#i suddenly got a bunch of followers so i decided to actually post for once!

[bucketbueckers]

BIGGER IN TEXAS

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

content: filth (and some plot, as a treat)!! language, light alcohol/body shots, oral, fingering, strap, fuck ass cowboy hats, freak shit im talm bout inittttt, slight overstim, mirror, light choking (author is unoriginal we know this), reader is honestly thirsty as hell but so is paige, idk how to tag smut properly just know im losing my spot in heaven for this fic

wc: 10.5k

synopsis: A Dallas Wings rookie and a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader walk into a club together. What could possibly go wrong?

notes: i wasn't ovulating when i drafted this but i am now! maybe tmi. sinners changed my life and my main takeaway from that movie is everyone is a munch and thats a life philosophy i think everyone should have. make sure you all say "thank you kali uchis" because i actually got insane writers block after waking up this morning but her album saved me. not much to say but im actually going to hell for this so please make it worth it and hit up my inbox pls and ty 🫶 as always i hope yall enjoy!

Let the record show that you weren’t serious.

Okay. You were like, 50% serious. As in if you were presented with the opportunity, you would take it, but if any of your friends were to ask about it, you would probably deflect.

You realize now that you tend to get a little overzealous on Twitter – it’s far more unhinged than your Instagram is, where you share pictures of your everyday life and action shots as a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader. You have less followers on the bird app (it is not X), you’re a little more…real, and as a bonus, your mom doesn’t follow you, so you feel like you can be a little more insane on there.

Although you’d probably apologize to her later – because one of your recent tweets is going a little crazy.

It didn’t start as anything crazy. Being a Dallas athlete, you kept up with nearly every sports team – the Mavericks, the Stars, the Cowboys, obviously, but you loved the Wings, too. You watched the WNBA draft as did countless others in the country.

When the Wings admin posted the Welcome to Dallas, Paige Bueckers! tweet, you’d giggled to yourself, mostly because you were nursing a Chili’s margarita and because she looked insanely good in the graphic.

You retweeted it, typing, welcoming you into dallas w open arms @.paigebueckers1 🤠

Then, almost like an afterthought, you commented on your own retweet, typing, and with open legs 🙏

You didn’t think much of it. Obviously. You didn’t have a huge following and if anyone asked, you’d just be kidding. The next ten minutes are peaceful as you finish off your margarita and scroll aimlessly through TikTok, keeping one ear out for the next draft pick. And then your phone starts blowing up.

A bunch of likes. A few people retweeting your second comment with various laughing or crying emojis. But what makes you pause is the notification reading Paige Bueckers has liked your tweet!

Oh. You click just to make sure, and – yeah. Definitely the one about having open legs.

Any other day, this would probably be mortifying, but today you’re a little emboldened by the margarita in your veins and you can’t help but think this is a little funny. You’ll probably regret it later when everyone remembers that you’re kind of a public figure and decides to flame you for being a little unhinged on main. For now, though, it’s not that big of a deal.

When you wake up in the morning to an unread DM from Paige – who’d followed you back, mind you – on your Instagram, you suddenly realize that it actually is a big deal.

Paige 💕: I’m flying into Dallas on the 23rd for media Paige 💕: If the offer still stands maybe you could show me around the city?

You stare blankly at your phone. Then you blink once. Twice. You power off your phone, press your pillow to your face, and you scream.

You weren’t serious, but you think you’re being presented with the opportunity – and, well, who are you to look a gift horse in the mouth?

After you finally come back to your senses, you reach for your phone again, navigating back to your DMs with Paige. You only have to contemplate for a few seconds before your fingers are flying across the keyboard.

You: i’ve been known to be a thorough tour guide You: let me know what your schedule looks like and i’ll show you the pretty parts of dallas

Her response comes quicker than you were expecting.

Paige 💕: Looking forward to it 🫶 Paige 💕: Not sure how Dallas compares to you but I can be open minded

Admittedly, you have to reread her message twice to fully grasp the cheesy pick-up line, but you hate the way it makes your cheeks flush. You’re not sure how to respond to that.

You settle for screaming into your pillow again.

The week passes by quickly. You and Paige talk — a lot — truly enjoying getting to know each other during your rare moments of free time. Paige is busy with flights and appearances while your schedule is packed with practice and learning the audition choreography for the next season of DCC. 

Despite yourself, you can’t help but think how nice it is. There’s no expectations. You’re both athletes with a combined two hours of free time. For now, you’re just content to see where this goes. You enjoy her company, and honestly, you’re really into her. Paige flirts relentlessly, but you can tell there’s an undercurrent of respect and admiration that makes you feel like that feeling is mutual, too. 

She texts you a picture of the Dallas tarmac when she lands on the 23rd, a coy reminder that you did promise to show her around. Paige has media for a good portion of the day, though, so you know you won’t be seeing her for a while. You tune in for a little bit of her rookie press conference, and no, you weren’t cheesing while listening to her speak. But if you were, that wouldn’t be anyone’s business but your own.

You don’t hear from her for the next few hours, which doesn’t bother you. You do get a call from one of your squadmates, Lielle, asking if you’d be down to hit the club before the DCC season starts – and who were you to say no to that?

You settle for a light, natural makeup look, throwing on a blue, mesh, halter corset top that sparkles in the light and a pair of cropped, white denim shorts. They’re long enough to cover what they need to, but it’s the perfect club outfit – something with the right amount of tease and will make you feel confident enough to truly let loose.

Lielle picks you up along with a few other of your friends who tease you relentlessly for your actions on Twitters – it’s no use defending yourself, although they’re nearly howling in excitement when you point out that Paige is in your DMs, so you’re probably doing something right.

You and your girls enter the club with high spirits, the atmosphere already electric, and two of your squadmates break away to find a table while you and Lielle make your way to the bar to order shots and drinks for everyone. Lielle leans over the bar, already laying it on thick for the bartender, who grins politely like he’s seen just about every variation of whatever game Lielle is playing.

On the bright side, he does end up discounting your drinks on account of being a DCC fan, which makes you think Lielle never truly had a chance, anyways – but a cheaper drink is a cheaper drink, especially in Dallas. Lielle walks away with a wink and the drinks in her hands as you remain to order something for yourself. The bartender has just slid the drink your way when you feel the heat of someone’s body next to yours. At first, you’re alarmed, but you soften when you hear their voice, followed by finally looking at their face.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.” In person, Paige Bueckers is so much taller than you’d anticipated, which is probably a really stupid thing to say for a professional basketball player. She’s tall, her cologne a heady scent of warm vanilla and something distinctly floral, and she rests her arm against the bar in a way that’s devastatingly casual and dangerously alluring. Paige is wearing a black and white striped Nike sweater, the very same she’d done media in, a look not befitting of the club but you can’t help but think about how perfectly her it is.

You crack a coy smile, taking a quick sip of your drink for some liquid courage, because Paige is staring at you like she knows exactly what she wants from you and your heart thrums because if she said the word, you’d be willing to give it to her. “What, is this place too scandalous for a cheerleader like me?” you joke, and the heat of her gaze travels down your body in one quick motion.

“Nah, nothing like that,” she assures you. “Just didn’t think that out of every club in this city, I’d be lucky enough to run into you my first night out.”

“Seems we’re both feeling a little lucky tonight, huh?” you say, and she laughs gently under her breath. Paige holds out a hand to you. In lieu of a shake, you settle for hugging her instead, which she relaxes into immediately, her hands resting respectfully at the small of your back. “It’s great to finally meet you in person,” you say genuinely, pulling away at the right moment. “You enjoying Dallas so far?”

Paige shrugs a little, a smile on her face and gratitude on her tongue when the bartender slides a drink her way, too. “Haven’t got the chance to see much,” she says honestly. “Was in media all day, then I stopped by Costco so my apartment looked a little less pathetic. Now I’m here. Something about rookie initiation, according to Rike, but I think she just wanted someone to buy her drinks.”

You laugh. “Look at you already taking care of people,” you comment, your grin widening at her playful expression. “You’re here with your team, then? Where are y’all sitting?”

Paige purses her lips, her eyes squinting as she peers through the dim lighting of the club. “I think over there?” she says, pointing at the VIP section towards the back. She’s closer to you now, her chin resting just above your head, and you follow her gaze. You can’t help your smile, something she picks up on immediately. “What’s funny?”

“I think your team’s already hitting it off with mine,” you say, easily spotting Lielle handing a shot to Arike and clapping when she downs it in one go. You don’t think Lielle is drunk yet, but she has a natural excitement and zest for life that makes her the easiest person in the world to befriend.

Paige huffs a little under her breath, amusement lacing the sound, and her hand finds your waist. “Must be meant to be,” she says to you. Despite yourself, you preen, your smile widening when her hand finds your skin. “After you.”

Paige walks almost protectively behind you, the crowd of club-goers parting instinctively for the both of you. When you make it back to the VIP section, both of your teams cheer – like they know something you don’t – which causes a blush to rise on your cheeks and a nearly smug expression to take over Paige’s.

Introductions are swift, if a little unnecessary. You’d run into many of the Wings players before, having made a genuine effort your first year as a professional cheerleader to show up to many of the Dallas sports games.

Before you know it, Arike has ordered more shots for the table, and Paige slides into the booth next to you with a dangerous glint in her eye and two shots of tequila in her hands. The table is lively, raucous, with Kelsey – one of your squadmates – going shot for shot with Aziaha James and Lielle and Arike instigating.

But here, now, in this little corner you and Paige have tucked yourselves into, you’re enjoying the intimacy of the moment far too much, feeling as though you’ve been afforded far more privacy than you actually have.

Paige presses one of the shots into your hands, a loose smile on her face. “To Dallas?” she asks you, raising her glass.

You tap yours against hers, a matching smile of your own as you agree, “To Dallas.” You down your shots in one go, the liquid warming your belly pleasantly. “And to Twitter,” you add a little jokingly, but your blush deepens when Paige smirks, raising a thumb to your lip to wipe away the excess tequila beading on your mouth.

She sucks her finger into her mouth, humming a little insufferably, and you’re burning for an entirely different reason now. Your gaze hones in on her hand, flicking between her lips and her eyes. And, sure, she was constantly flirting with you over text. You knew she was feeling you as much as you were feeling her – but to watch her behave so confidently in front of you, to unravel you like it was nothing… The confirmation makes you ache. It reminds you that you’re not the only one feeling the warm buzz between the two of you.

“You always that forward?” Paige asks you, referring to your tweet. “Or am I just lucky?” Her words are punctuated with a heated grin, one that makes you shift in your seat. You hope that she didn’t notice, but you see the way her eyes darken and how she leans in a little closer to you.

“Only when I’m tipsy, apparently,” you mutter. You glance up, taking in her expression, the curiosity and desire in her eyes. Your lips quirk into an amused smile. “But I don’t think I have to tell you about the effect you have on people.”

“Good thing I don’t really care about other people,” she says, her gaze dropping down again. You can’t tell if she’s looking at your lips or your chest, but it makes warmth bloom under your skin, anyways. Paige makes eye contact as easily as she drinks you in. It’s disorienting, unwavering. It’s almost like you can see exactly what she’s thinking by the way her pupils dilate. Her fingers brush against the inside of your wrist, setting each and every one of your nerve endings on fire. “But you? Didn’t know I was affecting you like that.”

“Oh, you’re not,” you laugh, which just makes her laugh, too, something dangerous flashing in her eyes. Dangerous because you know you’ve already given in. Any other attempt at saving face or trying to look a little less down bad is just meant to make you feel a little bit better – like she hadn’t already won you hook, line, and sinker the moment you promised to show her around Dallas. 

“Lying is a sin,” Paige murmurs.

“Lust, too,” you retort.

Paige’s subsequent grin is a little too wicked. “Touche,” she agrees, and you can’t help but lean into her touch when her hand splays over the expanse of your toned waist, her thumb brushing your skin like she’s trying to memorize every shift in your muscles. Her voice drops a few decibels, only loud enough for you to hear as she presses in closer to you. Your hair raises when her lips ghost across your temple, the shell of your ear. “You’re already burning for me, though. Probably soaked through these fucking shorts, aren’t you? So why pretend you ain’t?”

“Paige,” you whisper, your heart beating a little faster, pounding against your ribcage. Your hand finds hers, linking your fingers together, and you don’t stop her when she maps out every inch of skin not hidden by your top. If anything, you arch into it slightly, enjoying the heat of her palm against your belly. She grins like she knows, like she’s already called the Uber and is thinking about how she can ruin you in the car without alerting the driver.

“Jus’ say it, mama,” she murmurs, her breath hitting your ear. You should feel some type of way for how easily your body betrays your brain, pressing further into her without your permission. “Tell me what you want and we don’t gotta play these games in front of your girls.”

Your mouth opens, the words getting caught in your throat when Paige finally grips the meat of your thigh with her hand, not hard enough to bruise, but enough to claim.

But before you can give into the feeling of it all, the bubble of peace between the two of you is broken by Lielle exclaiming, “Who wants to do body shots?!”

Breathless, you glance up at Paige, who stares back at you with mischief. She squeezes your thigh gently, whispering, “Be good,” before tugging you to your feet and towards Lielle, who holds the salt, lime, and the bottle of tequila. You sigh a little, already feeling like you could combust.

Your combined teams cheer when Paige volunteers you. Her smile, which is borderline smug and nearly possessive, makes your skin burn, but her eyes betray the ease in her features. She scans her teammates like she’s waiting for one of them to think that they could take her place.

Kelsey clears space on the table while Lielle uncaps the bottle of alcohol. One of the other Dallas rookies – JJ, you think her name is, extends a hand to help you onto the table, but all it takes is one glaring look from Paige to make her raise her hands in surrender. Paige steps up, her gaze dark, and she grips your hips, raising you onto the table with a weightless ease. Her eyes never leave yours, watching you with rapt attention as you lean back, getting comfortable.

“You good?” she asks, her hand resting over your stomach, which rises and falls steadily under the heat of the moment. You nod quickly, needing her hands on her body more than you think you need air, and she allows herself a quiet smile as she reaches for a lime wedge. Gingerly, she holds it out to you. Your teeth part at her wordless command, clamping down on the lime, trying not to wince at the taste. Her fingers linger on your lips, pupils blown wide, and it makes warmth coil low in your belly when you realize just how reciprocated this feeling is.

She reaches for the salt next, uncapping it, too, and meets your eyes with one last unspoken question. You don’t hesitate before you nod, uncaring of where she lines up the salt. You are surprised when she leans down, licking a stripe between the valley of your breasts, wetting the skin there so the salt can stick. You hardly register the wolf whistles around you, far too focused on the satisfied, focused grin on Paige’s face as she sprinkles the salt on your skin.

Finally, Lielle hands over the bottle of tequila, and you try to steady your breathing as Paige pours a generous amount in your navel. A drop slips, trailing down and soaking into the fabric of your shorts. You swear you can hear Paige’s breath hitch, but the club is too loud for you to be certain.

Lielle is probably recording. There’s no way she isn’t – she’s the life of the party, and whenever you wake up tomorrow, you’re sure you’ll find the video of Paige doing a body shot off of you on her close friends. But right now, when Paige is staring at you like you’re the only person in the room, like she can’t wait to get you alone and ruin you? You can’t think about anything but the blonde athlete and how willing you are to let her unravel you.

With one last glance to check in on you, Paige leans over you, caging you in with her arms. Her head dips down, licking the salt off of your chest with a devastating slowness. You catch the edge of her grin as she trails her lips down your torso, settling at your belly and drinking the tequila directly off your stomach.

Her tongue probes for the last drop and she presses a farewell kiss to your skin that makes your breathing stutter. Then, finally, she makes her way back up to your lips, her skin a little flushed, and she parts her lips to take the lime wedge in between her teeth.

But Paige isn’t through with you. You watch with wide eyes as she punctures the flesh with her teeth. She takes the lime wedge in between her fingers and with her free hand, she cups your jaw, her thumb brushing against your lip. You adhere to the silent demand, your lips parting again, and she presses down on the bottom row of your teeth with her thumb, keeping you open as she squeezes the juice of the lime into your mouth.

You shudder, eyes slipping shut in a non-physical pleasure – Paige hasn’t even touched you yet, but you feel like you’re ready to fall apart. The lime juice makes your face contort from the sourness, but you hardly think about it when your eyes blink open once more to take in Paige’s lazy expression. She’s already gone – her smile wide, reverent, satisfied, proud, and she discards the lime peel.

Paige removes her finger from your mouth, closing your jaw for you, her features softening with pride as you swallow the juice dutifully. You barely hear her whisper, “Good,” before she helps you off of the table, steadying you when you sway a little unsteadily, and the both of you make every effort to ignore your friends.

They don’t focus on the two of you for too long – JJ is helping Kelsey onto the table to keep going, so you take advantage of their distraction and pull Paige down to your level by her collar. She grins insufferably, like she knows she’s teased you to the point of no return. Her smile widens when you demand, “Take me home. Or we’ll cause a scandal in the middle of this club.”

Her lips brush against yours. “Uber’s already here,” she informs you, her expression far too satisfied. If you were any less pussy drunk, you’d probably hate yourself for being too easy, but all you can think about is how her skin would feel against yours.

You let her pull you through the club. You let her hands linger on your hips when she helps you into the Uber. And without so much as a noise, you part your legs for her in the car, letting her fingers trace the inside of your thighs discreetly. Paige doesn’t give you what you need – you knew she wouldn’t.

You keep your reactions tempered, even when she leans in closer to you, her nose brushing against your ear as she whispers filth that the driver is none the wiser to. And when you make it to her apartment complex, you hardly hear the driver’s farewell before she guides you out of the car, through the apartment lobby, and into the elevator.

Paige’s grip on your hips is tight, like you’re not sure if she’s trying to keep you close or trying to restrain herself from defiling you in the elevator. Either way, you don’t mind. You press your hips to her front, grinning in satisfaction when her fingers tighten and her breath hitches, a groan building in her throat. The ding of the elevator breaks you both from your stupor and you follow her to her door, watching in amusement as she fumbles with the key in her haste.

“Do you remember my tweet?” you ask a little offhandedly, sliding your fingers under the hem of her sweatshirt. She curses under her breath when your fingers find her waist, splaying across her abdomen – it’s more for your pleasure than it is hers, feeling her muscles jump under your hold. Her eyes are a little wide and blown out when they meet yours.

“S’all I’ve thought about for weeks,” she confesses, finally getting the lock to turn. Her words give you pause as she throws open the door. Catching you by surprise, she picks you up, one arm looping under your ass, and your arms slide around her neck for stability as she shuts the door behind her, making sure to turn the lock back.

It’s all speed from there. Paige kicks her shoes off in the entryway, her hands gripping the back of your thighs as she blindly walks the both of you through the hallway towards the bedroom. You silently thank her coordination as an athlete, more so when she starts mouthing at your chest like it’s been the only thing keeping her going. Her tongue darts out, wet against your skin, and she hums against your breast as she tastes the residual salt from the shot and the sweat. Paige nips at your skin and holding onto her tighter with a wordless sigh is all you can do to keep it together.

Finally, she finds the bedroom door, throwing it open without a care in the world. Paige deposits you safely on bed and then almost falls over herself following – the dichotomy makes you ache, the way she’s so desperate to get her hands and mouth on you, but the evident care she makes sure to treat you with despite her need. You want her to turn you out in every single way she’s thought about since draft night, but the respect is touching.

She clicks on the dim lamp at her bedside, her eyes returning to your figure when her vision adjusts. She shakes her head like you’re not real, her hands touching your hips, your waist, your breasts covered by the thin material of your top. You’re sure she’s burning this image into her mind forever – you’re doing the same. You may never be able to forget the image of Paige Bueckers hovering above you, eyes wild and gone, messy like you’re already five rounds deep and not just pent up from fucking around in the club.

The first press of her lips against yours makes you keen, arching into her exploring hands while yours cups her cheeks. You’ve thought about this for weeks, too, how it would feel to have her on top of you like this. She tastes like a tequila shot and something distinctly fruity from the cocktail she was sipping on. Combined with the lime juice on your breath, your kiss is intoxicating for several different reasons, and the heat coiling in your belly reminds you of how badly you want this.

She tugs your bottom lip between her teeth, pulling it back and letting it snap back before her lips find every inch of your skin. The hinge of your jaw, the tender spot on your neck that makes you thread your fingers through her hair to pull the tie loose, the dip in your throat where your moan vibrates against her lips. Paige is ravenous. Like there’s a million different things she wants to do to you before the sun comes up. You’d let her.

“Thought about this forever,” she murmurs, her voice hoarse and wrecked. Your breath stutters, back arching to help her untie your halter top and letting her pull it off you. She goes almost painfully silent when she takes in your breasts fully, your pebbled nipples. “Fuck.” Her curse sounds like a filthy prayer, one that you’d give up almost everything to respond to. One of her large hands splay over your breast while her mouth finds the other one, alternating between kneading and sucking and here – you’re sure you could fall apart completely, your hips jumping up for contact.

“You don’t know what that stupid comment did to me,” she continues, almost to herself, but she knows you’re listening. She feeds off of the way your breath hitches as she pulls back long enough to rip her sweatshirt and sports bra off in two quick motions, the chains around her neck tangling briefly before they trail cold caresses across your stomach when she leans back down to take your skin in her mouth. Your jaw falls open in pleasure, gripping onto her, the sheets, anything to stay rooted.

“Looked at your page, and those–” Her fingers find the waistband of your shorts, popping the button and pulling the denim off while she rambles. She falters when she takes in the white lace covering your body, a low, wrecked groan spilling from her lips at the sight of the wet patch at the apex of your thighs. Paige brushes her fingers against you, relishing in the way your hips jump and your whispered plea.

“Those stunts you do,” she continues finally. “That fucking uniform is sinful, you know that? Got myself off thinking about you, how good you’d be. You offered yourself up and all I could think about at the presser was how many different ways I could get you to come for me. I wonder if I could do it without my hands.”

You’re not coherent enough to tell her she could probably do it with words alone, but you reach for her and pull her back to your lips, kissing her hungrily, like you’re on death row and she’s your only chance of salvation.

Your hands explore while her kiss disorients you. Finding the waistband of her pants, you reach for the belt, undoing it. Paige helps you pull her pants off, leaving her in a dark pair of boxers. Her skin is impossibly warm against your palms as you press your fingers into the small of her back, undoubtedly leaving marks.

She pulls back to trail her lips down your body, sucking marks everywhere, her hands holding you like she’s afraid you’d float away if she didn’t keep you rooted.

Paige doesn’t make any effort to strip you out of your damp underwear – if anything, she stares at it like she’s more proud of it than getting drafted first overall, and she presses her lips to the skin just above your waistband until it blooms red and purple. She soothes it with a kiss, her expression far too smug and satisfied.

“You’re soaked,” Paige murmurs, pressing her thumb to your cunt again, her grin widening when you moan, your hands shooting down to grip her hair. She makes eye contact with you and sucks her thumb into her mouth, eyes slipping shut as she tastes you. You can’t help the curse that tumbles from your lips. “That ‘open legs’ offer must have been a cry for help, huh?” she teases, but her voice is rough, like the very taste of you is a drug and she’s addicted. “Nobody else doin’ it for you?”

“No,” you admit, cheeks burning under the weight of your confession. The truth is you’d stopped looking after a while, but now, with Paige tucked between your legs and staring at you like you’re the most beautiful girl she’s ever seen, you briefly consider the fact that she’s going to ruin you for anyone else. For yourself.

She grins again. “Shame,” she murmurs, her lips trailing down to the inside of your thighs, where she presses gentle kisses. “Someone got to you before me and they couldn’t even make it worthwhile.”

She nips at your skin, the pain blooming into pleasure instantly. Your breathing comes to you a little faster the closer she moves to your aching cunt, but she soothes you with a hand to your belly. “I got you, mama. Gonna be the best you’ve ever had. Swear.”

You don’t doubt it, your head already swimming, and she presses one last kiss to your clit through the damp material of your underwear. It makes you jolt, but she steadies your hip with her hand as she pulls the lace to the side slowly. You can’t help but gaze down at Paige, locked in on the way her eyes glaze over with desire when your cunt is finally revealed to her.

You don’t think you’ve ever been this wet in your life. Maybe it’s been a fire that has been slowly burning ever since she initially hinted at flying out and taking you up on your offer. Now, all you can focus on is the way her hands grip your strong thighs, holding you open as she dives in to lick a long, slow stripe up the length of your slit.

You both moan in tandem – yours of pleasure and hers in awe. You’re dripping onto her comforter, hardly able to feel much remorse about it, but something tells you that Paige is really fucking into the fact that she has you so pliant beneath her.

Her tongue is exploratory, drinking in every drop of your arousal, her brows pinched together as she focuses on building you up. Her nose brushes against your clit while her tongue finds the source, licking you clean like she’s stranded in a desert and you’re the only thing that could satiate her thirst.

She’s wild, her tongue everywhere all at once, muttering messily into your cunt about how you “taste so fucking good,” but you’re sure you fall apart completely when her lips close around your clit and she sucks.

Your brain is mush. You’re not sure if you want to keep your eyes on her or let your head fall back into her pillows, unable to process the pleasure fully.

