#how does he find the time to be polite here?

[avelera]

(Arcane Meta) Zaun Died with Silco

I want to open this by saying I understand people who are upset that there isn't more Piltover/Zaun conflict and resolution in S2 of Arcane. However, I'm going to argue here that the reason it's not in S2 after 2.03 is because the conflict is over. Piltover won. There is no more Zaun anymore as a potential political player and, ultimately, this comes back to haunt Piltover in their hour of need.

Overall, while I am invested in the Piltover/Zaun conflict, especially in S1, I'm less focused on Caitlyn and Vi's story which is our main lens for the conflict, or rather the end of the conflict, in S2. Still, I hope to offer my more Arcane worldbuilding-focused perspective. And just to get it out of the way, here are a few things I had trouble with:

I too was puzzled that anyone from the Undercity would join Piltover in the defense of the city.

I also thought it was strange to have Jayce focus on the threat that Viktor posed with his robots while soliciting help from the undercity, instead of on Ambessa, the more clear and understandable threat that would have made a better rallying point and allowed for a final discussion about the Noxian occupation of the undercity and how Noxus turning on Piltover was just them reaping what they sowed.

I was certainly taken aback when everyone was given Enforcer uniforms for the final fight.

That said, I believe there are answers to all three of these. From there, I want to dive into what exactly happened in S2 with Piltover vs. Zaun, to my eyes. Short version: there is no more "Zaun" as a potential nation or political player by 2.03 when the Chem Barons are taken out by Cait's forces, but it really died before that with Silco, who was already in a precarious negotiating situation himself and he knew it.

Very few people from the Undercity joined Piltover's defense of the city. Maybe a half dozen. I felt that was our moment of "you reap what you sow" for Piltover. A few passionate idealists who could see the bigger picture that saving Piltover does mean saving the undercity joined, but there were no hordes of volunteers. Piltover had lost the right to them and was substantially weakened for it.

Jayce choosing to focus on Viktor as the threat makes sense for him, but it was a poor political move and probably lost him volunteers he would have otherwise gained. The robot army threat is too esoteric and fantastical. "The Noxians turned on us and plan to conquer the city," is a threat that would have been better for rallying the troops, Jayce is just too single-minded to think of it. He's a bad politician.

The Enforcer uniforms are an odd sour note, but they do make sense as protective gear. Piltover doesn't have an army. There are no uniforms to give people. All they have is Enforcer uniforms. It is an odd note symbolically, but practically speaking it shows how little time Piltover had to prepare. Piltover is a civilian city going up against a military force like Noxus. They are woefully underprepared and really only have their status as defender in urban fighting to give them a prayer of even stalling the Noxian forces. Ironically, Piltover's only hope against Noxus mirrors Zaun's only hope against Piltover if they had gone to war: the difficult nature of urban fighting against an entrenched, motivated opponent on their home turf.

Now, to get into, "What happened to the overall Piltover vs. Zaun fight?" I get why people think it's lacking in S2, and I get why people find it horrifying that there is no independent Zaun at the end, all we've got is Sevika with one seat on the Council, as far as we can tell but I would point out:

Zaun is dead at this point. It's been dead since 2.03. Arguably, it really died with Silco.

As Jinx said, she didn't just destroy her own family, she cursed an entire society when she launched that rocket into the Council Chamber.

Here's the thing, Jayce was actually right when he said Zaun wouldn't stand a chance in an outright war with Piltover.

Yes, Zaun has a lot of brawlers. They have Shimmer and the Shimmer berserkers.

But Zaun doesn't have any sort of organized fighting force beyond the guards of individual Chem Barons and their factories.

What Zaun has is the fissures. It has ugly, difficult urban fighting in dangerous spaces. But as a counter to that, we have the fact that their ventilation is controlled from Piltover. In a true all-out war, Piltover could in theory just flush out the entire undercity using the Gray. Having your infrastructure entirely dependent on an enemy oppressor is what I would call a "fatal flaw" in any defensive military strategy, particularly when what they can cut off is the air you breathe. That's easily game over right there unless Silco has a way to circumvent that.

In a guerilla war, Zaun could probably hold out for a long, grinding, ugly civil war made up of mostly guerrilla attacks, in which a great number of innocent civilians will die, even in an all-out conflict with Piltover. But it would suffer catastrophic losses and probably still lose in the end.

Now, Jayce is I think somewhat naive in his claim Zaun doesn't stand a chance. Maybe Zaun wouldn't stand a chance in the long run, but they'd make Piltover pay for every inch with blood. They'd grind Piltover down into a shadow of its former self, force them to sacrifice all of their principles. To some extent, I think Jayce gets that, he gets that he doesn't want more kids to die, but I think even he underestimates just how ugly that war would be and how long it would go and how unrecognizable his Piltover would be by then.

The moment that gives Silco pause in Jayce's assessment of how easily Zaun would be crushed isn't the fighting. Silco is pretty confident that they could make Piltover pay and he's arguably looking forward to the chance on some level.

What gives him pause is when Jayce says the Council doesn't care.

To some extent, Silco like any revolutionary against an oppressive "civilized" society (heavy, heavy emphasis on the air quotes there) is that a certain point, Piltover is so soft-hearted they will get tired of the bloodshed.

What Jayce just told Silco is that the Council is more barbaric than even Silco maybe appreciated, for all their vaunted principles. There isn't necessarily a limit to how many Zaunite children will die before Piltover decides to cease hostilities. Knowing what Silco knows of Piltover's brutality, I think that is a sobering moment for Silco. That's when he decides this really is the best time to negotiate.

(Aside, this is by the way where Vi is wrong about Silco, driven by her emotions. Silco is willing to set aside the feud to get his nation of Zaun, he can be negotiated with. He's just not willing to give up his daughter (something Vi can't possibly understand at this point).)

Here's why it's the best time for Silco to negotiate and it ties into everything else:

Without Shimmer, which has been severely hampered by the raid on the factory, Zaun doesn't have anything to counter Hextech.

Jinx's wild attacks against Piltover has helped put the pressure on them that Silco capitalizes on. But it is a paper-thin threat. She is a lone albeit devastating terrorist. She makes Zaun appear more dangerous than it is but that can't last forever. Silco has leveraged her attacks into a pressure campaign against Piltover, but a serious response from Piltover (as seen in 2.03 with the strike team corners and very nearly captures her) could reveal just how fragile that threat is.

Basically, Zaun has some champions, arguably a league of legends lol, but it doesn't have an army. It doesn't even have Enforcers of its own. It doesn't have a concerted force of any kind.

The money is running out. As "Sucker" shows us in 2.02, each Chem Baron that gets taken out means less money on the table, and we're down 2 by the beginning of S2 with Silco and Finn, who arguably both fell to internal fighting.

As the Chem Barons say in 2.02, even if they got total unity in Zaun, they're outnumbered.

However, they don't have total unity in Zaun. They can't even get the Chem Barons to agree on what to do on one topic, with Jinx.

Silco basically has to accept the deal with Jayce when he does, while Zaun appears to be at its strongest. Because if he had waited any longer, the fact that they don't have the strength or money to back it up would have become apparent.

Furthermore, once Jayce resigns from the Council, which he was planning to do anyway regardless of Jinx's attack, would mean Zaun would lose its one champion with the political capital to give them independence. The window for Zaun independence is actually extremely narrow.

With Silco's death and Jinx's attack on the Council, then the subsequent eradication of the other Chem Barons, their resources, their money, including Shimmer which was the only thing Zaun really had to match them against Hextech in that arms race, there really isn't a Zaun anymore.

There's no one to negotiate with. No one to hand power to. No force that can govern itself. Zaun is completely fractured with the eradication of the Chem Barons. By taking them out, Cait removed the need for Piltover to negotiate with Zaun. And the reason Piltover chose not to was because of Jinx's rocket and then the attack on the memorial, which was orchestrated by Ambessa.

This is all according to Ambessa's design, by the way. She divides Piltover/Zaun against themselves by capitalizing on Jinx's attack. She leaves both severely weakened to make it easier for her to take over, and Piltover walks right into the trap. They would have fallen to Noxus if not for Mel's love of the city, even if you remove Viktor and Jayce's plotline entirely.

TL;DR Zaun is gone, guys. It's a distant dream. Sevika is the only person with an interest in making it happen anymore and she can't even get the Jinxers to listen to her. All the factions are easily arrested at the rally. Piltover has no reason to negotiate with any of these people. As the lone torchbearer for that cause, it makes sense for Sevika to be on the Council but beyond her, there is literally no one else to give a voice to (since Ekko doesn't appear to have an interest).

At least, until the Noxians turn on them, and then there's an interest in Piltover and the undercity joining forces, but as I referenced at the beginning of this, Piltover has now lost the right to the undercity's help AND lacks the undercity's resources too. Now Noxus has Shimmer instead of Piltover or Zaun, in addition to their sophisticated and expertly trained military force. As Jayce said, they were meant to lose this fight. Arguably, they never had a chance of winning if not for Mel claiming the loyalty of the Noxians in the wake of her mother's death and everything Jayce did to stop Viktor and the Hexcore.

[gepm251-blog]

If I have to be honest here, I find this approach to be wrong too.

I think it is very much shaped on the idea of myths to be akin to a holy text, when they are not.

Zeus acts as he does because he is a king and that is how the Greeks thought a king acts to show his power and superiority.

We read the myths to know how the Greeks thought of the gods, through that we realize their aspects and the way they relate to eachother.

That doesn't mean that what happened in the myths is real or that it is an allegory: they were stories told for fun, for art and for politics.

The myths reveal more about the people who told them then about the gods, it's by reading their minds that we find a bit of the gods too.

Apollo is related to Gaia, for example, we know because in several myths they conspire together. Makes sense, after all many of the temples of Gaia related to prophecy then became his temples and the way prophecy works for Apollo is that knowledge in its raw form is the essence of ctonic gods (Dionysus, Gaia, Persephone...), translated imperfectly by Apollo's art and his priests.

Not an allegory then, but a reflection of a way of seeing things, of unconscious knowledge and conscious wisdom and of events forgotten to time.

Discarding the myths or rewriting them is foolish. And it is lazy. Put on the study and the scary will become known, the repugnant will become understood. Face the people that preceded us and find their gods: the gods do not change, nor our understanding of them.

