected—just as you guessed he'd be. After making you his fake wife in both his criminal life and his civilian one, it's painfully obvious that the man is obsessed with marrying you. You'd make fun of him if you weren't so horny. Or humbled.

He only allows himself speechlessness for a second. He hums soon after, delicately wiping the tears out of your eyes. “You've been good enough that I guess I can reward you. I won't fuck you, but”—he shifts away, and you can hear his pants unzipping—“I’m sure you'll enjoy yourself anyway.”

Suo wasn't lying earlier. His cock is bigger than any toy you've ever used. It's pretty, too. Curved and long and flushed at the head. Glistening with prespend, which has pearled up at the tip. You think you might be salivating. For a minute, you contemplate asking if you can feel it in your throat, but then Suo’s lying down and moving you on top of him. When his cock nudges at your folds, you can’t help your excitement. You squirm, trying to sink onto his length.

His grip tightens on your waist, stopping you.

You’re about to whine at him about this, but he doesn't give you the chance. “If you try to ride me,” he says, in a voice so cold that you know he's not joking, “I'm not touching you until we’re married, and I'm not letting you touch yourself either.”

“...”

With anyone else you'd call bullshit, but you know that Suo is both crazy and petty enough to actually achieve this.

“Okay.” You sound and feel mollified. “I'll behave.”

He smiles. “Good,” he says cheerfully. “Just stay like that, then. I’ll take care of you.”

You listen to him, mostly because you're incredibly excited about getting pussy inspections and you'll be devastated if it doesn't happen. And you don't expect it to be a big deal, anyway. While your sex drive has been a constant source of grief for you throughout your life, you don't really have problems controlling any specific impulses in bed when you truly need to. You’re used to giving your customers whatever they want and, if you're lucky, getting off from it. You figure this will be the same.

You find out very quickly that it isn't.

You need to stay still. You can’t sink down on him. Two easy orders that are extraordinarily difficult when Suo is the one beneath you. You have to actively stop your hips from moving when you feel the silky head of his cock press into your folds, which are still dripping with your slick. Suo’s breath hitches when he runs the tip along your opening, drawing wet noises every time his cock head catches on your needy hole, smearing his precum all over it. All you want is to push back on him and let your pussy swallow his cock. You’re aching for it, and you know he is too. If you sank down on him now, he'd lose control and fuck you raw until he was cumming inside you. And then he'd probably keep going after that, not letting you move until you were stuffed full and dripping with his spend. Both of you know it.

But you don't do that. You're good for him. You sigh, just trying to enjoy the feeling of his length rubbing against you. How he's twitching and throbbing against you, how he wants as equally much to be inside you—but pulls back every time. Your mind goes a little fuzzy with the drawn out, low hum of pleasure, and you close your eyes.

Then he starts pushing into you.

“H-Hayato?” You whimper at the intrusion, at being made to take something so thick without warning. “I thought you weren't gonna—”

“I'm not,” he says. His breathing is heavier, his words strained, but his voice is still commanding when he says, “Don’t move.”

Suo doesn't give you the whole thing, just the tip. It is much harder to control yourself like this—when you can feel yourself getting stretched by the head of his cock, already so fat and heavy, but you don't get filled up by it. It makes you aware of how empty you are, and how wet you're getting. You bury your face into his neck and make a noise that's both tearful and pathetic.

It's not acting when you whine, in a watery, miserable way, “Please, Hayato. I need your cum in me.”

It's probably the crying that gets him. He inhales sharply, thrusting maybe a little deeper than intended. You groan at the extra inch of cock, eyes rolling back, and can't help the way your pussy tightens and drips, trying to suck him in.

“Fuck,” he says, and then he pulls out.

He lays you flat on your back. Before you can get so much as a word out, he's between your legs and pressing his cock against your entrance. For possibly the happiest moment of your life, you think Suo is going to fuck you—but instead he starts pushing the slick head of his cock right against your neglected clit.

You aren't going to complain.

You whimper as he starts rubbing against your sex, leaving his prespend all over your swollen bud. It makes you squirm, grinding yourself against it, and you press your legs together to get some more pressure for the both of you. Soon his cock is sliding between your thighs, getting them all sticky with his prespend. You can feel the length of him hot and slick against your folds, heavy and throbbing.

You've never cum like this before. It was never enough stimulation when your customers made you do this, which nearly all of them have. But the pressure on your clit and on your folds is shockingly intense as the two of you move, enough to make you whimper as a familiar tension builds. It's not as overwhelming as when his fingers were inside you, but it's enough for you to start panting at the tension in your belly. You can hear Suo’s breath picking up as you start to whine, and he watches you, almost predatorial, as another orgasm crashes over you. You moan his name as you cum, squeezing a few more tears out of your eyes.

He stares at your flustered, wet face as he pushes the head of his cock against your entrance again, fisting himself as it flutters and drips in the aftershock of your orgasm. Suo’s been hard for so long, for the whole time he's teased and bullied you—you aren't surprised at how close he already is. Especially not when you start talking about how much you need his cum in you, how empty your pussy feels without it, how badly you want your husband to fill you up. All with your mascara smeared and your lip trembling, a sight that makes him throb.

Suo groans as he finally cums. You can feel his cock twitching, warmth spurting out onto your folds, and then into your pussy as he thrusts shallowly into you. You pull him down needily as he fills you, and he indulges you with a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss.

When he pulls out, you can feel his cum drip out of you, all the way down to the couch. You make a happy noise at the mess he's made of your hole, giving him a lovestruck, dreamy expression.

“You should do that every night after you're done checking my pussy,” you sigh.

Suo’s mouth curls, and breathes out a kind of laugh. He holds your face, and one of his tassels brush against the shell of your ear as he presses his forehead to yours. “I’ll do it if you're good for me.”

“I’ll be on my best behaviour until our wedding night,” you promise, voice affectionate.

Suo gives you a fond look. His expression is so sentimental. You think he’s going to say something sweet.

“Alright,” he replies. “Then be good for me and keep the rest of that inside you, okay? Let’s not make a mess of these floors. I don't want to get blacklisted from this club.”

You open and close your mouth, completely speechless.

“You're fucking horrible,” you say with all your heart, and he laughs and kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you. He doesn't stop until you're placated and horny again.

Suo takes his sweet time pushing his cum into you as deeply as possible, saying that it's to make sure you don't lose any of it, but really so he can draw another orgasm out of you. Knowing that the mamasan might take pity on you and think that you were coerced into degrading sexual acts by a terrifying yakuza client, he makes sure to order a drink beforehand, calling up a server. (I don't want to be a bad patron, he hums as he looks at the tablet, and I said I'd get you to the number 1 ranking, right?) It subsequently looks, sounds, and is completely consensual when you're found pulling at Suo’s hair, keening as he fingers his cum into you while sucking on your clit.

This leaves you with no hope of continued employment on all of Keisei Street.

To add insult to injury, you do make a mess of the floors, despite Suo’s conscientious efforts to avoid this—though it's not as bad as the one you left on the couch. You also can't find your thong anywhere, which you guess is something else that the mamasan won’t appreciate when she finds it. Still, for the rest of the night, everyone shows Suo nothing but the utmost respect and highest quality customer service. They even ask how he found your company and if he has any feedback for you. He praises your conversational skills, karaoke abilities, and how capable you were in catering to his many needs. He also lets them know that you'll be resigning.

Hanzo and Shuuhei are waiting to pick you up, bringing the Rolls Royce with the privacy suite. This time, Suo doesn't use it to interrogate you; he instead uses it to kiss you and tease you and discuss wedding plans. If it'll be indoors or outdoors. If you'll have a big reception or a small one. If it'll be a traditional wedding, or if you’ll want a Chinese one like the one your master would have maybe liked to see. You settle on having a Shinto ceremony and a Chinese-style reception. Having been raised Chinese, whenever Suo imagined marrying during his teenage years, you were always in a red qipao. His master even once told him that if he managed to win your heart, he'd organise a tea ceremony and act in the role of Suo’s father.

After disclosing these facts (the first of which makes your heart weak, and the second of which leaves it aching), he asks about any long-standing things you've always wanted to do with him as a couple. If you had any silly or indulgent daydreams about your future with him, and what they were like.

“I don't know,” you admit. “I guess after you applied to teacher’s college, I liked the idea of marrying you, and doing all the domestic things you talked about. Though you were just joking at the time.”