Paige makes the decision for you when your eyes slip shut and she nips at your clit gently – not enough to hurt (even though it sends a surge of pleasure up your spine, anyhow), but enough to get your attention.

The message is clear – she wants your attention. Thinking about how she’s probably getting off from you watching her makes the heat coil in your stomach, ready to snap at any given moment.

You tangle your fingers in her messy hair, pressing her deeper into you, head tipping back in pleasure when she doubles down on her motions. Paige is ravenous, tongue circling your clit, never once stopping or slowing.

Not until your thighs are shaking from pleasure. Not until the tears bead at your waterline. Not until she encloses her lips around your clit again, her cheeks hollowing from the pressure, and releasing you to drag the arousal from your entrance to your clit, coating it completely.

You’re wholly unprepared for the first press of her fingers against your entrance. Paige doesn’t push in – not yet. She drags her fingers through your folds, soaking them, listening and looking for your reaction as she probes deeper.

The first finger sinks in until it reaches her knuckle, punching a breathless moan out of you, and she curls her finger as she pulls out. She’s a quick study – learning what you like and how much pressure she needs to unravel you completely. But she’s slow, not adding in another finger. You get the message instantly when her eyes find you, her gaze dark and imploring.

Not above begging, your voice is hoarse, rough from your moans, your lips split-slick and bitten. “Please, Paige, keep going,” you request, clenching around the single finger in you. “More, please, fuck–” The words get caught in your throat when she smiles against you, taking your clit in her mouth again just as she slides in a second finger. Too far gone, you can’t help the repeated, delirious ramble of “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” or the choked out, “So fucking good.”

The more vocal you get, the more she gives you. Her lips and her tongue speed up, flicking against your clit with a devastating intensity. Paige’s finger’s scissor inside you more firmly, sliding in deeper with every thrust, particularly timed with her mouth. It’s a Pavlonian response. The pleasure is overwhelming, and you can’t find it in yourself to be too embarrassed by how loud you are.

You chant her name, breathless little sounds that sound more like pleas than sentences. The grip on her hair must be painful but she never slows. She’s fucking you closer and closer to the peak, and when it finally arrives, warning her is all you can do.

She’s heedless, her pace somehow intensifying even more, and you come with a sob that’s a mix of her name and a string of curses as the pleasure washes over you.

Paige doesn’t stop, drinking in every drop of you like she’s parched, her fingers slowing as they work you gently through the shockwaves. You’re breathless, stuttering through the euphoria, gratitude lacing your words.

When she pulls away, the bottom half of her face is slick with your arousal, her tongue darting out to catch the edges of her lips, but it’s like drops of water in a bucket. For all intents and purposes, she’d been drowned, but her grin tells you she would have been more than happy to go out that way.

Boneless and limp in bed, she trails her lips up your body until she finds your lips, kissing you deeply and allowing you to taste yourself on your tongue. The taste is heady, something you’d probably attribute to the taste of her, too, and you can’t help but moan against her lips, your body burning under the touch again.

“Don’t think I’m letting you tap out so soon,” she murmurs, squeezing your waist and peering down at you. “We haven’t even started.”

“Greedy,” you say teasingly.

Her subsequent grin is sharp, nipping your lip gently. “And proud,” she states, already leaning over and digging through the drawer of her nightstand. When her hand comes back into view, she’s holding a strap and the harness.

The sight of it makes your brows raise – it’s modest in size, but it’s still bigger than anything you’ve ever taken, both in length and girth. “What?” she asks, a smirk appearing on her lips as she fastens the harness around her hips.

“It’s big,” you point out obviously, but the heat is already licking at your skin again as you stare at it longingly.

“Everything’s bigger in Texas,” she retorts. The strap hanging from her hips makes your mouth water, and you suppose this is what you wanted anyway – for Paige to ruin you. She glances at you curiously, able to read how your hesitation washes away. You’re safe with her. She wouldn’t hurt you. That thought alone makes you a little more hungry for it. “Trust me, you ain’t gotta worry.” She drags her fingers through your folds again, raising it to the lamplight and showing you how they shine. It makes you blush, but her smirk is a little insufferable. “But, I mean…if you wanna try something smaller–”

“No,” you disagree a little too quickly. She raises a challenging brow, one that infuriates you. She’d been mean all night – teasing you and working you up. And, sure, she delivered, but you think that she deserves to be knocked down a peg or two.

You wrap your legs around her waist, and in a quick motion, you flip the both of you over, straddling her waist with your hands on her chest. She’s a little breathless, eyes wide and pupils dilated, yet you can spot the impressed look in her gaze. “You don’t think I can handle it?”

“Didn’t say that,” she says, her eyes drinking you in, the fucked out look on your face and she bruises covering your skin. Her hands find your waist, pulling you onto her fully – onto the strap – and she guides you into a slow grind, taking back the control seamlessly as you gasp. Paige grunts, too, the strap pressing back into her clit, and the fact that she’s feeling as good as you are makes you tremble with want.

“You insinuated it,” you argue, a little miffed.

She grins like your indignance is cute. “Just tryna be in you, mama,” she says, tugging you down a little harder, and it punches a moan out of you. “You gonna let me do that or are we gonna sit here and argue all night?”

You narrow your eyes at her, but you don’t say much else, and she draws her bottom lip between her teeth as she gazes down at where your centers connect. “That’s what I thought.” Her words are mostly said to herself.

She grips the waistband of your underwear and pulls them down your legs – you adjust to help her pull them off, and she throws them to the side.

Now that you’re completely bare, she pulls you down onto the strap again, your arousal coating the silicone. The unrestricted contact makes you shiver and you loop your arms around her neck for stability while one of hers finds your waist again.

With her free hand, she reaches for the base of the strap, guiding it to your entrance and holding you steady – the tip of the strap brushes against you, but she doesn’t allow you to move.

Her eyes are zeroed in on where you’re clenching around nothing, your arousal leaking out of you. Then, finally, she pulls you down slowly, controlling each and every small movement. Your breath hitches when the head breaches inside, pressing into you, and Paige kisses all over your chest to soothe you.

“Good, that’s it,” she murmurs, lips encircling a nipple as she pulls you a little further down. The stretch is delicious, splitting you open, her hands mapping out your skin. She grips the flesh of your ass in one large hand, the other reaching around to rub featherlight circles on your clit to distract you.

The sensations are overwhelming in the best way possible. Her mouth drags wet kisses across your body while she listens for your reaction. Paige lowers you further down, drawing a drawn out moan from you, and you feel her grin against your breast as you tighten your grip around her neck, pulling her tighter against you.

“Perfect girl. Taking me so well,” she coos. Her body is impossibly warm against you and you can feel yourself relaxing into it, wanting to sink down completely, but she doesn’t let you. “Want you to feel good, baby. Don’t rush it.”

Still holding onto your annoyance from earlier, you can’t help your slight eye roll as you nip at her neck, sucking a matching hickey into her skin. She hisses, letting you fall another inch before gripping your hips tightly. “Would feel good if you just fucked me,” you state, staring at her with an expression that’s borderline pathetic. “What’d you say earlier? Just tryna be in you?”

“Think you have a patience problem,” she muses. “I’d heard so much about this southern hospitality bullshit growing up in the north, but it seems like you got a manners problem, too. I gotta teach you how to say please and thank you?”

You barely resist a sigh. Instead, you let your lips pucker out in a pout, the motion drawing Paige’s attention immediately. You press closer to her, your breasts dragging against her chest, and she sighs from the feeling. “Please, Paigey?” you beg in a near whimper, taking the hitch in her breathing as a sign that you’re doing something right. “Just want you to fuck me. Been good for you all night, haven’t I? And I promised to welcome you to Dallas. Let me make you feel good.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, but the way her throat bobs tells you she’s minutes away from flipping you over and making you forget your name. “You’re dangerous,” she whispers.

“I’m yours,” you respond, and that’s enough for her. Paige drags you down the last few inches, bottoming out. You moan into her neck, the hand at the small of your back pressing you into her. You’re sure that you’re soaking her lap, but judging by the way her hips rut up into yours, she likes knowing how fucked she has you.

Her hands settle at the bottom of your ass, pulling you up as she mouths at your chest, her tongue darting out to taste your skin. You sink down on the strap again. The sound is obscene, drawing a gasp from you, and you repeat the motion.

Up, then down. Up, then down, beginning to set the pace for yourself, but making sure you grind at the bottom of your strokes to make sure that Paige is getting off too. Her eyes are hooded, darting from your face, to your chest, to the apex of your thighs where you’re soaking the strap.

“Fuck,” she groans, her voice rough, and it sends white hot desire up your spine. She speeds up your motions, the veins on her hand protruding from the effort of keeping you upright, her jaw unhinging in awe as she stares at you. 

You allow yourself a small smirk, your right hand tilting her head back, revealing the expanse of her throat as you grind down onto her. With your ears so close to her mouth, you can hear every stutter in her breath, every jilted moan she tries to hold back, the hiss of pleasure when you bite down, sucking dark marks into her skin. 

When her motions start becoming desperate, her hips bucking up into yours in time with every drag down like she’s trying to chase her high, you reach down for her hands, tangling your fingers together and pressing them into the pillows over her head. 

“Really?” you murmur, your lips ghosting the dip in her throat. “You’re this close just from helping me get off?”

She laughs a little, something that sounds like a sob mixed with a whine, and her jaw falls slack in a low groan when your lips attach to the sensitive spot below her ear. “Can’t help it,” Paige manages. Her lips are slick, bitten raw, so you kiss her deeply, swallowing the sound she makes when you grind down especially hard. “Think you like it, though.”

“Mmm,” you hum. You speed up your motions, feeling your thighs and your stomach burn with the effort, but also feeling yourself teeter on the edge of crashing down completely. Your thrusts draw out another moan from Paige, one that makes you grin – because she’d tried so hard to keep herself together, to pretend she was here to fuck you and not the other way around. “Think I just like you.”

That makes a lazy smile appear on her face. Paige pulls one of her hands out of your grip, inching towards your throat and tangling in the necklace there. “Yeah?” she goads, her tone a little insufferable. “Didn’t – fuck – didn’t think I affected you.”

You’re still rutting against her, sweat beading on your temples as you argue, “You don’t.”

But that just makes her grin turn a little more smug. She releases your necklace, her fingers pressing lightly into the sides of your throat, squeezing once in warning. It makes your hips stutter, your breath catching. “Keep lyin’, mama,” she mutters, something dark in her eyes as her fingers trail down your body. One tweaks a nipple, kneading a breast as you gasp. Then, she goes lower still, bracing her large hand over you while her thumb finds your clit, rubbing messy circles through the slick there.

You lose your rhythm again, whimpering, but you keep going despite the exhaustion. It’s less about your pleasure now. You need to get Paige off, to tear down that ego of hers, to silence her for once. Even as you stare down at her, your eyes a little hooded, you realize she enjoys receiving as much as she enjoys giving, and there’s truly no winning with her – she’s getting off either way. 

“Actin’ like I don’t know you already,” she continues, her thumb as ruinous as her hips – as ruinous as her words. “What you like. What you need.” You could fall apart like this – her words picking you apart piece by piece, her thumb reminding you that she has you right where you want her. Paige gazes up at you, her pupils blown wide, but you can make out the challenge in the blue of her eyes – she’s daring you to get smart again.

But you’re just as competitive as she is. Without faltering in your movements, you lean slightly, reaching for the cowboy hat perched on her nightstand. It has Paige stitched on the bill. Her jaw falls slack again as she watches you slide it over your head.

“You talk too much,” you retort, and then you’re doubling down again. You can tell the image of you wearing Paige’s hat is doing something to her – the way it bounces in time with your thrusts, combined with the wrecked sounds leaving your lips, the slick sound of the strap deep inside you, the fact that Paige wants you so bad it makes her stupid. 

It doesn’t take much longer after that. You and Paige were already pent up. Her thumb quickens on your clit, her free hand gripping your hips tight enough to leave a bruise as she drags you up and down relentlessly, her own hips meeting yours. You can tell she’s getting close when her breathing turns ragged and her face burns red. You’re right there with her, digging your nails into her shoulders for stability as you push yourself to your high.

Part of you expects Paige to open her mouth again, to say something slick that would leave you trembling, but you don’t give her the chance to. You pull her face to yours, silencing your cries with her lips. You shiver when she bites down on your bottom lip harshly, soothing the sting with her tongue. “‘M close,” you manage breathlessly, holding onto her tightly – feeling as though your orgasm would wreck you completely. 

“I know,” she murmurs, her voice choked. “Let go, mama, I’m right here.”

So you do, the pleasure washing over you completely as you cry out, sagging onto her body bonelessly, the cowboy hat falling off to the side of the bed. Paige drags you against the strap, riding out the high, her jaw slack in wordless pleasure while her body burns. She doesn’t still until you push her hands off of you, the overstimulation buzzing under your skin.

Your thighs are still trembling, your breathing uneven. You hardly have the energy to slide off of the strap, so you settle for holding onto Paige, tucking your head into the crook of her neck where sweat glistens and the lingering scent of her cologne remains. You shift, feeling the soaked comforter beneath both of you. It’s enough to make you groan.

But then Paige is shifting, too, the strap brushing against a spot inside you that punches a moan out of you. You don’t have to look up to know she’s smirking. “Chill,” you admonish, your body still sizzling. You don’t know how she still has the energy and the stamina to go after she just turned you inside out, but she moves her hips again, on purpose this time, and the heat coiling in your belly returns tenfold. “You’re insatiable.”

“Look who’s in my bed,” she says as if it explains everything. You just shake your head, amused by her. Paige’s fingers trail down your sides, brushing against your skin while she presses featherlight kisses to your temple, your cheeks, the hinge of your jaw. “Know you’ve got one more for me, don’t you?”

You can’t find the words, but you don’t need to. You grab onto her chain – mostly to hold her in place, and you kiss her – deep, lingering, soft despite the moment prior. She grins against you, sliding the strap out as she maneuvers you. The emptiness makes you sigh, but the shift doesn’t take long. She angles you until you can see your bodies in the mirror across her room, your breath catching at the insinuation.

You watch through the mirror as she reaches for the cowboy hat again, settling it over her messy curls. Her smile is determined – like she’s not quite satisfied, not content with the two orgasms she’d pulled from you; ravenous like she can’t wait to have you again. It shouldn’t turn you on like it does, but the flame is licking at you once more and you can’t help but succumb to the fire.

She wraps her right arm around your waist, pulling you up to a kneeling position while she settles in behind you. The strap brushes against you. The sensitivity makes you jolt, but Paige soothes you with a hushed murmur, her hand pressing against your stomach and keeping you tethered. “Want you to watch,” she whispers in your ear. Her right hand abandons your waist to hold you by the jaw, gently tilting your head up until you make eye contact through the mirror.

You’re rendered breathless by the sight – Paige’s body eclipsing yours, the hickeys adorning your skin, the slick between your thighs that shines from the lamplight. Paige isn’t much better, either. Her hair is a mess, the hat on her head skewed to the side, her neck littered with your teeth marks, skin shining from exertion. For stability, you hold onto the arm that’s wrapped tightly around you, pushing back against the strap.

“Can you do that for me?” she asks, pushing her hips forward, dragging through your folds. You nod quickly, letting out a soft whine when the tip of the strap catches your sensitive clit. “Keep your eyes on me or I’ll stop.”

“I will, Paige, promise – just…please–”

She hushes you again, kissing your neck. “I got you, baby. Relax for me, okay? Gonna give it to you. Just need you to be good for me.” You nod again, melting into her body, and with the hand not holding you upright, she guides the strap to your entrance. You moan softly as she slides inside with little resistance, bottoming out as she murmurs, “That’s it, perfect girl. You take me so well.”

You can’t muster the words to respond to that, so you lean your head on hers when she drags the strap out, then pushes back in with a devastating slowness that you feel throughout your entire body. Your body is still buzzing with oversensitivity, but the slowness of her thrusts helps to ground you.

She glances up to the mirror to ensure you’re still looking at her – which you are, enraptured and unable to look away – before she trails her lips down your neck, pressing gentle, wet kisses to your overheated skin.

She’s softer now. Soft in a way that makes you clench around the strap breathlessly, tilting your head to give her more access to your neck. She recognizes that it won’t take much to build you up again, more focused on making sure you enjoy every second – every motion, every push and pull of the strap. Paige plants a kiss on every hickey she’d left on your body, her actions borderline reverent in a way that makes you want to come for her again and again and again.

With one arm still wrapped around your chest, holding onto your jaw, the other wraps around your hips, holding you by the stomach.

Unable to look away, you tighten your grip on her arms, trying not to fall apart too soon. Your stomach coils, already close, but Paige moves slowly, her thrusts hitting deep, and you’re all too content to float along the current of pleasure. Her lips still ghost across your body, licking the salt off of your skin, pressing gentle apologies to the dark spots on your neck.

“You want more, mama?” she murmurs in your ear, a gentle check in despite the question. You hardly have to think about it before you nod. With the hand braced over hers, you drag her left hand down, her fingers finding your clit with ease.

She doesn’t apply much pressure, just enough for you to feel it without overpowering the sensations. You don’t let go either, guiding her motions, moving it further down to gather more of your slick before bringing it back up to circle your clit.

The slide makes it impossibly sweeter – she tightens her circles, pushing deeper inside you with the strap, the tip brushing against the spongy spot inside of you that makes you keen.

Paige doesn’t slow. She doesn’t speed up. She keeps her pace deliciously consistent, the strap dragging in and out of you deliberately, her fingers working you up in tandem.

Her free hand keeps your gaze locked on the mirror, watching her as she kisses your neck, the shell of your ear, listening to her breath heavily as if she’s feeling everything you are, too. That thought alone makes your hips stutter, pressing back into her.

She soothes you with gentle whispers. “So good for me, baby,” she’d say, or she’d time the circling of your clit with a deeper thrust, murmuring, “You feel me? Want you to feel good.” And the stupid hat makes you unravel a little bit more – it hangs off of her head loosely, threatening to fall at any moment, but all you can think about is how you rode her wearing her hat, how she claimed you in the club and how she made you fall apart wearing something with her name on it. You’re hers now, and honestly, you don’t hate that idea.

It doesn’t take much longer before your eyes are slipping shut, confessing, “Close, P,” in a hoarse voice. The sensations are overwhelming – her hot skin pressed against yours, the strap sliding through you and hitting spots you’d never knew existed, the maddening feeling of her thumb against your clit, her breathing against your ear, the pounding of her heartbeat against your back revealing just how close she is to falling apart, too.

“Okay, baby,” she whispers, her motions never slowing, kissing your neck again. But she presses her fingers a little more firmly to your clit, her free hand tapping against your cheek to gather your attention.

Your eyes blink open, finding the mirror again, the ruined look on her face. She looks desperate – not to get off, but desperate to watch you get off. “Want you to watch yourself.” Her voice is a little broken, almost begging, and it makes your breath catch in your throat. “You look so pretty when you come for me, you know that? Wanna watch you do it over and over and over again.”

“Paige,” you gasp, the sound coming out like a half-sob, half-whine, the pleasure building and the heat coiling.

But she hardly hears you, her eyes glazed over and pussy drunk. Her jaw hangs slack like she’s the one being fucked, her breathing uneven and heavy. “You feel so good,” she rambles. “Like you were made just for me. Can’t get enough of you. Please, mama, wanna see you fall apart for me. You’re so good, so fucking perfect–”

The coil snaps, white hot pleasure coursing through your veins, electricity down your spine, and all you can do is sag back into her one final time, moans tumbling from your lips while she works you through the aftershocks.

Her hips and her fingers slow, murmuring incoherent sentences into your ear, her words dripping in both gratitude and a satiated desire like watching you get off finally quenched a thirst she’s been harboring for years.

You don’t have to say anything, either – it’s like she knows your body by heart now. Gingerly, she slips the strap out of your soaked cunt and detaches her fingers from your sensitive clit. As much as you’d love to feel her skin against yours, her hips dragging against yours, you can barely keep your eyes open. The final aftershocks dissipate, your thighs calming, the pleasurable fog in your brain clearing.

“You still with me?” she asks softly, smoothing the hair at the crown of your head with her clean hand.

At that, all you can do is muster a laugh, your eyes opening blearily. “Yeah,” you say, “no thanks to you, though.”

“Hmm,” she scoffs, amusement in her eyes. “Coulda sworn this was exactly what you wanted. You know, open legs and all.”

“Alright,” you deadpan, attempting to roll on your side, but you can’t summon the strength. You settle for some weird half angle that’s hardly worth the drama of the moment. “Goodnight!”

“No way,” Paige laughs. “C’mon. I need you awake. Lemme run you a bath and change these sheets so you can rest, okay? You good with that?”

You meet her eyes again, your smile softening at the gentle earnestness on her face. If she hadn’t already ruined you before, you’re sure you are now. But there’s something in her eyes that promises this might not be a one night thing after all. “Yeah,” you whisper, drawing her closer to plant a chaste, affectionate kiss to her lips. You feel her grin. “You’re gonna have to carry me, though.”

“Whatever you want, baby,” she assures you, crawling off the bed and unbuckling the harness on her hips. She throws it haphazardly into the adjacent bathroom and you try not to laugh when something clatters to the floor. Paige picks you up with ease, one arm looping under your knees and the other wrapping around your back. She sets you on the edge of the tub as she heats up the water, helping you into it gingerly and tossing in a eucalyptus bath bomb for your aches. Before she leaves to swap the sheets, she plants a soft kiss onto your forehead.

You soak for a few moments until she returns, offering you a small smile before she slips in behind you. Her body is almost as warm as the water and twice as soft. She massages the shampoo and conditioner into your hair and jokingly points out her assault on your neck with a mixture of pride and concern. You tell her she’ll have to buy your concealer in bulk but when she murmurs, “As long as I get to see you again,” you find that you don’t really care about the marks on your neck as long as you get to keep this annoyingly charming, devastatingly beautiful athlete in your life.

Paige helps you out of the tub, your eyes drooping once more, dressing you in a pair of her boxers and an oversized t-shirt from her college days. She guides you back to bed gingerly, the sheets fresh and clean, and you have your head on her chest before she’s even got her head on the pillow. She grins because it doesn’t bother her at all. You smile because her heart’s pounding and you think you know why it is.

Just before you fall into a blissful, exhausted sleep, Paige’s voice cuts through the fog once more. “About that offer,” she whispers, tapping on the leg you have slung across hers. “Does it expire?”

She jokes, but you can hear the truth of her question beyond it. She’s not referring to your legs. Not literally.

Your smile is tired, but it’s no less affectionate. “For you?” you echo, drowsiness lacing your tone. “No. It’s renewable.”

“How long?”

You’re quiet for a beat, just enough to consider your words.

Is this something you want? Relationships can be hard. Tricky. But something about Paige tells you she’s in for the ride. That you can trust her – with you and your heart.

So you press a kiss to the hinge of her jaw, feeling her cheeks stretch with a smile, and you make her a promise:

“As long as you want.”

[starry-907]

Animation vs Life SMP

alright so i said in the tumblr community if we got new life series and influencer arc ep 3 on the same day i'd post my (currently very minimal and disorganized) thoughts for animation vs life series! and uh. we did indeed get new life series today soooooo yeah.

thoughts below the cut cuz it will likely be a bit long shgsldjf

Explanation of life smp

so! for those of you that don't know what life series/life smp is, it's basically hardcore but you have (usually) 3 lives instead of just one (there's been 2 seasons that don't follow that exact idea). when you hit your last life (referred to as your "red life") you get to be hostile and kill others outside of specific circumstances. last person alive wins! there's been 5 seasons so far (and a vaugely canon april fools ep), with the 6th season starting today, leading to me writing this here.

a lot of folks also add in some additional lore with these beings called the watchers, with the lore being that they're the ones organizing the games and kinda keeping the players locked in this loop of death games. i think one of the content creators has his own lore involving the watchers, martyn inthelittlewood.

if you want an explanation of ava/avm i can't type that here or we'd be here all day so instead i'll just link this post i made a while back that should help explain some stuff

The foundation

essentially this au starts with the idea of what if instead of mcyt-ers, the watchers decided to nab some silly sticks for their death game instead? the current lineup that they grabbed is:

Vic, Chosen, Dark, Second, Green, Blue, Yellow, Red, Purple, and Mango. i might add the mercs if i want more people for more complexity, but i'm still in the baby stages of ideation here.

thing is though, the watchers want to have a pawn member actually in the games, so they can manipulate events the way they want to, whenever they need to. so.....

(yeah that's right i made drawings to go along with this explanation)

ok so it isn't just because they're also purple, it's because they seemed the best candidate in terms of skill and such. cunning and resourceful, but still desperate for approval in a way, so just breadcrumb some praise and you should be able to get them to do what you need them to do right?

i mean purple does eventually realize something's up and doesn't listen to the watchers as much (when they can get away with it).

purple's changes

of course, being made a watcher does come with some changes, external and internal.

external, they get these floating eyes around their head, and the watcher symbol on their back. both of them are usually not visible, only really showing up in low light (light level 3 or less) or when under extreme stress. somehow no one's really questioned it? i mean if you're stuck in a death game (that you don't know is a loop of death games), your friend suddenly getting a bunch of eyes isn't a major concern.

what does garner attention (esp cuz these can't be hidden), is the fact that purple's elytra have turned into full on feathered wings (also with the watcher symbol). they don't allow for flight in the games (unfair advantage), but they do serve as a more... permanent reminder of where purple's ultimate loyalties should lie.