Also, I do not believe there is any talking with the gods. Lucky those who can interact with them: the very idea perplexes me.

Maybe it's a fruit of the ignorance of my family, but we take a practical approach to the gods: you do build relationships with them, in the sense that you carry more favour with a god to which you have abundantly sacrificed and prayed, but it is not a personal relationship, there is very little dialogue.

If people can take that route, may they be healthy and blessed: I'll never be able to have a chat with Poti Apollo and ask him how he thinks of things, as he is not a person and doesn't have a mother or a father, nor a friend or a lover; as those are still stories we tell to understand and for art and for politics.

A conversation about King Zeus and Queen Hera's relationship. And a narrative on why we can't read the mythos and perceive them as truth.

Come with me on a bit of a journey.

Throughout modern media and historical accounts, we see that King Zeus and Queen Hera have a marriage that can only be described as tumultuous. King Zeus, a known cheater and liar, married to Queen Hera, his sister, and the Goddess of Marriage and Fidelity. Women prayed to Queen Hera to be blessed with a Marriage unlike Her own - one of faith, one of trust. One of reciprocity.

King Zeus is depicted in mythos as being disrespectful of His Wife. In Homer's Iliad, we see several instances in which Queen Hera attempts to revolt against His word, and very quickly, She is punished or shot down. King Zeus ruled over Her with an Iron Fist, as was expected of the Patriarch of the Ancient Greek Household. Especially Kings.

Not acknowledging this fact would be negligent. The Ancient Greek Household had a very particular rule of order - especially amongst royalty. A King ruled over all, his Wife was to listen, and the children were to fall in line. This was the standard for the time.

However, times have changed. With this change, the perception of their relationship must change. In the modern era, the relationship between man and woman looks much different. At least, the ideal looks different.

The newer generation values a relationship where both parties, regardless of sex or gender, are equals. There is no distinct breadwinner, there is no distinct person who "wears the pants" unless otherwise communicated. And King Zeus and Queen Hera reflect this. I have spent plenty of time with the two of them as of late, and they are nothing like the myths depict. King Zeus speaks highly of His Wife. And the few conversations I've had with Queen Hera, She sings His praises, just as He does for her.

Now, in terms of mythology itself...

Here is how I break it down.

Let us say, for the sake of examples, you have a governing document written 400 years ago. It was written based on the ideals of the people 400 years ago, what they needed, wanted, and what they thought was best. And they never changed them. Sure, the document has been translated time and time again as the language becomes more ancient, but other than this, they don't touch it.

Now, 400 years later, in a developed society with new ideals and new ideologies based on that of the old, you have two options. You can either take the document as it is, literally with zero nuance. Or, you can look at it as a breathing document and shape it to fit the ideals of the new society you live in.

This is how people tend to look at mythology. Mythic Literalists, and Mythic Revisionists, as I'll call it. Mythic Literalists will take a work of mythology and look at it as it was written. King Zeus betrayed Queen Hera time and time again, and Queen Hera made the women He slept with face Her wrath rather than confronting King Zeus Herself. A Mythic Revivalist will take this and say that, yes, King Zeus did betray Queen Hera, and She did make other women face Her wrath. What is the allegory behind this? What is the message?

Taking Mythology at face value is what turns people against certain Gods and leads to villainization. The amount of people who turn their heads away from King Zeus due to the stigma that He's a horrible God who rules with an Iron First is astounding. They victimize other Gods like Queen Persephone and may claim She is unhappy as Queen of the Underworld. This is definitively false - both of these narratives. Which is why Mythic Revision is important to understanding the Gods in our modern day.

May I leave you with a bit of homework, so to speak. What is your favorite myth, how did you view it before, and how would you view it after the modern application of it? I look forward to hearing your points of view.

[goldsbitch]

Twelve grapes

chapter 1 -he'll be passionate...

Max is stuck at an uneventful party, a spell so bad only Charles can break it. Rage meets awkward.

words: 3k warning: alcohol mentioned, other than that nothing

Max shifts in his chair for what feels like the fiftieth time. He wishes he could be anywhere else in the world than this random apartment in Monaco, stuck in pointless conversations with useless people.

He has no idea who decided this evening’s gathering was a good idea. A comical event "F2 and F3 drivers dinner" - cheap copy of the thing F1 does. Surely they'd invited more people who were actual F1 drivers, like himself, but nobody else showed up. Max vows not to make this mistake ever again.

His mom wants him to make some friends at the paddock ("You never know when you're gonna need a friendly face"), his father would probably be the happiest if he managed to blow up the whole room ("You can't trust anyone, Max. Crush them before they crush you"). It was only recently that his mom started to have inputs into how he approached the world of racing. Confusing times. But Max knows his father is right. He isn't here to make friends.

He doesn't speak much, but he also does not listen to the conversation other are involved in.

Topics involved so far: models of Monte Carlo every team they are "talking to and it's looking promising" the latest trick their trainer taught them rent and real state prices going up (most of these people are teenagers struggling with budgets for their racing, so this was a particularly baffling topic for Max to wrap his head around)

They are all stupid. Little boys who care too much for the glam, and not enough for the work. Two of them already earned a middle finger from Max when they asked him to recommend them to F1 teams. Pathetic. He gets involved in slightly more interesting debate about the set up of F2 engines for the next seasons. Ideas to be pitched for approval. But his inputs are washed over, because one quickly gets used to having thirty engineers around all the time and where the limits of the lesser championships lie.

He knows well enough he is an anomaly. However condescending it might have sounded, nobody in that room put as much into racing as he had. It feels like visiting a kindergarten as a proud fourth grader.

The mood shifts immediately as the one and only, Charles Leclerc, waltzes in. Forever smiling, albeit a bit shyly at first. Max watches him, as he goes and makes rounds. Greats everyone, hands out smiles, like it isn't an absolute dread to spend time in the presence of these people. Max figures Charles doesn't know that he already knows. He wasn't expecting him to show up at all, when he didn't see him in the room already upon his own arrival. God boy Charles, always first everywhere, ever so polite. Where he finds the energy to do, Max will never understand. Max is at least clear about who he is. You'll get the same person on and off track. The polar opposite of whatever game the Monegasque is playing. Menace on track, annoyingly sweet in real life.

Charles is soon to be announced as an F1 driver. Christian Horner makes sure to have all the intel. One of the advice Max actually took to heart from him. Max is sure nobody in this room has any idea. Perhaps not even Charles's best friends. He feels a weird sense of pride, knowing something other people don't. Normally, he'd just pass Charles by and try to ignore him, perhaps more than he would with other people. Out of all those drivers, he was the one that Max somewhat feared. Little too fast, bit reckless and not afraid to send it in. They'd already had their fair share of battles and now he would join on the grid once again. Max had a hard time figuring out how he felt about that. This night, he felt a desperate need to let Charles know that he knows. But, he's never going to be the one approaching Charles. Even if that means not talking to him at all. Max is a proud young man. Leclerc is too, but in a different way.

"Well, look who we have here, the young talent himself," Charles greets Max with slightly sour and sarcastic undertone. Max takes it as a compliment, happy to be speared of the fake pleasantries.

He nods back at him. "Charles." Max doesn't know what else to say. The boy should be glad he used his first name anyway. Soon, they'll be rivals again. The idea of beating him on track again is thrilling.

To his surprise, Charles sits down on the empty chair next to him. "I see you got a haircut," he proclaims casually and observes Max's head a little too much to his liking. He can't help himself but run his fingers on the short pointy hairs on the side of his head. Charles chuckles and somehow manages to sip on a drink in the most condescending way known to man. "It looks ugly. I'll give you my mother's number, she'll take you in with a discount."

Max couldn't give two shits about what Leclerc thinks. He might as well call him a frog, he'll still be a better racer. And that's the only thing that matters. He spends a little too long on crafting a response.

"I imagine you'll need one soon, something more aerodynamic," he blurbs out just before Leclerc's smug breaks his face. Max is proud he did not stutter. Baby steps.

He must have understood what he's hinting at, so clumsily, but chooses not to play along. "I don't need it, I look fabulous, as always," he says and dramatically runs fingers through his hair.

"If you say so. Can't wait until we test it out on a track," Max replies and sips his beer, so that he has something to do with his hands.

Both of them know, that there will be no real fight next year. Charles will be in Sauber, or as it's often referred to - shitbox. Max is in one of the top teams. Charles stays silent for few moments, perhaps taking it in.

"Nobody knows yet. How do you know?" he asks finally, breaking his façade. Not really ready to reveal his sources, he panics and winks at the brown haired man. He follows this up by a loud gulp and a wish for this interaction to be over as soon as possible. His goal is achieved and anything beyond this point is a risky situation.

With all the audacity of the world, Charles pauses for a mere second and then laughs. "Okay, okay. I understand. You'd have to kill me if you tell me."

"Something like that," Max responds and remembers back those days when he thought that the F1 paddock was a serious place and not a literal sieve, where nothing could stay a secret for a long time. For some reason, he enjoys the fact he knows more than Leclerc. For now at least.

"I've just come back from the first photoshoot with Sauber," Charles whispers and out of nowhere whips out his phone, leans in and starts showing Max some pictures on his phone. Baffled Max does not know what do with Leclerc going so deep into his personal space. His first reaction is to pull away and shove his back.

"Mate, I don't care about your photos," he says a little too loudly and defensively. Few people glance at them, but this incident is not as attention-grabbing as one would expect. Charles, retreats and does his best to hide hints of embarrassment.

Max would never admit that it makes him feel bad. Never. "I am more interested in your test times." This time he is the one to lean in closer. Only so that others don't hear him, of course.

Charles's confidence bounces back, him seemingly recovering to his usual cocky level pretty quickly. Max remembers how great it felt when he first got his seat in F1. To be honest, he finds it surprising Charles isn't dancing on the table.

"You know I would never tell you that," he replies and only now is Max noticing that Charles is dressed in the ugly colors of his new team. He almost asks him if that is on purpose.

"Shame. Racing is the main thing. Nothing else is important to me," he hints back at the photos. Charles shoots back without missing a beat.