You don't really expect him to remember much about this particular line of teasing. Sure, the man is currently obsessed with marrying you, and maybe he daydreamed about it a little bit when he was younger—but he mostly treated the idea as a funny joke when he was a teenager. All of the teasing has probably blurred together for him over the years. Certainly, it has for you.

But you've never been able to forget this particular memory. It’s one of those small, inconsequential moments that you find yourself incapable of letting go to this day. You loved hearing him talk about getting married, even though it hurt immensely that it was probably just teasing. You loved it because you wanted it. You wanted Suo to teach people because you knew he was good at it and it would make him genuinely happy. You wanted to stop working in the red light district and make a nice and safe home for Suo, just as he'd made a nice and safe home for you. And you wanted to marry him and kiss him and have sex with him and only him for the rest of your life.

You wanted it so badly, it still makes you heart ache to think about it.

He was definitely just teasing you, though. Suo was a sane person at the time, and sane people do not actually plan a marriage and life with someone before dating them or even fucking them. Most importantly, a sane person wouldn't hold onto such a silly joke for so long. Oh, you expect him to say, laughing. You're right, I had nearly forgotten.

But all he does is give you a smile. It's one of his strange, enigmatic ones.

“No, I was quite serious about it,” Suo says, looking right at you.

You stare at him.

“Really?”

“Really.”

He's being so straightforward, so earnest. Your typical reaction would be to feel flustered, sentimental—but something about his expression and tone bothers you. But before you can suss out what it is, he continues, and the moment passes.

“Was there anything else you ever wanted to do?” he asks smoothly.

You're startled, off-guard. “Oh, um… not really. I never let myself think too much about it.”

“Come on,” he prods. “There must be something.”

“No, I really didn't think of any ideas on my own. Although…”

Your face gets hot as you trail off. Suo senses weakness, and goes in for the kill.

“Although?”

“It's too embarrassing,” you admit, looking away, and Suo looks a little too interested as he pesters you for an answer.

“Come on, it's fine.” His mouth curls in a way that tells you it's not fine. “I promise I won't judge you. I just want to know what I can do to make you happy as your husband.”

You give him an uncertain look, and say your only concrete fantasy about him so quickly and quietly that he misses it.

“Pardon?” he asks.

“...romantic, vanilla sex.”

Suo blinks. “What?”

Your face burns with humiliation.

“I used to think about having romantic, vanilla sex with you. When I was a teenager. A lot.” Said as if you weren't just thinking about it two months ago in a love hotel, and still don't want it now. You wouldn't even bring it up if you didn't think it was necessary. But unfortunately, you're professionally skilled at perceiving people’s sexual interests, and you've perceived that Suo is sexually a freak. He was definitely going easy on you tonight, and is probably actively planning to get worse. You'll never have normal sex with him unless you explicitly state a desire for it.

Suo gives you a surprised look. “That's… a very mundane fantasy.”

“It wouldn't have been mundane to me,” you reply, somewhat defensively. “I used to think about it when I slept with my customers, who weren't very romantic. Or vanilla. So I didn’t really have a good reference point or anything for that kind of sex, but sometimes I still thought about doing it with you after they had left.”

You look away after saying this, wondering why you disclosed all of that. It certainly wasn't necessary for your dream of someday taking Suo’s cock without being psychosexually tortured first. Now you feel like you need to hide. You even think about excuses for stopping the car, and ponder again how difficult it would be to live without proof of identity, if you chose to run away.

But Suo doesn't let you run. He pulls you close to him, wrapping you up in his warmth.

“It's okay,” he says gently, in a voice that reminds you of how he was in his old Furin days. “You'll be okay. I'll make sure of it.” It confuses you deeply, and you turn to ask him what the fuck he's going on about.

You don't even realise you're crying until he starts kissing away your tears.

You can’t understand why you’re weeping. Maybe something strange and hormonal happened while you were having sex, like Suo made you orgasm too hard and all the oxytocin is making you depressed now. Though you think that hormone is supposed to make you happy. You're not sure. You never finished school, so you wouldn't know.

Whatever the reason, you hastily wipe away your tears. A hand rubs at your back, and you let yourself press your face into his shoulder.

“Sorry,” you say quickly.

“Don't apologise. You don't have anything to be sorry for.”

You hesitate as you breathe against the silk threads of his shirt, thinking about how many of his shirts you've ruined with your tears. At least three changshan and one Versace summer piece, by your count. It’s not like he hurts over the money these days, but guilt tugs at your heart.

“I don't know about that,” you mumble into his shoulder. And it takes a while to work yourself up to saying it, but eventually you whisper, with full honesty, “I'm sorry for always worrying you.”

“I know,” Suo says. He sounds sincere when he says, “I’m sorry too.”

“I’ll try to be better from now on.”

“You will be. And even if you aren’t, that's fine.”

For some reason, that makes your heart squeeze.

You melt against Suo after that, listening to the steady roll of tires and passing traffic outside. There's a gentle pitter patter of rain against the car roof, tinny and rhythmic, that gradually crescendos into a proper storm. The windshield wipers squeak against the glass. All of the noise is lulling you into a kind of peace, or maybe you're just feeling that way because Suo is holding you.

Fatigue wears your consciousness, and you close your eyes. The hustle and bustle of the red light district grows distant, faint—partly from slipping in and out of your dreams, and partly from the quieting world outside. It's now completely silent other than the heavy rainfall. You think they must be taking the road through Makochi. Suo asks for it whenever he wants you to sleep well.

He probably thinks you're asleep when he says, “I’m sorry for being how I am now.”

You almost stop breathing. Almost.

“You didn't fall in love with me when I was like this, so you must not like it very much,” he continues. “I know that Master wouldn't like me much either, if he were alive. He always said that you should support your loved ones until they can stand on their own two feet. But lately, I feel like all I've been doing is breaking yours.”

He sighs. The sky groans with distant thunder.

“Sakura knows who I really am, you know,” he says quietly. “I think he's worried about what'll happen to you if we get married. Though he’s been worried about you for a while.” Suo almost sounds endeared when he adds, “Did you know he only texts me now to ask if you're okay? He really does love you.”

He’s more sombre when he continues, “But Nirei is just afraid of me. That’s why he’s never around. He’s going to call you in a week and tell you not to go through with the wedding. He’ll probably tell you to leave me too. It’s good advice.”

It's hard to keep your breathing slow, with how badly your heart hurts.

“I’ve tried to go back to how I was, to the kind of person that Master was trying to raise,” Suo confesses. “But I don't think I can get better.”

But even if you can't, you want to tell him, that’s fine. You wish you could hold him how he's always held you.

“It doesn't usually upset me nowadays,” he admits after some time, “how I am now. But to be honest, talking about our school days did make me feel bitter, because I can't give you the things I know you wanted.”

He kisses the top of your head. Gently, so as not to wake you from your dream.

“I'm sorry I never became a teacher. I'm sorry I joined the yakuza. I'm sorry I can't give you a normal life. And I'm sorry I can’t have an honest conversation with you.”

Silence. You feel his chest stop briefly, his breathing deepen.

“Maybe someday, I'll get better enough to say these things to you while you're awake. Maybe someday, I'll even get better enough to let you leave. It would be best for you.”

His voice gets even softer. Tender.

“But for now, I don't know how to let you go.”

You feel a hand shifting away, the soft noise of leather against skin. Then both arms around you again, even warmer, even tighter. He’s leaning his head against yours. You think Suo is falling asleep.

Allowing yourself a single, quick glance at the car, you peer at your reflections in the rearview mirror. You see sheets of rain sliding against the back window, his dark lashes pressed to his skin, and all the scar tissue he likes to keep hidden away.

And you can see, very clearly, tears beneath his missing eye.

END 'TOKYO VICE'

hi everyone thanks for reading this chapter!!!! i hope it didn't disappoint after all the shitposting i did about it this week lol

can i just say. this was straight up the weirdest sex scene I've ever written HASLKFJSDF and the mood whiplash throughout this was probably the craziest i've ever written within a single piece. unfortunately, this reader copes with her trauma via humour and sex and it really shows rip. i hope it wasn't too offputting!

thank you to everyone who left a comment on part 1!! please do let me know if you enjoyed part 2 as well. <333

tagging @kweenkatsuki-fics and @stuckindreamland06!