(in case you can't tell, i'm working with majority morally dark watchers here. there are some that don't like the idea, but most of them are more than down for it).

ok jumping ahead a bit we're talking curses!

what's a life series without some curses and patterns, eh? i do not have many right now, but i do know what the biggest one is, i'll do that last.

mango gets a curse to always fail to protect a close ally from death at least once

vic is cursed to always have one death that was preventable

blue has sort of a reverse of mangos, she will have at least one death protecting an ally.

ok starry but what about the canary curse?

i'm glad you asked. who's the one that always runs into battle first in ava, and is therefore the one to always die first?

THAT'S RIGHT. HECK YOU *CANARIES YOUR RED*.

i realize there's other characters that could've fit but at the same time canary red just hits so much more to me. granted the watchers didn't know for sure who their canary would be during the first game, but once red died they just collectively went 👀 and hit him with the curse.

after the first game, the ends of red's bandana become stylized to look like wings, and anyone who knows how to look can see faint images of canary wings on his shoulders. only purple knows the exact reason why.

hey so are they just stuck forever or what

uhhh haven't fully thought this part through. HOWEVER! i do know the main focus characters of this au! purple is clearly one of them, since they have a connection to the watchers (kinda against their will). the other primary focus character... well a lot of folks headcanon that the winners get to remember the past game(s) as a reward for their victory, and the first winner is someone who's more than used to dealing with having an urge in the back of their mind to kill.

basically woe, platonic bugduo upon ye. dark wins the first game, learns about the watchers and stuff, and decides to work with purple on trying to break the cycle. also! for those of you who know how third life ended take that but instead it's chosen and dark. tragic siblings.

(i guess dark did wind up fulfilling their code to destroy the chosen on- *gets exploded*)

other misc things/the scenarios imagined

they would go through all the current games, i don't have many ideas for limited life though (i've only watched all of third and secret life, i need to catch up on the others)

i realized that the boogey curse session from secret life could be very interesting to deal with (blue would be the one to start with the boogey curse), i might write that one if i ever write things for this

purple realizing at the start of limited life that everyone had their memories of third life erased (except dark, they realize dark knows but maybe by that point the alliances are already made)

purple gets to go feral at least once as a treat. is it the boogey curse? red life urges? the watchers? who knows but they get to go feral

as i said, dark is able to resist the red life urges a bit better due to experience with the mission code (which is somewhat suppressed by the watchers, they don't want to let their game be ruined by something like that). also remember how scott didn't kill anyone while affected by the boogey curse in limited life yeah dark does that and it's actually the worst

red notices the wings, he knows about canaries but he doesn't know the full significance of them.

idk what associations the winners would get (i'm still thinking about the different winners at this point anyways). I think yellow would win one, maybe also chosen or second...?

unlikely alliances, unlikely alliances as far as the eye can see. double life especially

PLEASE if you have any ideas or questions come yell at me in my ask box, i would like to talk more about this and i'm curious what thoughts y'all might have

[eepyuii]

frostbite — pt. 16

pairing ; childe x gender neutral!reader

content ; childhood friends to “rivals” to lovers, slow burn

cw ; reader spiraling a little bit, typical violence, very brief mentions of pain and blood

notes ; guys. so uhm. i don’t know what the fuck happened

while i never planned to stop writing frostbite entirely, i was sure that it would still take a while for me to actually *want* to continue it, as i’ve been endlessly burnt out from college and in a little bit of an artistic block (not to mention falling quite a bit out of genshin after natlan came out, but who’s surprised)

like i shit you not, i might genuinely have been possessed last night because i just opened my draft for the latest chapter (that got started in fucking SEPTEMBER of last year btw) and just. started writing. unfortunately that doesn’t mean i’ll start posting regularly again, i might never put out chapters as quickly as i did when i started frostbite but just know that i HAVE NOT GIVEN UP ON THIS!!!!!!! GENSHIN IS TEMPORARY BUT TARTAGLIA IS FOREVER!!!!! HUZZAH!!!!!!!!!!

(oh yeah and there’s a lot of wriothesley shenanigannery in this one. yeah this is heading where you think it is, sorry guys)

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he’s so close, you can almost feel his gloved hand held within your own.

it’s as though you’re children playing chase again, only this time you follow his glaring red scarf and his fiery head of hair through the rusted hallways of an underwater prison, rather than the snow covered field of your childhood.

he specters through the walls of the fortress, disappearing and reappearing far ahead of you just as you’re about to reach him. you call out to him ceaselessly even though it proves futile— either he’s ignoring you or entranced by something else. finally, his pace comes to a halt as he turns to a hallway overgrown with moss. a cool breeze wafts in from the hallway and as you step further in, finding that the hallway ends in a pool of glowing water. primordial seawater.

even though you’re fully aware that neither you nor him would be affected by the primordial waters, a bad feeling settles in your stomach and you rush to stop him. your pleas continue to fall on deaf ears— he steps closer and closer, until his boots touch the mouth of the pool.

you’re so close… so close that you decide to leap to close in the distance between the two of you. he’s at the tip of your fingers… and then—!

fucking ouch.

you land on the cold, unforgiving metal ground of your room with a harsh slam. gods, what are you, five years old? falling off the bed because of a dream?

certainly doesn’t help that the scenery you’re rudely woken up to is the sad, grimy bronze walls that only remind you that you’re still in prison for a ridiculous fake crime. suddenly, the situation settles into the rest of your body— as the fatigue and ache bleed into your muscles from all the backbreaking work you did yesterday for the sake pathetic little credit coupons, added onto the pain currently spreading on your side from your fall.

you groan tiredly. back to the grind, you suppose.

a lazy hand reaches out to the table next to your bed to count the amount of coupons you’ve gathered in the last few days. ugh, still not enough to buy the information from that idiot guy, vidoc. you consider your options while trying your best to stretch your muscles— the pain that shoots your limbs is unspeakable.

okay, so no heavy-work today. while that is the best way to earn a bunch of coupons, your body most certainly cannot handle it. if only there were painkillers around the fortress…

wait.

—

“now, keep it compressed with these bandages, ice it whenever you can and- obviously, don’t put too much force on it.” you finish tightening up the gauze on some poor inmate’s sprained wrist as he listens intently. once the gauze is certifiably fastened on his wrist, you take the opportunity to wrap both your hands around the joint and ever so slightly activate your cryo powers in an impromptu measure of icing the sprain.

“got it, thanks, doc.” the man nods appreciatively, hearing the nickname ‘doc’ again leaves you with a long lost warm feeling. for the first in months, you finally feel like you’re back in function— simply tending to others’ medical needs, even if it is just you working temporarily at the fortress of meropide’s infirmary.

sigewinne writes down reports and notes on her clipboard swiftly, having allowed you to cover the incoming patients while she busies herself with paperwork. only for a moment does she look up to watch yet another inmate trot out the infirmary with a satisfied air to them. she throws you a pleasant grin and hops up to proudly slap you on… well, what would sentimentally be your shoulder, but the highest she reaches is your hip.

“good work, y/n! it’s not very often that someone volunteers to work at the infirmary with me, so i’m quite grateful for your help!” the melusine praises.

you chuckle sheepishly as you neatly put away the equipment you just used. “it’s my pleasure, miss sigewinne. this kind of stuff is almost therapeutic for me.”

sigewinne giggles before she looks off thoughtfully— shooting up as she suddenly remembers something. “ah! speaking of therapeutic, i have to find the duke and speak to him about the package of romaritime flowers i-“

heavy footsteps approach the infirmary, ones that seem almost familiar to you, as they quickly reveal to come from the duke himself, as if summoned. you jump slightly once his imposing figure enters the room, moments from your last meeting flashing before your eyes. hoping to remain unseen, you choose to divert your attention to the patient who rests off a fever in the corner of the infirmary and turn your back to the other two, checking the inmate’s temperature.

“wriothesley, perfect timing! i was just on my way to speak to you about the order of supplies i placed.”

“well good morning to you too, sigewinne,” the duke muses. “mm, yes, i’ll have to check with the front desk and see about— …oh! good morning, y/n, didn’t expect to find you working at the infirmary.”

god dammit.

you turn around slowly like a child with their hand caught in the cookie jar and throw wriothesley a tight-lipped, awkward smile before returning to your previous task. the duke doesn’t seem to notice your sheepishness as he continues to watch you with a smile.

“well, it is nice to see you in your element.” he comments into the otherwise painfully awkward air of the infirmary. the notion that wriothesley would ever be amused by seeing you do medical work, that he would ever even regard your existence as anything more than another fatuus residing in his prison, leaves a foreign fuzzy sensation across your chest.

“say, would you like to join me this afternoon for another talk?”

the question surprises you entirely, as your last talk hadn’t exactly been the most casual and innocent of talks… you frown towards wriothesley accordingly and he seems to immediately understand your concern.

“don’t worry, you can choose the tea this time.” he jokes, thankfully sigewinne doesn’t seem to think much more about the implications of it.

well, who are you to deny the duke of meropide, so you answer with a simple ‘sure’. the fortress’ head nurse senses the thickness in the air and moves the conversation back to where she had left it off and steps up to the exit of the infirmary.

“well! we should get going to the front desk, those romaritime flowers must be stored properly before they start withering. that is, if they’re even here at all.”

you hear sigewinne’s voice grow quieter and quieter as she leaves and turn back, once more, to your function. though… as you dip a small towel in warm water to put against the feverish inmate’s forehead, you realize only one set of footsteps was heard leaving the infirmary. a sudden warmth creeps up from the back of your neck and settles on your cheeks.

“…wriothesley?” you hear sigewinne call out from far away.

“r-right, yes.”

heavy, thumping footsteps leave the room— from right behind you. why is your heart even beating faster? this is nothing.

it’s so absolutely nothing that you entirely forget about it within your dedication to taking care of the infirmary while sigewinne is gone and the hours pass by in a flash. as you send off your latest patient, the emptiness of the infirmary room settles differently. there’s a certain air of uneasiness, a familiar chill in your spine— it instinctively tells you that you’re being watched. shoulders tense, you look around the bend of the large metal pipe that constitutes the hallway, finding no sign of life. the gnawing suspicion in your gut doesn’t leave you still, yet you choose to brush it off and occupy yourself with something else.

“sergeant y/n l/n from the medical division, eh?” a taunting voice calls out from behind you. should’ve listened to your gut.

you turn coldly to face two smug inmates. at first you presume it’s just some regular wingus and dingus who’ve got a particular distaste for fatui and decided to pick on you to fulfill their little uneventful lives rotting away in a prison. and then… you look down to see a familiar symbol in the form of a silver brooch hanging from one of the two’s pocket. and his buddy’s got one too.

oh— oh they’re even more pathetic than you thought.

and therefore not worthy of your time, so you simply roll your eyes with a demeaning scoff and slide past the two goons to make your way out the infirmary. only before you can get away, a painfully firm grip latches onto your elbow and pulls you back.

“woah! not so fast there, we’ve still gotta talk-“

“has nobody taught you to respect your superiors? you called me sergeant, did you not? now act like it.” you spit venomously.

the second fatuus chuckles smugly. “and haven’t you learned that none of that bullshit applies here? we’re all equals in the fortress of meropide.” choosing not to make a comeback, the silence allows for the two to scornfully look you up and down, as if scrutinizing a roach on the floor— you merely roll your eyes away from their gaze. one of them scoffs. the one holding your arm tightens his grip cruelly, forcing an involuntary wince out of you.

“dottore’s little lap dog.. agh s-shit-!“ he sneers, though barely as the last word rolls disdainfully off his tongue, searing rage shoots up your spine and into your trapped arm. it’s like a reflex you don’t control and you find enough strength to twist your arm in his grip and in return, grasping onto his throat tightly.

just like he did before, you continuously tighten your grip mercilessly, as the poor jackass still tries to find the time to react to your movement— choking on the air and desperately trying to suck air back into his throat.

“don’t you ever, ever, even fucking think of calling me that again, you-“ you snarl rabidly, as ice uncontrollably emanates from your hand and spreads onto the fatuus’ skin with a cruel hiss. he immediately tries recoil away from you, pained gasp struggling to leave his throat. as if feeling the icy sting yourself, you recoil away from him, finally awaking from your sudden fit of anger.

you look down at your own hand— it looks foreign to you, like a hand that would hurt some, while douchey, blameless fool isn’t a hand that would belong to you. cryo energy still buzzes under your skin and leaves the muscles in your palm slightly spasming. turning back up toward the two fatui, they look at you incredulously, sneering at you like you’re a rabid animal that briefly lost control.

you feel utterly suffocated.

vision spotting and ears ringing, your feet take you far from the infirmary hallway before you even realize. when you feel like you’ve composed yourself enough, you look around to realize you’ve ended up at the administrative center of the fortress— it’s barren of people and deafeningly silent, sparing the ever-present hum of machinery that emanates dully from every corner of this prison, likely due to the fact that most inmates had already gone back to their quarters to rest at this time of day. you merely stand there, taking in the sheer emptiness of the floor and letting the sound of your own heartbeat thrum inside your ears without a certain course of action.

your eyes wander around aimlessly and eventually, land on the elevator that leads down to the pankration ring. you’d never given the ring much thought, as it seemed like nothing you’d ever want to engage in simply by your nature. but then again… choking someone with your bare hand wasn’t something of your nature, but you still did it. perhaps a more, let’s say, active way to cool your nerves doesn’t sound so bad after all. you didn’t even realize you had nerves to tend to in the first place, but it’s not like being in prison is a fucking cake walk.

you space out as the elevator starts descending to the pankration ring, mind filling with plans of what else you had or could do in the fortress tomorrow to investigate childe’s disappearance. you think of places to go and people to talk to as you absentmindedly step off the elevator and into the ring— barely paying attention to the obscenely obvious other presence inside. a particularly heavy thud, like a hard punch, is what snaps back to reality and your chest seems to stutter, stunned at the sight.

it’s him.

wriothesley, the duke of meropide, throwing the most ruthless of hits against the poor, beaten-down dummy inside the boxing ring at the center of the room. he moves and swings like a professional boxer, body fully and utterly committed to the practice— so much so that he doesn’t even notice you, facial expression intense and focused.

his back is slightly faced toward you and it’s only then that you realize that he’s fucking shirtless. rippling, shifting muscles compose his back, decorated with various scars and twinkling beads of sweat. you’re ashamed to admit that you find yourself entranced by the sight. and so you won’t admit it. before you allow your jaw to drop too low at what’s before you, you shake your shoulders as if to brush away your fluster— the fluttering sound of your clothes is impossibly quiet… yet the duke seems to hear it from where he stands inside the ring and pauses his task abruptly.

he turns around and the way he shifts is almost in slow motion. wriothesley prepares a hardened face to show to whoever has dared to interrupt his private training session but the moment it actually lands on your figure, his entire body seems to soften in its resolve. you hate that the relaxation of his muscles is heavily accentuated and highlighted by the light that hangs over the boxing ring.

“y/n! …i must say, i really did not expect to find you here.” wriothesley chuckles breathlessly, eyes twinkling with pleased surprise.

you despise how heavily he pants from exhaustion and how you can’t seem to stop watching him do so. it’s a miracle that your scattered mind actually remembers that you had agreed to meet him for tea, which as seen by the late hours of night, did not happen. what is wrong with you today?

you choke on nothing and clear your throat to mask your lack of composure. “ah-! y-yes uhm… to be honest, i never expected to ever want to come to the pankration ring either but-“

the image of the terrified fatuus shivering beneath your hand flashes punishingly bright behind your eyes.

“-but i guess i might as well try it out while i’m here.” your smile is forced.

regardless of whether or not wriothesley notices that, he flashes you a warm smile and extends a welcoming hand. you reluctantly step up the stairs and inside the ring, feeling immediately out of element. you idiot, why did you even agree to this? why did you even think it was a good idea before coming down here? yes, you know how to fight in combat but you’re not… a fighter.

you fight if you must but you don’t resort to violence arbitrarily… at least, you didn’t. the duke, as if sensing your turmoil, puts a well-timed comforting hand on your tense shoulder as his other one encouragingly holds out a roll of hand wrap.

“hey, even if this isn’t usually your cup of tea,” he jests, obviously not taking your ‘ditch’ to his invite to heart— you still feel guilty about it. “you should still try to relieve whatever tension you have. and it seems like you’ve got enough tension to bring you all the way down here.”

he’s so… friendly. you don’t even know what you’ve done to deserve such lighthearted familiarity from someone like the literal warden of the prison you’re locked in. even as you struggle to wrap the hand wraps properly, wriothesley offers to help without a thought. like he’s known you for years— like it’s no problem that he’s still fucking shirtless in front of you. you feel dizzy.

the duke doesn’t even ask if you know how to fight or not, your unspoken sergeant title answers his unspoken question. he merely watches as you swing experimentally at the dummy, pausing periodically to allow your knuckles to throb and hum silently with each strike against the tough, worn surface of the dummy. eventually, you pause less often, you hit faster and harder, you stop thinking about your next swing. subconsciously, your face adopt the same intense expression you’d seen wriothesley wear when you arrived and your teeth grit with animalistic instinct.

it’s nearly an out-of-body experience, you barely realize what you’re doing and just relish in the way the strain in your arms and the sting in your knuckles turns into an electric rush. you don’t even focus on why you were stressed in the first place— the fact that you’re in prison, the workload, the investigation, the two fatui stooges you encountered today, childe’s disappearance… even wriothesley seems to disappear from view despite being palpably present and shamelessly intrigued by your commitment. you might even allow yourself to admit that you’re enjoying this, that you maybe just a little bit understand why childe loves this so fervently. now that you think about it, you’re 1000% sure that childe spent most of his free time in the prison absolutely demolishing the scoreboard at the pankration ring— you chuckle mentally at that image. unfortunately, that’s all the amusement your brain allows you to have before you’re overcome with anguish as you’re reminded of the fact that childe is still missing. at this point in your life, you’re certain you’ll grow grey hairs at a ridiculously young age from the sheer stress that childe unintentionally brings you.

it seems that you cannot spare even a single breath where you’re not worrying over him. worrying over his whereabouts, his health, his utter lack of self-preservation or limitation, his thirst for battle… his dizzyingly beautiful eyes, his endearing freckles, his breathtaking battle scars, his hearty laughter… his suffocating proximity to you when you were patching up his injuries in the hotel bathro—

“woah, y/n! h-hold on!” wriothesley calls out and suddenly you’re back at the pankration ring, except now the dummy in front of you has brand new fist-shaped bloodstains and your knuckles hurt like fucking hell.

as your chest heaves up and down intensely with desperation to regulate your breathing, your heart hammering like never before, the duke approaches your stunned figure with caution. he gently takes one of your aching hands in his to inspect it, feathery touches over your knuckles. after the train of thought you had gotten into, wriothesley’s gesture leaves the butterflies in your stomach utterly confused and fluttering as if they’re short-circuiting, your brain in the same state.

you might pass out.

within two blinks, your surroundings have warped into a familiar office and a teacup is placed in front of you.

taglist ; @kentply @osaemu @rain-and-a-nice-nap @koichirana

[six-eyed-samurai]

TOKYO REV X INSTAGRAM

🌸MIKEY isn't online that much and by that I mean he probably opens it once in a blue moon. Low-key strikes me as one of those people that randomly become active and spam reels, update stories, instigate shit in the group chat and then boom. Just suddenly disappears again. Has forgotten his password more than once (Emma/Draken memorize it for him). His feed is probably memes or desserts or all kinds of ASMR. Doesn't check the profile of whoever follows him and doesn't follow back; keeps forgetting to set his account to private despite Emma's nagging so he ends up having a bunch of strangers and bots following him, probably

🌸I can see DRAKEN'S Instagram FYP having those would you rather (super expensive, sleek, iconic race cars) or (beautiful celebrity name) reels, motorcycles and whatever got infected by the reels his friends send. Follows a few celebrities/companies/news and only people he knows. Active in stories but rarely actually posts. That one friend that watches all the reels. Muted the GC and everyone's acting like he killed their dog (me).

🌸MITSUYA obviously follows all those big name designers and fashion brands, small t-shirt brands and maybe a couple models. I feel like his account is one of the most active: lots of stories on his sisters, does those "(month) dump) photos, gets tagged a lot on everyone else's photos. Somehow managed to avoid all the brain rot reels; he likes watching reels but hates when they all get repetitive (eg same topic different influencer, same dance moves). I absolutely know he keeps highlights. Has a normal person PFP and bio with favroite music. 10/10 nicest Instagram accounts to look at.

🌸 Predictably CHIFUYU'S Instagram account is full of Peke J, silly cat stuff, manga updates (he follows the mangaka) and out of context life updates ("just ate glass ow"). Super easy password to guess - pekej123 probably. His posts are selfies, cats, his friends, cats, once his mom, cats...I think Chifuyu can never decide on a profile picture to stick to as well. Depending on what his current obsession is probably changes it to his favourite character/Peke J/ some blurry selfie. Secretly dreams of having a girlfriend to match it with so a) he has a girlfriend! b) it's cute and c) he doesn't have to decide for himself.

🌸 I'm sorry but I see BAJI as one of those really bad at using social media people, which is a real shame because if he did figure it out he'd probably have a gigantic following and spam reels to everyone. Always accidentally shares the wrong story to Close Friends or public - in fact his account is public too, because he forgets to change it to private and actually doesn't really know how. Follows his mom and tells his friends not to tag him in freaky/gang stuff because she can see it. Posts like he's never heard of stories.

🌸KAZUTORA probably only got an Instagram account because of his friends or when he's working at the pet store, to follow and promote it. Eventually grows to like it though and gets addicted to reels...probably subconsciously absorbs the brainrot and doesn't realize until someone points it out. Surprisingly frequent poster once he gets the hang of it. Hates watching trends because they get too repetitive but loves it when it's of someone's pet dancing.

🌸 TAKEMITCHY has the most normal and typical account ever. Posts a lot of the gang and eventually Hinata dominates it all because simp boyfriend. Probably has some "inspiring" quote on his bio. The good photos of him (aka the ones where he doesn't look like an overly excited kid taking selfies) came from other people."Me and bro" kinda reels are on his FYP a lot; one time he didn't share a "send this lucky Buddha to someone or risk bad luck tomorrow" and had a really bad day so now religiously shares it out.

🌸Definitely one of the girls who posts one picture of themselves and gets about 1000 likes, EMMA is the most frequent user of Instagram and posts like an influencer. Has everyone's Instagram and if you want to stalk someone hit her up. Watches and likes every one of Draken's stories and you can't convince me otherwise. Shinichiro is very unhappy so many stranger boys follow her. Very cute PFP, very aesthetic pictures, very demure-

🌸HINATA has a very private account, so you can't really tell what she's up to based of her online activity. Just a couple photos of friends with no obvious faces, scenery snapshots, fit photos with her face cropped out, which Emma insists is a big shame because she's so pretty!! That friend who sends you "I'm so proud of you" posts and really nice reels. Instagram note probably has some trending song as well.

🌸 I low-key feel like YUZUHA is one of those girls who only take pictures of part of their face - forehead, cheek, shoulder, neck, but never the whole thing. Uses it mainly to help promote Hakkai in the good timelines. Her FYP is beyond cursed and so are the reels she sends. I can see her and Hakkai doing dance trends together to post or playing around with filters.

[accirax]

hey everybody! wanted to make a quick post to say that, due to various holiday shenanigans, i'm not sure how quickly i'll be able to get through the entirety of P:EG chapter 1. i really don't want to be spoiled, so i'll obviously be blocking the tag, but i also ask that nobody send me any asks related to the chapter until i'm done experiencing it! i'll probably either make an initial thoughts-y type post once i'm done, or reblog this post/someone else's art when that's the case. thank you :)

with that out of the way...

LAST MINUTE PREDICTIONS GAME JUMPSCARE!!! small explanatory blurbs under the cut :D

before i get into any of the individual selections: the third victim scenario. the basic formula of the predictions game requires that Chapter 3 contain two victims. however, even though i can't find the source, i'm 99% sure i've heard that Team: Eden's Garden (T:EG, if you will) has confirmed that they won't be following along with typical murder "tropes" such as the Chapter 3 double kill or Chapter 4's buff curse. therefore, Venus and i decided that, for P:EG specifically, we would not have two victims, and instead create an extra survivor slot. consider it a bonus rule applied in advance.

of course, the "fact" that there won't be two Chapter 3 victims doesn't mean that T:EG isn't planning to have multiple victims in a different chapter. however, if that's the case, we'll figure it out later. if anyone wants to play against Venus and I, do whatever you like ^_^

anyways!