"Interesting. I always dreamed of being a model and I decided to go the most unconventional and impractical way," he snaps sarcastically. He stays still for a moment and then breaks into a smile. "See you on track, Verstappen," he says quietly, pats him on his shoulder, gets up and walks away to continue his rounds around the room.

Max sits and wonders why this was the most vexing interaction he had this whole evening.

It's like Leclerc has some sort of light following him everywhere he goes. Max can't help, but be hyperaware of where he is, almost all the time. He soon gets real tired of just sitting around, looking unapproachable, and decides to change his strategy for the evening. And he tries. He really does. It's looking better, he is tuning into his more chatty and fun part of personality.

That is until one of the useless F2 rookies decides to "accidentally" spill a drink on him. Quickly back where he started, annoyed Max is drying his t-shirt, dark colored stain unwilling to go away. He does not know when it happens, but suddenly, Charles is next to him once again.

"You’ve really warmed up to this party, haven’t you?" he observes Max, who is frantically trying to dry his t-shirt. It's not like he cares about clothes. He just wants to go home. The decision to finish this drink, end the conversation and finally get away is made fast.

"I'm not here to make friends, Charles," he says, shooting arrows at the guy from Sweden, who ruined his t-shirt, and has moved on on nagging someone else, finally.

Charles positively laughs. "Oh, good thing. You're terrible at it."

Should Max punch him? Is that an appropriate response? Out of nowhere, Charles, reaches for Max's hand and stops his frantic movements.

"Screw this, some people are gonna go and play darts," he hints over to the other side of the room. "Come join. You good at it?"

It comes as a natural reflex to say it. "Better than you."

Charles puts his hand on Max's bicep, making him tense up a bit. "Glad to hear that, come on then," he says as he starts dragging him away.

Max decides not to waste energy on protesting. One game and then he's gone.

Two other people are already waiting, with spare darts in their hands.

"Oh good, you found an interesting opponent," comes from one of them. Max knows him, Ralph from somewhere, with some surname and most importantly, driver in F2. The second guy, he does not know, nor does he care about getting to know him. He hears the name and immediately forgets it. He tries to avoid staring at Charles, who is working the room again, having the two guys glued at him from the moment they'd showed up. He throws around light-hearted jokes and angelic smiles. While Max is standing next to him, big stain on his chest and gripping a bottle of beer so tightly his fingers are almost numb.

"Are we here to play or is this a chat room?" he blurts out, mainly just to join the conversation really. He is unable to find any other way how apart from snarky comments.

Max watches Charles pick up a dart, his movements annoyingly casual, like this is just another photo op.

"You sure you’ve done this before?" Max mutters, arms crossed.

Charles grins. "I’m a natural at everything." He lines up the shot, pausing dramatically. "Want to make it interesting?"

Max narrows his eyes. "What did you have in mind?"

"Loser buys drinks at the next Monaco party."

"Boring," he reacts with obvious disappointment.

"Fine, what about this. The ultimate loser has to compliment the winner, here, in front of everyone. How about that?" suggests Ralph and something about the way how he pronounced the word champion makes Max twitch. It just sounds wrong.

"Fine," says Charles before anyone has time to object and throws his first dart, only just missing the bullseye. He smirks. "Not bad for a warm-up."

Max steps up, his expression unreadable. His throw hits closer to the center, and he allows himself a small, smug smile.

"Beginner’s luck," Charles says, reaching for another dart, almost forgetting there are other people involved in their game.

As the game progresses, it becomes painfully obvious that Ralph missed his calling and should have competed in darts professionally, instead of racing. And that the other guy is about as bad as one can get in darts. Max only feels challenged by Charles, in fact, he does not care how the other two do. Him and Charles are only few point from each other, every turn the other one leading.

It is frustrating to end up third, but it stings to end up behind Charles. The angelic man does not seem bothered by losing as he grins at Max when the last round is finished. They ignore the scene happening next to them, Ralph teasing the other guy and gathering a crowd to hear his compliment.

"You know, in a few years, maybe months, I’ll be your biggest problem on the grid," Max hears Charles whisper, still riding the high of beating him.

Bickering with Charles comes naturally to the Dutch driver. "Maybe once you get to drive a car that actually has all eight gears."

"Once I do, that's when you'll really need to start trying." Max knows he is right and it makes his throat tight.

Charles seems to be genuinely interest in the scene happening in front of them and Max misses the joke everyone suddenly laughs to.

"So tell me, if you had to compliment me, what would you say?" he hears Charles once again.

Max glares at him with thinly veiled ridicule before rolling his eyes.

Charles is relentless. "Come on, you'll tell me mine and I'll tell you yours..."

It is an intriguing thought, to know what this pseudo-French model-driver thinks of him. It's not like this wasn't the main thing occupying Max's brain the whole game - what in hell would he say to Charles anyway? How he admires his dedication? How nonchalantly he seems to deal with anything thrown at him? The kindness that fuels him? In the end, when he saw himself almost losing the game, he decided against anything that might embarrass himself. Playing it safe.

"You have a nice face," he blunts out, using his tone to make it sound as casual as possible. It still makes his stomach turn. He avoids looking at Charles, in order to keep his composure.

Charles chuckles, once again. "Ah, come on. That's boring. True! But boring," he shakes his head, further giving away his disapproval.

Max sighs. There is never a calm moment with this man. "Fine, what about you? What's your genius compliment?"

The man standing next to him, close enough so that nobody else hears them, stares into the crowd of people. After few moments of scanning them, he finally speaks.

"One thing that I can't shake...I think people don't give you enough credit. Everyone talks about your talent, how your dad pushed you to the limit, but I’ve seen how hard you work—like, really work. Most of us, we dream about F1, but you… you live it. You're hard on yourself, but in a weird productive way. It’s impressive. And lonely I imagine."

His words ring in Max's ears, like a song that is too loud. The fact Charles casually throws his dad into the conversation, as if that wasn't a total dealbreaker for him. The fact he dares to brush on the one feeling Max has had push down for months now.

"Soon you won't have to imagine," he says through gritted teeth, because he does not know how to deal with a compliment that actually reaches something within him.

There is a silence for a moment, Max looking for anything to fill it with, anything that would wash away the reminder of the ever-present loneliness he feels everyday. But, for second time today, Charles beats him.

"I'm nervous, Max. Excited, of course. But what, if I fuck it up, that's it. Years of work, not only mine, down the drain. I'm just...I don't know, have you ever felt like that?"

Max, already on edge, does not understand why is Charles filling him up with information he might use against him. Is he completely stupid? They are rivals. And they are going to be for a long time, Max is sure of that, more than anything. Unlike the soon-to-be-rookie driver in front of him, Max calculates his response. No matter how true and relatable he finds everything that Charles is saying. Of course he knows what that feels like. He does not have it in his heart to reveal that this fear does not go away with time. There are two things he decides to tell him. Giving out as much sincere advice as his brain allows him.

"Firstly. Don't ever tell any other driver, especially your teammate that. They will, and trust me, use it against you. Clear on that?" he scolds him like a school boy, but tries to keep it kind. Not like when his father was giving out advice. Charles seems to understand, biting his cheek nervously.

"Are you going to do that?" he asks without blinking.

Max does not have to think twice. Almost finds it insulting that Charles would suggest that. "No. I can beat you on track, I don't need politics."

This answer seems to satisfy Charles. "Deal," he says, implying he is not going to lower to that himself when he has the chance one day. Max finds it hilarious that he would immediately think of that. But also a bit calming. If there is one thing he hates about F1, it's the gray morality behind closed doors.

He continues, before it gets awkward. "Secondly. No, I don't think that. I am good, really good. Doubting myself will not lead to winning."

If there ever was a time Max has told a big, fat lie, it was this one. There are days where he walks around the factory, thinking they'd hired him by accident. Moments, when he fucks up so bad, he actually fears Helmut Marko's disappointed sighs. But he has to defend from Charles, who seems to somehow see through him more than other people. There is a glint in Charles's eyes, a strange spark max does not how to decipher.

"Got it" Charles finished their debate, his unreadable expression staying on. Right after he speaks, some random guy decides to interrupt their conversation. Max takes this as an opportunity to finally call it a day. He leaves with a stained shirt and a cloudy mind.

chapter 2

[mochimochimona]

Rewatching Arcane Only For Viktor and Jayce, analyzing for storytelling purposes as an artist* -S1 EP:4 or Viktors staring is sus

I loved that scene, where Jayce firstly implies Viktor to keep sitting so he doesn't need to crawl up and also for taking the blame completly.

A little disclaimer here because it might be confusing why I am doing this analyzis (?)...sss english is not my native language sorry - so I am an artist and Arcane is a huge inspiration for me and I wondered what the animators did to imply Jayce and Viktor being really close to each other, even having feelings for each other. And I do get the impression Viktor always had feelings for Jayce because he acts different in a lot of interactions with him. Body language is also an implication, so I will take a closer look on that as well. So I am going through scenes of them together and asking myself what makes me think they wanted to imply something more than lab partners, what makes me think that and HOW I would have done it differently to AVOID that. Also I want to know if I misinterpreted Jayce's behavior and read too much into it. So, here we go. It's actually part #3 already, I will put a post on tumblr with all of my guesses later. If you wanna share your thoughts, please do so!

Knowing what will happen and how sick Viktor gets, seeing it (really, seeing it because I can pay attention) and Jayce not noticing because he is so caught up in playing political figure hurts. Really hurts. And also I am sure now that Mel used Jayce most of the time to get what she wants (not in an evil way, honestly, she does take a liking to him later one, but I will say not as much as we get the feeling Jayce and Viktor care for each other) and she makes advances to Jayce, using his insecurity and jearning for acknoledgment.

I mean how can Jayce not tell that Viktor is immensly sick? I mean those two were working their asses of in the lab I get that, but I think it started right then and there that Jayce lost their dream, really, and the fact that Viktor is his best buddie (or whatever) and it got worse after he holds the speech.

And Viktor is clearly more devastated, which might even shocked Jayce too, than Jayce was, I mean the reaction:

Jayce really was surprised Viktor was so desperate. Viktor knew he was gonna die sooner or later so I think he thought with studying hextech he might find a cure for himself in the process. He didn't touch him, though, so Viktor wasn't shy, just shocked.