[cracklinhaze]

wendy and dipper's dynamic is so important to me.

i know she's often categorized as just his crush, but i truly think she's the first REAL friend dipper's ever had outside of mabel. we know he struggles to make friends back home and tries really hard to be mature.

we also know wendy tries to be mature for her age, too. she's the youngest of her friend group and tries really hard to put on a whole cool, chill exterior: but she's just as stressed and anxious under the surface.

the whole "you were a freak" scene during the mystery shack party is further evidence of this.

dipper lets her be a kid again. WHICH SHE STILL IS. she's only fifteen, even though from dipper's perspective that's impossible cool and adult. she's not even old enough to drive. she still has nightmares about her mother dying. she's the only girl left in her family at home. dipper gives her a chance to not be so grown-up for once.

in almost every instance we see them hanging out, they're genuinely having a good time: building golf cart ramps, making up security camera games to pass the time at work, playing video games. friendship comes VERY easy for them. when dipper isn't freaking out about how to talk to her, they get along very well and seem to enjoy the same activities.

they keep each other's secrets. she often corrects robbie when he takes a jab at dipper and invites him to parties. she tries to make him look cool in front of her friends after what he did in the convenience store.

she gives him her hat. she takes his.

i've seen some folks say that it wasn't fair that mabel got close friends over the summer, and dipper didn't get any. to me, that's missing the obvious: he got wendy. they're best friends.

i think it's so important that it's NOT a one-sided dynamic. sure, he liked her -- of course he liked her. who wouldn't??? but he DOESN'T go the route of bill and gideon; he accepts the friendship, treasures it.

that's so fucking good.

[lilianade-comics]

Stolen Sanguine's Storyline

@taptrial2 requested information about my Danny Phantom vampire AU, Stolen Sanguine. I previously made a post about the AU's world-building. This post will summarize the story as far as I've developed it.

*Vlad begins the relevant history of this AU as a vampire, and the details of his turning are not important as they are not the inciting incident of his revenge plot.

---

THE PAST.

A little over thirteen years ago, Vlad was a rich, powerful vampire living the typical vampiric lifestyle with the added bonus of some mad science human/vampire experimentation on the side. But after years of living like that, he realized it wasn't satisfying him and there was something very big and important missing from his existence. Under the weight of crushing loneliness, and knowing it's supposed to be against vampiric nature to form real connections, Vlad decides to run an experiment: Is it possible for him, a vampire, to form a real relationship with a human and never introduce blood consumption to the dynamic? Is it possible for him to experience genuine love?

Enter Jack and Maddie. Maddie was about six months pregnant at the time, and the story she tells Vlad is that her husband was a merchant whose ship sank recently. Jack is in the role of her servant. They quickly form a friendship with Vlad and in Maddie's case, she allows Vlad to believe he's wooing her. They run the long game on Vlad, waiting for the perfect moment to strike, and that moment comes a few months after Maddie's twins are born. Jack and Maddie, vampire hunting husband and wife, turn on Vlad and attempt to slay him, citing his many, many crimes against humanity and evil, blood consuming nature as the reason he's a fool to think they ever cared about him at all.

Vlad escapes Jack and Maddie because his castle is full of secret passageways, but he's suffering a nasty facial wound from a stake and reeling from the betrayal. He watches from a distance as they burn his home down and destroy his immortal life's work, and bitter hatred takes root in his black heart because he actually had hope his experiment was working. That he could love and be loved and finally feel satisfied...

Immediate revenge is the only option. Maddie gave all number of excuses why she wouldn't let Vlad meet her infant (the cholera outbreak in the area is too dangerous) in a thin attempt to protect them should the plan go awry, but she didn't realize Vlad's powers far extend the norm. With a trace of Jack's blood on one hand and Maddie's on the other, Vlad can taste both and have an approximate idea of where their offspring resides, so he sets off to destroy Jack and Maddie's world.

Jack and Maddie would never have expected Vlad to find their little traveling murder wagon, so it's relatively undefended save the ridiculous amount of anti-vampire measures, half of which are useless and the other half pose no more than a slight inconvenience. The biggest obstacle is the fact that Vlad can't enter the dwelling uninvited and keep his powers, but he's beyond caring at this point and he meets no opposition from the cowering caretaker tasked with minding the treacherous leeches's spawn.

He wasn't expecting two babies, and after forcing entry Vlad is feeling more fatigued, vulnerable, in pain, and anxious than he anticipated, so he makes the hasty choice to take one and leave the other. Had he been more decisive, he probably would have done something far more grisly, but this choice sealed the fate of both children for better or for worse. Vlad flees the Fenton's traveling home with his stolen prize and vanishes into the beyond, never to be found.

(Jack and Maddie return some time later, exhausted and emotionally spent from hours of trying and failing to find their prey. To say that day went from bad to worse for them is an understatement. They continue to search for Vlad and their daughter for weeks, but the day they find a blood soaked baby blanket in the woods is the day they lose all hope.)

Vlad's retreat from his pursuers was stressful and made more difficult due to the fact that he was injured from the attempted slaying and powerless from forcing entry, but fortunately for him the tiny object of his revenge will conveniently provide the blood needed for his expedient recovery. Vlad has never eaten a child before--the thought is somewhat distasteful to him, but he puts this discomfort aside in the face of his hunger and seething, furious need to hurt Jack and Maddie.

It's funny, then, how when he removes the infant from its blanket and looks into its blue eyes and observes its little fisted hands and feet, holding it aloft and away from his body like the sacrifice it's supposed to be, Vlad hesitates. In those best days with Jack and Maddie, he could have sworn his experiment was working. That if they had never tried to kill him, Vlad could have seen fully past his desire for blood and simply be their friend, no strings attached. That he could have fully loved them. That they could fully love him. It was they who had ruined everything, they who were the monsters, not him. Vampires could love, if they chose to. He just needed to find someone without prejudice, someone without hate...

Danielle's life was spared that day. As she grows up far, far away from her birthplace, Vlad ensures she knows what he wants her to know: That he, a vampire, adopted her after her evil parents used her as bait in an attempt to kill him. It's not the unedited truth, of course. But it's true enough. What's even more true is that Danielle loves him wholeheartedly, and Vlad, in his own disturbed way, loves her too. He shields her from the darkness of his world and does everything in his considerable power to keep her happy, healthy, and safe. He's not lying when he claims he's never bitten her. She's his daughter, a word that isn't in the average vampire's vocabulary. It's the sweetest revenge imaginable: the child of vampire hunters, now the child of a vampire.

---

PRESENT DAY.

Danny is turned inside his own home. It was a freak accident, and he wasn't even bitten. All it takes is one little scratch and a tiny drop of venom; and he wakes up the following night with a craving for the unimaginable. Brought up to believe vampires are the most evil creatures alive and terrified of what he might do to his parents, he flees home and camps out at the Foley farm, where Tucker sneaks him livestock just to keep him alive.

Jack and Maddie were going to let Danny apprentice at an astronomer's guild in the near future, so Danny leaves them a note to tell them he was so excited about it he left early. The truth is too terrifying to admit, and he knows they're too caught up in the hunt for the vampire that got away from them thirteen years ago to question it. They kept saying they were close; which means Danny is free to...do what, exactly?

He has nowhere to go. Tucker can't hide him forever, and as much as Sam pretends that she's a witch she can't undo his curse. And Danny feels that hunger still, that hunger driving him to hurt his closest friends. So he leaves them too, fearing their safety.

He travels for a bit by night, subsisting off animals and avoiding people as much as he can. He has some close calls: a white-clad vampire slaying cult nearly catches him after he gets a little too bold going after livestock, and even though Danny knows he needs to avoid people, he can't help but take advantage of his newfound immortality and help people who need it. A victim of highway robbery here, a stuck wagon there. One freezing cold river and one rescued swimmer later and Danny discovers that he's exceptionally pathetic for a vampire; he can't die by hypothermia or drowning, but he lacks the resistance and recovery speed these monsters are supposed to have. He spends hours staring at the stars, hoping no one finds him like this, and all he can think about is blood.

It's at one rural village miles away that he hears whispers that he's officially in vampire territory. He's passingly familiar with these concepts: vampires aren't typically nomadic and usually reside in one or two locations, amassing enough power and wealth and political or economic influence so as to be untouchable, and presiding over a handful of villages or even a city that don't dare to oppose them. This particular area apparently has a relatively high concentration of vampires, which normally would have him going the other direction. But one name stands out from the rest, one name gives him pause. Vlad Masters, or Plasmius as he is colloquially known underground. The one who escaped from his parents, all those years ago. The one who killed his baby twin sister.