Toshiko in the role of Chapter 1 Victim

this was obviously inspired by the fact that Toshiko isn't at all visible in the Trial portion of the Chapter 1 trailer. that feels to hint at her absence too obviously, but, does it...?

i'm really torn on whether i think the Ch1 victim will be her or not. on one hand, i think that Toshiko is a really unique and cool character concept that i hope T:EG has the opportunity to do more with. she was one of the characters that got the most focus in (the introductions part of) the Prologue, which might indicate that they're setting her up as a major player in the story.

however, it also tracks that one of the characters who got the most focus in the Prologue would then become the first victim, as the Prologue would be one of the best opportunities with which to give them focus. on the surface, it seems a bit random that they would make her so much younger than everyone else for just a role as the first victim, but it could be intentional. for instance, if the idea behind her character's creation was "what kind of first victim would make Wolfgang become the most aggro?", suddenly it becomes viable.

i swear, the P:EG cast is made up of half high variance characters (will either go super-Ch1-early or super-Ch5/6-late) and half characters that are definitely gonna die in the middle somewhere, but i don't really care where. the high variance characters are way more scary, because getting the coin flip wrong can land you with a bunch of points :( i totally think Toshiko has the potential to go far, which is why listing her first freaks me out.

what i will say is that, if Toshiko is the first victim, i think it's actually a good sign as to the quality of P:EG's writing. if even their first victim is as intriguing and clearly delineated as Toshiko, we're in for a good time!

Jean in the role of Chapter 1 Killer

at this point, i'm believing that Jean is the Chapter 1 killer (as per my theory) until canon proves me otherwise. which, actually, could be very soon‼

Venus and i just replayed the Prologue in order to fully refresh ourselves on the plot and characters before playing Chapter 1, and genuinely, nothing about what Jean did made me think that he wouldn't be the Chapter 1 killer. not to say that i'll be flabbergasted if i'm wrong, just that the theory holds up better than i thought through my admittedly biased lenses.

no idea where Jean goes if he's not Ch1 killer, also. we'll cross that bridge if/when we get to it!

Desmond in the role of Chapter 2 Victim

full transparency, this is probably the assignment on this sheet i feel worst about. Desmond was one of the last three people i placed, alongside Toshiko and Wenona. my initial vibe check would say that Desmond makes it further than this, more Ch4 or 5-ish.

however, i don't hate this placement. Desmond still hasn't totally clicked for me, and while i think that means his content might be back-loaded in the later chapters, it could also just be that he's not too important. i do like the allure of one weaponsmaster (Desmond) being taken out by another weaponsmaster (Eloise), and think that could be a fun Ch2-level puzzle. Desmond and Eloise also seem to have some sort of relevant relationship with one another, given how they were more-or-less introduced together and how, in the new main title sequence, Desmond's ammo shoots into Eloise. maybe that means they could be a killer/victim pair?

sorry, shippers.

Eloise in the role of Chapter 2 Killer

if anyone is wondering why i'm always calling Eloise that Chapter 2 killer, it's honestly more based on a meme/inside joke than anything at this point. however, that's not to say it has no basis in what i actually believe.

when Venus and i played the Prologue for the first time, we both individually got the strong vibes that Eloise would be, specifically the Chapter 2 killer. she seems fainthearted enough to crack under the pressure of the killing game, but sweet enough to be an appropriately surprising twist when it's revealed that she would kill. she has three separate instances of mentioning that she misses her family (her introduction, the investigation, and after the Class Trial) because you have to set up that early killer's motivation early. and, even if she doesn't use her swordswoman skills to carry out the murder, she has the strength and dexterity to take someone out, as well as directly telling us that she's very strategic and calculated.

ever since, we've joked to each other that Eloise is all but confirmed as the Chapter 2 killer. so, no matter what canon says, Eloise is my Chapter 2 killer <3 (/j)

Jett in the role of Chapter 3 Victim

Jett has big Chapter 3 oddball death energy to me. i think that one of him and Mark will probably survive, but, it could go the other way around! replaying the Prologue, he honestly had way more knowledge about horror and haunted houses than i remembered, which could make him a handy ally throughout the killing game instead. i just can't help but fear that Jett is too silly to live. so, my gut instinct is that Jett will die midgame to allow Mark to come out of his shell a bit afterwards.

Ingrid in the role of Chapter 3 Killer

i initially had Ingrid in the Chapter 3 victim slot before i moved Jett there instead. with Jett, i feel fairly confident that he isn't the type to kill anyone, whereas with Ingrid, i wasn't so sure. i just think that Ingrid has Chapter 3 death energy. i think it's the unique blend of sillyness (such that she wouldn't make it farther) and seriousness (such that she can be taken seriously for three chapters and believed as a killer) with which her character is handled that makes me think so?

she does seem to play by her own rules when it comes to blacksmithing, which could lead to her prioritizing her own belief and needs above the group's sometime down the line. Ingrid is 100% one of those characters who i believe will die in one of those middling chapters, so i don't think i'll score too high with her here no matter what.

Ulysses in the role of Chapter 4 Victim

perhaps if i were a smarter theorist, i'd continue listening to myself of the past and write Ulysses down as the mastermind of P:EG. however, i still just can't shake the feeling that he's important enough of a character to take on that role. not to say that Ulysses is a bad character, just that he feels more like one of the minor characters in the story to me. the only time he was of any particular importance in the Prologue was during his introduction, and i have no clue who his most important character relationship is supposed to be with. the only other character for which i believe this to be true is Ingrid (although, even she was one of the characters who got to participate in the investigation, and got to scold Damon at the end), and, well... you've already seen my thoughts on her. i can't help but feel that a character set up to be so important and late game would already be solidifying some important relationships, or at least bringing some comedy or specific insight to the table.

there's also his note-taking habit, which i believe i've said before totally feels like a victim gimmick to me. deciphering the notes Ulysses left to himself about where he went, who he talked to, what he'd been eating, etc definitely feels like something that would be used to create a unique murder case, with him as the victim. if not Chapter 4, then maybe Chapter 2?

Chapter 2 victim, Chapter 4 victim, or mastermind. what a weird space Ulysses exists in.

Wenona in the role of Chapter 4 Killer

hey, it's the third person i was struggling with.

i don't really know what to do with Wenona. she kinda gives me killer vibes, but that seems too obvious? she also kinda gives me late(r) game vibes, which is probably how she wound up in this late-game killer spot.

sorry, i don't have much to say here. hopefully this doesn't blow up in my face, lol.

Diana in the role of Chapter 5 Victim, Wolfgang in the role of Chapter 5 Killer, Eva in the role of Survivor (and also Damon in the role of Survivor)

quadruple combo!!! allow me to share that incredibly specific scenario i've been cooking up (that i really like) which puts these characters in these spots.

firstly, Diana, and her obvious mastermind-coding. the mastermind-coding is so obvious that it has to go somewhere, right? naturally, it could just result in her being the mastermind, but then i'm not sure why they would be so heavy-handed with it. therefore, i re-propose an idea i've discussed before: someone kills Diana because they think she's the mastermind.

in that case, this person is Wolfgang. the man hates killers and injustices, and believes himself to be a good judge of what's right and wrong. therefore, if he believed he had sights on the mastermind, i believe he could be willing to take a shot at them. of course, in this case, he would fail.

therefore, in the Class Trial, he needs to create a cover for himself. what better course of action than to weaponize his ethos as the Ultimate Lawyer to direct suspicions at the easiest scapegoat, the literal Ultimate Liar?

meanwhile, while Damon clearly has a lot to work through in terms of character arcs, one task on his checklist is surely to make friends. everything about the marketing of this game really makes it seem like Damon and Eva are the core relationship around which the whole story is based. they're Eve and the snake, the Debater and the Liar, and the only two who see through Wolfgang's BS from the beginning. thematically, i think Damon needs a support-type character to survive alongside him, to contrast against his initial lonely elitism. the game seemingly wants us to root for this protagonistic duo to have a happy ending-- and it might be a setup to get us to fight for their survival with all our might.

my vision is that the final Class Trial is where Damon has to put all of his character development to the test, to fully let his Ultimate Debater talent shine as he argues against the Ultimate Lawyer to prove that the Ultimate Liar is telling the truth in her innocence. it's a great setup because, although one might complain about how obvious it would be that Wolfgang would be the killer in this situation, it doesn't matter, because even if you figure out that Wolfgang did it, you still get the catharsis of kicking his ass. and as a bonus, we'd get to reap the benefits of the main antagonist actually getting to be the Chapter 5 killer, instead of circling around it without ever getting to hit the target.

Damon learns to argue for his friends instead of against his enemies, Eva learns that there are people out there who will trust her even when she's been called a liar, and Wolfgang has to reap the consequences of letting his own perceived intellectual superiority lead him to becoming the thing he hates most: a sadistic man who kills an innocent little girl. the end!

i know this idea goes against what i've been promoting-- AKA, a "more interesting" fangan where the authors are willing to kill off their stereotypical antag and support early in favor of surprising the audience with more unique antag and support choices. however, just because i've been asking for that doesn't mean that i actually think it's going to happen, lol. P:EG seems like a fangan to me that's deeply rooted in the Danganronpa classics (even if they won't do Ch3 double kill or Ch4 buff curse), which makes sense from a creative team that isn't otherwise active in the fangan scene, and therefore hasn't considering some of its wackier expeditions. however, as long as they manage to do something fresh with their somewhat stereotypical build, i'll still be happy.

oh, and i've always believed that Damon will be the protagonist for the entire game. he just seems so well-crafted to mirror the main themes and motifs of the story that i'm not sure what the team would gain from killing him off so early (other than the excitement of a protag swap).

Kai in the role of Survivor

um, it's the knowledge that some of the staff members ship kaimon, honestly. to me, that indicates that Kai will have an important relationship with Damon sometime down the line, likely that expands beyond Chapter 1. and, as a high variance character (to me), if you're gonna let the guy make it past Chapter 1, you might as well just let him live, right?

that being said, i do see a path to Kai dying midgame depending on how hard they lean into the "dictatorial influencer" thing. if he becomes more of a villain, i could see him going in Ch3 or 4. i do think he has good setup for a character arc, though, going from not caring about the killing game to actually putting in some effort, and think his humor and patheticness could be a good balancer in a surviving cast. i feel pretty good about this one!

Mark in the role of Survivor

again, you could trade this with Jett; i'm reserving this slot for one of them. i think Mark makes more sense as a survivor because i think that the "my best friend died but i live on" arc makes more sense on him than it does on Jett. for Jett, it would bum him out, sure, but i don't see the connection to his likely character struggles of self image and shame (as implied by his character intro sheet).

meanwhile, Mark's introversion currently appears to be his greatest hurdle, and having to continue on after his only friend dies would echo his arc of needing to open up to others and be positive even when the situation seems dire. plus, having Mark be the one who initially wasn't as interested in talking to Jett is good setup for Mark regretting not talking to Jett more when he had the chance.

Grace in the role of Survivor

i think a lot of people actually don't predict that Grace will survive, which was surprising to me, because she's always given me survivor energy. after Damon, Eva, and Wolfgang (not necessarily in that order), she definitely seemed to be the fourth most important character of the Prologue in a way that, to me, implied longevity.

Grace has a lot going on for her. she's always yelling and fighting with everyone, whether that be students she dislikes, the old men of her profession, or even Tozu himself. That already establishes her with potential (negative) relationships with a lot of people, further elevating her importance. also, she's really unlikable (/pos). this gives her insane character arc potential. why would they make a character that brash and aggravating if they didn't have plans to eventually let her change in some meaningful way?

furthermore, Grace was, surprisingly, one of the few characters to actually provide a new, correct argument in the Prologue Class Trial (she's the one who gets the students thinking about the bleach being in a bucket above the door). that may mean that she's smarter than she appears. might be relevant if she continues to hang around Wolfgang, which seems inevitable. she's a really good contrast to him-- someone who has the same sort of passionate fury that he does, but none of the social tact to prevent her from screaming her beliefs in people's faces. if Wolfgang is around for the long haul, i think Grace will be there with him.

... i'm really excited to learn more about Grace in the Prologue, because i feel i've made a lot of assumptions about her that are possibly unfounded, lol.

Cassidy in the role of Mastermind

Diana or Ulysses or Eva or whatever probably makes more sense, but this is my predictions sheet, so I operate off of my vibe check, yippee!!!

ignore everyone who believes that she's the Chapter 1 victim via visibility! ignore everyone who thinks she's too dumb and comic relief-y to pull off a killing game! ignore the eyebrow-raising logistics of why T:EG would give Cassidy an enemy in Wenona/make Cassidy a communist when that doesn't really make any sense with her being the mastermind! i reap the follies of my OWN poor decision making!!!!!! (/j)

... why am i even putting Cassidy as the mastermind after writing all that, you ask? uh, read my old mastermind ranking theory, idk.

okay that's all :) be back after i finish the chapter!!!

[inkydiamonds]

THANK YOU FOR PUTTING SULLY ON YOUR ARTFIGHT I CAN NOW DRAW HER YAYYYYY

also any updates bout the fate of tirazia !!!! I am invested

YAYAY NP!!! I'm so excited to see your art! (Edit: I took so long to answer this that I have seen it!!!!!)

I also really gotta add more characters to my art fight- including more FOT NPCs maybe ?? Maybe ??? I have one in particular I wanna do but I'm not sure how to do it bc I don't want Blue to see him bc he hasn't shown up in the campaign yet lol

For the actual campaign itself! I'm not sure where I left off lol. [Looks at that one long post] Ah! Session 7 it seems, then Blue sent some memes about session 8.

We haven't done any over the summer bc now we're 8 people total and also. Timezones. But! We ended on session 9, and holy shit were these some crazy last two sessions.

Brief session 7 recap:

Sadly, Hans's player couldn't come, so he canonically spends the entire session digging holes in the ground (... long story) and inspecting the mysterious magical skull he got after we raided the Order of the Five castle (where Sully buried that one person alive). However! For the first time, we have a new player who takes over playing Paul. Through this, the rest of the party goes on a wild goose chase to get a magical artifact with him except Anawrete, who visits her parents' place, and we get lore there. At the end of the session, Alloces goes off to investigate mysterious smuggler's den with ties to Anawrete at the Order of the Five castle and Silen follows him. It ends up having a tunnel leading off into the Underdark, and Silen loses sight of Alloces and starts walking down there.

That's session 7!

Now, session 8:

Sully, Paul, Mal, and after a minute Alloces go and reunite with Hans. Hans is outside the Shipbuilder's Guild, having dug a bunch of holes without finding what he wanted to (a lead brick we buried in like session 4ish) This is very concerning, bc it was supposed to be a message to a demon to kill this one guy (we were trying to solve a mystery and didn't know what else to do..... so we did that. Then we tried to unearth it bc we finished the mystery). Also, it wasn't supposed to disappear, even if it did work! So. Um?

However, the party decides that it's not that important, bc we're preoccupied with something else: the skull. Turns out Hans figured out that it's "locked" and that he can brute force unlock whatever magic it has inside it by blasting it with all four types of elemental magic at once. We figure out that between Hans, Alloces, Paul, and Sully, we have the needed elemental magic to do this. Unfortunately, Sully has suddenly become very up-in-arms, saying that combining elemental magic is against everything she believes in, and that she could never help with this. Hans refuses to listen, however, but he's stuck bc Sully is the only one with Earth magic in the party (and Earth magic is hard to obtain as a spell lol). Therefore, he decides to do something... not the greatest. He whispers to Alloces to use Suggest on her, and bc Alloces likes chaos, he complies. (Fun fact: ooc, I was actually the one to propose the Suggest idea. I thought it would be silly. <3) It works, and Sully now has to participate in this ritual against her will.

Meanwhile, Mal is watching all of this go down. She sees Sully rapidly change character, and realizes that something is up. She pulls Sully aside, asking if Sully is okay. Sully, unable to say otherwise, says yes, she's okay, she's just decided to do the ritual now. Mal fails her insight check, and decides that Sully must be okay if she says she is. Mal's player then does something which makes me go CRAZY insane and makes me want to chew on glass (/pos) and decides that NOW is the time to do a scene which she's been thinking about for a while. The Context: back in session 6 during our big fight, Sully got Mal out of death saves with a healing potion. Healing potions are a bit expensive, and Mal had her own which she didn't use before she got downed (overestimating her abilities), but Sully probs didn't even think twice and used her own on Mal. However, Mal obviously has been thinking about it, because she gives Sully that potion, then. Mal, very obviously very nervous, apologizes for "letting Sully down" and for being a burden during the fight, and not being strong enough to stay up herself. AND SULLY CAN'T EVEN SAY ANYTHING BC SHE'S PREOCCUPIED WORRYING ABOUT THE RITUAL + BEING UNDER SUGGESTION. Mal then leaves very quickly, and Sully is left there, speechless.

Then the fucking ritual happens and we all unlock the Skull, and Sully snaps out of her Suggestion. The Skull has some kind of spirit inside it, and is filled with Aetheric energy (which......... happens to be something Sully ALSO is very against). Sully then starts yelling at Hans, telling him to drop the Skull and berating him for getting Alloces to possess her (she also hates Alloces but like. She's always hated Alloces. She really liked Hans. This is a betrayal of literally everything she believes in). The spirit of the skull starts speaking and reveals himself to be Logan Mortem, the original founder of the Order of the Five, and with that name Paul freezes as well. Apparently Paul somehow knows him- and is horrified. Then we fight bc Hans still refuses to drop it: Hans and Alloces versus Sully and Paul. Sully and Paul lose as we both roll very low lol (also Sully was mostly trying to knock the skull out of Hans's hand), and Sully, fuming, injured and panicking, decides to leave. Hans and Alloces have a conversation with the skull where it reveals some of its goals. Alloces apparently knows Logan, and Logan is maybe his dad/creator (????). Hans has been chosen to be the next heir of the Order of the Five apparently. Logan wants to "bring order to chaos". Hans is like. "hm. btw, you're not evil, right?" and Logan is like "........no." Hans is like "seems legit 👍". Paul tries to attack Hans one more time, this time with his moon staff (the artifact we were looking for session 7), but it backfires and hurts him somehow. After Alloces and Hans leave, its revealed that when it backfired, Paul got some of his memories taken from him and forgot what he was doing and where he was. He also leaves for the Shipbuilder's hall.

MEANWHILE. Silen is in the fuckin UHHHH Underdark.

When he's walking down, he hears a thunk behind him and ends up running further in. He keeps going down, and down, and down, until he ends up in the Underdark. Honestly, nothing really happens here except him hearing some Drow or Duergar and realizing that he's in the Underdark, and heading back up the way he came. However, when he comes back up, he hears voices in Common (rather than Undercommon). The group of people hear/see him, and they're wearing colorful robes of some kind and have a huge piece of stone in the shape of a body with them. He's like "haha hiiiii". The people, ofc, ask wtf he's doing here, and with his very poorly made excuses, they decide to take him with them. He tries to escape, and they stop him- and when they use elemental magic to stop him, he finally realizes that their robes look quite similar to Sully's.

They take Silen and the rock with them underwater with water magic, and they go into a cliff face opened to show another tunnel in the earth.

Switching over to Sully's perspective, she decides to head over to the Monastery, for the first time as shown in this campaign (tho I think somewhere she goes there and leaves a note about Ansa after session 6 before session 7 for continuity). The party knows nothing about it other than it existing. Even though she's shaken about the fight, she was planning to go here anyways, and talks to Jenevra, a water-aligned monk, saying she's here about the "Anatheme". Jenevra leads her to a secret passageway she's never been in before, and there, she sees, against all odds- fucking Silen.

Adreyão, the lead figure in the party of monks, says that Silen claims to know Sully. Sully, ofc, confirms it, but asks wtf Silen was up to. He really doesn't have a good reason, but Sully takes it as Silen being Silen (which it is), and she says that they can let him go. But before they do, she explains what happened with the fight, and warns Silen not to trust Hans or Alloces, saying that they've been corrupted and don't have his interests at heart. (Kind of unreliable narrator- Sully is very very biased, close-minded, and is actively working to split the party against the two of them). Silen... kind of believes her, but ofc refuses to acknowledge that Alloces is bad bc bro is head over heals in love (why).

Silen is led out by Jenevra, and Adreyão guides Sully through a ritual of their own. She drinks a mysterious liquid, and is suddenly able to change the stone into orange-tinted quartz, revealing what was inside the rock that they transported- Ansa. Chained and cast in crystal, Ansa is transported into a larger room, where many many others like her sit. Surrounded by countless Anathemes cast in ice or crystal, Sully feels much more calm than before.

For the rest of the session, it's a lot of character interactions as we all try to deal with all the shit which just went down (and PAUL LORE). Unfortunately, Anawrete missed all of it (sorry Blue :((( ) so a lot of it is catching her up as she's like I WAS GONE FOR TWO MINUTES.....

When we take a long rest, some people hear weird rustling and chaos coming from Paul's room, and Sully (+unbeknownst to her, Alloces's shadow) investigate and find papers everywhere and a weird blue stone, which the shadow takes.

Meanwhile, Paul sees Anawrete on his morning walk, and tells her a bit about his moon rod, then about the fight and shit which happened the other day. Then he tells her to go touch the rock up in his room, saying he's "not been quite honest".

All the party starts meeting up and chatting in the common room. Mal is chatting with Anawrete about her new fit, Silen is trying to dissuade Hans from the skull (telling him about it possessing him earlier and saying "abomination") (end of session 6 idk if I mentioned this lol), Sully walks in and tries to talk to Mal, but is distracted by the conversation of what the skull is where Alloces says some ominous shit. It's very tense, but Paul walks in, interrupting the conversation by saying "who wants scoOOOOnes :D" (LMFAO)

We briefly talk about the stone, which Alloces gives up. Apparently Paul is losing his memories and says that we can access them through the stone- but that he doesn't want to be there for it. Sully take the stone, and says she'll do it in a bit, then takes Mal to talk to her. (Honestly even tho it was in character I felt bad about being like NO LORE NOW but I'm glad we saved it for the next session bc it was a long sequence of events lol).

Sully and Mal have a conversation, where Sully first says the same thing she did to Silen- explaining the fight, saying that Hans and Alloces don't have their interests at heart, etc. She says that Mal was correct that Sully was not herself at the time, and thanks her for being there, and also says that... Mal never let her down. But Mal has been slowly getting more panicked as Sully has been talking, and says "but now I've let you down twice now! Because I didn't even realize you were influenced by them!!" and Sully doesn't even know what to say to that. She tries to reassure Mal, but it doesn't really work, and they. AUGH THEMMM PIX I'M SO UNWELL ABOUT THEM...... THEY DON'T KNOW HOW TO COMMUNICATE FOR SHIT..................

Anyways, Silen and Anawrete talk, because she figured out that he was at the smuggler's den (tbh I forget how lol, maybs Alloces said it or just Silen himself). She interrogates him, and although he was VERY scared of her, he somehow doesn't mention that Sully's people were there, but he definitely throws Alloces under the bus. He then immediately runs to Sully and says that Anawrete lives there at the den (???) (she does not. bro was confused and scared out of his mind). Anawrete sees him talking to Sully (who mostly ignores him) and I think guesses that Sully was somehow related to all this.

However, at that moment Paul decides he wants to talk to Sully. They go off on their own, and have a very interesting conversation, where it's revealed that Paul definitely has a (negative) history with Logan and he's on her side. He says a lot of other ominous things ("you might have to become a demon to fight one" and "if I start feeling the effects of the skull, finish me off" are notable), and it's pretty obvious that they're against the skull for different reasons, but that they're on the same team.

Anawrete, with so much new info, goes back to her family complex briefly and talks to her mom about it. Her family has been tracking the Order of the Five and their movements, and found that the remaining troops have been heading up to Nortepont (a northern dwarf city), which is very interesting.

Finally, Alloces and Silen have a hilarious talk where Alloces tries to do a deal with him (favor for crossbow Alloces found in the den bc Silen is a ranger) and Silen's like "sure :D. As long as you take me to lunch again" and Alloces, done with this shit, decides against it.

AND THAT'S SESSION 8! SO MUCH SHIT WENT DOWN !!

But uhhhhh we've gone up to session 9. So. There's still more to talk about, though sadly I do not have the time rn. I will get to it later, and I hope you like this very long update!!!!

(I also got a lot of analyses and theories and art AND a whole ass cipher puzzle thing I gave to my campaign so there's. That too)

Also @blue-rhapsody feel free to add on anything! (Or even summarize session 9 I would be so happy if you did that lol)

[justatypicalwizard]

The Weight of a Butterfly | Chapter 3

✦ Shinazugawa Sanemi x femReader

✦ Synopsis: Sanemi gets a new Butterfly Girl who he really doesn't like at first, or even at all. Or maybe he does? Short, heartwarming, fluff story.

✦ Warnings: reader is described as an orphan, no smut

✦ From author: This is my first book written in English. It does contain a bunch of mistakes and overall isn't that great when it comes to writing skills. Nonetheless, I have a great sentiment for it and still adore the plot, that's why I decided to (re)post it. If you want to see my writing progress you can catch up on one of my more recent works.

Word count: 1k

Waking up, you sat in your bed. It was always weird to gut up in a strange room. Now this was your room. It was big and it was only you here.

Memories from last night hit you. You and your master came to his Estate, which was close to the village, the whole way in silence. He showed you your room and left you here. You had the whole evening to think about how much you messed up. You thought about making this up for him. Changing into the clothes that you found in the cupboard, you made your way down. Your outfit was simple and white. You looked like a housekeeper. Shinazugawa was nowhere to be found.