This scene made me laugh and choke, I have flashbacks of Jayce being in the Future but instead of seeing Mel and Viktor through the fire, we see him. Interesting choice to make the appearance of Jayce like that. Is that...is that foreshadowing again???? This makes my brain hurt.

Why am I doing this to myself again?

LOOK HOW HE LOOKS. WHY IS NO ONE ADRESSING THIS. Why am I doing this to myself, SEND HELP? Viktor was confidently asking "where have you been, they asked me to do the speech (or whatever)" but when Jayce touched him, said they were partners, he got a bit shy and even stuttered a bit. Okay so IF you are fine with your homie....anyway, the next thing:

"Not in front of" - there is a pause, his look:

"...all of them" and then THE STARE. Why would you do that? I am an artist myself and when it comes to visual storytelling, I am always asking myself what I want to tell people with frames and panels (if you make comics), so I am really wondering from a storytelling point of view: what did they wanted to make a point about? Apart from highlighting Viktor in this situation, to imply that he isn't comfortable in speaking to others okay. But his pause. Looking at Jayce...?

Because clearly Viktor is staring. Honestly, if they didn't want to make it read as longing, or something similiar/else, you would have took a different shot after he told "not for all of them", because if you did that, you wouldn't imply that he would have done it maybe in front of everyone, but not with Jayce staying there because it made him nervous being in front of him. ALSO really important thing I noticed here: when he interacts with Jayce in close proximity and out of context of research, he gets shy but he usually is a confident person.

And again, you could have approached Viktor not wanting to perform in front of a huge audience differently, if your only goal was to make that clear. Ya know, him being touched by Jayce on the shoulder, saying "You are my partner" and keeping a wide shot, making him gesticulate that he isn't comfortable, "in front of all those people" (he would do it in front of Jayce though). DOES ANYONE GETS WHAT I MEAN?

Still staring, or paying a lot of close attention to your lab partner.

And then he says "you - pause", AGAIN WITH THE CLOSE SHOT. I HOPE for the love of god that some people from the Studio will be at the Art Department in Berlin because I really want to ask about this. And I hope I won't get spooked so I ask lol. Because that's really what is interesting about this.

And then comes a really interesting thing, I guess. Sky approaches and she looks at Viktor. A short, acknowledging look from Viktor and he gets back to Jayce. So I was wondering why they made the shot like that again and showing she has interest in Viktor, but Viktor is just respectful.

And right back to Jayce but the next shot is a perfect masterpiece, I laughed so hard.

Replacing Vikor with the mug, where Jayces "Man of Progress" can be seen is, again, peak foreshadowing and storytelling. Again, you could have showed it differently, but every scene has a message and wants to convey something, so this is an important shot. Man, these guys from Fortiche are madmen. Stopping here or the post will get too long.

[bloopitynoot]

Reading TGCF: Chapter Ten

For those who don't know, I am reading TGCF for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag Bloopitynoot reads TGCF. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read BUT if you followed along with my SVSSS read, the rules and vibe are the same.

I truly wish I could say this was a different tea, but from now on unless I state otherwise it's probably masala chai.

Body update: I feel less like trash than yesterday, but my right arm did take a hit LOL. Thankfully my hip is doing a lot better too so sitting is much better. (I'm not even a writer or specifically a writer on ao3, yet, it feels like I have the ao3 curse).

Nevertheless- onwards to chapter ten!

Immediately Xie Lian is here using his body to protect San Lang! You tell Fu Yao! p329

I should have waited one more sentence LOL. "Because...if I stand next to him, the snakes wont come". p329

omg. There is a 6th person in the pit and I am still not sold that that kid (a-zhao) is actually dead. I'm still thinking about the garden face man and what he was saying. p331

WTF- General Pei jr?? p333

okay! But now I need to know General Pei jr.'s motivation for destroying a whole city! p335

ofc Xie Lian knew General Pei jr from when he was General Hua. Who does this man not accidentally know? p336

Jeeze. Banyue's people were going to strap bombs to themselves if they lost. This is wild. Based on the history between the two warring countries I really don't think there was hope for a peaceful end. pp337-338

Oh yay! we finally get to meet the two cultivators from the street! Also that art is absolutely stunning, I love them both so much. I do hope we meet them again. pp341-343

Oh no! The entire time they have been running from her (The Wind Master) thinking she was evil as shit but she was actually trying to help them. p343

Dang this makes sense. General Pei jr couldn't just murder people directly because of his position. So, instead he lured them to their deaths (snake deaths, pit deaths, but definitely not him killing them technically!). This is some dictatorship misuse of power shit with full technical deniability for this guy. Gross. p345

Xie Lian had me suspicious about the wind master too, but thank fuck Banyue was let go for her good deeds. p347

Bro just wants to do the right and good things but heavenly politics are too much. He is definitely going to offend everyone at some point. p350

Whos cutting onions?? My heart at this small child who decided they would be building Xie Lian a large temple when they got home :'3 I'm totally normal about this. p352

The speed in which Nan Feng fled when Xie Lian offered to make food LOOOL Nan Feng: oh no, so sorry, my basement is on fire, and flooded, definitely need to leave right at this moment. Terribly tragic. p353

eeeeeeeeeeeeeep! "I still prefer the name 'San Lang'" p354

ONE CHAPTER LEFT!

Now the question is, how will mxtx ruin my life in the last chapter of this book?

I do own book 2, BUT I think tomorrow I will order the third in celebration of finishing book 1. I might do this the last chapter of each book to prep for more reads.

[choking-on-ice]

exactly 1 person asked, so here's 30 minutes worth of reasons why Silco x Viktor is my Arcane OTP and more people should open themselves to it's glory

and yes, I did format it a little like an oral presentation, what of it

General Compatibility

Both of them have a dry wit and unique outlook on life

People who don't know them well might find them very blasé but in truth they're both very caring and passionate people

Their banter would be top tier, frankly it's hard to picture anyone would be able to match Viktor’s quips as well as Silco could (Jayce understands the jokes and teasing ofc, but I just don't see him being able to bounce back the same energy. Though Mel could probably keep up just as well as Silco, but in a more light hearted way)

Silco wouldn't struggle with pitying or underestimating Viktor for his disability, nor would he ignore it and be all “it doesn't matter, it's what makes you, you” (as a disabled crutch user, ppl pretending ur disability doesn't exist and just expecting you to act able bodied is wayyy more common than people being over the top “worried”)

Viktor would very much be the angel on Silco’s shoulder, while Silco would be a bit of the devil on his

Silco is arguably the angel on other people's shoulders at times, given that he gives ppl who would be in senseless gang wars a real goal and drive towards progress for Zaun

Viktor could be considered the devil on Jayce’s shoulder sometimes, tempting him to push against authority for sake of technological advancement

Silco needs someone who has the mind for tech, strategy, politics, and philosophy at his side, since he's in a position of power with no advisors

Viktor needs someone who values him for his mind, body, and heart, but also his background. He's seen as “one of the good ones” and this never really gets a seat at the table, he needs someone who genuinely trusts in his input that would put his advice to work

They're both men of action, sitting on their hands and twiddling their thumbs doesn't suit them. There wouldn't be a “will they won't they” and the chances of them getting together in the spur of the moment only to realize there are real feelings there much later are pretty high

Similarities

Disabled men from the undercity who are driven by their desire to prevent anyone else from having to suffer the way they have at the hands of a corrupt system (in a non "gotta cure all the poor cripples way" cuz that shit is as uninspired as it is insulting)

Have dedicated their life to improving the living conditions of their people

Very intelligent and clearly brilliant in their professions, despite how different they may be

Both their altruistic goals come to ruin because power, whether they wanted that power or not, blinded and corrupted those goals

Impulsive as hell, Silco in his personal life but Viktor in his personal and professional

Differences

Silco is disillusioned and doesn't see a path to freedom for his people that doesn't involve bloodshed

Viktor is an idealist who might understand the necessity for violence in certain instances but would never seek, encourage, or enact it

Silco is a strategist, and a very good one at that, who uses the genius of others to gain and hold power via technology

Viktor is an inventor, and the most brilliant one we see in their world, who yes pushes boundaries of authority but never seeks power over others (from his perspective, his Messiah era was meant to be a chance at freedom for people who had been denied it, not authority over them)

Viktor is deeply trusting, he doesn't plot or scheme and barely ever lies

Silco trusts very little, we even his moment of doubt that Sevika might kill him that one time, his greatest skill is his ability to scheme and cheat others

Viktor doesn't believe in “the sacrifice of the few to save the many” but would commit the personal sacrifice of those he holds most dear to achieve his dream of helping Zaun and the world

Silco does believe that the death of a hundred to save a thousand is worth it, but he would never allow a personal sacrifice of the person he holds most dear even when it would mean Zaun becoming a free nation

Potential Dynamics

Disappointed Leader and Follower

Silco thinks Viktor is a class traitor, who abandoned his people as soon as the wealthy Pilties showed him an ounce of approval

Viktor thinks Silco is brilliant, and was an eager follower of his when he was younger, but now thinks he's abandoned his goals of freeing Zaun from Piltover and is just replacing the subjection of their people by Pilties with his own.

As they get to know eachother they come to understand better that their goals are the same, the only difference is how the world allowed them the chance to pursue it.

Is this fighting or making out?

Silco likes the power of putting “Piltover’s Brightest” in his place

Viktor is even more stubborn than he is smart, and maybe has a bit of a thing for humiliation

Who's worshipping who?

Silco is in secret awe of enlightened Viktor, but is overwhelmed by the idea of putting his hope and heart in someone else's control

Viktor is putty in the hands of his childhood hero, but can't shake the feeling that even now with the Arcane flowing through him, he isn't strong enough to stay afloat in the storm that is Silco

(Would happen in a version where Silco is revived by Viktor, but in this one the ppl saved by Viktor retain their personalities)

Scenarios / AUs

Early enlightenment Viktor being sought out by Silco who at first is worried about him being a threat, but then seeing the vision Viktor has for Zaun and the things he's capable of deciding he is an asset. Silco providing protectors of their sanctuary, under the guise that he’s “planning how to use Viktor as a pawn” when in reality this commune is the first sign of hope he's seen for Zaun in a long time.