Curiosity is only a fraction of what drives Danny into Vlad's domain. Is it anger? A sense of vengeance for a sister he never had the chance to know? Misguided heroic principles telling him to save the poor people in Vlad's village? Or something far more complicated, the need to look at another vampire and compare himself--to understand---what he is. What he might become. Either way Danny finds himself readying a wooden stake on the way to the manor and realizing he might be more like his parents than he's willing to admit.

It's midday when Danny arrives. He long ago picked up a heavy cloak to shield him from the sun, and he figures that Vlad is more likely to be inactive and less powerful when it isn't night. And since Danny has never drank human blood, he has no powers to lose when he enters the manor uninvited. He doesn't know what he's looking for. A murder dungeon, probably. Body parts strewn everywhere. Blood smeared on the walls. Evidence of a terrifying vampiric mad scientist's crimes. Not prim little houseplants and stacks and stacks of gaudy decorations. Unfortunately for him, Vlad has been functionally diurnal for years at this point, and Danny doesn't notice he's been snuck up on until Vlad is right behind him and inquiring just what does this little intruder think he is doing?

Coming face to face with his sister's murderer with no warning wasn't ideal, but Danny has been on the open road long enough that his reaction time is sharpened to a knife's point. Or a stake's point, as it were. And perhaps if he were facing a human he might have managed to do something with it. But Vlad catches his swing comically easily and holds it in place, like he's trying to decide if it was meant to be a feeble joke. Danny wrests his arm away and falls back, and his hood slips back from his head, revealing his face.

Vlad's unprecedented expression of shock and recognition is all Danny needs to see, and he's on his feet again in a blink. "Recognize me?" he inquires. Vlad audibly confirms it, that Danny must be Jack and Maddie's son, the other baby in the cradle. The twin left behind. And at this Danny's anger and panic gives way to bloodlust, a terrible surge of violence with one target. He can't believe he's endured weeks of pushing down his monsterous urges just to give in here, but Danny can't let the death of his sister slide.

Attacking Vlad again goes no better than it did the first time, and now Vlad's mostly recovered from the shock and remarking on how....amusing it is that Danny has found him after all these years. And look at that! Are those adorable canines pointed? Why, that's just the most delicious cosmic irony possible, and Vlad's smug musing at how this must have utterly destroyed his parents only enrages Danny more. Try as he might, he never even comes close to harming Vlad, who dances around him like it's all a very cute game.

Vlad maintains the insufferable veneer until Danny, furious and panting, reminds him that he happens to be the bastard who killed an innocent baby- his baby sister, and Vlad shows a glimmer of genuine irritation for the first time. Suddenly he's closer than he was a second ago, and he playfully tells Danny that being a presumptuous brat will not improve his chances of making it out of the manor alive. Danny takes the golden opportunity to swing at him again, but Vlad finally goes on the offensive and grabs him in a vicelike chokehold.

Still conversational, Vlad tells Danny he has left him in a most interesting position. Shall he kill him? That would certainly be fair, since Danny has tried to kill him already, and he's clearly unable to control himself. Or should he spare him, and reveal the true nature of his sister's fate? Danny struggles for air, with no idea what Vlad is talking about. He tries to wheeze something goading, but the moment ends abruptly when a door swings open behind them and Danielle runs into the room, not finishing her sentence when she sees the confrontation.

Saved by his sister's appearance, Vlad reluctantly releases Danny and lets him cough pitifully on the floor while he attends to Danielle, who has forgotten what she wanted and is staring wide eyed at the strange boy, not letting Vlad coax her out of the room. Danny recovers his breath, bloodlust long gone, and stares right back. Vlad, for once in his life, briefly looks at a loss, before deciding that an explanation is definitely necessary and he introduces Danielle to the impertinent little intruder who just tried to stab him, her long lost twin brother Daniel. And to Danny, he introduces Danielle, placing great stress on my beloved daughter.

Dinner that night is unbelievably awkward. For Vlad and Danny, that is. Danielle is thrilled. It comes to light that Danielle not only knows she's adopted, she knows the whole story of how she came to be with Vlad...or, at least, Vlad's edited version of it. Danny is appalled, especially when Danielle excitedly exclaims that now that he's escaped his parents, he can live with her and Vlad forever! Vlad chokes on his wine (or is it blood?) while Danny shoots him a thunderous look. Danny inquires why Dani thinks he escaped his parents, and she, sensing his unhappiness, explains that they probably tried to hurt him for being a vampire like they tried to hurt her father, didn't they? Vlad watches Danny closely, because that's exactly the assumption he made as well, but Danny manages to grind out that his parents love him and are good people, and would never, ever hurt him.

Later, after Danielle has shown Danny every nook and cranny of the manor and babbled excitedly about her life and asked him a million questions about his, after Vlad finally sends her to bed, Danny finds himself alone with his sister's murderer again. No, not her murderer. Her kidnapper. Her manipulative liar of a "father". He tells Vlad as much, sitting across from him with a lit fireplace between them. Vlad only scoffs and asks when, exactly, did he lie to Danielle? Did he lie when he said Jack and Maddie used her and Daniel as bait? Maddie was with child when she courted Vlad. Bait, my dear boy. What sort of parents knowingly place their unborn children in the sights of a vampire? Did he lie, then, when he said he rescued her from them? Judging by Daniel's unfortunate fate, no.

Danny's face colors with rage, but he can't say anything for a moment. You're still evil, you're still a monster, you won't get away with this, all flit through his mind, but he settles for telling Vlad that his parents had nothing to do with his "condition" and he's not afraid of them hurting him. Vlad smirks in that punchable way of his, and says that's evident in the way he ran for miles just to fall at the feet of their worst enemy. Danny doesn't rise to this bait. He goes on to say that he's not scared of his parents hurting him, he's scared of the reverse. Of the very real urge he feels to hurt them.

Then Danny brings up the thing that has been eating at him since he first saw Dani. The fact that she was not only happy and alive, but whole and unbitten. She's been living with a vampire for thirteen years and Vlad's never...? Vlad regards him and says nothing, face impassive save an amused quirk to the side of his mouth. How? Danny wonders. How is that even possible? Vampires aren't supposed to be able to treat humans like anything other than food. How did Vlad figure out how to resist the hunger?

Seeing that Danny is being earnest, Vlad asks him why he's here and what he wants. And Danny falters, thinking. As much as his skin crawls at the thought, he wants Vlad to teach him the secret to beating the hunger. He wants to stay close to his sister's side. And he wants to hold onto that glimmer of hope that maybe he doesn't have to be a monster. Vlad drums his fingers against the rich texture of the armchair and remarks how fortunate Daniel is that he bears such a striking resemblance to the one person in the world Vlad would never deny anything. And with how happy Daniel's presence has made Danielle, it would be a pity to separate the siblings again so soon. So with the wary promise that Daniel will do exactly what Vlad tells him to and that he will do nothing on pain of death to endanger Dani's safety whether it be by word or deed, Vlad agrees to teach him his secrets.

---

[madamechrissy]

Choso eats you out as a bestie <3

MDNI- Choso x fem reader-

Choso was gorgeous, tall, he had tattoos and piercings and dressed goth, a contrast to your bright pink, a clash of aesthetics. Women went crazy over him, and why not, he was beautiful. He was also quiet, smart and sweet. He'd even been the only man you'd had any experience with before this mess you've gotten yourself into ....

Six Months ago

“Choso… um are you sure? You don't want me to do anything back?” You both closed the bar that you work at that night, and Choso shocked you, asking if he could eat you out. Casually, out of nowhere. As a friend!?

“You look like you could use some relief, Barbie.” That was his nickname for you, the first time he met you he said it, and it stuck. “I’d be lying if I didn't say I'd love to give it to you. I can just finger you if you're uncomfy?” He's holding you, whispering in your ear, as he's gently caressing your pussy over your pink lace panties. You're soaking them under his touch.

“I've never really… I'm a virgin, Choso.” He pulls back, black brows raised, his lazy amethyst eyes drinking you in.

“A virgin? You…”

“I've been with a couple girls but we didn't go that far. Um. I've not done anything but kiss men.” He exhaled, blinking a bit and you gasp when he presses his lips on yours, he tastes so sweet, his lips pressure perfection. You grind your hips up eagerly.

“I was just going to please you, little Barbie, I wasn't going that far. I wouldn't do that not in a relationship, myself.” You exhale, running a hand around the back of his neck. Choso had his hair done up in pigtailed buns and fuck if he wasn't stupidly cute with them.