You explored the Estate. It had two storeys and was not very decorated. There were no flowers, no paintings. Just walls, floor, and a lot of empty rooms.

Looking out of the window you spotted your master training in the garden with some dummies. The garden looked better. There were stone paths and rockeries everywhere. A few tries gave shade in some places and there was a single rocking bench to sit. You could do a lot of things in that garden.

You ran down to the kitchen wanting to make breakfast. Unfortunately, the kitchen was empty. You had to ask Shinazugawa for some cash for groceries. You found a way to the garden, took a deep breath, and pushed the doors outside.

Shinazugawa was training hard, sweat dripping from his chin and forehead. He only had loose trousers on himself which made you look at him, no matter how hard you didn't want to. His skin was strewn with scars.

Suddenly he stopped smashing his sword into the dummies and turned your way.

''What are you staring at?'' He gave you a questioning look, rather an angry one.

''Sorry master.'' You bowed. ''I wanted to ask if you would be willing to hand me some money for the groceries. I wish to make you a meal.''

''I eat at the stall where I was yesterday.'' He shrugged his arms and went back to training.

Little did he know that now you were angry. Cooking was a sanctity for you. You loved to cook and nothing was better than a homemade meal. There were so many recipes for soups, main courses, and desserts. This whole thing was about to go to trash because of a simple 'I eat at the stall'.

''I am deeply sorry master, but I need to disobey you once more!'' You stated, looking at him.

He turned your way with an unsettling look.

''You got two orders and you can't follow even one?''

''I am deeply sorry master! As a Butterfly Girl I need to take care of your health and think that eating at a stall all the time is not best for you. You need certain meals depending on your training and wounds. I will cook for you.'' This was bold, but you crossed your hands on your chest.

Shinazugawa was a bit shocked. No other Butterfly Girl ever opposed him in this matter. Why was this one so eager to cook for him? Whatever, it would only make his food cheaper.

Master made his way towards you. When he crossed past you, you could feel the heat of his body. He was really training hard. You heard some coins rattling behind you, then, something banging on a wooden surface.

''Here.'' Was all that he said.

✦✦✦

Coming back with the groceries, you made your way to the kitchen. Finally it looked like someone actually lived here. You also bought some flowers and seeds to give a bit of a charm to the rest of the house. It was for your master's mental health. Kidding, you just felt like you lived in a ghost town.

Preparing the meal you thought about how you cooked for that guy even if he was so mean to you. Yes, you made mistakes, but you barely knew him and it was all new. Whatever, it's your job and you're a hard worker.

When the late breakfast was ready you packed it all, a few small dishes, on a bamboo tray, and went to your masters rooms. He had the whole part of the house for himself. You only peaked a bit while talking to him through the garden, but you actually never stepped into his part of the estate.

You knocked on the large door. They were painted light blue and had wind likenesses on them. Someone skilled must have painted it. You heard a faint 'come in'.

Pushing the door to the side you saw your master sitting and doing... you didn't even know what. He was just sitting there. He must have been doing something, but maybe he didn't want to show you. Why must he act like such a non-human?

You put the tray on a table.

''I hope you will like it, master.'' You bowed.

He didn't move an inch.

''After you finish breakfast I wanted to ask, would you agree to a massage? You can't leave your muscles like that after a hard training session. It's not efficient.'' Of course you didn't mean any sexy massage, you wanted to give him old, good muscle breaking.

''Never used them.'' He responded.

''I insist.''

''Why are you so stubborn?''

''I want to do my job good for you.''

He looked you in the eye, but you didn't back off.

''Okay.'' He made his way to the table.

''Where do you wish to have the massage?''

''Do you need to ask about everything? Just do what you think is best and leave me.'' he got angry.

''I don't need to ask if you don't wish me to.'' This magical sentence could give you so many new perspectives here, he just has to agree.

''Whatever.''

''Good, see you in thirty in your garden, master.'' You bowed with a sinister smile.

After you left the room Shinazugawa looked at the door you just disappeared behind.

Annoying, stubborn, weak, pretty and silly... everyone of them is like that. 

SERIES MASTERLIST

[vulturevanity]

Days ??? of Pokémon White! (I was. lost in a forest for a while. It's winter now. Not sure what happened, I don't even remember how I got there)

Ok I was in the middle of typing this post when I realized I need to explain this further. Apparently I went missing for a whole six months. The last thing I recall is telling Cher and Bianca that I had to go beat the Elite 4 to stop N, then I went into the Victory Road and suddenly I was somewhere in the Lostlorn Forest and I felt like death. It was so cold and my clothes were disgusting and torn up, so I think I was just wandering?? the entire time?? But I have no memories of anything that might have happened for me to get all the way there. I managed to get out and stumble my way into the pokemon center in Nimbasa, where I was taken care of and informed of the above. I immediately called my mom and my friends to tell them I'm okay and they were elated to see me and told me to not move so they'd come to me. Everyone was kinda emotional and also a bit horrified and there were so many hugs. But my pokemon were as tired and confused as I was about the whole deal. It's all kinda surreal. I'm a bit spooked about it tbh.

And then I realized I could understand my pokemon and freaked out for a minute. So that's a thing.

Anyway there's a castle now. I'm sure there were news about it. Cher (Cheryl! Official as of two months ago. I congratulated her on it) and Bianca got me up to date that N was claiming to be the king of Unova and actually managing to convince a lot of people to release their pokemon.

Great.

I took a day to recover and woke up the following morning to see Professor Juniper, Alder, and most of the Unova League in the lobby discussing me. Because uh. Everyone thought I'd died trying to stop the Plasma Uprising as the N had designated as the Hero, but now that I was back there was hope once more. My mom was understandably extremely up in arms that a bunch of adults wanted to shove her child into the maws of the Hydreigon because some random green guy decided it was my destiny, but I revealed myself and told her I could do it. I was in the minority of pro trainers who still had their teams intact (along with, surprisingly, the League); if anyone could face off against Team Plasma it was me. The League pledged to support me however they could. They gave me some supplies and we set off, Cher insisting that she had to come with me. I could see she wanted her pokemon back, so I told her to climb on board and we flew to the castle.

Team Plasma probably saw us coming, because six of the evil grandpas were waiting for us by the entrance. The League engaged with them and told me and Cheryl to go in and take on N. We did, sneaking past a veritable horde of Plasma grunts-- until a particularly perceptive one got us. She seemed chill, though; said she was disillusioned with team Plasma after Ghetsis took her pokemon team, came to disagree with the whole "humans and pokemon are fundamentally incompatible" thing and wanted to help. I asked if she knew where the stolen pokemon were being kept, and she offered to take us there. I told Cher she should go get her team while I went ahead, and gave her Lilo's pokeball so she wouldn't be by herself. She protested, saying it was dangerous for me to go alone, but I reminded her I had the rest of my team with me, and I had a feeling I had to go in without hesitation if I wanted this nonsense to end. We hugged and I ran upstairs while she went with the grunt to get her team back.

I found my way to the throne room and ran straight into Ghetsis. He looked like he'd been punched by a ghost type, but then became furious that I was still alive, grabbed my arm, dragged me in and threw me in front of the dais where the throne was, and, sitting on it, N. I was reeling because I was still achy and kinda woozy from, you know, having gone MIA for six months. Ghetsis then started saying something about how N could finally have what he wanted all this time or something, I wasn't paying attention because N practically bolted off the throne and helped me up, fussing over me like he was worried about me. I assured him I was fine and he explained that he'd been waiting for me all along. He confessed that he was doubting his own convictions, after witnessing over the months all the trainers and pokemon both fighting to stay together despite his belief that humans were bad for pokemon. He knew Reshiram had chosen him for a reason, but without a hero of opposing ideals for him to overcome he no longer had the drive to fulfill his mission.

Needless to say I was pretty pissed. I knew he wasn't malicious and Ghetsis was filling his head with lies, but I was hurting and tired and just wanted this to be over, so I yelled that if he really felt bad about forcing friends apart like that he could've stopped any time he wanted, and he was just refusing to take accountability for all the harm he'd done. But if he wanted to be punished so badly, I was more than glad to give him a beating with the help of my team.

It was then that the Dark Stone in my bag started going nuts and Zekron spawned out of it. It said it heard my righteous plead for justice and was willing to stand by me if I proved my heart in my battle. That was a bit terrifying, but I accepted the challenge. N was absolutely baffled that I understood Zekrom. Ferb offered to help, and proved quite well that he trusted me even when Zekrom hit him real hard and he got scared. I gave him the signal and he U-turned, then I tossed Orion out and he tanked one last hit with a smile before I threw an Ultra Ball. Zekrom was satisfied with what it saw, seeing as he accepted the capture.

N said he was impressed by how much I'd changed (? Not sure what he was talking about), then said if anyone could prove him wrong it was me. He healed my pokemon and challenged me one last time. Reshiram came out swinging, and Zekrom met him in kind. It was tough, as it seemed N had trained with Reshiram a bit, but after a while Zekrom emerged victorious. The rest of the fight felt strange, as if N was losing on purpose. His pokemon did their best, but his heart wasn't in the fight. After the battle was over he congratulated me and my pokemon for proving him wrong.

Then Ghetsis got up and let out a huge-ass Coffagrigus that ??? attacked N??? Out of nowhere?? And started wrapping him up and pulling him into it??? And Ghetsis started saying he was done trying to wrangle a stupid kid into doing his work for him and enough people had already given up their pokemon that he could force the rest of Unova under his thumb without much of a fight. Ne no longer needed a charismatic puppet. And I was like oh heck, this guy's going to kill N. So I once again sent out Orion to stop him, and Orion managed to untether N from the Coffagrigus' grasp. Absolutely seething, he threw every pokemon he had out at once.

It dawned on me then. There was no way I was getting out of this alive.

But I was tired and in pain and I wanted this to end then and there. Orion is my Ace, and I was about to show Ghetsis why. I told Orion to prepare to hit as hard as he could. Orion understood the message and Swords-Danced as I sent out the rest of my team to cover for him, and when he felt like he was ready, I told N (who'd been looking in horror the whole time) to run. N snapped out of it, took Reshiram and flew out through the back of the castle. I thanked my team for the adventure and called back all of them except Orion. I then told Orion to use Earthquake.

Everything that happened next went by very slowly, and then very quickly.

The room began to rumble. The ground began cracking. The ceiling started falling apart, and a huge piece of it fell onto Ghetsis' Hydreigon. Ghetsis fell on his back. A column split in half and exploded under the weight of the collapsing structure. The floor below me buckled upwards before it started falling away. I heard Cheryl calling me from a distance. I felt my heart sink. Instinctively I recalled Orion to save him from the falling debris. I no longer felt my weight on my legs. I looked at Cheryl. Her arm was extended, but she was far, just outside the room. I closed my eyes.

I blinked and suddenly we were both being carried by Zekrom as he boosted his way through the castle walls, destroying the rest of the already damaged building without much effort.

I was so tired I passed out in its arms.

---

You know, I never wanted this. I never felt like being a hero. When I set out to take on the League, I just wanted to have a fun adventure with my pokemon. I didn't expect to be roped into some ridiculous quest to prevent an autistic guy and his evil advisor from ruining everyone's lives. I didn't expect to become the chosen hero of the legendary Zekrom. This whole ordeal has always been too much for me.

When I woke up again hours later, we were in the pokecenter by the League tower. Cheryl said thay while I wa out she'd taken care of my team (and given extra treats to Orion as he'd done a very good job), then called Bianca and the others to tell them the news that we were still alive. Mom was on her way (but would take a while due to traffic), the entire League was waiting to congratulate me for taking down Team Plasma (Iris was particularly excited to meet Zekrom, I heard), and all of Unova was in a celebratory mood (hence, the traffic).

I just wanted to sleep for a thousand years.

Was this an adventure of a lifetime? Possibly. I mean, trainers from the eastern regions had already dealt with their fair share of evil teams, so I won't say it's something nobody has ever been through before. In hindsight I had a lot of fun travelling around, meeting new people, building my team. But I could've done without being the point of obsession of someone who'd been groomed to become a tool for a bad guy's power trip. I think I need some time to recover from that.

I hope N is okay.

[limsejunn]

Sejun 13.09.2018

229 The Venue, London

[enriquemzn262]

Have you guys ever checked back on the webcomics you used to follow? Back in the day I had a ton I was actively following, when I was in deep denial about my weebness, and the other day I decided to look back on some of them.

Raccoon Girl: It’s still active, I actually ended up going back into it, a fun little comic about a bunch of idiots trying to be superheroes, lead by the titular RG. It’s been doing a slow but steady shift from just funny moments into a more serious story, with the art improving alongside the shift.

Miss Melee: It stayed on hiatus for almost 2 years, but it recently came back, a kickass story about a mom superhero and how her personal life starts to get mixed with her superhero one, in the form of her daughter.

Poppy Opposum: A once fun adventure comic about a mom living in a magic world where her possum race is heavily discriminated against. The world building proved too much for the author, and after a short sting at turning it into a sort of light novel to try and tackle the overly complex setting, he finally gave up and dropped it for good.

(He was always kind of a dick too)

The Meek: A once promising adventure story with three different perspectives, all apparently meant to come together eventually. Author was more focused on selling the shit out of the few chapters produced rather than actually working on the story, so it quickly stagnated with literal years between updated, today currently standing at 3 since the last update.

Skadi: One hell of a fun ride about a barbarian princess in a quest to eat from every animal, and the only webcomic in this list that actually had a proper ending. Sadly the webpage where it was hosted no longer works, so it seems to be lost media.

Endtown: A weird but interesting anthology comic about former humans living in a post-apocalyptic world. The current arc has been ongoing for years, and, at least for me, proved so convoluted I dropped it altogether. May return to it one day if said arc actually ends.

Paranatural: A coming of age story about kids fighting supernatural beings. It used to be really fun but then it suddenly began to focus less on the main cast in favor of these bully characters I never liked, and that plus a constant string of hiatuses made me drop it. It’s still being actively worked on, but now as a light novel. Author always seemed like a pretty cool guy.

Prequel Adventure: From the height of popularity of Homestuck came this interactive comic about the unluckiest cat lady that ever lived in the world of Morrowind(?). Used to be really creative, but the author’s refusal at ever breaking away from “now let’s make our hero fuck up again for no good reason” finally got to me so I dropped it. It seems to still be active, albeit at a very slow pace.

Fanboys Online: The only videogames webcomic I’ll ever admit to follow back in the day (the other one I’ll take to the grave), what started as another painfully unfunny (in hindsight) gamer humor webcomic slowly evolved into a witty character study on the three protagonists it had, not to mention the art kept improving as it went on. One day the author quit cold turkey, and now it seems every page that once hosted it is now gone.

Man, looking back, I honestly had a preference for webcomics with female leads.

[raveneira]

Continuing from my other post, for those who may be curious if this finally means Im giving up on KawaSara and the possibility that it could become canon...my answer is no, Im not.

Realistically its not lookin good, Im mature enough to admit that, does that mean I think this is the end? no I do not, why? because in a decent mangaka’s writing this usually would be the ship killer, but Ikemoto isnt a decent mangaka, hes not even a decent artist, the bar is literally in hell with him on all fronts.

With this sequels writing literally ANYTHING is possible, it doesnt matter if theres build up to it or not because just look at Kawaki’s villain arc, he literally changed his whole mindset in a fkin DAY and no Im not kidding, go back and read 76, literally took only a day for him to make a complete 180.

Look at Sasuke back in 69, he understood Kawaki, empathized with him, took the blame on himself for failing to be the one to kill Boruto instead, said Konoha doesnt have anyone to blame except for him. Now look at 78, hes holdin a sword to Kawaki’s throat despite sensing Momoshiki TWICE and KNOWING why Kawaki is doing what hes doing, he LITERALLY swore to do the same and yet here he is, hunting down Kawaki like everyone else as if he never once thought about killing Boruto himself.

So do I think this is the death of KawaSara? no I dont, because this sequel switches from one narrative to another on a whim whenever it wants to, so right now things look horrible for KawaSara like theres no way things could ever work out and that they just totally hate eachother now etc but when the story feels like it actually wants to bother remembering Sarada and Kawaki’s bond it will, and if Ikemoto has decided to make them canon he literally will with or without build up because the man just does not care.

So no Im not giving up on KawaSara, and no I dont think KawaSara is dead, this writing doesnt give af about logic or build up so to say 79 really killed the ship is giving this man too much credit as a writer. Nothing is consistent, and nothing STAYS consistent either. If he suddenly wants to remember KawaSaras bond he will, and if he suddenly wants to forget it he will as well, whatever he feels like in the moment is what he’ll go with.

I dont blame ppl for losing hope here, I dont blame ppl for giving up either, I completely understand your frustration and hopelessness and I do not blame you in the slightest if you just wanna call it quits here, totally understandable.

All Im saying is Im not, not because I cant take the loss, I’ve lost plenty of ships and handled it just fine, but for the principal of it.

I will never forget and never let anyone else forget how a certain fanbase cared more about seeing a harmless small fandoms ship sink than enjoying their own ship they claimed was smooth sailing

I will never forget how this supposed biggest fandom of the most popular ship was praying on our downfall CONSTANTLY simply because they couldnt STAND people shipping Sarada with anyone other than Boruto who they felt she was the property of and no one elses

I will never forget how big accounts incited hate and bitterness towards us unprovoked for no other reason than just enjoying seeing a small group of ppl suffer and be ridiculed by their followers because it was just fun hating on the little guy

I will never forget how the entire fandom turned on one big account for the simple fact that he came out that he shipped KawaSara [theres other reasons now but that was the first and still is the main reason they hate him]

I will never forget how this fanbase made that disgusting head tweet [saying they wanted teen Sarada to give Boruto oral on Kawaki’s dead decapitated body] and over 500 ppl FROM THAT FANBASE liked it and cracked similar jokes, one of which saying Boruto should give HER head instead which also got a bunch of likes

I will never forget how that fanbase was quick to accuse KawaSara fans calling us sick and disgusting over a instagram post saying they hope Kawaki R-pes Sarada only for the poster to admit to being a KawaBoru shipper and NONE of those ppl apologized

I will never forget how this fandom was so insecure and downright hateful towards KawaSara just existing that when members of their own fandom also liked/didnt mind the ship they were literally SHUNNED from the fandom to the point they had to leave it because they couldnt stand it

I will never forget how that fandom constantly vandalized the KawaSara wiki page because they couldnt stand it just existing

and I will never forget how these ppl pretended to be the victim of us this entire time and convinced majority of the fanbase of this as well because they had so many ppl already on their side branding us as the bad guys when literally all we did was try to fkin ship in peace and they just WOULD NOT let us do that.

THATS why I wont give up on the ship, not because I cant take the loss, but because I cant stand letting these ppl feel like they won because more than anything they wanna see ppl drop the ship so only Bsa exists while Kawaki is thrown to whoever is convenient but Im not gonna do that. I’ll stand with the ship whether its canon or not, if others do the same great but if not then that sucks but I understand.

I aint gonna give em the satisfaction tho, whether its endgame or not, whether things get better or worse for them, even whether the ship really is killed or not, Im not giving the ppl who’ve just nonstop been praying on harmless ships downfall the satisfaction of thinkin they finally buried us, I just wont do it.

[radkindoffeminist]

You know what type of Reddit stories I am living for at the moment? When men ask for open marriages and then 6 months to a year later they realise that it’s the women who are getting all the sex while they got like two hook ups a month in.

Seriously, I’ve seen the same kind of story repeated so many times: man gets bored of wife. Man asks for open marriage wanting to fuck other women. Man fucks other women. After a bit (and normally some neglect because this dude is out fucking women and not spending time with his wife), woman finds a dude to fuck. Man gets jealous and decides he wants to close the relationship which is when the story gets posted on Reddit.

I have seen two stories today: one in which the guy overheard his wife talking about having a ‘boyfriend’ on the side and saying that she’s lying and breaking their rules and he wants to close the marriage on her side after not meeting anymore women (he slept with two women he knew and then tried dating apps but failed). And one in which a woman was asking for advice after her husband said he wanted to close the marriage because she slept with literally one other guy once (after he repeatedly tried to stop her from doing so, btw). Ive seen a bunch of others which follow the same pattern, with the women almost always ending with ‘but I don’t want to close it’ and the men almost always ending with ‘I feel hurt/betrayed/cheated by the fact that my wife is doing exactly what we’ve allowed each other to do’. I’ve seen others where women have decided that this made them want to leave: one in which she was so neglected by her husband but so loved by her new BF that it killed their relationship and another where a bi woman fell for a lesbian after her husband pushed for them to start sleeping together because he fetishised the fuck out of it.

Like, all of these men neglect their relationship with their wives when they decide to do it, suddenly realise that it’s actually pretty difficult to hook up with women after a while, and then get pissed that their wife is doing the same thing but more successfully. Good for them, especially when they leave their husbands.

[astaroth1357]

Brothers React to a Demigod MC 

So, I've gotten some interest to do a Brothers follow-up to a previous request of mine (Undateables React to a Cute, Badass MC), however, I've thus far refused to write one. Honestly, this HC actually plays on a trope I personally dislike and had it not been a request I would have never done it to start with. I just can't see any reasonable way a non-magic human can beat a bunch of demons, I just can't, and that hinders my imagination quite a bit. …But someone who’s not so human? That I can get behind. Fair warning, I grew up with the Percy Jackson series so that’s going to paint quite a bit of how I see modern demigods. Ready for things to get super-ultra fanfic-y for a bit?

Intro:

The day to kidnap bring the exchange students to the Devildom has finally come and the demons have all gathered in the Council Room to open their portal to the human world. Really, things started without a hitch - the portal opened with and their future student dropped down out of it and landed on the floor… before they suddenly leapt up, pulled out a weapon, and lunged at them!

… This isn’t your normal human, it is?

Lucifer

Oh Devil, this couldn’t have been any farther than what they wanted… They were looking for a human and they managed to pull out a halfling! A divine halfling no less!! Why wasn’t this in their file?!

Look, Lucifer might not be on good terms with his father, but even he knows he had it better than any children of the pagan gods… The levels of petty vindictiveness that run through that bunch are literally the stuff of legends...

After he and Barbatos were able to restrain the MC before they hurt themselves or anyone else, Diavolo explained everything to them and gave them a pardon for attacking the Demon Prince on sight… After they identified themselves and their parentage, Lucifer knew they were in for some shit…

He and Diavolo had to iron out an apology letter to their godly parent for days just to keep from saying anything that could accidentally cause a second Troy or worse... It was a mess...

But on the bright side, the “human” came pre-prepared for fighting monsters and demons, which honestly took a bit of a load off his shoulders. That’s less responsibility for Mammon - and in his experience, the less responsibility Mammon has, the better things usually turn out.

… Though their ability to actually hold their own in a fight did make things complicated sometimes - like whenever he was their perceived opponent... 

He wasn’t expecting to have to manage a being that was actually capable of meeting him toe-to-toe on the battlefield and it did hinder his intimidation factor to some degree…It was hard to be threatening to someone who’s likely faced worse than you could ever offer.

In the end it probably worked out for the best, as a live exchange student is better for Diavolo than a dead one - but man did it get on his nerves until they made their pact together… Be scared of him, dammit!

Mammon

The first time he tried to threaten the human, they straight up pulled out a weapon and looked like they were ready to whip his ass!! Didn’t they know he wasn’t being serious?? 😫

He really didn’t know why he had to be on babysitting duty, anymore... This huma-er demigod could handle themselves just fine!

When he first ditched them with Levi, he later found out they managed to cleanly toss his brother over their head and make a break for it all by themselves! And Levi’s no pushover either!!

Later, he saw them getting ambushed on their way back from school and they soundly knocked out about five demons before he even caught up to them… and he’s, like, fast and stuff… 

Their strength is kind of unreal at times, but he could tell they were still far from a mindless killing machine. They were more or less a normal person, they had wants and dreams like anybody else, but they just happened to be a long stronger than the average mortals around them. 🤷‍♀️

After he eventually got to know them and a bit about how their life worked, he felt a little bad for them... Who wants to be hunted down just for being born?

After learning about their struggles, Mammon ended up resolving to help keep them safe (even if a part of him knew they didn’t need him that much).

I mean, if the whole world’s against you, then you can use all the help you can get... right?

Leviathan 

Levi found out exactly one thing about them within the first two minutes of meeting them… their reflexes were killer.

After Mammon ditched them on Day One, he tried to drag the human to his room to tell them his genius plan but they broke out of his grip and threw him flat on his back like was just second nature! 

He was stuck on the ground for a full minute, trying to process what just happened, while they ran off into the House all alone…

Did he just get tossed around… by a human?? Was he really that pathetic!?!

Finding out later that they were actually half-god certainly helped out his self-esteem because, man, if he had lost so easily to a human of all things... He might have just never left his room again…

Levi pretty much kept his distance from them until they finally made a pact together and then he discovered that the MC wasn’t so scary after all. If he’s being honest, being in the same house as a demigod was actually kind of cool...! 