Viktor seeking out shimmer from Silco, because he recognizes the ingenuity behind the drug even if he doesn't approve of it. Silco distrusts him and will only sell to him if he conducts his experiments on it down in the undercity. Viktor starts pulling double duty, working both in Piltover and in Zaun and they become closer and begin to collaborate on the creation and distribution of a new strain of shimmer, not meant to be used as a recreational drug but instead as an affordable, accessible medication for those affected by the toxic fumes from the mines. Viktor is reminded of his roots, and realizes how distant from his culture he's become. Silco is reminded that his dream for Zaun doesn't mean anything if the generation of those he wants to build it for are dead. (Also a great opportunity for some Jayce/Viktor Silco/Viktor love triangle jealousy nonsense hehehe)

Silco succeeds in his negotiations for Zaun freedom before he can become a chembaron, Viktor ends up becoming an ambassador for Zaun. Specifically dealing with education and technology as Zaun would have limited resources, so he is one of the people overseeing the building of the educational system and helping to fix the pollution from the mines with Hextech (he and Jayce would obviously be able to recreate Hextech, but the existence of a free Zaun means that the property of it is shared by both nations)

Viktor loses his benefactor when they discover something from his past that the Pilties deem “unfit of an Academy member” and must return to the fissures, this time as the right hand man of Silco who would never be stupid enough to let his talents go to waste.

Silco replaces Sky as Viktor's astral guide (because let's be real Sky was just thrown in there bc Arcane was queerbaiting the fuck outta Jayce and Viktor for some reason so they needed a random woman who had barely ever spoken on screen before) and their astral conversations go a little differently

Honourable mentions to: Viktor doing that shimmer painting stuff for Silco or vice versa, Speakeasy AU where there's a Zaunite run speakeasy topside that both Viktor and Silco frequent, Altered Timeline AU where Viktor seeks Silco out just before he becomes a chembaron to bring him to the Council as a temp member while they consider his proposition for Zaun's independance, Viktor must form an allyship with Silco so he can work on reducing the toxic gases in the fissures without being arrested by enforcers as he's going against council orders, or being killed by the other chembaron who runs that section of the city, Viktor joins the Firelights after Jayce threatens war on Zaun and begins brokering deals with other smaller gangs until Silco hears word and is interested in forming an alliance.

I hope you enjoyed this ted talk, please feel free to share with your friends and to tag me in any fanart / fanfics you see out there because I'm rabid for these fellas

thank you @orionchildofhades for the opportunity to go apeshit on main about these two

And big shout out to @blueberrymffn who's fanfiction The Things We Do For Progress got me hooked on this ship

[russenoire]

this. also:

i keep forgetting how good the voice acting is in english (because i rarely watch the dub *cries*. i can't practice japanese listening with it). this moment is just as good in the original japanese; shigeo is surprisingly polite here:

モブ：「逃げて！みんな、逃げて！」

霊幻：「モブ！ 」

エクボ：「生きてたか！」

モブ：「あの人は力を出し過ぎて自滅しました！」 自滅（する）〖じめつ〗　self-destruction. kanji here are literal AF: 'self' + 'destroy'.

霊幻：「大出血じゃねえか！」 出血（する）〖しゅっけつ〗　bleeding, haemorrhaging; the component kanji here are also very literal ('exit, come out' + 'blood'). the 大 (だい) prefix emphasizes just how much shigeo's bleeding here.

モブ：「師匠。逃げてください！」

I think this is my #1 favorite Reigen moment of all time.

The exchange, albeit short, is so perfectly reminiscent of their characters. The way Mob was very clearly fleeing from a giant wall of explosive energy that’s approaching them extremely quickly screaming, “RUN!!!! RUN AWAY!!!!!!” but Reigen wasn’t even really listening to him until Mob used his angry teacher voice because he was too distracted by whether or not Mob was okay.

*voice cracking* “IT’S MOB!!!! LOOK!!!!”

“He ended up releasing too much energy and self-destructed—“

*very clearly not paying attention* “YOU’RE BLEEDING LIKE CRAZY!!!”

“MASTER. YOU NEED TO RUN.”

It’s very funny and also very cute. An entire explosion is about to go off a half-mile away in T-minus 9 seconds and Reigen is like “oh my fucjing god your arm. it’s bleeding.” Like YEAH. BUT MUCH MORE IMPORTANTLY:

[hauntingblue]

Rewatching act 2.... yeah ISHA WATCH OUT FOR THE CYCLE ISHA!!!!! NOOOOO

[vaguely-concerned]

I've been trying to figure out a dynamic between neve and rye that I find more compelling, because right now there's not much of anything there for me to sink my little teeth into. but I think I've landed on something delicious with the idea that especially after minrathous gets fucked, rye looks at neve and sees myrna -- someone he feels he keeps letting down horribly no matter how hard he tries not to and can't quite achieve the approval of/connection with that he wishes so it's better to just pull away completely and disengage rather than stay in that unshifting shame. neve is (very understandably) measured and distant with him after what happened, and he's flashing back to his student days of myrna gazing at the perpetually hungover heartbroken heap of a person of him on the other side of her desk every time he missed the deadline of a paper or project like '...can we at least both agree that this is. a bit disappointing. especially considering your potential.' (and him all smudged black eyeshadow and numb ruefulness being like 'sure that's a very kind way to put it myrna thank you'.)

aside from the 'if I let him get too deeply into this he'll go the way of brom and it'll be all my fault (again)' element, neve thinks rye is dismissing her and her city/being a bit callous in the same way he was after varric's death (listen. how fucking wild must rook's reaction to losing a beloved mentor seem to the rest of the crew who aren't seeing the blood magic paper doll ghost varric the whole time, especially those who got to see them interact. you WOULD think 'there's something wrong with this guy. putting the job first is one thing just not seeming to react at all is another this is fucking freaky', wouldn't you, especially after seeing the warmth in that dynamic in action beforehand.) perfect storm of two people who grit their teeth and turn inwards in pain deciding that not talking about it is their best bet (NEWSFLASH: IT ISN'T) lmao

(rye spent his last year of watcher training on a mostly joyless bender and then got it together enough to finish the eternal orb project last moment in a fevered near-sleepless week instead of the half a year that was intended. emmrich is both astounded and distressed to hear this. "a week? but -- but that is an astounding accomplishment rook!! and also why in the maker's good light would you ever do that to yourself?" ("well you see there was no one to stop me from doing it like that but me. and under those conditions these things tend to happen".) rye was working through/looking up stuff around transitioning and doing every kind of OTHER high level watcher research through that whole time, but ultimately he's an excellent watcher and a terrible student, at least under traditional methods. adhd from here to the fucking moon. touched by something akin to divine inspiration in moments of high tension that pulls all the threads into one coherent unbreakable cord, a bit of a frayed mess in most other settings. in our world he'd be dropping out of a masters program at the very last hurdle in this moment maker bless and protect him)

[nyan-bynary]

I'm gonna have to wait out a few weeks to be able to complain about jjk's ending bc rn half the ppl are bashing everyone who expected more as ppl who just wanted gojo back

[hirokiyuu]

look at my alternate yuu concept boy

[street-corner-felines]

Zero Day Director commentary - With actor Andre Keuck

[todayisafridaynight]

Since you mentioned it, what did you think of Speak No Evil? I was thinking of watching it myself :0

i really liked it ............ my friend scoffed at me when i told her i was watchin it so take my opinion with a grain of salt tho </3

[tonycries]

A Million Dollar Baby! - N.K.

Synopsis. Turns out, rent can be paid in much more than one way.

Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, landlord! Nanami (kinda), oraI (male + fem), cúmplay, reader’s a tease, unprotected, creampíe, down bad FERAL Nanami, spítting, bréeding, messing up his glasses, pantý-stealing, he’s sweet but fúcks so MEAN, mentions of Higuruma, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.8k (wild)

A/N. Decided it was high time I feed my Nanami girlies hehe.

“Just get the money and go.” Nanami deadpans, like a mantra. Giving a rapt knock on your apartment door, “I swear m’making him buy me lunch for this.”

Now, it wasn’t that Nanami was exactly upset about taking over Higuruma’s landlord duties for the day - no, in fact, he was the first one at his friend’s door with a bag of prescription medicine for the other man’s fever and the suggestion to take the day off.

But it was the thought of finally coming face-to-face with you - that mysterious new tenant that’d just moved into his building. The one that had Nanami wondering whether you were really as “sugary sweet n’ irresistible” as Higuruma raved you were. 

Though, he can’t imagine you’d be particularly happy about being woken up at 10am on a Sunday for overdue rent - he certainly wasn’t.

Seriously, he had no idea how Higuruma managed to do this every-

Click!

“Higu- you’re not Higuruma.”

Oh, and suddenly, Nanami gets it.

If he got to see this view, too, then he might just become the landlord himself.

It’s as if you knew you’d be playing with his sanity as soon as you opened that door, dressed in a fitted t-shirt that did absolutely everything to show off every bit of skin he shouldn’t be looking at. Your lips curving into a sinful little smirk when you notice his eyes dancing off that excuse of fabric you call “shorts”.

“Um…” you hum, after a few moments of silence. Leaning against your wooden door frame to give the tall man an appreciative one-over, “Nanami, right? You’re Higuruma’s friend?”

It’s as if the sound of his own name jolts Nanami right back into his senses, clearing his throat as he readjusts his glasses. “Y-yes. Nanami Kento.” And he winces, fuck he’s never stuttered like this. Never, even in the toughest of board meetings. Yet, here he was - making a fool out of himself. 

Knowing he’s completely fucked when your delicious grin only widens, he bows politely, “Apologies for barging in like this, ma’am. But Higuruma’s sick n’ m’here to collect the rent in his place.”

You wave off his formality, introducing yourself. “Ah, of course. I’ve seen you around, always been too nervous to come up and say hello, though.”

And, suddenly, Nanami’s glad you never came up to him to talk out of your own volition, he thinks he’s rather put off embarrassing himself for later. Coughing softly, “I apologize, s’my fault. It was rude of me to not introduce myself first.”