“I don't wanna ever ruin our friendship. You're so important to me.” He truly was, you all took care of each other, he was your Wednesday Addams to your Bianca Barclay. You'd held him as he cried over his breakup of someone he loved. He held you as you got rejected by your crush. You all watched movies and played video games. You love him to pieces.

“It won't, ever. Just let me take care of you, okay?” You nod eagerly, as you all stand in the break room of the eerily quiet bar, and then Choso is on his knees, looking up at you with those puppy dog eyes, asking for permission. 

“Yes, please. Um… tell me if I shaved good?” He laughs a bit, you can tell he's as nervous as you. Choso has only been with two girls from what he's said. He slides your panties down your thighs, exhaling as he sees you, and you go to close your thighs, so embarrassed, but he holds them firm, shaking his head.

“You're so beautiful down there. I promise.” You blink back emotion, then gasp when he kisses you there. “You missed a little.”

He spreads your lips open, looking inside, as your thighs are on his shoulders and you're now sitting on one of the chairs. You giggle. “Did I now?”

“Need me to shave you, Barbie? What's a bestie for? Oh wait… this.” He flicks his tongue up your slit, and you cry out, back arching at how good it feels. “Getting the homies off.”

“Choso! Ah… oh my… Choso…” His tongue ring hits your exposed clit, and you're soaking his face at the sensation, as the cool metal ball of it flicks up and down the underside of your clit.

He's moaning as he sweetly drinks you up, as his tongue lavishes you up, his thick finger teasing your entrance, until it sinks in, and your wetness pours down his endless amount of black rings. He's doing things that you've never felt, and you're too wet. Too…

“Choso I'm sorry, I never get this… it's too messy.” He chuckles at that, looking up at you with that sexy face.

Fuck he's your best friend what are you doing!?

“It's hot, I promise. I like how wet you are.” He murmurs and you're flushed, looking away for a moment.

“Promise you're eating me out as a friend?” He smirks, nodding, kissing you for a moment, and you taste yourself on him. “Can't lose you.”

“You won't. You're my best friend. And fuck if your pussy isn't the yummiest thing I've tasted. Can I continue, little Barbie?” He's smirking, his soft, quiet voice soothing as his finger slides back in, making you throb around it.

“Yes, please.” You cry out as he works a finger, hitting the little spot that you've not found yet, you see stars as his tongue ring is flicking your clit, and you're yanking his pigtails now, screaming out as he lazily pushes you over the edge.

He drinks you up, as a best friend of course, and you're grinding on his face, as a best friend.

“Ch-Choso! Best friend-ah- ever!”

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (22/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: This friendship is off to a great start. Or something like that.

Warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff because you all deserve it, tiny but of angst (because it wouldn't be my work if there wasn't angst in it), google translated French

Word Count: 2.9k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: tadaaaaaa. did my best and I hopefully have time to update this story weekly. feedback is appreciated!

The other side of the bed is empty when you open your eyes. 

Sunlight beams through the window and warms your face as you stretch your arms and lie back. A loud yawn escapes your mouth, but you are so well rested and relaxed that you don't care who can hear you. 

Charles is probably hanging around the apartment somewhere and you can't help but smile at the thought of him. 

You didn't expect you two to talk so soon, but now that the weight is off your shoulders and the secrets - both your unemployment and the Formula One thing - are out in the open, you feel a lot better. You slept well, snuggled up to Charles with his arm wrapped tightly around your middle. His warmth gave you security and comfort and although the road to this moment has been quite bumpy and rocky, you're glad you've finally arrived at this point. 

Pure friendship. 

It's the right thing to do, you tell yourself. This friendship is more important than anything else in this world. I'll be damned if I'm going to destroy the only good thing I have.

You lock your feelings deep inside you, bury them under many and thick layers of friendly affection so that no daylight can reach them. What remains inside you is silence, a pleasant, comforting silence. 

You don't have to worry about what his pet names mean to you. You don't have to worry about eventualities that will certainly not become reality anyway. You can be there for Charles, as a friend - as someone who is there for him. 

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed and stand up. There are some fresh clothes for you on a small chest of drawers - a turquoise shirt and short gray Puma sports shorts - which you quickly slip into. As you open the door to your room, the smell of batter fills your nose. 

"Bonjour," Charles smiles at you as you enter the spacious, modern kitchen and sit down opposite him at the kitchen counter. Unlike last night, this time he's wearing a shirt and gray sweatpants, which hang low on his hips but still let you feel a little sigh of relief. With spatula in hand, he scrapes the pancake out of the pan to put it on a plate and slide it over to you. "How did you sleep?"

"Very well," you answer him and reach for the Nutella that is already in front of you. "And you?"

"Likewise." He turns off the stove and sits down next to you with another plate of pancakes. His knee nudges yours, but neither of you pulls your leg away. "The recipe is from my teammate. He says they're the best pancakes ever and I thought we could try them together."

As you spread the Nutella evenly on your pancake, you hand him the jar. His fingertips gently brush your hand. "So if they don't taste good, it's not your fault?" you grin and use your knife and fork to cut off a small piece before popping it into your mouth. 

Charles watches your every move. "That's right. So? Did he lie?"

You shake your head. The pancake in your mouth is warm and soft and fluffy, vanilla is definitely one of the ingredients and as you swallow the piece, a little of the delicious taste remains. "It's really delicious," you reply and spear another piece with your fork. "But I think it's also down to how the pancakes are made. The batter can be as good as it wants to be, but if it's made incorrectly - nope. Then it can't be saved."

Your Monegasque friend pours a little orange juice into the empty glass in front of you. "Was that a compliment to the chef?" A grin spreads across his face and he waggles his eyebrows. 

You playfully punch him in the shoulder with your fist. He pretends to almost fall off his chair. "My statement is to be considered purely objective."

Something flashes in Charles' green eyes, but before you can pinpoint it, he turns his gaze back to the breakfast. "I've heard you say that before," he mumbles before taking a bite. "But it really tastes great. I'll have to tell him when I see him again soon."

"What does your nutritionist say about you smearing so much Nutella on your pancake?" When he puts his index finger to his mouth, you have to smile. "Do you have to go back? To Italy?" The thought of Charles leaving you alone here in this big apartment makes you swallow hard. You only really talked to each other a few hours ago, does he really have to -

"No," he unintentionally interrupts your train of thought. "I don't think they want to see me there again so soon after I left yesterday. But that's just the way it is." He shrugs his shoulders. "More time for us." Before you can ponder the meaning of that sentence, he continues. "I know we've already talked this morning about what to do next, but I think we should discuss it again."

You raise an eyebrow in confusion. "What do you mean?"

The brunette purses his lips. "You said that you still want to be friends with me despite my job - and I think that's great - but you should really be sure."

"I am sure," you reply without hesitation.

"But you have to know what all this would mean for you if you take this," he points first to you and then to himself, "on. Dealing with all this is more difficult than you can imagine."

"All right," you reply, shoving the last piece of pancake into your mouth before washing it down with orange juice. "Go on then, Mr. Charles Leclerc."

He looks at you with a look that can't mean anything other than "Really?" before clearing his throat. "I've been in the public eye since I was little. It used to be karting, now it's Formula One. I'm used to people recognizing me, approaching me on the street and wanting to take photos. It's normal everyday life for me."

"Sounds a bit conceited," you joke, but Charles' expression suggests he's not in the mood for fun. "Okay. Je suis désolé."

"As soon as I leave the house, people talk about it. What I'm doing. Where I'm going. Who I'm spending time with. And my friends are set on the fact that when we're out and about, we can never be fully undisturbed." He chews on his lower lip for a moment. "With my female friends, things are a little more complicated."

"Meaning?"

He takes a deep breath. "As a Formula One driver, it's quite difficult to maintain friendships with the opposite sex. As soon as you do something together without anyone else around, it's portrayed as a date in the press or on social media. According to TikTok, I've had four new girlfriends since Annika and I split up. But nobody cares that they are the wives and girlfriends of my best friends. People see what they want to see. Even if it doesn't reflect the truth at all."

Without hesitation, you reach for his hand and stroke the back of it with your thumb. His skin is soft. "I'm terribly sorry about that. It must be awful."

Charles turns his hand a little so you can intertwine your fingers. "It's nothing new for me. It's more difficult for my friends. They are insulted, called names, judged. And all because they want to spend time with me, because that's what friends do. It's not fair. Not for anyone."