Like, it was almost exactly the plot of the show: “Wait, I Thought I Was the Son of a Pagan God So What Am I Doing in a Christian Hell??” but their MC seemed to know a lot more about fighting than the protagonist of that show ever did…

Plus, because he never had to worry about their safety, he had even more excuse to never leave his room. Win-win!

Satan

A demigod, eh…? He had done plenty of research into human world mythologies in his spare time, frankly he thought the old gods had died out - but it seems they were still up and kicking… and making babies for whatever reason? Horny bastards...

Satan's original interest in the MC was purely academic. It’s not everyday that you get to meet someone of such a unique heritage and he fully intended to learn if all the legends about their greatness were true… and well...

He could say that the MC was certainly different than how he pictured humans being. He’d never met very many before, but from what he could gather they were a weak race that really got by on wit and persistence… However, nothing about the MC was weak.

Their aptitude for combat was surprisingly sharp, both in skill and reflexes. He had once blown up at them in anger and not only did they dodge his swipes but they got in a good few hits themselves with a nearby lamp… He never once thought a mortal could give him a black-eye but, somehow, they pulled it off. 🤷‍♀️

Combine their physical skill with what magical gifts were granted to them by their godly-half and they were a force to be reckoned with… Even Solomon seemed to hesitate and think more about his actions around them (which is saying something for a sorcerer of his strength).

It’d be fair to say a part of him grew to respect the MC long before they ever made their pact and that respect only grew afterwards. If he had to be bound to any master, human or otherwise, he’d rather it be one that he could right about consider an equal not only as a friend, but in strength as well.

Asmodeus 

A demigod…? Oooo, he hadn’t come across one of those since he bedded Aeneas all those centuries ago… Such a gorgeous man, got all his looks from his mother~! 🤭

Asmo was probably the most interested in their godly heritage, but it felt like he was treating them like a zoo exhibit for a while… Something pretty and new to look at, but not exactly someone he wanted to know personally...

He openly and readily admitted that watching their little demigod in action got him hot and bothered (or well, more hot and bothered than usual ) but it didn’t take him to see they weren’t interested at the time…

He decided that he just had to have a pact with them after they saved him from Henry 1.0! It was before he noticed the giant snake and he was lurching back to strike, but the human swept in to knock him out of the way. They probably could have made mince meat of the creature themselves if Levi weren’t begging for them to spare his former pet...

Post-pact Asmo treated them with a lot more respect… but also still fanboyed over their fighting skills hardcore. 

Like, their body had to be fit to keep up with all those monsters, right?? What was their training routine? Could he watch?? Oh please say he can watch!! He just can’t get enough of that fighter’s physique…! 😍

Beelzebub 

So… the human isn’t a human but only part human? And the other part is a god? Does that make them any sturdier than normal humans…? Call him curious…

Beel was probably one of the few brothers who was legitimately weary of the MC from the beginning… He can get a certain feel for a person pretty quickly and something about them just felt…frankly, kind of dangerous.

But they also intrigued him a little… Beel’s used to being one of the strongest demons in any room he walks into (not a boast, just a fact) so for him to get that feel from a mortal was pretty impressive. A part of him just wanted to test them… you know?

So. He did. He asked them to help him train his martial arts one day and even with his awareness, he was not expecting the results that he got.

The MC was strong. Very strong. They were not only able to keep up with him and dodge his blows, but they were able to predict his moves and counterattack in kind. They didn’t even need to tell him that they had actually been fighting for their life for years, he could tell. They had a skill you don’t get from practice matches...

After that point, the two would go to each other to train and keep their skills sharp… but also just to spar for fun. Their fighting styles made a pretty good match and they bonded pretty damn quick because of it. 

If anime tells us anything, when you find a good fight buddy, you stick with them. Even if one’s part god and the other is a demon. 🤷‍♀️ 

Belphegor 

A demigod is still human enough to hate, sorry MC. Not that he knew about their godly heritage at first…

Really, he should have been a little more suspicious of how easily they seemed to take to life in the Devildom... Weren’t demons supposed to scare humans? Why did they seem so comfortable down here...?

His confirmation only came when he tried to enact the final part of “Use the MC to Escape the Attic!” plan and take their life to seal the deal… but oh boy, was he outclassed real quick… 

The MC had already socked him in the jaw by the time he got his full demon form out and then they threw him across the room by the tail… the TAIL!! And it hurt like a bitch, too!! Even during the full blown fight that followed, he could tell they were holding back and it pissed him off something fierce...!

Why was the MC so strong?!? Humans weren’t supposed to be strong!!!

His brothers heard all the commotion and the Lilith confrontation ended up happening up in the attic between a somewhat beat-up Belphie and a barely-scratched MC. Had Beel not come to his defense on instinct, it might have turned out worse for him in all honesty… Something about that human just wasn’t right…

He only found out about their god-half after everything settled down and he promised not to try killing them again (not that anyone thought he could...) and that put some things into perspective. So the Lastborn Ruler of Hell isn’t as strong as one mortal demigod…? Ouch. Okay, fine then... Whatever...

He does think it’s too bad he missed them beating the crap out of the rest of his brothers, though (minus Beel)... That would have been fun to see. 😔

So I tried to keep this one God-parent neutral, but I’ve upgraded this to its own series! Check it out if you’re interested! 😊

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes

[raibebe]

Of needles and seduction

Genre: Fluff and smut Words: 15.2k Prompt: Johnny tattoo shop AU featuring best friends Yangyang and Jaemin Warnings: contains smut, Daddy-kink, size-kink, mentions of mirror-sex

A/N: This is very self-indulgent, I’m sorry. While I do have piercings myself, I know next to nothing about tattoos, so I’m sorry if anything is inaccurate. Also I don’t advise what some characters in this are doing for yourself. Just a quick special thanks to @burtonized​ who has listened to me ramble about this story and Johnny and helped me write this by giving me ideas and support. Thank you darling! This fic is a beast, I have never written anything this long,it’s insane. If smut isn’t for you, you can stop reading after the phone call and still have a pretty decent story. If you feel like, you’ve seen this post before, you might have. I deleted the original one because tumblr decided to delete it from the tags.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” You asked for what you felt was the tenth time in the past five minutes. “It’s going to be fine. The shop is clean and sanitary,” your friend Yangyang groaned while running his hands through his messy, blonde hair. It was getting way too long, hanging low into his eyes. “I’m just saying that this doesn’t seem like a safe place,” you mumbled but followed your hyper friend through a more than dubious looking side street of Itaewon. “Jaemin got his piercings done in the same shop and those healed just fine, stop being a baby,” the blonde said while rolling his eyes. He quickly checked his phone for the address of the (probably illegal) piercing and tattoo shop and took a sharp turn into an even shadier looking street. “I still don’t get while you need me to come with you when you want to get your nipples pierced for god knows what of a stupid reason.” “It’s easy,” Yangyang grinned at you, “Ten said I wouldn’t dare to do it. And I’m going to prove him wrong and you’re going to document the progress.” “Do you ever listen to yourself talk? You’re literally paying someone to stab you into your nipples to shove a piece of metal through it just to prove a point.” “It’s just one nipple though.” “How does that make it any better, Yangyang?” You deadpanned. Your friend groaned again. “I knew I should have taken Guanheng with me. He would have been supportive.” “He would also be supportive of getting ‘I love Tacos’ tattooed on your ass.” “He would,” Yangyang agreed with an exaggerated dreamy look on his face. “What a madlad.”

You sighed but couldn’t help smiling at his antics. You had befriended the hyper exchange student when you had been assigned to be partners for a group project for your mandarin class. Yangyang had only taken the class for extra credit and easy good grades while you were struggling like crazy and had seriously questioned all your life choices that had let to you taking the class. (But mostly you regretted listening to Renjun who had convinced you it would be an easy class.) The group project turned out to be rather easy when you had a native speaker as your partner and you had become fond of the younger student, staying in touch with him and helping him find his way around the big campus. If you had known that he was a package deal with a bunch of other equally hyper and questionably crazy exchange students, you might have thought a little longer about keeping in touch after the project was over. But who were you kidding, the other boys and Yangyang were incredibly dear to you and if Kun had his regular morning coffee, the others weren’t even that chaotic.

“That’s it,” Yangyang suddenly exclaimed, pointing at a small beat up looking wooden door that looked like it was ready to fall out of the doorway any second. But a little green neon sign that hang next to it flashed the word “open” onto the street indicating that a shop must be hiding behind it. Your arguably best friend quickly grabbed your hand as if he had been sensing that you were about to complain again and dragged you into the shop. A little bell jingled quietly when Yangyang closed the door behind you two. You took a deep breath to calm your nerves (hell you weren’t even the one to get stabbed with a needle) and took a look around the small room. It was small and poorly lit and every free space on the walls was plastered with drawings and photos of both freshly done and healed tattoos. You had to admit that whoever had done those had done a good job, they looked really neat. You guessed that at least two artists must be working in the shop. A good portion of the art were very neat black and white works (some looking freakishly realistic) while others were very vibrant and artistic.

With a confident bounce in his step, Yangyang went up to the counter to a man with wild bubblegum pink hair wearing a black tank top that showed off the ink on his arms and torso, all kept in black except for a deep red rose on the side of his neck. His eyes were lined with dark eyeliner, making them seem like dark bottomless orbs, and they were fixed to the screen of a laptop that was covered in stickers that were a wild mixture of cute characters and various rock and hip-hop bands. “And what brings you here?” The man asked with a surprisingly deep voice, turning his head towards your friend. “A friend of mine told me I could get pierced here,” Yangyang spoke, his hands fumbling with the loose threads of his sweater. “And if that was the case, what would you want to get pierced?” “My nipple.” At that the other man raised one of his perfectly arched eyebrows. “People usually start off with getting an earring or something.” “Go hard or go home,” Yangyang grinned, making the other man snort. “If you have 70.000 Won in cash, I can look if one of the piercers is free.” When your friend got out his worn wallet and put a couple of bills onto the counter, the other man smiled for the first time. It didn’t quite fit his whole dark punk aesthetic but you couldn’t deny that he was really good looking.

“Don’t run away now kiddo, I’ll see if someone is free,” he grinned, “I’m Taeyong by the way.” When he disappeared behind a curtain made out of pearls into the back, Yangyang turned towards you with the biggest smile on his face. “I told you it was going to be fine.” You just hummed nonchalantly, still not entirely supportive of the whole idea. “One of the guys is ready in a bit,” Taeyong said when he came back to the main room. “Are you getting anything?” He asked, looking at you. “Oh no, she’s a scaredy-cat, just here for moral support and to document that I actually did it,” your friend answered for you. Your face immediately heated up under the intense gaze of the pink haired tattoo artist. “Too bad,” he just shrugged. “So technically you need to sign stuff for legal issues and whatnot. But since this place doesn’t exactly exist on records, we’re skipping that part. You’re not on drugs or any meds, right?” “I’m not,” Yangyang shook his head, making his hair flop back into his face. “Any issues with fainting or other medical conditions?”   “Nope.”   “Great. Had a good meal before coming here?” “I had breakfast,” Yangyang shrugged. “You had a slice of cold pizza from yesterday,” you groaned. “That I ate in the morning, therefore it’s breakfast,” he argued. “Well in that case,” Taeyong interrupted your bickering and threw a granola bar into Yangyang’s hands, “Eat that and let your girlfriend treat you to some proper food afterwards.” Before the blonde could deny anything, you had already opened your mouth to tell the other man that in fact you weren’t dating.

“Sure, sorry for assuming,” he shrugged and sat back behind the counter, taking out an iPad and began drawing something, probably a tattoo design. “Nervous yet?” You asked Yangyang who was uncharacteristically quiet while munching on the granola bar. “Shit, I’m really doing this,” he replied, exhaling shakily. “You don’t actually have to, Yangyang,” you tried to comfort him. “And let Ten just get away like that? No way. I am doing this. I’m not his little baby Yangyang anymore,” he said like the stubborn child he was. You could just sigh and roll your eyes at him. “He might have just been joking, you know?” “One does not simply challenge Liu Yangyang like that and not expect consequences.” “Kun is going to actually flip and pop a vein,” you tried to reason with your friend for a last time. Kun was doing a lot of coordination work for the exchange students with a Chinese background and had taken on almost a fatherly role for the younger students that hadn’t been in Korea for long. And even though Ten wasn’t even that much younger than Kun, he almost lost his otherwise calm composure when the Thai boy had announced that he successfully had pierced his ear by himself yet again after he had convinced a poor med student to smuggle some equipment for him. And from there the situation had somehow escalated into Ten daring Yangyang to get a nipple piercing. “Well he can’t do anything about it once it’s done. We’ll just make sure he’s with someone who can call an ambulance if he ends up having an aneurism.”

“Someone still wants their nipple pierced?” A new voice interrupted your conversation and a tall man with dark inky hair came into the room, making the pearls of the curtain clink against each other. One side of his head was shaved while the longer hair on the other side framed his handsome face beautifully. He was wearing a loose black T-shirt paired with ripped jeans with almost as many holes as there was fabric that hugged his long legs perfectly, showing that he had also ink on his legs. From his lobe dangled a little silver chain and of course his arms were covered in intricate designs, one arm strictly black ink while the other sported some colorful pieces as well. In the center of his plush lower lip sat a black ring and just beneath his left eye two little silver balls were reflecting the low light. You couldn’t deny that the man looked absolutely stunning despite his unusual appearance.

“Yes, me,” Yangyang eagerly answered the man’s question and walked towards him, tugging you with him. “Too bad,” the piercer grinned cheekily and winked in your direction, making your heart flutter in your chest and heat rise to your face, before he extended a big hand to shake Yangyang’s much smaller one. “I’m Johnny,” he introduced himself before leading you both into a smaller room in the back with a simple black padded bench in the middle of the room and a desk tucked into a corner. The walls were plastered with art and photos like the main room, showing that Johnny apparently was able to pull off a bunch of different tattoo styles. He seemed to have a thing for florals and roses though. The only free space was taken up by a full body mirror at the opposite wall. Johnny sat down on the little stool that was standing by the desk and motioned for Yangyang to sit on the bench while you sat down in the only other chair in the room, made of worn looking black leather.

“Let me see your chest before we start this whole thing,” Johnny spoke to your friend after he had grabbed a pair of silver framed glasses that sat low on his elegant nose and slipped on a fresh pair of black gloves. With only slightly trembling hands, Yangyang pulled his sweater over his head, keeping his hands buried in the fabric. “Looks good to me. Left or right one?” “Ehrm, I haven’t really thought about it,” he confessed. Johnny chuckled. “Spontaneous decision to get your nipple pierced?” “He does it to prove a point to a friend,” you supplied before Yangyang had the chance to answer. “Seems like a valid reason,” the tattoo artist grinned, “You play guitar or anything where the strap could irritate the new piercing?” “Just the violin,” Yangyang supplied, demonstrating how he would hold his instrument. “Then I’d suggest we go for the left one,” Johnny concluded, grabbing a bunch of stuff he needed. “Is it going to hurt badly?” “No idea, mine aren’t pierced.” “The first one is fine,” another voice chimed into the conversation and a pink mess of hair appeared in the doorway. “My client is there and Jaehyun isn’t back from his break yet, have an open ear for the door.” Johnny just hummed but it seemed enough to satisfy Taeyong who disappeared just as quickly as he had appeared.

“You ready?” Johnny asked one last time. Yangyang took a deep but shaky breath and nodded. “You better film this so Ten knows it’s real,” he said, holding out his phone towards you. Rolling your eyes, you got up from your actually really comfortable chair and took the phone from your best friend’s hands while Johnny disinfected Yangyang’s nipple and drew two little circles where the bar would go through it before grabbing a small mirror to show him. “Let’s do this,” your best friend nodded and you pressed record. “It’ll be quick,” Johnny promised, disinfecting one last time before he grabbed a pair of tongs to hold the nipple in place and freed a needle from a foil package. “I’ll count to three and then I’ll start, alright?” “A-Alright.” “Last time to chicken out.” “No, I’m doing this,” Yangyang gritted out, closing his eyes. After that everything happened really fast: Johnny counted to three and steadily pushed the needle through Yangyang’s nipple, who bit his lip hard. He then let the needle dangle from the nipple while freeing a little barbell from another foil package to insert it through the canal he just had made. “And that’s it,” he announced when he secured the little balls on either side of the barbell. You ended the recording when Yangyang left out the breath he had been holding in. “Now no sports, especially no swimming or sexual activities for a while. Clean it well and don’t worry if it gets sore, that’s normal. It can take a while to heal, so be patient and don’t let it get infected. You can get a smaller barbell or a ring once it’s healed. Just come back to get it changed to be safe.” “Fuck I really did that,” Yangyang cursed and looked down to his chest, “I think I need a minute before I can get up.”

“Take your time, I don’t have any clients for another half an hour,” Johnny reassured him, putting the used materials into the trash. “Just please don’t vomit all over the floor or hit your head while fainting.” “That has happened before?” You asked, eyes wide. “Not on me but it’s not unheard of. You sure you don’t want anything?” he asked, turning towards you. His silver framed glasses had slid down his nose a little and you couldn’t deny that the man looked really hot, looking at you from beneath his lashes. “She’s too scared,” Yangyang teased. He couldn’t feel too bad if he still could do that then. “Too bad, I think you would really suit a little conch or something,” the piercer motioned around his own ear to indicate what piercing he meant. “A conch?” You asked, turning towards the mirror to try to imagine it. “Wait let me show you.” Johnny quickly got up to search through the drawers of his desk before he pulled out a little box with a bunch of jewelry, grabbing a small hoop. He stood behind you in front of the mirror. “Hold still for me,” he breathed and bend down to push your hair behind your ear before he carefully put the fake piercing in place. For a moment you could swear that time had stopped. You felt his breath fanning over your skin gently and could smell the intoxicating smell of his cologne. You were so close to each other, you were sure that if you turned your head, your noses would brush against each other. But before you could do anything stupid, Johnny pulled back and gently turned your head so you could see the little silver ring. “I think I could put an even smaller one if you wanted,” he said, watching you through the mirror with an intense gaze from his dark eyes. “I’ve never thought about getting a piercing,” you admitted shyly. While you did get your lobes pierced when you were a child, you never thought of it much. “It looks good. Not so much like daddy’s good girl anymore,” the piercer grinned. You almost choked on air when the words left his plush lips, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks.

“How much?” “For you I’ll do it for free, darling,” he grinned, running a hand through his thick dark hair, making his muscles shift beneath his inked skin. While your brain was still short-circuiting from the nickname, Yangyang seemed to be back to 100%, destroying whatever the atmosphere between you and the tattoo artist just was. “Are you really going to say no to a free piercing, dude?” You could just groan and roll your eyes at your best friend. “Stop calling me dude, Yangyang.” “Only if you get that piercing.” “That’s blackmailing.” “Just do it, it won’t even hurt right?” “It’s just a bit of pressure,” Johnny assured you, his lips curled into a smile. “I can always take it out if I don’t end up liking it,” you thought out aloud. “The beauty of temporary body modifications,” Johnny sighed before he stepped in front of you to take the fake piercing off again. With his face so close to yours again, your eyes traveled over the little silver balls beneath his left eye, over his elegant nose down to the black ring in his lower lip and you briefly wondered what it would feel like to kiss him. “So what will it be?” You looked over to your best friend who had put his hoodie back on and nodded his head enthusiastically, making his fluffy hair flop into his eyes. He really needed a haircut.

“Alright, let’s do this,” you decided. “That’s what I like to hear,” Johnny grinned and moved to get his stuff ready. “Need me to hold your hand?” Yangyang grinned when you took his place on the bench. “I wouldn’t want to contaminate you with girl germs,” you teased, sticking your tongue out at him. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind some girl germs if they’re coming from such a pretty girl,” Johnny cut in when he rolled back over on his stool, his glasses pushed back up his nose again. You couldn’t even fight the heat that crept onto your face at his words, he sure could feel it radiating off your cheeks from where his gloved hands were touching your skin. “I’ll do it where I placed the fake one, just with a smaller ring, alright?” He spoke softly when he disinfected your ear. You could just nod, anxiety taking over, making your heart race and skin prickle. When you heard the plastic bag that held the sterile needle rip, you pressed your eyes shut and balled your hands to fists. “Take a deep breath for me, doll,” Johnny mumbled, gently caressing your skin where he had grabbed your face to stabilize you. “In and out.” You shakily did as he asked you, his low voice comforting and calming your anxiety a lot. “Now you breathe in and let me count to three, then you gently release that breath. Can you do that for me, darling?” “Yeah,” you breathed, eyes still closed so you missed the soft smile on Johnny’s face. “Alright, deep breath in. One, two, three,” the pain of the needle piercing through your skin made you clench your fists harder, “And breathe out.” You tried your best to release the breath evenly until the pressure of the needle was just a low thudding. “You’re doing great, darling,” the handsome piercer reassured you, “I’ll just push the ring through and we’re all done here. Take another breath for me.” This time the feeling wasn’t as painful, just a really uncomfortable feeling of pressure. “All done, pretty,” Johnny concluded, clicking the ring closed. “Open your eyes.”

When you did open your eyes again, he held the little hand mirror from before in his still gloved hands so you could see the little ring that sat against your ear now. The skin was a bright red and you could feel your pulse throb around the metal but it actually fit the shape of your ear really nicely. “Thank you,” you smiled at Johnny. “It’s been a pleasure,” he winked before gathering the used needle and tissues to throw them away. “Take good care of it and try to not sleep on that side for a couple of nights and it will be healed in no time.” “Let’s go home, big baby,” Yangyang chirped in, already on his feet to leave the room. “I’m starving.” “There’s a good ramen shop a little up the street, not too expensive either,” Johnny recommended.

“Thanks for the piercings, man,” your best friend thanked the artist when he took you back to the main room. “No big deal,” Johnny shrugged and sat down where Taeyong had sat before, putting his long legs up on the counter. “Well, have a nice day, maybe we’ll come back for more some time,” Yangyang grinned, opening the door to leave the shop. “Oh I’m sure you will,” the artist replied, locking eyes with you before winking. “Take good care of that piercing, doll. You know where you have to come to if you want more.” You nodded shyly before bowing to the man. “Thank you, Johnny.” “I’ll see you again,” it wasn’t a question. Somehow you and him both knew that this wouldn’t be the last time you would step into the shady tattoo shop.

The next time that you found yourself in the shady streets of Itaewon came faster than you had thought. This time you were accompanying Jaemin to his tattoo appointment after Jeno had ditched him because he had to take over a shift at the cat café he worked at. (That poor boy had to take antihistamines before every shift because of his allergies but couldn’t resist the charm of the kittens.)   “You’re a lifesaver seriously,” the hyper boy repeated while jumping up and down excitedly, “Sitting still for hours on end is really so boring if you have no one to talk to.” “Can’t you talk to your artist?” You asked confused. “He threatened to stab me with the tattoo gun the last time when I was trying to talk to him while he worked,” Jaemin pouted. You could only imagine how irritating Jaemin and his moods could be to someone who wasn’t used to him. Ever since he had decided that he wanted to commit to what he had dubbed a soft punk look, he had been going to the shop somewhat regularly to start a collection of tattoos and piercings. It had started a year ago when he first had dyed his hair to a light blue color. Shortly after that he had first gotten his ears and then his nose pierced. The two lip rings in his lower lip were his newest addition as far as piercings went. The tattoos came a little later. After much consideration he had made the decision to start a floral piece on his arm, the center would be a hummingbird, all with black ink for now.

After a little bit of Instagram stalking you had easily identified the intricate flowers that adored Jaemin’s upper arm as Johnny’s work and the thought of seeing the handsome tattoo artist again had made your heart beat faster in your chest. Not that Jaemin needed to know that you weren’t coming with him for his sake but rather because of your desire to see the dark haired flirty man again.   You had been thinking about his dark eyes behind his silver framed glasses and how he scrunched his eyebrows when he was concentrating a lot for the last weeks. (Not that you had replayed the video of him piercing Yangyang an unhealthy amount of times or anything…) Every time you took care of your new piercing it reminded you of how his fingers felt on your skin and how his deep voice had gently guided you through everything. Not to forget how easily the pet names had rolled from his lips. And oh god his lips… His Instagram account featured a good amount of pictures of himself both casual and while working and the way his plush lips would curl into a confident smirk did things to your heart. His latest update had been the actual death of yours though. It had shown the new tattoo he had gotten recently: It was an intricate eagle that spread over his muscled chest, the feathers of the wings blending seamlessly into the other art covering his strong shoulders and biceps. Did you already mention that he was freaking shirtless in the picture? And that he was hiding a seriously ripped body beneath the wide T-Shirt he wore the last time you were at the shop? So to say that your thoughts had started to spiral after seeing that post was a little understated.