“Well, better late than never, right?” you continue in your smooth tone. Before your eyes catch down his broad shoulders, the bob of his Adam’s apple, the clipboard held between his long, long fingers. “Right- the overdue rent. I swear, Higuruma’s always such a sweetheart, he doesn’t bother to remind me.” Opening your door wider to give Nanami a good look inside your cozy apartment - something forbidden. “Come in come in, I seem to have lost my wallet somewhere in here though, maybe you can help me find it.”

Oh? 

And Nanami knows this is dangerous. He knows this is much more than his simple plan earlier of just “get the money and go”. He knows that little glint in your eye certainly does not bode well for him as soon as he steps through that door. 

Yet, he answers anyway, “Of course, lead the way.”

Every bit of small talk in your sultry voice has Nanami gulping, loosening his favorite yellow tie while he follows you inside. Averting his eyes from the curve of your shorts, he takes in the neat state of your apartment. 

That is, until-

“Here we are.” you lead him to a towering pile of clothes piled unceremoniously on your tv room couch. Gesturing airily at the mess, “I’m sure I left my wallet in one of my pants, so you can just sit here until I-”

“I’ll do it.” Nanami’s quick answer stuns the both of you momentarily. But before you can resist, he’s shrugging off his jacket, ignoring the heat of your gaze when he bunches up his sleeves to reveal strong, veined forearms. “It’s only fair, since m’bothering you so early.”

You chuckle, “Oh? What a gentleman, we can do it together then, handsome.”

So here he was - sat on your cramped couch, your thighs flush against his, tackling your laundry. This was definitely a far cry from getting the rent and leaving - but, alas, Nanami can’t find it in himself to complain when he neatly folds up your clothes. 

Whereas you were hastily throwing them god-knows-where, hissing, “Where- is it-” 

“Patience.” he’s humming, placing another t-shirt on your coffee table. “Higuruma’s in no hurry, he can barely get out of bed right now.”

You click your tongue in frustration, “But you, Nanami-”

“-are perfectly fine helping you out.” Nanami cuts in, flashing you a gentle smile. Your eyes widen at the sight of a soft dimple at the corner of it. Which makes him tear his gaze from that pretty pout on your lips to turn back to his dwindling half of the pile, “Besides, it would be a shame if such a nice apartment was messed up by- by-”

Fuck. 

Was that what he thought it was?

His fingers tremble, looking so fucking big wrapped around that those tiny strings of hot pink. Sinful. Obscene. Shit, if he tried he could just rip it to pieces with his bare hands right now - even if you’d been wearing it.

“Hm?” you’re gasping at the sight of the man before you, body stiff, ears a guilty red, gaze hardening at where he was holding onto one of your panties. Oh, shit. You pluck the offending piece of material from his hands, “Oh- whoops. Um- that can’t really be folded.” Throwing a wink at the flustered man - and the lingerie right back at him. “Evidently.”

It was all too much for Nanami, and he’s bringing a hand up to cover his blush - before ripping it off like it burned when he realized it was the same hand he held your panties with. 

Somehow, he manages to choke out, “Maybe- maybe we should try looking somewhere else.”

And it was true - the few messy clothes now leftover (and…Nanami couldn’t forget, your underwear) didn’t show any signs of hiding your wallet. 

“If you say so~” you muse, getting up from your seat - only to get down on your knees. Right in front of Nanami’s manspread legs. 

“Wh-what are you-”

“Under the couch.” you interrupt, enjoying this way too fucking much for the poor man’s sanity as you flash him a cheeky grin. And he smacks himself mentally for letting his imagination be toyed by your teasing whims. “I might’ve dropped it under the couch, so won’t you be a dear and help lift it while I look?”

He couldn’t get up fast enough, almost stumbling over his long legs to crouch down beside you - just anywhere away from this scandalous position. “Ready?” Nanami rasps, biceps bulging tight against his button-up when he easily tilts over your couch. 

“More than.” you take a second longer to admire him before going back to your mission.

Which - whatever’s left of the rational part of Nanami’s brain really thinks might just be to drive him insane instead finding that fucking- what was it- wallet? 

“Hmmm seems it’s not here either, right, Ken?” He doesn’t know what he’s reeling at more - the fact that you used his first fucking name or the way you were arched so teasingly like that. On your knees, spine curving into a delicious little bend that has the crotch of his pants growing just a bit tighter. And- shit he was wrong. So, so wrong. Because those weren’t a sinful pair of shorts like he’d initially thought after all, instead, they were more like underwear. Flimsy and thin, bunching up perfectly at the crease of your hips. 

You were captivating. 

At his heavy silence, you bat your lashes so deceivingly innocently, “Oh? Was it the name? Sorry, Nanami, you’ve just helped me so much that it ah- slipped out. I won’t do it again.”

“No.” he grits out, the both of you surprised by the ragged hitch in his answer. Already so disgustingly missing the sound of his first name rolling off your tongue. “I’d like it if you called me that- ‘Ken’ that is, if you want.”

“Well then, Ken.” you brush up unnecessarily against his sculpted body as you move to get up and dust yourself down. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my wallet’s not down there.”

Shit, he thinks, looking down at the empty spot of carpeted floor for the first time. You little tease, you knew what you were doing. 

Grinning unabashedly as you tug on his arm, “Come on! There’s one more place to look.”

As you pulled him along to the kitchen, Nanami had held out the hope that maybe - just maybe - this would be an actual attempt at finally paying off your overdue rent. Maybe he could walk out of this unscathed and holding onto whatever’s left of his dignity (and lacking the raging boner that was threatening against his slacks right now).

But every feeble hope of that was thrown out the window the moment you instructed him to hold the rickety, certainly unsafe chair propped up in front of your counter steady. 

“I swear I must’ve left it somewhere up there.” you grumble. Not wasting a moment before climbing onto it and rifling on top of your high cabinets. “No harm in trying, right?”

He gulps, palms getting sweaty on the wooden back of the chair with the effort to keep it still. “Are you sure you left it on top of there?”

“Huh? Yes yes, of course.” you answer absentmindedly. Your shirt snagging on your arms as you raise them even higher, “Think you can see something from down there?”

If Nanami could see the top of your shelves, then he didn’t want to find out - not when one glance upwards blessed him with a forbidden glimpse right up your t-shirt. All it took was a flash of skin before he was hit with the realization that you weren’t wearing a bra. 

“Ken~”

“Fuck!” he breathes, when he looks up involuntarily at the sound of his name. Face burning when you raise a brow, “U-um, m’not sure.” 

Yeah, he sure could see something - hell, he wanted to see more. 

He urgently swipes at the sweat slowly beading at his forehead, immediately regretting his actions when the chair tips ever-so-slightly. “Shit, I apologize, n’ I also apologize for what I’m about to do-” He gasps over your soft yelp, before wrapping two warm hands around the small of your waist. Searing. Soft. Planting you softly on the firm floor like some lil’ ragdoll, “-but I can’t let you put yourself in danger this way.”

Before you know it, you’re back in the safety of the ground. Stood right in front of a determined Nanami as he cranes his head up in your stuffy kitchen, backed up against the counter as he takes over looking for your wallet. 

“Let me, instead.” he grunts. 

But oh even with how genius he thought it was to look instead - even with how he stopped himself from looking at that sinful little slice of heaven - Nanami Kento had another problem. 

A problem that presented itself in the way that your body was pressed flush against his muscled chest, two of your thighs straddling his thick ones. Caged perfectly against him, exactly in the way he shouldn’t have been imagining - but did, anyway. And shit if he angled his body just right he could feel the heat of your core - the way your eager front was drawing in closer. 

“Ah-” he grunts when your soft palm glides lightly across his pecs. Jaw clenching while he tries to blink his hazy eyes back into the glaringly empty top of your cabinets, “My apologies, seems uh- your wallet isn’t- here-” 

Each word is wrenching out of his pretty, worry-bitten lips, a ragged gasp with every accidental brush of the pads of your fingers at the hem of his tight pants. 

“It isn’t there, hm?” you purr, a low honeyed tone that has all the blood in Nanami’s body rushing to his fat cock. “Well what do you suppose we do about that, Ken? Since I can’t pay the rent?”

Nanami doesn’t know whether you’re talking about the rent or that massive tent in his pants he really couldn’t explain away. Instead, he spits, “You knew what you were hah- doing, didn’t you, you lil’ minx? You don’t have your fuckin’ wallet here.”

And the air is so thick, so heady that he can only bring himself to pull away mere millimeters from where he was hovering near your face. 

But even that was too much - and in a split-second, you have your deft fingers wrapped tightly around his speckled tie. “And if I did?” Pulling close enough to ghost your lips against his, “You’re smart, Ken. So m’asking once again, what do you suppose we do about that?”

As if to draw out the answer from him, you’re giving a long, hard drag of your hot cunt along the outline of his swollen cock. You could almost feel every throb and nudge of his veins along the side, and it made you salivate.

“I suppose…” he answers, guttural, like some dark, primal part of himself is peaking its head out with each hot breath fanning your face. A large hand coming up to squish your cheeks into a pretty pout, pursing your lips perfectly for him. “That you hit me if you don’t like this, darling.”

And fuck for all how much of a gentleman Nanami acted - he kissed the exact opposite. All but ruining your lips in such a messy clash of teeth and tongue and him. Devouring you. 

“Fuck- shoulda known.” he’s letting out a humorless laugh, swiping his tongue across your glossy lower lips. “Should’ve known when you invited me in. Such a tease.” Drinking in your breathless moans, sucking on your tongue, “Such a- ngh- horny lil’ thing. This what you wanted all along?”

You hum into the kiss so drunk, “Maybe.” Dancing your hands all across where his toned muscles were fighting against the restraints of his shirt, “But you really can’t blame me.”

And maybe it was true - maybe this was inevitable. Either way, Nanami didn’t know, nor did he really care - not when you were letting out such sweet gasps when he bites down on your bottom lip - just a little punishment. Kissing his way down your heated skin, giving a languid lick at where he suspected that secret sensitive spot on your neck would be. 

“Oh! Ken.” you moan. Bingo. 

He’s unbuttoned his shirt now - or maybe it was you. Fuck, either way you couldn’t tear your eyes off of his pretty washboard abs. Curving and dipping like he was sculpted meticulously. 