Now you understand why it's so important to Charles that you know this. His friendship has a price. And from what he tells you, it's not exactly cheap.

"The pressure on you would be huge. People will have opinions about you that you won't like. And no matter what you do, no matter how good you are - you won't be able to change them. And at some point, you'll be approached on the street without me, just because we're friends. The first time Joris was asked for a photo, he was completely taken aback."

You can see how much this is taking its toll on him and you don't even want to know how many friendships his name has already cost him. It's understandable that not everyone wants to take this risk, this life.

You squeeze his hand twice to attract his attention. When he looks at you, you smile. "Doesn't sound so bad," you try to cheer him up. The attempt fails miserably.

"I don't think you understand me." He shakes his head slightly and removes his hand from yours. "That's no small sacrifice. And there's no turning back once you do. You'll have no privacy once you leave this apartment. You'll be the talk of the town. About what you do, what you say and what clothes you wear. And all because we're friends."

You raise an eyebrow. "And what's in it for me then?"

He lowers his eyes again. His voice is quiet. "Just - me."

Your heart breaks for him. 

How can he not know how wonderful he is? Ever since you've known each other, Charles has always given you the chance to get out of things. He's let you have the bed, driven your rickety Renault to protect you from the public, pushed you away - disgustingly, but still. And all so that you could have a choice. 

You'd like to take him in your arms and hug him tightly, hoping you can patch up his shattered parts. And so you do. You get up from the chair and wrap your arms around him so tightly that he gasps in surprise. He slides off his chair into a firm stance so that your hands slide a little lower down his back. A moment later, when you feel one of his hands on your spine and the other in your hair, you press your cheek against his hard chest.

"I wish you could see yourself the way I do," you murmur against the soft fabric of his shirt, whereupon he presses you a little closer to him. 

"How do you see me?" he whispers against the top of your head. You feel his lips on your scalp. "Like a crazy, jealous guy who shows up at your place in the middle of the night and starts a fight with your ex?"

"You're an idiot." You lift your face from his chest and tilt your head back so you can look at him. He looks down at you. "You're such a wonderful person, Charles. And I would be honored if you wanted me as a friend."

"Are you really sure?" His warm breath brushes over your face. "There's so much you -"

"I'm sure," you interrupt him. 

"There's a series on Netflix you can watch so you can get a better understanding of -"

"I'm sure."

"Y/N, please -"

"Don't you want to be my friend?" You want to take a step backwards so you can really look at him, but he's so comfortably warm and his gaze is so heartbreaking that you don't want to let him go under any circumstances. 

"I want nothing more than that. Really." The hand that was in your hair a moment ago rests against your cheek and your thumb strokes it gently. "But there's so much you have to give up. And just for me."

You nestle your face against his warm skin. "You're all I have. And that's all I need."

His gaze softens and he gently kisses your forehead before holding you close one last time and then letting go. "The Netflix series isn't that good anyway. It doesn't reflect what really happens on race weekends." He sits back down at the counter and grabs another pancake. 

You join him. "I'm not surprised. Netflix will do anything to make money and twisting reality to make it more marketable is nothing new." You copy him with the pancake.

"Exactly. And if you want to know anything, you can ask me. Your friend - the Formula One driver," he grins, shoving a bite between his two jaws. 

"You said yesterday that this season has been a throwaway. What do you mean?" you ask him, emptying the bottle of orange juice into your glasses. 

Charles shrugs his shoulders. "The car and the strategies didn't work as they should have. The Scuderia made more cock-ups than you can stand."

You have to suppress a grin. "Then wouldn't it be smarter to call it the Screwderia?"

His gaze is emotionless as you look at him. "That's the worst joke I've ever heard." He smirks. "But you're right about that."

It's obvious that your friend feels a lot more comfortable now that he's told you the truth. The passion with which he talks about the sport is infectious, and you listen to him as attentively as you can. There's a sparkle in his eyes, his smile almost reaches your ears as he talks about his victories and podiums. 

How could you not want to be friends with him?

When you're done with breakfast, Charles sends you to explore the apartment while he does the dishes. After brushing your teeth and getting a bit more ready - you keep your clothes on, they're comfortable and Charles' after all - you wander through the rooms. 

The living room is kept simple, with white furniture and a comfortable-looking couch where you can watch the second part of Cars. Next to it on a shelf are several trophies and even helmets, which you take a quick look at.

There's even a white piano. A red rose arrangement with the word Love is placed on it. As you run your fingers over the wood of the instrument, you hear Charles enter the room. 

"The roses are from Annika. They're not real, so they can stay longer." He steps from one foot to the other. 

"Why haven't you thrown them away yet?" you ask him as you turn to face him. 

He shrugs his shoulders. "I haven't gotten around to it yet. And Annika was still living here until yesterday. So..."

You nod weakly and change the subject. "Have you been practicing here?"

"Yes. Unfortunately, I don't have much time to play because of Formula One. It was good to play in the bookshop. Even if it was completely improvised."

You remember every single note. The passion he poured into the keys to create an incredibly beautiful piece of music. The passion he felt. How beautiful he looked in the warm light. "It was beautiful. It really was."

"It's your song." He smiles lovingly. "It's as beautiful as you are."

Like magnets, you move towards each other. As he holds out his hand, you place yours in it so that he can gently turn you in a circle before pulling you close. Your hands rest on your chest and you feel his strong heartbeat under your fingertips as you smooth down his shirt. His hands are on your lower back, pressing you against him so that you arch towards him. 

"Charles."

"Mm-hmm." His gaze flickers back and forth between your eyes and your lips, making your heart beat faster. 

You hypocrite, you hear your conscience say as your one hand slides to the nape of his neck and plays with the fine hair there. Charles closes his eyes and something you can only categorize as a moan escapes his throat. 

"Please don't stop," he whispers and leans his forehead against yours. The tips of your noses nudge against each other. 

"With what?" you ask softly, even though you know exactly what he means. 

"Touching me." His voice sounds almost like a deep groan. "Tu me fais tellement de bien.“ you feel so good.

You would never stop. It seems like an invisible boundary was torn down last night and you haven't been able to stop touching each other since. His knee against yours at breakfast. Your embrace. Your half-naked bodies pressed together a few hours ago when you were talking. 

Even if you wanted to, you couldn't stop touching him. 

Hypocrite, repeats the annoying voice in your head. 

Without thinking about it, you arch towards him another inch and Charles draws in a sharp breath. 

"Charles?" A woman's voice sounds from the hallway and the Monegasque opens his eyes. „Chéri, tu es à la maison?“ darling, are you home?

Your eyes search his as he suddenly breaks away from you and takes a step back. Panic is practically written all over his face. 

"Who's that?" you ask silently, but get no answer.

The footsteps from the hallway come closer and when you turn around, a woman is standing in front of you, looking first at you and then at Charles before her gaze lingers on you. "'Qui avons-nous là?“ who do we have here? she asks, walking towards you before grabbing your hands and giving you a kiss on the left cheek, then the right. 

"Maman, que fais-tu ici?" mom, what are you doing here? Charles asks hesitantly, taking a step towards you both. 

Maman?

next part

[luvluu]

I Love You, I’m Sorry… Shuntaro Chishiya

————

A/N: heyyyy! English is not my first language so I’m sorry if you find any mistake😭 this is also like mi first post everrr… idk if someone is going to read tho.

Thank you for reading if you do!😭🩷

————

Shuntaro Chishiya x reader

Angst💔

TW: killing, violence, betraying.

WORDS: 961

————

You were part of the military. Aguni brought you in and since then, you were his right hand along with Niragi. Even if Niragi and you were both partners and spent almost half the day together, you never liked him, his desperate attempts to get you into bed were obvious and disgusted you just thinking about it.

Just because you were part of the military didn't mean you were like them. It was true that you were pretty much like the type of people in the group, but you also had your soft side, that side was the side that Chishiya knew, or at least it was the one you thought he knew.

You and Chishiya never got along, your personalities were too different. Your unabashed, outgoing and direct attitude clashed with Chishiya's, who was introverted, independent and above all analytical. You were like oil and water. You liked to tease Chishiya, to throw compliments at him until he got on his nerves and got angry with you, but one day it changed. You were sitting in the moonlight, hugging yourself and trying to get that incident where Niragi almost murdered you in cold blood out of your head.