You still felt a little uneasy when you followed Jaemin through the backstreets of Itaewon but when the shabby door with the neon green ‘open’ sign came in sight, you felt the feeling disappear, only for it to be replaced with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. Jaemin grinned widely when he pushed the door open and his good mood was always infectious, a smile creeping on your lips. This time a new man sat at the counter, lazily rocking back and forth on the chair with his phone in his hand. His hair was dark and hung into his eyes and he wore a dark, long sleeved hoodie, so you couldn’t see if he had as many tattoos as his colleagues but if the tattoos on his hands and neck were any indication, he must be pretty covered as well. You recognized the rose on the back of his hand from one of Johnny’s Instagram posts. When the man looked up, you saw that he didn’t only have tattoos but piercings as well: In his lower lip sat two rings right next to each other, a ring dangled from his nose and two little silver balls sat in the hollows of his dimples that showed when he smiled at Jaemin. “Back for more?” He asked with a deep, rumbling voice and got up to greet Jaemin properly, bumping their shoulders together. “Got an appointment with Johnny for my sleeve,” the blue haired boy replied. “I see the snake bites healed well.” “Done by the best piercer of the shop.” “You know it,” the man laughed, throwing an arm around Jaemin. “Brought your girlfriend?” “I’m just a friend,” you quickly corrected the piercer. (Why couldn’t you just platonically join a friend for his tattoo session?) “Alright, just a friend, I’m Jaehyun. Johnny should be ready by now. You know the way?” Jaemin nodded and pulled you with him to Johnny’s room.

When Jaemin pulled the curtain to the room open, you weren’t prepared for what you were seeing: Johnny was standing in front of the full length mirror with his black button up shirt unbuttoned, applying cream to his still tender looking eagle tattoo on his chest, making his beautiful sunkissed skin glisten. “You’re early, Jaem,” he spoke. “Jaehyun said you were already ready,” the blue haired boy shrugged and plopped down onto the black bench. “Oh you brought company,” Johnny turned around when he spotted you and grinned, “I knew you’d come back, doll. How’s your piercing healing?” You had to summon all your strength to rip your eyes from Johnny’s strong and glistening chest to meet his dark eyes. “It’s fine as far as I know, doesn’t hurt anymore,” you stumbled across your words. Couldn’t he just button his shirt back up? “Let me see.” Before you could protest he had made two big steps and was right in front of you, the intoxicating smell of his perfume filling your senses. He gently tucked your hair back to have a look at the piercing and you swore you could feel electricity buzz beneath your skin where he had touched you. “You took great care of it, darling. Not regretting it yet?” “No, I like it.” I like you. The words had laid on your tongue but you managed to swallow them back down.

“Stop flirting with her, I’m the one paying for your attention,” Jaemin whined from where he was sitting. You of course immediately felt all your blood rush to your head but Johnny just chuckled. “I haven’t seen any cash yet, boy.” The tattoo artist gave you a last wink before turning towards his actual client, buttoning his shirt back up but leaving the last two buttons unbuttoned, letting the head of the eagle just barely poke out. Taking a deep breath you sat down in the worn leather chair while Jaemin handed Johnny a bunch of bills that the taller quickly counted. “Alright, I’m all yours for the next five hours or so,” he grinned, “You saw the drafts I sent you?” Jaemin nodded while he took off his jacket and rolled up the sleeve of his T-Shirt to expose the ink on his arm. It was already beautiful even though it wasn’t even halfway done. The hummingbird was still missing its shading and he hung in the air for now, the flowers and leaves stopping above its head. “Yeah, I’m still not sure about the color though. Can’t we just do more flowers instead?” “Sure but the inner arm and near the elbow is going to hurt like a bitch. So it’s either that or you let me color that hummingbird.” Jaemin groaned dramatically, turning his arm to look into the mirror. “He does look weird just half-finished like that.” “So color it is?” Johnny asked while rolling up the sleeves of his shirt a bit, exposing his own tattoos: A snake like dragon curled around his entire right arm, kept in all black ink. “I really liked that green-blue watercolor thing you sent,” Jaemin supplied when he turned to lie down. “Right, then I’ll do some flowers directly surrounding the bird and color that thing.” He snapped his black gloves on and turned to prepare his machine and the colors.

“Come closer with that stupid chair,” Jaemin whined, making grabby hands at you. After Johnny nodded, you pushed the chair closer with great effort. “Are you going to whine for the whole time?” You groaned but smiled fondly at your friend. “Most likely,” Johnny answered instead of Jaemin and rolled over on his little stool, his silver framed glasses back on his nose and a pen between his lips. “I’ll freehand a bunch of flowers first to make sure they fit around that little guy nicely.” “And I thought you liked putting others in pain,” Jaemin joked when Johnny adjusted a little lamp and began to draw flower after flower. It was really fascinating how quick his hand drew delicate petals and leaves, filling up the space around the hummingbird. “Oh if I put others in pain, they usually like it,” he grinned, his voice dropping an octave. You almost choked on plain air and had to try to mask it as coughing but if the way Johnny’s eyes twinkled was any indication, he had seen right through it and dared to be smug about it. “Wow my third appointment and we’re already talking about kinks?” “Sorry Jaem, not interested,” the artist laughed, “I’m more into cute girls.” He leaned back to examine his drawing, throwing you another quick wink. You barely held in a squeak. He really wasn’t even trying to be subtle about his flirting anymore. “Ready for the big gun?” “Oh dick jokes now, nice,” Jaemin chuckled while you were sure your head was about to explode from how much blood was collecting in there. You covered your hot cheeks with your hands in a hopeless attempt to cool them. “Oh look Johnny, she’s getting shy already.” “I haven’t even started yet, baby.” That was it. This man was going to be the death of you. You really didn’t need to know what it sounded like when he spoke those words that were dripping with honey. “Why did I agree to come with you?” You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “Because you missed me”, Johnny said at the same time as Jaemin said: “Because you’re a good friend.”

After a beat of silence in which Johnny arranged his actual tattoo gun and Jaemin stared at you while his smile grew bigger and bigger, he asked: “Now which one is it?” “I’m not answering that,” you mumbled from beneath your fingers. “No answer is an answer as well,” Jaemin singsang but luckily the low buzzing of the tattoo machine saved you from any further embarrassment… For now…   “Now hold still or I’ll actually stab you,” Johnny warned before he dipped the needle into black ink and began to trace the lines he had just drawn on with a fine needle. “Yessir,” Jaemin joked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Johnny was unusually quiet while he worked, completely tuning out the chatter of you and Jaemin about shitty professors and assignments. You were absolutely fascinated by the confidence he radiated while dragging the needle over his client’s skin. He went back and forth between two different tattoo guns and rubbed Jaemin’s skin every now and then to get rid of excess ink. Soon Jaemin’s whole upper arm was decorated with delicate flowers and leaves and Johnny leaned back to both take a deep breath while stretching his back and to look at his work. “Let’s take a break before I do the color,” he proposed, wiping down the skin. “It looks great,” you complimented his work, taking a picture for Jaemin so he could see it himself. “Damn that pain really pays off,” your friend grinned, zooming in and out of the picture before posting it to his Instagram. “Does it hurt badly?” “You get used to it,” he shrugged, not taking his eyes from his feed, “It’s more like someone continuously scratching you.” “I can show you if you want,” Johnny chimed in from where he was cleaning his tattoo gun from the black ink. “I don’t think I’m spontaneous enough for a sudden tattoo.” “Not even if I offer it for free again?” He laughed. “I’m not mentally prepared for that,” you tried to reason. “I can still show you how it feels though. Without ink.” You shyly nodded and held out your arm for him that he quickly wiped down with disinfectant when he was done putting a fresh needle into the gun. “Just don’t flinch, darling,” he softly spoke before the buzzing of his tattoo gun filled the silence. You expected it to hurt a lot more when the needle touched your skin but it really wasn’t that bad. It was an odd kind of pain you couldn’t really describe. “It’s not that bad,” you told him, looking into his beautiful brown eyes behind his glasses. “It hurts more when it’s directly on the bone or at a more tender area,” Johnny explained and turned the gun off again, bending down to look at the slightly reddened skin of your arm before chucking the used needle into the nearby trashcan. “Let’s patch that up real quick, just treat it like any other scratch.” You nodded and let the handsome man put a band-aid over it. But before you could pull your arm back again, he leaned down to press a kiss on the cloth “For a good and quick healing,” he breathed and grinned smugly when you quickly turned your head away to hide your heated face.

“When you’re done flirting, will you finally put some color into me?” Jaemin interrupted, grinning widely. “That’s what she said,” you mumbled under your breath, making Johnny chuckle. “All you need to do is ask, darling.” Before you could even wrap your mind around what the tattoo artist had just implied, he had already rolled back over to your blue haired friend to take a look at the hummingbird. “Alright let’s do this,” he grinned before wiping down the skin once more. The buzzing of a new machine filled the room and Jaemin scrunched his eyes shut when the needle dipped in turquoise ink met his skin. “This is nasty,” he complained. “Don’t be a baby,” Johnny murmured, dragging the needle over your friend’s skin that accepted the ink quickly. “You want to hold my hand?” You giggled. What you didn’t expect was for Jaemin to actually reach out to you with his unoccupied arm, making a grabby hand. “Jeno always holds my hand,” he whined. “You’re such a big baby, Nana,” you sighed but still laced your fingers together, yelping loudly when Jaemin squeezed down hard. “You said it didn’t even hurt, you big liar,” you squeezed out between gritted teeth. “You’re not the one getting stabbed,” Jaemin argued, “That shit hurts different than the black.” “It’s a different needle,” Johnny explained, “People usually say it hurts less than outlines though.” “It’s not more or less, it’s just different.” “Well it’s going to hurt more if you keep seizing up like that, relax.” “You’re one to fucking talk,” Jaemin sounded upset. “Don’t curse at me for giving you a pretty tattoo,” Johnny just said, dipping his needle into the little pot that held the color again. “Talk him through it,” the artist said to you, looking up from behind his glasses that had slipped down his nose again.

“Hey, remember that time when Donghyuck was so drunk he wanted to jump from the roof into the pool at that frat house?” You quickly said, the silly story coming to mind first. The memory made Jaemin giggle. “Jeno and Mark had so much trouble holding him back once he managed to climb out of the window,” the blue haired boy chuckled. “They were lucky they didn’t fall off.” “That would have made for an even better story though,” Jaemin laughed. “They could have hurt themselves,” you said, scandalized, “You’re hanging out with Renjun too much.” Jaemin didn’t answer, instead he just hummed and wiggled his dark eyebrows.

“Did you ever go to college?” You asked Johnny out of curiosity even though Jaemin had said that the artist preferred to keep quiet and concentrate on his work. “Do I look like I went?” He just laughed, cocking one of his stupidly perfect eyebrows at you when he looked up. “Well, I didn’t want to assume,” you shied away under his gaze. “I dropped out of high school to learn tattooing,” Johnny shared while painting Jaemin’s skin as blue as his hair, “I wasn’t good in school anyways. So art school or something wasn’t an option either. Not that I would have had any money for that.” “What made you want to pick up tattooing then?” You asked curiously. “Art usually is very temporarily and if you make a mistake, you can just erase it or paint over it with another color. Not so much with tattoos. I like that. It’s immortal as long as you don’t start shooting lasers at it.” “I’ve never thought about it like that,” you confessed. Tattooing had never seemed like art to you but that was exactly what it was. Just not on a canvas but under your skin. “Thinking about getting one now?” Jaemin teased, squeezing your hand that he still held. “I haven’t even told my parents about the piercing,” you scoffed, “They would disown me.” “Well too bad, I know a pretty good tattoo artist,” he joked and poked his tongue out. “Do you now?” Johnny asked, a grin on his lips, wiping down Jaemin’s arm before going in with a lighter color. “Yeah, he works in this shady ass shop in Itaewon and I am pretty sure you can buy drugs there as well.” “Those are not for sale,” the artist chuckled when he saw your scandalized expression. “It’s just anesthetics for certain piercing procedures, calm down doll.” “So sadly, it turns out you can’t buy drugs at their shop but it still looks shady and I’m pretty sure they’re paying part of the mafia so the police won’t come to investigate.” “I know nothing of transactions of this sort,” Johnny commented before you could get an actual heart attack. Illegally tattooing and piercing was one thing but mingling with the mafia was a whole other thing. “Anyways, he does pretty cool tattoos and pierces as well,” Jaemin continued, a grin on his lips, “Also talking male to male here, he’s pretty ripped.” At that Johnny started grinning as well. “Wanna know his name?” Jaemin asked you when Johnny turned to clean his needle and you just rolled your eyes but nodded, wondering what he was getting out of all of this. “It’s Jaehyun.” “Excuse me?” Johnny exclaimed with wide eyes when both you and your blue haired friend started laughed at his stupid joke. “This kid,” he mumbled and shook his head before putting the needle back to Jaemin’s skin who seemed to have forgotten to whine about the pain.

The rest of the appointment was spend with you and Jaemin chatting about this and that and a short video call from a red eyed Jeno who had finished his shift at the cat café and wanted to apologize and promised to buy you two dinner after you were done. “I think that’s all I can do for today,” Johnny said after he had stared at the little hummingbird for a while, “Your skin took the color well but if I do any more, I’ll stress the skin too much. I can go in another time if I need to fix anything.” Jaemin nodded, sitting up so he could inspect the colorful hummingbird in the mirror. “Wow that looks sick,” he commented, his eyes going wide, “Totally worth the pain.” “That’s what I wanna hear,” the artist grinned, grabbing some paper towels to rub the tattoo down once more. “Let me snap a picture to post.”

After both men had taken about 20 photos each, Johnny quickly wrapped Jaemin’s arm in plastic wrap, reminding him how to take care of it. “Text me for the next session, I think we could fit some pretty roses at the bottom. Maybe add a dash of color here and there or other animals,” the artist smiled, slipping the glasses off his nose, gently placing them on the table. “I’ll think about it but first I gotta slave away behind the bar to make more money,” Jaemin sighed, shrugging his jacket back on. “And you darling?” Johnny asked, putting on his confident smile again. “When will I see you again?” You just stared at him, at a loss for an answer. Did he really want to see you again? But before you could even open your mouth, Jaemin had already pulled your phone from your grasp, unlocked it and shoved it towards Johnny. “Put your number in already,” he sighed and rolled his eyes dramatically. Laughing, Johnny did as your friend had said. “Very smooth, Jaem.” “I- I guess I’ll text you,” you stuttered when Johnny gave your phone back, your fingers tingling where his touched yours. “I’ll be waiting, darling,” he winked, raking a hand through his inky strands. “Alright, time to leave, before you start drooling,” Jaemin destroyed the intense atmosphere and grabbed your arm to pull you back to the main room and out of the parlor, leaving a laughing Johnny behind in his room.

“I wasn’t even drooling, what the fuck Jaemin,” you argued when you were outside, your phone clutched to your chest. “Stop complaining, I got you his number, you should be thankful,” he just grinned, absolutely shameless, tugging you along through the little street. “I will not thank you for embarrassing me in front of him,” you pouted, unlocking your phone to confirm that Johnny had indeed put his number into the contacts with a little black heart behind his name.

“Is it too early to text him?” You asked when you and Jaemin sat in the subway on the way to his and Jeno’s dorm to take him up on his offer for food. Your friend just laughed at you, making an elderly man scowl at the two of you, who shook his head in disapproval. Well, Jaemin’s visuals didn’t help him when he acted like this in public. But as long as he didn’t care, you wouldn’t care either. “Text him after we’ve eaten,” he advised you. “Then you don’t seem as desperate as you are,” he added, which earned him a punch to his not tattooed arm.

All through dinner, Jaemin retold every embarrassing moment that happened at the tattoo parlor, making Jeno laugh so hard that he almost choked on his rice. You really needed to find new friends. These ones were just harassing you at this point. (Aside from the fact that Jaemin had indeed managed to get you Johnny’s number, you’d thank him later when he couldn’t make fun at you.)

Later that night, you laid in bed in your own dorm room, staring at the screen of your phone. Your fingers were hovering over the keyboard but you really couldn’t think of what you should text Johnny. You didn’t want to seem weird. With how confident he was, he probably did this a lot and you were too proud to make a fool of yourself. Groaning you tossed and turned in your bed for a while, still staring at the empty chat box that by now must be mocking you for your cowardice. Sighing you typed out another short message to immediately delete it again. Should you just send him a simple ‘Hi’ or ask him if he had eaten? How the rest of his day went? In moments like this you whished you were more confident in yourself.

The sound of an incoming message suddenly filled the room and made you jerk. When you saw Johnny’s name on the screen, your heart first stopped for a second before it started beating about three times as fast as it should. How did that happen? With shaking hands you unlocked the phone to see that you in fact didn’t delete the last message but accidentally send it. Luckily it wasn’t as embarrassing as it could have been and Johnny had just answered that he was glad that you had finally texted him. Before you could think of an answer he sent another text asking you why you were still awake this late when he expected you to be a ‘good girl’. You could practically hear his smirk and you couldn’t fight the heat that rose to your cheeks. You replied that you were already in bed and were about to sleep if he was concerned about your sleep pattern that honestly wasn’t the greatest ever since the semester had started. ‘Oh, sexting already’ he replied, making you shriek in embarrassment. Was this what your message had looked like? ‘You alone?’ He asked and with a furiously beating heart you answered with a simple yes.

A couple of seconds went by with no answer from him which definitely didn’t lower your anxiety before the loud sound of your ringtone tore through the silence, Johnny’s name on the display. You quickly answered it to not wake up anyone on your floor, pressing it tightly to your ear. “Hello?” “Good evening, miss,” you heard the rumble of Johnny’s voice, “Missed me already?” “You’re the one who called,” you argued, making the man on the other end of the line giggle. “That is true.” “Why did you call?” You asked curiously, shifting to lie down on your back, staring at the ceiling. “Just wanted some company. My last client just left and I’m cleaning up the shop for today, the others already left,” he explained. “Jaehyun and Taeyong?” “Yeah those two guys,” he sighed and you heard him rummaging in the background. “Is it just you three at the shop?” “Yeah, it was just me and Taeyong at first but Jaehyun is an incredibly quick learner once he had found someone who was willing to teach him a thing or two. So he quickly joined the two of us.” You just hummed, your fingers playing with your hair, unsure of what to say. It was somehow easier to talk to him like this when you couldn’t see his eyes twinkle in mischief or his lips curling up in that confident smirk. Like this he was just a boy who wanted company and not an insanely handsome, heavily tattooed man who flirted shamelessly. “Do you usually work this late?” You asked to fill the silence and out of curiosity as well. If the shop wasn’t legal there sure weren’t any laws regulating how long the artists were supposed to work. “I don’t,” Johnny laughed, “But thank you for your concern. I was just tattooing a friend for free after my last paying client left because he was in the area.” “You do that a lot? Offering up your services for free?” “Just for friends and special people, doll,” he chuckled, “Why? Are you considering getting inked after all?”

Well were you? You didn’t even know at this point. Whenever you had thought of tattoos you had only ever thought about big bold and very black lines, of skulls, names of exes on your skin forever and warped pictures of people’s faces. But never of delicate flowers, bright colors and intricate designs. Johnny had made it obvious that it was art that he was doing and that it wasn’t just some technical procedure to get color beneath your skin. “I- I don’t know,” you confessed, “I never thought much about tattoos until Jaemin started getting them.” “I thought so,” the artist chuckled, “But I bet I could design a pretty piece that would compliment you nicely.” “I don’t think I’m the type for it though,” you argued, thinking about the amount of ink on Johnny’s body and you hadn’t even seen half of it. (Not that you planned on doing so but you were curious to know if there was more hiding beneath his clothes.) “It doesn’t have to be an obvious one. Just something only you know about.” That really got you thinking. His tattoos were really delicate and you had seen that he could write in really pretty cursive. “I don’t want to pressure you into anything, darling. But if you ever want one, you know who to ask.”

“Yeah, thank you Johnny,” you murmured, lost in thought about how you would look like with multiple tattoos. “I like the way you say my name.” “You- what?” You stuttered when he caught you off guard like that, making him laugh. “You’re cute,” he said once he had calmed down. “Stop pouting,” he added when you weren’t answering. “How did you know I was?” Johnny chuckled again. “I just knew.” “Thank you for keeping me company,” he said when you hadn’t said anything in a while. “It’s alright. I like talking to you,” you confessed. You could hear a door closing and his deep chuckle on the other end of the line. “You probably hear that a lot…” you murmured, embarrassed at how the words had slipped past your lips. “I actually don’t,” Johnny said, “I appreciate the words, darling. I’m all done cleaning up now, thank you for keeping me company.” “It’s fine, no need to thank me.” “You should go sleep now, it’s already late. Sweet dreams, doll. Maybe I’ll even visit you.” “Goodnight, Johnny,” you squeaked. The last thing you heard before he ended the call was another chuckle and a hushed goodbye. Smiling widely you turned your face into your pillow to muffle the scream you let out. How could this man make your heart beat faster like that with just a few simple words? And why did this short phone call make you so happy? Sighing, you put your phone to your nightstand and cuddled tightly into your blanket, the thought of Johnny’s smooth voice guiding you to sleep where he indeed did visit you.

After that initial phone call, Johnny called you more and more often. Sometimes when he was on his lunch break and his colleagues were still working, sometimes later at night when your head was spinning from studying and he was cleaning up the shop. You two talked about your days, you complained about professors, deadlines and assignments and he told you about tattooing and his sometimes crazy clients. And every now and then Johnny would bring up his offer to tattoo you. Which made your thoughts spiral every single time. In class you would scroll through Johnny’s Instagram account, imagining what some of the intricate, more feminine designs would look like on your skin. After much consideration you definitely ruled out anything big or colorful. But something small wouldn’t hurt, right? Well it would, you would be giving him permission to stab you with an automated needle a bunch of times which in itself sounded really scary. But Jaemin’s tattoo looked nice. And after his skin had peeled, the hummingbird truly looked absolutely incredible and you couldn’t wait for him to visit the shop again to keep working on the sleeve.

So in a whim of bravery and with the help of the little glass of wine you had drank you told Johnny that he should tattoo you. “Are you for real?” He asked. “I am,” you giggled, “I’ve thought about it a lot the past weeks.” “I am honored, darling. What will it be?” “Something small and no colors please,” you told him. “That’s all you’re asking for?” “Yeah, I… I like the simple black stuff you do,” you stuttered, suddenly really nervous and unsure if this was actually a good idea. “I’ll design something that’ll match you perfectly,” Johnny promised, sounding very eager. You could hear some rummaging on his end of the line. “I could fit you in Friday evening after my last client. It won’t be too late and I need some time to come up with a design that’s worthy of being in your body.” You swallowed dryly. If you said yes, you couldn’t back out anymore. You would be getting inked. Secretly. Without telling anyone. Not to mention illegally. In a reasonably shady shop that was owned by the most gorgeous man you had ever met. Taking a deep breath, you nodded before you realized that he couldn’t see that. “I’ll be there,” you promised. “I’m looking forward to it, doll,” Johnny said before he wished you sweet dreams just like every time when he called you late at night.

The neon light in front of the door to the shop was already shut off when you arrived the next Friday late in the evening but the door gave away when you pushed it open with trembling hands after taking a deep breath. “I thought you weren’t going to come, darling, you left me waiting,” Johnny greeted you, jumping down from the counter he had sat on. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt with a little white rose design over his heart that fit him perfectly. His hair was elegantly swept back, exposing the freshly shaved part on the side. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled, fumbling with the sleeves of your hoodie. “Don’t be nervous, I’ll take good care of you,” he promised, quickly locking the front door before taking you to his room where he motioned for you to sit on the bench. “Do you trust me?” He asked, tipping your head up so you would look into his dark eyes. “I- I think I do,” you stuttered. “I won’t tell you what you’re getting,” Johnny grinned and your eyes widened in shock. “You will like it and it’s not that big.” “I’m not sure, Johnny,” you voiced your concerns but he just pressed his index finger to your lips before you could say any more. Your breath hitched and he could definitely feel your shaky exhale against his finger. “You said you trust me, doll.” Taking another shaky breath, you nodded and a smile spread over his plush lips. “I need you to take off your shirt and lie down on your left side,” he spoke, his voice casual but you could feel something shift in the air between you. At a loss for words you just nodded again and did as Johnny asked when he turned around to gather his stuff.

“Take a couple of deep breaths for me, darling,” he instructed you when he rolled over on his little stool, his glasses sitting low on his nose and his hands already gloved. “It’s going on your ribs,” he told you so you wouldn’t flinch when he quickly dragged a razor over the area before disinfecting it. “I’ll draw a quick sketch first. I don’t want to mess it up when it’s going on your beautiful skin.”  You felt the tip of his pen meet your skin in a gentle stroke, tickling your skin so you had to giggle. “Don’t make me mess this up, baby,” Johnny scolded, playfully slapping your back. “It tickles,” you pouted. “I’m trying to be gentle with you,” he said and you could hear the smile in his voice. While he was sketching, you closed your eyes, trying to figure out what he was drawing. But all you could figure out was that it was something rather small which calmed your nerves a bit.

“All done,” the tattoo artist announced after a while and quickly pulled his little side table with his tattoo gun and ink closer. When the low buzzing noise filled the air, you pressed your eyes shut even tighter, balling your hands into fists. Technically you knew it wouldn’t hurt badly, Johnny had shown you before. But you were still getting stabbed a bunch of times and fuck, you were really doing this. Letting this man put something on your body that was going to be there forever and you didn’t even know what it was going to be. “Relax, darling. I’ll be as gentle as I can be,” he promised, running a hand up and down your back. “It’s going to be on me forever,” you said. “It is. Your own personal piece of art on your body. Just for you to have.” That was a beautiful way to see it, you thought. It’s not just some pigment stabbed into your skin but art. Something unique no one else had. And Johnny would be painting it on just you for you and you alone. “Okay, let’s do this,” you breathed. “That’s my good girl,” Johnny praised and the words made your stomach twist with a feeling you didn’t want to further explore.