And that’s all it takes for your already-dripping cunt to grow impossibly wetter, and he could feel it leaking through those flimsy cotton shorts of yours. Forming a messy sheen right at that damp spot of precum on his pants.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet, my love.” Nanami murmurs, swiping a thumb down that sopping wet slit of yours through your shorts. Just marveling at the way that simple touch makes another wave of your sweet sweet juices bead through the fabric. “Hah, absolutely dripping. This all f’me?”

At your half-delirious nod, he flashes you a smile so handsome that it only makes you squirm more impatiently. “How sweet.” Giving your nose a chaste peck, “So good to me. So needy.”

“You’re the same, though.” you accuse, hotly.

And it’s true - Nanami couldn’t deny the aching need of his cock, the way he all but moans in response, “Then tell me- hngh tell me what you want. I’ll give you- anything-” Managing to get out through hot, sloppy kisses planted right on your wobbly lips, “-anything.”

But, ah, you always did manage to surprise him. And instead of an answer, you’re getting right down on your knees in front of him like you did not too long ago - though, this time, you’re reaching up to fumble with his belt. 

“Wan’ taste you.” you huff when his expensive notches prove too stubborn. “Wan’ feel you in my mouth so bad, Ken.” 

“Oh yeah?” he chuckles darkly, easily loosening his belt and his pants along with it. Rock-hard cock sensitive and just smearing a pool of precum where his fat head springs up to hit your lips. Such a pretty shade of gloss. Nanami laces his hand on your scalp to guide you forwards, slowly, “Then take it. Take it f’me, pretty.”

He was so pretty that you possibly couldn’t not - a delicate blushing red at his very tip, glistening and absolutely soaked in precum down the long path to his creamy base, his heavy balls. So girthy that it made your cunt clench in anticipation.

And then there’s no more talking. Hell, you barely get enough time to admire Nanami’s massive cock before he’s bullying it between your lips. Wetting his thick, angry tip with your saliva, just enough to eye down at the way your lips bulge so prettily around him. 

“Gonna hafta open w-wider if you wanna take me, pretty. Open hah- yeah jus’ like that.” He’s reeling your head back, all the way till you were just kissing at his thick, angry tip. “Now spit on it, my love.”

Despite being the one to say it, Nanami’s mouth drops into a fucked-out little oh! of disbelief when you’re readily decorating his swollen length with a steady stream of spit. Your soft palms smearing the saliva along his length. 

You’re slurring, “After all, I still haven’t found my wallet, right?”

And oh he doesn’t even have to ask for what comes next - doesn’t even have to make a noise. 

Immediately, you take him in inch by fucking inch. The deliciously salty twang taking over your senses, and he’s so hot and heavy over your tongue. Veins pulsing in a dizzyingly throb! throb! throb! against the roof of your mouth.

“Are you- are you sure you can-” You shut up his doubts by rubbing your hot tongue along every sensitive ridge you could reach. Bobbing your head at a quick, ruthless little pace to milk his pretty cock for all he’s worth. 

Nanami’s eyes roll to the back of his head. Was this what heaven felt like? 

“F-fuuuck, oh you-” his words are catching in his throat with each flick of the tip of your tongue against his sensitive slit. Just the way he liked it. “-ngh guess that sharp mouth of yours wasn’t just hah- good for teasing, huh?”

He’s running his mouth a mile a minute - the complete opposite of the reserved man that’d come knocking on your door. Hips grinding up into your warm tongue mindlessly, slow. Languid - like he didn’t even realize what he was doing. “Oh you feel so heavenly- so fuckin’ good it should be illegal.”

You can’t help but bat your teary eyes up at him in response, blinking away the lustful haze to drink in that utterly obscene sight above you. Nanami’s neat, blond hair uncharacteristically disheveled, stray strands sticking to his furrowed brow. Only deepening with each wrecked sigh that leaves his plump lips every time his abs flex with the movement of his fat head hitting the gummy back of your throat. 

He looks so pretty it makes you moan. 

Those electric vibrations going all the way down that wet divot on the tip of Nanami’s painfully hard cock to his heavy balls. 

“Oh shit- shit shit shit feels too good.” his words are slurring together, drunk off the way you gag around him. “Don’t do that don’t-” This only makes you drag your sloppy mouth down him deeper, syrupy moans sticking to

him all the while. 

“Fuck!” Nanami shudders. And he’s pulling you down - hard - barely letting you get a feverish little breath out until your nose is hitting the neat patch of blond at his base. Rubbing up against his toned pelvis. 

Still moving in deep, relentless thrusts inside your gummy cavern. “S’real fuckin’ hard to treat you as nice as I want when you act like that, my love.”

And, of course, the only response he gets are your pathetic, wet gurgles as you take him in faster. Cheeks hollowing to massaging his every sweet spot. Your jaw grinding against his twitching balls with each smack of his hypnotized hips against your mouth, fucking into you the way he wished he could do with your cunt. Frenzied. Sloppy. 

Yeah, this was heaven alright - but you were the fuckin’ devil. 

Of course, you wanted him to treat you like such a slut - so he does. 

Just dragging your stubborn mouth off of his twitching cock, Nanami only reaches down to place an accomplished peck on the pout of your mouth before hoisting you onto the counter. “What? You think I’d really ngh- cum before my darling girl?”

He’s groaning into your mouth, licking at the seam of your candied lips as two strong arms of his spread your legs so far apart it burned. “F-fuck, Ken-”

“Aw look. You’ve got another slutty pair, huh?” he gestures down at the drenched scrap of fabric you so proudly called “panties.” Sliding a thumb underneath to glide it underneath your puffy pussy lips. He’s echoing your sentiment from before, “Said you can’t find your hah- wallet, right?” Well, ya better start makin’ up for that now.”

In all of two seconds, Nanami’s hooking two fingers over your underwear - pulling - ripping. He was right -  Nanami takes a moment to admire your dripping cunt, glistening and needy for him - he could rip those panties right off of you. 

With just one hand pinning you to the cool marble of your counter, the other thumbing open your puffy folds, he’s giving all of your pussy a hot, open-mouthed kiss. 

“Mmm fuck-” he spits into your sloppy hole. Once. Twice. Letting it form a saturated little pool of your juices, before surging back nose-deep with a pained grunt. Again. And again. And again and again- “Jus’ as sweet- as sugary sweet ngh-”

Nanami didn’t think Higuruma knew about this little treasure trove when describing you - though, if he did, then he was well and fully intent on tongue-fucking every little thought out of him right now. 

“Hngh! Shit-” you’re keening when his greedy tongue laps up every bit of your syrupy sweet slick. Alternating - methodically, indecisively - between rolling over your throbbing clit and just dipping into your awaiting entrance. “It feels so- so good, Ken.”

“Yeah that’s right.” he gasps, wrapping those pretty pink lips of his to suck on your clit. Harsh. “Say my name- no, louder. Louder.” 

It’s all you can do to not just scream out his name without your neighbors filing a noise complaint. Dragging your sopping pussy all over his mouth - glistening and obscene right down the bottom half of his face all the way up to smear against his clear glasses. 

Such obscene squelches ring through your kitchen as Nanami keeps making out so messily with your sensitive nub. Ringing in your fucked-out brain, so obscene, so addictive that you barely even register the thick fingers dipping their way around your hole. 

You jolt when the cool metal of his glasses kiss your skin, “O-oh Ken what-” 

“Shhh shhh, darling.” he soothes. The tip of his manicured index circling around your elastic muscle. Hypnotic. “M’gonna take care of you. Gonna take such good-” With this, he’s bullying his fingers inside, “-care of you.”

Tears crinkle at the corners of your eyes at the sheer stimulation. Because for how sweet Nanami was talking you through this, he was absolutely ruthless on your cunt. Not half the man he was this morning - animalistic. Feral, even.

His sharp jaw grinding against your skin, fingers almost a blur with how depraved they were pumping in and out of you. Massaging every hidden corner of your plushy walls, yet you get the feeling that they were calculated. Nanami’s darkened eyes drinking in every whimper and twitch of your body over the glasses inching dangerously downwards. Searching, waiting for that one-

“Ngh!” You worry you’d have fallen off the counter if it wasn’t for Nanami holding you down. Body jolting at sudden electricity running through your veins, “Oh- fuck fuck fuck. Oh my god Ken, there. Right there–”

But before the sentence has even left your heavy lips, he’s hitting your g-spot once more. Easily finding the bullseye that has you bucking and arching into his mouth like such a slut. 

And this time - Nanami lets you use his mouth all you want. The fingers splayed out to pin you down moves to toy with your puffy clit. Rolling between his fingers while he hisses out syrupy sweet praises, “Shit, never liked m’name that much- ngh- but it sounds so pretty on your lips. So sweet. So- oh-” 

The sight of your cunt just beading with need has him kissing it once more. All over your sensitive nub, your ravaged hole, hell, even down to the mess of slick dripping down at your thighs. Faster. Sloppier. No rhythm or rhyme anymore. 

“M’so close.” you whine, weaving your fingers through his blond hair to help ride his face easier. Jolting with each purposeful flick of his tongue. “Gonna cum, Ken.”

“Cum then.” he answers, simply, grinning a guiltily glossy grin, “You’ve got a lot to make up for, right?”

And then you do - stars behind your eyes and that little nickname you’d made Nanami in your mouth. Over and over while he tonguefucks you through your high. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck–” you whine, big fat tears rolling down your cheeks eat time he swiped at your sensitive spots, dragging it out longer. Until your soft whimpers were drowning out the squelches from below. Until you were blinking your spotty vision back. Until you were squirming your hips higher up the counter to pull away from Nanami’s unforgiving tactics. “M’too sensitive- Nana-”

He tuts, interrupting your orgasm-drunk babbles, “Tha’s not what you call me.” Pulling away just enough to hum, “All I did was eat this pretty cunt out, darling n’ you already forgot my name?”

You shiver - both at his mean little tone and the absolutely sinful sight between your shaky thighs. Nanami’s lips plump and irritated, eyes foggy - glasses even more so with all the sloppy dredges of spit and your slick.

Shit, you think he’s never looked prettier. 

“Is that so?”

It’s all you hear before you’re hit with his glasses being gently placed onto your nose bridge - followed shortly by the realization that oh, you said that out loud. But Nanami basks in your sudden shyness, giving your lips a chaste, lingering peck. “You dirtied my glasses, y’know. Now you have to make up for that on top of the rent.”