Chishiya was walking by when he saw you sitting there. He stared at you and finally came closer. You tried to put on your side that never seemed to care about anything, but he already knew something was wrong.

"I knew from the first moment you weren't like them. Not to throw flowers at me, but I'm smart, you know? You can't fool me." It all sounds very cliché, I know, but from that moment on you and Chishiya developed a friendship (although he wouldn't call it that).

Time passed; days, weeks, months maybe, you weren't quite sure, but something else grew between you. Every time you talked to Chishiya you let your guard down, you felt protected with him and deep down, you began to seem important to him.

Eventually, the inevitable happened; first it was hand rubbing, then cuddling after games and it ended with a kiss, a kiss that meant too much to both of you, a kiss that turned into two and then three until you practically moved into Chishiya's room, and even though you weren't a couple it was only a matter of time before it happened.

You were never in favor of Chishiya's plan to steal the cards and even less so when Aguni became leader, but you knew there was nothing you could do to stop him from doing so, but the very day Chishiya got his hands on the cards, everything changed,

A game was set up on The Beach, “The Witch Hunt”. You were not in favor of killing people, you never were, but you knew that being part of the military, it was kill or be killed.

You cursed internally when Niragi, who was supposed to be shooting from the rooftop stopped shooting and you climbed up to the top floor thinking what an idiot the guy was. Chishiya didn't worry you, you knew he was fine, that he could defend himself.

“Niragi what the-?” you stood still as you watched Niragi's flaming body fall into the void and saw Chishiya with his back to you, holding a homemade gun and a riffle. You knew it was him: his hair, his white jacket, his smell, everything... “Chishi?” you asked, watching as he turned around to look at you. You approached him, but when you barely took a step, he raised his gun towards you. You frowned. “Chishi what?” You muttered, not being able to talk even, your head couldn’t think, you just looked at his eyes.

“We both knew” he spoke, you looked at him confused. “I think you are naive if you thought this would go anywhere.”

His gun raised to the level of your chest, he took a couple of steps closer.

"You're taking down The Beach. Don't get me wrong, not that I care, but you guys fucked up my plan. Big time."

Your eyes were already teary, because the person you loved was standing in front of you, pointing a gun at you and suggesting that nothing that happened between you was real.

“No...” you whispered with a broken voice, a tear falling down your cheek. “I'm not like them, remember?” You remembered him desperately, but you knew Chishiya. You lived with him and had shared moments filled with sincerity, and you knew him well enough to know that he was going to shoot, that now that he had come this far he wasn't going to put the gun down. “Please” You cried. Your gun was still in your hand, but you knew you couldn't shoot him, that you wouldn't be able to, because you'd rather die than live without him. “I love you”

“I love you” “I'm sorry” you didn't even notice any pain in his voice, you just felt the impact of a bullet in your stomach and you fell from the rooftop.

Everything seemed to go in slow motion. You saw Chishiya lean out to see you fall and then you felt the impact.

Chishiya turned around, unable to see you land against the ground. His gun fell from his hands almost instantly, but he didn't react. He simply raised his head and walked toward the rooftop door. He wasn't going to confess that he regretted it because he was a coward, he knew it from the moment he shot you just because he refused to love someone. He knew it from the moment he decided to kill you because he couldn't risk wanting to die for someone.

Shuntaro Chishiya was a coward, and you were someone stupid enough to fall in love with him.

[azrielstaylorsversion]

Secrets

Azriel x reader

You and Azriel have been secretly together and mated for multiple years. When Azriel proposes to you, the two of you feel the need to tell your family about your relationship.

"We should tell them." you said to your mate.

Azriel's hand stopped moving up and down your bare back. "Are you sure?"

You nodded, a smile forming on your face. "We've kept this from them for way too long. I know we both like to be private, but I think this is for the best." you told him. "There is no danger. There is no one who can currently use this against us. We are just way too used to this secretive stuff."

Azriel chuckled and kissed you, holding you closely. "We'll need to come up with a way to tell them." he started. "It's not like we can walk into the room holding hands and yell; Hey! Just wanna let you guys know, we've been mated for many years and now we are also engaged and we are going to marry soon!"

You let out a small chuckle. "We could actually do that. Or we let them figure out on their own." you put your hand on Azriel's cheek.

"That would actually be way more fun." he said.

Being two of the most important spies of the Night Court, the two of you knew how to hide your relationship. Sure your family knew about your close friendship, but they didn't know you were together. Or better, mated.

At the start of your relationship you and Azriel had decided that you would keep things private because of your job. But since everything had calmed down in Prythian, you could tell them.

It wasn't like you didn't trust your family. You just wanted to be private. Both of you had been private your entire life, so this wouldn't be anything new.

They also never questioned when the two of you disappeared for hours or even days. They just thought you were attending some important business.

There had been a few close calls with being caught. For example; falling asleep together on the couch or being found in bed together, but every time it worked out.

"So, we just act like we're together?" he asked you.

It sounded so stupid. Maybe it was. "Yes. Simple as that."

"So, I can kiss you in public?" he asked with a small grin.

"If you want to. It's more safe in the world than before, I don't think anyone seeing us together would cause us any harm." you told him, smiling. "And we can have our wedding with our family attending."

You could feel Azriel's happiness down the bond. "Let's give them a while to process all of this once they get it. Then we can plan the wedding."

You placed a kiss on his cheek. "Of course. But first let them figure out on their own. It'll be fun."

The two of you were having way too much fun with this.

It had been a little over a week since deciding to stop hiding. It wasn't like the two of you had full make out sessions in front of them, but you often shared small touches or smiles with each other.

Cassian had been the most suspicious out of all of them, but no one dared to comment on your changed behavior towards each other.

No one had even said a word about Feyre catching you walk out of Azriel's room yesterday morning, in your sleeping clothes. You had just casually waved while she had looked at you with confusion

You and Azriel had been sitting together at every family gathering. He would even hold your hand or place a hand on your thigh under the table. Your family had given you more questioned looks, but again, they didn't bother to say anything out loud.

Feyre had made a small comment on it during your girls night a few days ago. You had just shrugged and continued talking about something else, but you never denied it.

"Are you ready?" Azriel's voice sounded on the other side of the door.

You walked towards the door, opening it so you could walk out.

Azriel smiled at the sight of you. There was another fancy family dinner tonight. You were all dressed up, wearing a beautiful blue dress to match Azriel's siphons.

"You look amazing." he told you as you walked forward and put your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes.

You brought your face close to his. "You don't look too bad yourself." you whispered before closing the distance and kissing him.

A cough made you pull away from him, your body immediately moving towards the sound.

Rhys was standing a few feet away from you with a shit eating grin on his face.

You and Azriel both stayed quiet while Rhys's grin only widened. "I've known for a while now, don't worry."

Your eyes widened. "Wait, you knew? Why didn't you say anything?" you questioned.

Rhys chuckled. "I know how secretive and private the two of you like to be. I kept it quiet. No one else knows." he told you.

You sighed. "We have actually been trying to show it to you guys, but no one asks any questions. They just watch." you said. "How'd you even know?"

"I knew you were Az's type from the day I met you all those decades ago. This was going to happen eventually." Rhysand said.

"Thank you. For keeping it a secret." Azriel spoke suddenly.

Rhys moved to lean against the wall. "So how long have the two of you actually been together?"

You grinned. "Only together? Or maybe more?" you said.

Rhys's face changed. "What do you mean?"

"Why don't you ask again during dinner so everyone will know." you told your friend while Azriel put a comforting hand on your shoulder.

Rhys had been staring at you and your mate for almost an hour. You and Azriel were sitting closely to each other, his arm over the back of your chair.

"Will you explain it now?" Rhysand's voice sounded through the room, the question directed towards you.

Everyone noticed Rhys's eyes on you and Azriel, so they all turned to look at you.

"Finally someone who says anything!" Cassian groaned. "I thought I was going crazy, but you guys are... closer than normal."

You sat up straighter, Azriel's hand moving from the chair to your thigh, giving you an encouraging squeeze.

"Okay, please don't be mad at us..." you were immediately cut off by Feyre.

"Are you two finally together!" she exclaimed happily, clapping her hands together.

"No--yes, what? Wait what do you mean finally?" you said, totally forgetting to make your own point.

"I mean, we've all known the two of you would be perfect together and--" Rhys put a hand on Feyre's shoulder.

"Feyre darling, I really love your enthusiasm, but I think we should let Y/N and Azriel speak first." he told his mate gently.

Feyre smiled at her mate. "Of course."

You cleared your throat. "Yes, we are together." you turned your head to look at Azriel. He only nodded and smiled.

You turned your head back to your family. "In fact, we've been mated for multiple years and we're planning on also marrying soon." you spitted out.

Everyone looked at the two of you with wide eyes.

"You two are mates?" Mor asked, her face showing signs of happiness.

"For multiple years?" Cassian asked, his mouth almost hanging open. "How the hell didn't I know this?" he almost yelled.

"No one did. Only Rhys figured out that we are together recently." Azriel told his brother, sounding slightly annoyed.

"I should've known the two of you weren't always working together. Going away on missions every other week." Amren said while leaning back in her chair.

"Just to clear things up, we actually do go on missions together for the missions. Not only to be alone." you told her, even though you understood why she thought that.

"I've seen you guys sneak out of each others room multiple times." Nesta said. "I don't know why I didn't see it earlier. I just thought the two of you worked closely a lot."

"Wait, did you say you were planning on marrying?" Mor asked happily.

You nodded, holding up your hand and removing the glamour around the beautiful ring around your finger.

"Does this mean we can help you plan the wedding?" Feyre said, almost jumping from her seat.

You chuckled. "Yes, of course."

You put your other hand on top of Azriel's, who still rested on top of your thigh.

He stayed quiet throughout the entire conversation, but you could feel his love and confort down the bond.

Everyone took turns in inspecting the beautiful ring Azriel had gotten you, congratulation the two of you.

Luckily they understood why you had kept it from them. That it had been for your own safety, but that it was now finally time to share this with the world.

After a while everyone had returned to their own food and conversations, leaving you to talk with Azriel.

"That went better than expected. I thought they might get mad." you told your mate, leaning into his warmth.

"Of course not." he ensured you, putting a hand on your cheek.

You smiled at him as he leaned in to kiss you, and you gladly let him even though it felt a bit unnatural to do this in front of your family.

But even after years of being mated you couldn't get enough of him.

"I'm never going to get used to this." Cassian's voice made you break apart from Azriel, who sighed at his brothers words.

Feyre was also staring at you, a wide grin on her face.

"Can you just shut up." you groaned at Cassian, trying to hold your laugh. His offended face was the funniest thing ever.

Mor clapped her hands together, grabbing everyones attention. "So when are we going to be planning the wedding?"

You turned to face Azriel again, smiling at your mate. "Soon."

[filmbyjy]

ONE NOTE

SYNOPSIS > When you turned 18, you heard your best friend’s favourite song. Turns out, it was just one of the various signs to finding your soulmate. However, you couldn’t bring this up to jake. Not when he was in a happy relationship with your other best friend! Would you choose heartbreak or sacrifice your happiness for the sake of keeping the friendship?

EIGHTEEN – the first petal

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

WC: 0.9K words

a/n: please note there is a written part after these 6 pictures!! don't forget to read it because it is part of something important.

“breathe.” yvette says as she pats your back. it was suffocating. the sink was bloodied up, splatters of blood that you had coughed up in a span of 5 minutes. mae runs in with a bottle in her hands.

“here, drink up.” she quickly opens the bottle up and hands it over to you. you took the bottle and quickly drank it.

“why didn’t you tell us it was this bad. we obviously knew that jake was your soulmate but we didn’t think that your body would react this way.” yvette looks at you.

“you’d honestly think that this disease would be a mythical thing but it is very much true.” mae says. you felt the tears fall down your face. yvette wipes them for you. she looks at you with such pity and such care.

“man, fuck that bitch.” she declares. “making such a sexy girl cry? not very girl’s girl coded of her.”

“she doesn’t know. i don’t think jake would tell her. besides, he doesn’t even know i’m his soulmate.”

“well, i think she would find out either ways. she’s such a weirdo.” mae huffs. yvette nods.

“what are you going to do?” yvette asks.

“live with it.”

“but you’re going to cough out blood if you keep seeing them so loving and disgusting.”

“it’s okay. once it gets worse, i’ll just get the surgery.”

“to remove your feelings? (name), you can’t seriously be thinking of doing this.” mae sighs. “i’ve seen people decide to go through with the surgery, they aren’t like themselves. once you do it, there will also be complications in the end. you won’t live for long.”

“there is no other way. if end up dead then so be it. i can’t let jake know. he’s very much in love with aria. he would never love me.” you sobbed. yvette pulls you closer and keeps you in her arms.

“hey hey, let’s not talk about death. you’re alive and well right now. let’s live your life to the fullest and make the best out of it. you aren’t dying.” she mutters. mae grabs your hand and lightly squeezes it.

“yeah, who cares about jake and aria. you have sunghoon, your friends, your brother and us. we are there for you.”

you were thankful for the people who were close to you. you had wiped your tears and nodded. “you’re right.”

there were a series of knocks at the bathroom door. yvette rolls her eyes and opens the door. “we’re having a sentimental moment here.”

“sorry, girls. just checking in to see if (name) is okay.” jay says.

“that or are you already missing mae?” yvette folds her arms. jay awkwardly laughs a little.

“maybe but i’m more concerned for my best friend of course.” you laughed a little and sniffled. you pushed mae forward towards jay.

“take her oh my god. you find out she’s your soulmate and you can’t stop being away from her.”

jay shrugs. sunghoon steps forward and hugs you.

"I'm not dying, hoon."

"just let me hug you. you need it." he says. your smile falters a little. "you can cry, you know?"

"i already cried just now."

"and? you can cry again and I wouldn't judge."

"I know you won't, hoon."

your brother comes up to you. "okay, break it up. can I hug my sister?"

sunghoon lets you go, and leehan easily replaces him. "when did you get so big?"

"I've always been big." he says. you laughed.

"okay, but you're my baby brother."

"yes, i am." you ruffled his hair and he pulls back from the hug.

"let's go back. those two are probably wondering where we are." taesan says.

"the last i saw them they were making out-" *whack* ni-ki winces when sun whacks him.

"don't even mention that." sunoo warns.

"right, sorry noona." ni-ki pouts. you sighed a little.

"it's fine, ni-ki."

you could see jake and aria coming closer to the group. jake was mainly concerned about everyone but aria...she's just kinda following jake.

"hey, why is everyone gathering around here?" jake asks.

"oh, there was a slight mishap so (name) called the girls over. we were worried so we waited outside for them." heeseung explains.

"you could've told us."

"yeah, but you were busy making out with aria so we didn't want to bother the both of you." sunghoon says. there was a petty tone underlying as he tells jake.

"what the fuck is your problem?" jake comes up to sunghoon. sunghoon scoffs.

"nothing."

"nothing? you said that the other time and then you went on a tangent hating on my girlfriend." jake folds his arms.

sunghoon rolls his eyes. "well, I'm right either ways. you were sooooo oblivious and busy with aria that even when (name) got hurt or had an issue you didn't care."

"she's fine now, isn't she? you guys took good care of her. she's in good hands, so i trust you guys to care for her. after all, I'm just her best friend and I am busy with my girlfriend. You don't understand me because you don't have a girlfriend!" jake yells at sunghoon.

you start to cough up again. this time when you look down at your hand, not only was there blood but there was a petal. the first petal to have ever appeared. you had looked up to see everyone staring at you. jake's jaw dropped when he saw the blood in your palms.

you didn't know what else to do other than run away. sunghoon glared at jake once more before he runs after you.

this was moving too fast...

were you dying?

taglist[open]: @sumzysworld @mitmit01 @moon3verland @baribaaari @byty2k @alex-is-sleeping @viagumi @txtlyn @belovedsthings @woninluv @dreamiestay @niniissus @kyutiepeachy @yoongisbaguetteshoes @squiishymeow @jjaammm @enhaz1 @illvding @woniejjang @bee-the-loser @laurradoesloveu @ckline35 @ningx2stan @hoonlvly @clampclover @xyzyx01 @victoriasimm @eneiyri @nshmrarki @woorcve @bubblytaetae @i03jae @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @l1wv00n @onlyhyunjin @kyanmeai @isa942572 @lisaswifey @alisonyus @firstclassjaylee @szkstay @enhamysunshines @milanco @hsbae @zyvlxqht @lixiebokie @wth121 @enahasblog @gongiz @anuisamazing @heestrawberries @gyehyeonist @nshmurarki @heelovesmeknot @silquids

(bolded can’t be tagged)