And by the feeling of his thick tip kissing at your pussy lips, you had a very good idea about how you’d be making up for it. Making a mess. Sliding the curve of his head up and down. Up and down up and down up and-

“B-but don’t forget.” you manage to grit out by the time he’s nudging his divot against your clit. “You have to make- hah- make up for-” 

In a fluid motion, you’re reaching your fingers to dig into the irresistible tan skin at his hips, all hard muscle and the thick fabric of where he’d pulled his pants down just enough. You press down on his bulging back pocket, smirk growing at the familiar flash of hot pink you could spy, “-my panties.”

The moment the obscene little accusation leaves your lips, you give a soft tug forwards. Nanami’s towering body being pulled easily to push his weeping tip past your puffy folds. 

“F-fuck.” he’s throwing his head back at the feeling. “You hngh- saw, huh?”

Oh, if he hadn’t been imagining this the moment he’d stepped inside your apartment then Nanami thinks he might’ve just passed out right then and there. 

Because you were so warm, so addictive wrapped around his cock - even when he’s barely even in. That he just has to keep going - after all, it’s for the rent, right?

It’s what he likes to think.

It’s what he whispers - over and over into your open mouth as he bullies his thick cock past your gummy entrance. Letting your plush walls suck the ever-loving soul out of him with each lazy, lingering grind just to fit himself inside. 

“O-oh! Shit-” your nails leave jagged red marks down Nanami’s broad shoulders when he stuffs you full. Desperate. “Y-you’re so big, Ken–” 

At this, you feel Nanami’s girth grow even wider, stretching your walls until it felt like he was molding your poor pussy to the shape. Just reaching into your lungs. You squeal, “Wait- you got bigger- what-”

“I know I know, You got it, my love.” he’s soothing your cries with sugary kisses at the corners of your mouth. Drawing slow, methodical circles on your clit in time with his experimental thrusts. “You got it. You can take it. Shhh shh-” He’s drinking in your cute mewls, cupping your pretty face with his free hand, “You’ll take it right? All of it, like my good girl? You’ve gotta make up for it, right?” At your delirious nod, “Words, pretty.”

“Yes, please.” You buck your hips in a sultry tandem matching his, the cool frame of his glasses still kissing at your skin. “M’gonna take it all like your good girl, Ken.”

Shit, he can feel himself growing even bigger just halfway into you, “Then-” Angling your teary face down to watch the mess down below. The way your greedy cunt was trying to milk each and every inch of him like it was delicious. “-look.”

You can’t tear your eyes away as he delves into you so filthy. 

Not waiting for your pathetic whines about him being “too big” - no, Nanami’s only pulling you back from escaping like some sextoy - his favorite one. Still toying sweetly with your clit while he pushes against that feeble ring of resistance. Once. Twice. Thrice. 

“Ken!” you’re yelping out when he finally bottoms out. Your swollen folds meeting his drenched hilt, blond tufts of hair brushing up against your pelvis. Sighing, ”Finally.”

“Finally?” he’s dragging out his words with an already-crooked, pussydrunk grin. Eyes wild - bewildered almost at how well you were taking him. “S-seriously? Did you say ngh- ‘finally’, my girl?” Each word has him tapping more strength behind those thrusts, faster. Harder. Spitting out so contendly, “Finally- hah. Such a slut f’me, hm?”

He’s plunging into you like such an animal right now, so harsh that it was almost difficult to pull back. To dare subject himself to not be buried inside your dripping cunt for even a split-second. 

In response, you lick a long stripe up the sensitive area of his neck, splaying out a hand to squeeze Nanami’s pec - and the rapid heartbeat you felt beneath it. “You’re not- ngh- any better.”

“I know.” Nanami leers, unabashedly kneading at your sore tits now. Fucking you harder and harder into the counter. Connecting his sweaty forehead with yours to look you right in the eyes as he gruffs, “I’ve been thinking about fucking this pretty cunt as soon as you opened that door, y’know.”

You feel his cock twitch wildly at the confession, dragging against your gummy walls with his tip. Hitting - oh-so-expertly - that one sensitive honeypot of nerves. Which makes Nanami’s mouth fall slack with what a treasure you were. 

“Y-you’re such a-” you’re moans are syrupy and slurring together now. Holding onto the larger man for dear life, “such a pervert, Ken.”

Shit, you were squeezing around him so hard that it was almost impossible to pull out. Abs straining to keep up the loud staccato of skin-against-skin, and Nanami’s long, jagged rams inside your wet heaven.

Nanami’s nosing down your pulse, letting his hot tongue loll out to catch the salty drops of your tears, “Mhm, only for hngh- you. Because you’re my girl now, aren’t ya?”

So easy for him to trawl out those addictive moans with each drag of the upwards curve of his fat cock. Thick tip hitting your g-spot, your cervix - as if he was branding his name into your pretty pussy from the inside. Sloppy. 

Leaving a bruising little Kento. With his erratic fingers pinching and rolling your clit at the same feverish tempo of his cock bullying inside your cunt - Kento. With his heavy balls smacking against your ass, sending jolts of white-hot pleasure all the way up to his sensitive slit, rubbing up against your succubus walls - Kento. With the way your heels were now digging into those dimples at the bottom of his spine, sure to leave marks with the way you were pulling him impossibly closer. So needy - Kento.

Only getting sloppier. The only thing in your mind right now - Kento Kento Kento-

So, really, it makes sense when that’s the only thing you’re capable of getting out once you cum. It sneaks up on you at first, and then all at once - and before you know it, you’re cumming so desperately all over Nanami’s relentless cock. 

Over and over.

Your thighs spasming, such a slutty ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth with each wave of pleasure he’s forcing out of you by targeting your ravaged g-spot. Only a few more of those sloppy, mean thrusts left in the man himself before Nanami’s spilling into your greedy cunt. 

Painting your gummy walls white with each painful squeeze of his balls, he’s still thrusting - as if on instinct. Shoving his seed deeper and deeper down your cum-filled hole until he’s sure it’s overfilled. 

By god were you a vision, he’s thinking deliriously. Tears pooling at your eyes, drool dripping down the corner of your mouth, throat to shoot to do anything but whimper when he keeps going in and out in and out in and-

And if he angled his head just right, he could see the hot globs of cum that take to trickling out from your puffy folds, pooling at a mouthwateringly creamy base around his hilt.

“Ah,” Nanami wastes no time squeezing his index into your already-bulging entrance, pumping the cum slobbering out back in. “Better- hah- better not waste any-” He could barely speak right now, cumming harder than he has in his whole life - in fact, his overworked cock was still shooting out wispy spurts of his seed. Like he couldn’t stop. “-after all, y’haven’t made up for all the overdue rent yet, my love.”

A/N. Concept inspired by this NSFW audio by IchigekiVA that my friend sent me <3

Plagiarism of work not authorized.

[kanekisfavoritegf]

full fic here

Nanami the 35 Year old Virgin Humps his sheets unknowingly when he dreams about you.

Nanami the 35 Year old Virgin swore off dating when working as a sorcerer until you came into his life.

Nanami the 35 Year old Virgin asks you out politely, despite the fear of being incompetent due to his lack of not only sexual relationships but emotional ones too.

Nanami the 35 Year old Virgin would offer to make you dinner at his place, and drink wine on his couch by the fire place.

Nanami the 35 Year old Virgin is absolutely mortified when he cums in his pants after you kissed him for the first time.

Nanami the 35 Year old Virgin is comforted by the way you treat him the exact same after he explains his lack of physical and emotional experience.

Nanami the 35 Year old Virgin finds himself pinning you to the couch and kissing you harder, keeping you down with his hips and making sure your legs are wrapped around him as he does so.

Nanami the 35 Year old Virgin doesn’t even care that his already stained pants seem to be getting worse as he rubs into you because you are letting out the sweetest moans for him.

Nanami the 35 Year old Virgin would beg you breathlessly between wet hot kisses and needily to teach him.

Teach him how to be your perfect lover in more ways than one.

[togglesbloggle]

My boyfriend has really vivid, elaborate dreams. He’ll often wake up and talk about some grand narrative- travel, exploration, politics, performances. I’ve always been a little jealous, he can hold really good plots together for them sometimes.

But anyway, this does have a downside; vivid, elaborate dreams make for vivid, elaborate nightmares. I can usually tell when it’s one of those nights, since he grinds his teeth pretty badly.

I was never quite sure what to do when I knew he was having a bad time of it, though the grinding alone was enough to worry me and push me towards intervening. I used to just shake him gently, hope to rouse him just enough to reset the dream or something, but it wasn’t too effective and anyway waking him up all the time isn’t good for rest.

I’m rather proud of the strategy I eventually settled on: gently, so as not to wake him up, I’d lay one arm across his hands, wrapping his fingers around me so that he was holding on. Nightmares being nightmares, I can usually count on a pretty tight grip when this happens.

It may seem a little odd, but consider that holding on to something with both hands is typically a very agentic frame of mind. We hold on to things that give us power, in one way or another, and possessing objects often makes us feel powerful in some respects. That has consequences, even for a dreaming mind.

I knew it was working when he woke up rather mystified from one such dream, and told me that he’d been running through the caverns of some dungeon or cave system, pursued by monsters, but then all of a sudden he was holding a giant anime sword and fought them off instead. So I got to be a sword for him that night, I was delighted.

I don’t usually get to know exactly what happened, since even for a very vivid dreamer like Ritter, nine tenths of these things get forgotten. But I know I’ve been things like door handles, steering wheels, stuff like that. And even when I don’t know what I am to him, he doesn’t grind his teeth nearly as much- the sleep is deeper and more peaceful, so I get plenty of feedback that it’s working.

It’s such a perfect encapsulation of love in microcosm, isn’t it? No matter how much you mean to them, and how much they mean to you, the gap between two conscious lives is fundamentally separating you. But fundamental does not mean insurmountable. There’s this whole world in him, full of dreams and perspectives that I’ll never truly experience. But I will be a part of those worlds all the same, finding little ways here and there to make sure that the dreams of me make him a better, stronger, and happier person.

Or at least, so one hopes. It’s a difficult challenge, and things often go awry. But usually you get at least a little lucky.