The pain was bearable. It was weird at first and the ribs sure hurt more than it had on your arm and the bones somehow seemed to amplify the buzzing, making it travel through your body. You had to grit your teeth when Johnny went over what seemed to be the middle part of the tattoo, where he grazed the skin in quick successions. “That hurts.” “I know, baby. But you’re almost done. You’re doing so well for me,” he soothed and gave you a small break to breathe before he went back in.

“All done, darling,” Johnny announced a little later, turning off his machine and rubbing the tattoo down with a wet paper towel. “Can I see it now?” You asked. “In a bit, keep your eyes closed,” he spoke softly and took your hands in his now ungloved ones to first guide you into a sitting position and then off the bench and over to what you assumed to be the mirror. He turned you so your side was facing the glass and put one of his big hands on your waist. It felt hot on your exposed skin and made goosebumps break out on your skin. “Open your eyes, doll.” You did and looked directly into his dark chocolate brown eyes behind his glasses. “I’m too scared to look now, is that silly?” You asked, losing yourself in his eyes and leaning towards his body that just seemed to radiate heat. “It’s beautiful, just like you,” he assured you, squeezing your waist reassuringly. After taking a deep breath, you tore your gaze away from him and turned to look at yourself in the mirror where a delicate, black chrysanthemum was awaiting you on the skin over your ribs. It indeed looked beautiful, absolutely stunning. It was small but looked so delicate and realistic and fit well with the curves of your body. “It’s stunning,” you whispered.

“Thank you, Johnny.” “No need to thank me, darling,” he chuckled and when your eyes met again, his were dark and almost hungry. “But I think I should reward you for being so good while I tattooed you.” Before you could ask what kind of reward he was talking about, he had already connected your lips in a passionate kiss and pulled your body flush against his. You couldn’t help but sigh now that you finally knew what the metal of his lip piercing felt like against your lips. Johnny was a good kisser and you were boneless in his strong grip not long after he had slipped his tongue past your lips after you had moaned into the kiss when he had started to push you backwards to the bench again, hoisting you back up. “Let me make up for the pain I’ve caused you,” he breathed against your swollen lips when you broke apart to breathe.   “Just keep kissing me like that,” you demanded, burying your hands in his soft black locks to kiss him again. He chuckled and let you dominate the kiss for a while, toying with the black ring in his lip and exploring his mouth. Meanwhile Johnny’s hands started to wander from their place on your waist down to grope at your ass, pulling you forward against him, so you could feel his growing erection between your legs which made a spark of arousal shoot through you.

“Let me make you feel good, baby,” he breathed heavily while kissing down your neck, gently taking the skin between his teeth. “Please Johnny,” you begged, feeling the arousal simmer low in your stomach. Grinning he pulled back and raked his dark eyes over your figure before making quick work of your belt and sliding your jeans along with your panties from your legs, only shortly struggling with your shoes. “It’s not Johnny now, baby,” he rasped when he kneeled down in front of you, pulling you towards him roughly, so your glistening core was exposed to him. “It’s Daddy,” he added before licking a broad stripe through your folds and flicking his tongue at your clit. You could just mewl and throw your head back in pleasure. You didn’t know that this would be such a turn on for you. “Say it, baby,” Johnny demanded, lazily dragging his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Please Daddy,” you whimpered and you could feel his low groan vibrating against your core. He wasted no time to attach his plush lips to your clit, gently sucking and grazing his teeth over the little nub, making you mewl and shiver in pleasure. He definitely knew what he was doing, altering between stimulating your clit to the point where it almost became too much before he focused on dragging his tongue through your folds, gently prodding against your entrance before it gave away. When Johnny moaned you could feel it travel straight through you, making your head swim with pleasure. Looking down to the man kneeling in front of you, you were met with his dark eyes, staring straight up into yours. Moaning, you threaded your fingers into his soft hair and pressed his face closer to your core, not even taking the chance that he could move back. “Feels so good, Daddy,” you moaned when he spread your labia with his fingers so his tongue could dive deeper into you, stimulating your velvety walls. When he hummed it send sweet vibrations through your core and you could feel your orgasm approach almost embarrassingly fast. “Mmmh, so close Daddy.” “You wanna cum, baby?” He rasped, his hot breath fanning over your clit that he was lazily rubbing with two fingers. You bit your lip and met his dark eyes, nodding furiously. “Then beg for it, doll. I could stay here for hours,” Johnny spoke before he turned his head to mouth at your thigh, gently biting and sucking at the sensitive skin until it bruised under his ministrations. “I would just keep you right on the edge for hours until you’re a shaking mess for me, begging for release.” His lips split into a wicked grin when he saw how his dirty words affected you and he slowed his fingers on your clit until it was just enough to keep you stimulated but not enough to make the knot in your stomach snap. “Please Daddy,” you whimpered. “Please what baby?” He rested his head on your thigh, looking up at you from innocent eyes as if he wasn’t driving you insane with just his fingers. “What is it beautiful?” He repeated the question, replacing his fingers with his tongue. “You wanna cum?” “Yes please,” you whined, grinding your hips against his tongue to get more friction. “Well if you ask so nicely…” Johnny immediately slipped two fingers inside you with almost no resistance from how ridiculously wet you were and began pumping them in and out of your core fast, crooking them to search for your sweet spot. “Come on baby,” he growled, locking eyes with you again when he closed his lips around your clit. Almost screaming his name, you came hard when his fingers finally found your sweet spot, rubbing at it mercilessly to help you ride out your orgasm. Your thighs were shaking and you fell back onto the bench, the leather sticking to your back where you just laid for a while, your head spinning, breathing heavily.

“You look gorgeous like that,” Johnny complimented you, when he got back up from the floor, raking his clean hand through the mess that was his hair before he shamelessly took his fingers that were covered in your essence into his mouth, sucking them clean. Through half lidded eyes you could see the way he was still straining against the fabric of his jeans and the sight made your mouth water. “You’re still hard,” you said breathless.   “I am,” he said matter of factly. You wordlessly let your thighs fall open for him, exposing your core to him. “Oh baby,” Johnny cursed, pressing the heel of his palm against his bulge, “As much as I want to fuck you right now, you still have a fresh tattoo, doll.” “Please, Johnny, I want it,” you begged. “Shh, baby,” he soothed you rubbing a hand over your thigh, “Let me dress that tattoo and then I’ll take you upstairs to fuck you on an actual bed like you deserve.” You nodded, amazed by his amount of self-control.

Johnny worked quickly and efficiently: Cleaning your tattoo one last time before putting some ointment on it to keep it moisturized. At last he gently taped down a small sheet of plastic foil to keep it safe. “All done, beautiful,” he spoke before pecking your lips, “You still want to come upstairs with me?” “Yes Daddy,” you answered and you swore you could see his eyes darken just from the word alone. “Hold on tightly,” he ordered before scooping you up into his arms, holding you up by your thighs. Squealing you quickly wrapped your arms and legs around him, holding on tightly. “I’ll get your clothes before we open up tomorrow,” he mumbled when he carried you through the back door of the shop that lead to a dusty staircase. You pressed your body closer to his, nuzzling your face into his neck where the smell of his cologne was the strongest, to have some of his warmth seep into your skin when you started to shiver from the cold air. Lazily you let your lips travel over his skin, sucking a mark next to a splash of ink.

Johnny quickly grabbed the keys to his apartment’s door from atop of the doorframe (not really safe) and unlocked his door while holding you up with just one of his arms, the display of strength making your head spin. With quick steps he crossed the way to his bed and gently laid you down on the soft sheets, immediately crawling on top of you, crowding you against the mattress. “I knew you would look good in my bed,” he rasped, kissing your neck while his hands made quick work of the bra that you were still wearing for some reason. “You’re gorgeous, doll,” he breathed after he had sat up on his knees, looking down at you with dark eyes, his big hands roaming your body. Feeling shy under all the attention and compliments he was giving you, you tried to hide your face behind your fingers but he wasn’t having any of it, quickly grabbing your wrists in one hand to pin them above your head. “Don’t hide from me baby. Daddy wants to see how much you’re enjoying yourself.” You could just nod, trying to force down the whimper that almost spilled past your lips, he hadn’t even done much yet and you were already feeling arousal pulse through your veins. “I couldn’t hear your answer,” Johnny teased, gently grabbing one of your boobs to massage the soft flesh. “Yes, Daddy.” “That’s my good girl,” he grinned, releasing your wrists to slip his T-Shirt over his head, revealing his strong chest where the eagle majestically spread its wings and the hard lines of his abs. “Like what you see?” He asked smugly, climbing off the bed to unbuckle his belt and slip his jeans off his narrow hips, revealing strong, muscled thighs. One of them was covered with the face of a growling panther while the other was decorated with a colorful koifish tattoo that disappeared beneath the fabric of his dark boxers that were doing very little to hide a prominent bulge. “Let me,” you breathed and crawled over to hook your thumbs into the waistband. But before you pulled them down, you pressed a couple of kisses to the cherry blossom branch tattoo that seemed to stretch from his back over his hipbone and further down, mingling with the koi tattoo further down. With every centimeter of skin you exposed, more ink from the blossoms became visible and you kissed every single one of the delicate flowers. When his length finally sprang free, you had to swallow dryly: His cock was huge and hung heavy between his legs. Licking your lips you looked up to him, to find him grinning down at you. “Go to town, baby.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice, you were itching to feel his heavy weight on your tongue. You pressed a sweet kiss to his tip before placing a hand at the base only to find him surprisingly soft as you experimentally pumped your hand once. “It takes a while for it to get fully hard,” he groaned when you moved your hand up and down his shaft a couple of times, feeling it pulse beneath your fingers. Damn if he wasn’t even fully hard, how big would he be if he was? Holding him at the base, you licked a broad stripe up the whole length before you swiped your tongue around the pink head, pulling another groan from Johnny’s lips. Taking a deep breath, you finally took him in your mouth and hollowed your cheeks, tasting his skin. The weight on your tongue felt just right and you couldn’t help but moan as you slowly started to take more and more of him until you felt him hit the back of your throat. Shit, you were barely able to fit half of his length in your mouth like this. “You’re so big,” you moaned when you pulled off of him with a wet pop, spreading your saliva down the shaft with both of your hands. Johnny just hummed and grabbed a handful of your hair to shove your mouth back onto his dick. He cursed when the velvety heat surrounded him again and gently began to thrust in and out your mouth. “Fuck you look so good with my cock in your mouth,” he breathed heavily. You could only moan where your lips were stretched around his length and hollow your cheeks when he pulled out, the grip he had on your hair keeping you in place while he snapped his hips. “Shit baby,” Johnny cursed when he pulled out, panting while he rested the head of his cock on your outstretched tongue. “I could cum like this.” You whined pathetically, looking up at him with pleading eyes. He chuckled and gently slapped his cock against your lips, smearing them with precum. “But you don’t want that, don’t you, baby? You want my cock inside you? Stretching you out?” “Yes Daddy, please. I need it so bad,” you blabbered, not even knowing where those words were coming from but you seemed to have said the right thing with how Johnny’s dick twitched in his hand.

“Then get on your hands and knees for me, baby. Ass up.” It was almost comically how fast you complied, baring yourself to him. “Such a good girl,” he praised, grabbing your asscheeks to knead and pull them apart. “Beautiful.” “Please Daddy,” you begged him, arching your back further. “Patience baby,” he chuckled. A frustrated groan got stuck in your throat and turned into a drawn out whine when he pushed two of his fingers inside you, pumping them quickly and curling them to find your sweet spot again. Soon two fingers became three and he had reduced you to a moaning mess with how he abused your sweet spot once he had found it again. “You think you’re ready for my cock, baby?” “Yes. Oh god, yes please,” you begged while shamelessly grinding back on his fingers that he had stilled inside of you. “Spread your cheeks for me,” he ordered while quickly grabbing a condom from his bedside table and rolling it onto his cock. Balancing your weight on your knees and shoulders, you reached around yourself to pull your asscheeks apart so Johnny could see your core clenching around nothing. “You’re such a good girl for me,” he rasped, running his palm along the curve of your body while lazily thrusting his cock through your folds, making it glisten with your essence. Finally you could feel him nudging at your entrance with the thick head of his cock. “You want it, baby?” “Yes please Daddy,” you gasped, trying hard to be good and not grind back against him. “You’re such a good girl for me,” he chuckled, “And good girls get what they want if they ask so politely.” With that he finally sank into you in one agonizingly slow thrust until you could feel his hip bones press against your skin. You had to screw your eyes shut and bite your lip to suppress a whimper. You had never felt so full before.

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight,” Johnny groaned, grabbing you by the dip of your waist with his big hands, grinding you on his cock. “I’m so full, Daddy,” you gasped when he slowly pulled out until only the head of his cock was inside you before he languidly thrust back in. “Yeah? You like that? Being stuffed full of my cock?” You could only moan and nod where your head was pressed into the sheets. His cock was so big that it seemed to press against every good spot that was inside you, setting your nerve endings on fire, the pain from being stretched like that only adding to your pleasure. “You‘re sucking me right back in baby,” he cursed and gripped your waist harder, pulling you back on his cock as he picked up the pace, low groans falling from his lips. Your moans got progressively louder and louder the faster Johnny snapped his hips. “Hands behind your back, baby,” he ordered panting and immediately grabbed both your wrists in his hands to use them as leverage so he could fuck into you faster, the change of angle and pace making you moan his name. Your head was swimming with pleasure and you could only moan and mewl beneath him, imagining how he would bite his lip while watching his dick disappear inside you over and over again, stretching out the delicate skin of your sex. “God baby, your ass looks amazing,” Johnny groaned, praise after praise falling from his lips that reduced you to a moaning mess.

With one particularly hard thrust he buried himself to the hilt inside you and draped his body over yours, his hot breath fanning over your face when he spoke, a deep rumble in his chest while grinding his dick right against your sweet spot that had you seeing colors behind your closed eyes. “Wanna see you bounce on my dick, doll. Can you do that for me?” Taking a deep breath, you nodded. Your ability to form coherent sentences had left you as soon as he had begun to fuck you in earnest. “You’re such a good girl,” he purred and gently pulled out, making you whimper from the loss. You felt the bed dip next to you and when you opened your eyes, you were met with Johnny’s pleased smirk as he leaned against the headboard of the bed, his cock resting against his hip, too heavy to properly stand up and you couldn’t stop another whimper. “Come on baby, I know you want it,” he grinned, crooking a finger in a ‘come closer’ motion. Dragging your limbs from beneath you with great effort, you climbed onto his lap, immediately claiming his lips in a messy kiss. You buried your hands in his stupidly perfect hair to mess it up and tug at the inky strands, causing Johnny to moan into the kiss. “Hmm, my baby is feisty,” he chuckled when he broke the kiss, the pupils of his dark eyes blown so wide that they seemed almost black. “But you promised me to ride my dick,” he reminded you. “And I’m gonna,” you slurred, reaching between your bodies to grab his cock, giving it a couple of strokes. “But turn around for me baby. Wanna see how much my fat cock is going to stretch you out,” he rasped, playfully biting your lips. “But I want to see you too,” you complained. “Oh you can,” he grinned and pointed over your shoulder. You reluctantly turned around before you saw what he meant. Right across from the bed was a big mirror and you gasped because of how fucked out you already looked. A couple of tears had rolled down your cheeks and messed up your makeup and your lipstick was smeared around your lips.

You carefully grabbed Johnny’s cock again and held it steady so you could sink down on him, watching yourself in the mirror until you sat snug on his lap and had to close your eyes because the feeling was so overwhelming. He felt even bigger like that. “You okay, baby?” He asked, grabbing your hips tightly to help you swivel them on his cock, making it press into your walls just how you liked it. “How does your cock feel even bigger like this?” You gasped as you leaned forward and slowly started to ride him at first to get used to his size and figure out the best angle for you. Your legs shook with the effort to keep your rhythm but the look Johnny had on his face, his eyes glued to where you two were connected, made it worth it. Suddenly a wicked grin spread on his lips and he snapped his hips up when you lowered yourself again, tearing loud moans from both of you. “Fuck, do that again,” you demanded when you raised your hips again. “What’s the magic word?” Johnny teased, holding you up so you wouldn’t drop down again. “Please, Daddy.” Groaning he started to snap his hips up every time you ground down on him, making your skin slap together with an obscene noise.

God you wanted to die on his dick. “Do you now?” Johnny laughed. Shit did you say that out loud? “Want to feel how deep it goes inside you?” He rasped, wrapping his strong arms around your waist. You went lax in his hold and mewled helplessly. Who knew that a little display of strength and a big dick were such turn ons for you that your brain was reduced to mush. Grinning he carefully pulled you up and against his chest and draped your legs over his after he had planted his feet firmly onto the mattress. “Watch, baby,” he ordered as he lifted you off of him until only the tip was barely inside you anymore before letting you drop down again. You mewled and thrashed in his hold, the feeling just on the edge of too much. Feeling him deep inside you was one thing but actually seeing it was a whole other thing and it messed with your head. Curiously you pressed your hand down on your lower stomach when Johnny had started to piston his hips up into you instead of dropping you down onto his cock every time and you swore you could feel him move inside you. A drawn out curse left your lips and you threw your head back onto his shoulder.

With the way he was snapping his hips up you could feel your orgasm approach at lightning speed and you were so far gone that you shamelessly reached between your legs to stimulate your clit. “Fuck baby, you’re so hot like this,” Johnny groaned, grinding his dick inside you as you quickly rubbed your clit, toeing right on the edge. “Please Daddy,” you cried out, not sure what you were even begging for. “You gonna cum on my cock?” He rasped, snapping his hips harshly, “Wrapped around my big cock stretching you out like this?” You nodded your head furiously, your eyes screwed shut. You were so close that you could already feel your toes curling. “Show me baby. Show Daddy how good his cock makes you feel.” That’s what pushed you over the edge, the way he was panting in your ear, his voice strained from how he was drilling into you. The coil in your stomach snapped and you almost screamed his name, your body curling inwards and thighs shivering as your orgasm washed over you, making a bunch of colors explode behind your lids. In the back of your mind you registered Johnny’s curses and how he was grinding his cock inside you to help you ride out your orgasm. “Such a good girl,” he praised when your body went lax on top of him, your chest heaving with heavy breaths. You briefly wondered if you had ever cum this hard and you couldn’t think of any other time. “Thank you Daddy,” you panted, turning your face to press a messy kiss to his plush lips that were bitten raw. He chuckled lowly when you whimpered when his still hard cock shifted when you tried to turn around.

“Will you let me fuck you for a little longer, baby?” He asked, running a hand through your sweaty hair. Instead of answering him, you lifted yourself off his dick to turn around on his lap, capturing his lips again. “Want you to ruin me,” you whispered between kisses, “Want you to ruin me for any other men. Want to only remember how you feel inside of me.” Johnny growled deep in his chest before he pushed you down onto the bed, hungrily licking into your mouth. “You’re the one who is ruining me,” he panted, rising to his knees. He quickly grabbed your legs and threw them over his shoulders before he sank into you again with a low groan. This time he didn’t waste any time with building up the pace and immediately snapped his hips harshly, chasing his own orgasm. “You’re taking me so well, baby,” he panted, folding your thighs to your chest so he could push into you even deeper, making you see stars with how he was nailing your sweet spot with the new angle. And even though you had just cum, you felt another orgasm build inside your stomach. A row of curses left Johnny’s lips when he could watch his dick slide in and out of you again and he gripped your thighs so hard you were sure you’d have bruises there tomorrow. But that was something you’d worry about later, right now your world was only made up of the handsome man with his huge cock that was currently rearranging your guts with how vigorously he was snapping his hips, making your skin slap together with lewd sounds.

“I’m gonna cum baby,” Johnny grunted, his hips losing their rhythm. “On me,” you managed to choke out, still lost in your own pleasure. Another groan left his bitten lips before he quickly pulled out and ripped the condom off, jerking his cock with quick strokes, his eyes fixed to yours. All it took was a couple of jerks before he threw his head back and you could see his abdominal muscles contract before the first burst of white hot cum spurted from his dick and covered your chest and stomach. With parted lips he stroked himself through his orgasm, milking rope after rope from his cock until he hissed with overstimulation. “Fuck,” he cursed before giggling when he saw the mess he had made of you, his cum dripping from your boobs and running down your stomach. He cursed again before claiming your lips. “You want to cum one last time, baby?” “Please Daddy,” you whined, spreading your legs further for him. “My good girl,” he sighed, sinking two fingers into your heat, quickly crooking them to stimulate your sweet spot while his thumb was putting sweet pressure on your clit, making you thrash beneath him. “You look so good covered in my cum,” he rasped before he kissed you harshly to swallow your moans and cries of pleasure. You desperately held on to his shoulders, breaking the kiss when your head was spinning from the lack of oxygen. While speeding up his fingers, Johnny began sucking bruises low on your neck and over the soft skin of your cleavage. “Shit, I’m gonna-“ you didn’t get to finish your sentence because right that moment he had sucked one of your nipples into his mouth which was just enough to send you over the edge for a third time that night, your lips parted in a silent scream of his name and your thighs shaking and closing around the handsome man kneeling between them. “That’s my good girl,” he praised breathily and gently rocked his fingers to help you ride out your orgasm before he pulled them out, instead winding his strong arms around your body, holding you to his inked chest.

For a while he just held you close, not caring that his cum was now also stuck to his chest. “Fuck that was a lot,” you chuckled, burying your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his calming scent. “Not what you thought would happen when you get a free tattoo?” Johnny softly spoke, carding his hand through your messy hair. “Not at all.” Another question was burning inside your head but you were too scared to ask it. You didn’t want to push him and ruin the mood. “I should clean you up and see if that tattoo is still okay. Then we can cuddle, alright?” The tattoo artist said before he detangled your bodies from one another to get up from the bed. He looked around on the floor for a cloth and you could finally see where the cherry blossoms on his hip were coming from. A big samurai was stretched over half his back, surrounded by the pinkish blossoms. It seemed like it wasn’t a complete piece yet, the samurai staring at the still untouched skin of Johnny’s left shoulderblade. “Your back tattoo is really pretty,” you mumbled to fill the silence while Johnny was wiping his chest clean before he gently did the same to you, taking extra caution when looking at your still fresh tattoo. “Thank you,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead, the metal of his piercing feeling warm on your skin, “We should change that foil real quick.” You just nodded and let him do his work, exhaustion settling into your bones.

“Do you do this with all your clients?” Shit. You hadn’t meant to ask that, the question had just slipped your lips and you could feel Johnny freeze where he was dressing your tattoo again before he secured the last piece of tape. He sighed and slipped beneath the covers, pulling you against his chest, so you could listen to his heartbeat. “Not all of them,” he answered eventually, “I haven’t slept with a client in a while. It happens sometimes but usually I don’t think much about it.” “And now you do?” He just hummed nonchalantly, playing with your hair. “They usually don’t come back after I fuck them.” He paused, holding his breath. “Will you come back?” Your heart started to race and you could feel a bright smile spreading over your lips. “For more free tattoos and piercings?” “Oh, yeah, I guess,” he sounded so deflated, the confident tattoo artist suddenly gone. “You idiot,” you giggled, pillowing your head on his sternum so he could see the smile on your lips, “I like you Johnny. I’ll come back if you want me to.” Now he was also smiling, his features softening. “Don’t make jokes like that, my heart is fragile,” he joked, wrapping you up in his strong arms.  

“Which one was your first one?” You asked him when the silence between you stretched while you traced the scales of the dragon that wound around his arm. “My first tattoo?” Johnny shifted around for a while before he showed you his other arm that had all kinds of different designs on it, some in bright colors, some strictly black. “That little guy over here,” he said with a smile on his lips and pointed to a little sunflower at the bend of his elbow, “To remind me to always look at the sun, at the bright side of life.” “It’s cute,” you breathed, touching the yellow petals. “And then it went downhill from there,” he chuckled, “It’s addicting.” “Let’s hope I can stay abstinent.” “What a shame, I’d love to cover you in my art,” Johnny confessed, tilting your face up so he could claim your lips in a kiss. “Maybe one or two more,” you breathed in between kisses, making him chuckle against your lips.

[villainsandvictimsalliance]

if you share fluffy/comforting hcs i will be your bestfriend

Come here, we need some soft content after all the angst happening with the League:

Kurogiri likes bees and he turns into a beekeeper. He buys a house some time away from the city, where he can be at peace.

Mr. Compress let's Toga decorate his prosthesis with stickers. They clean it after certain time so she can decorate it all over again.

Spinner teaches Tomura how to drive every Friday in an empty parking lot. The kids from class 1-A take turns going with them and they record the whole thing. People is really into that, specially when they get Bakugo screaming at both of them for being terrible at driving. After every session, Tomura buys them ice-cream and they sit around while he asks what have they been doing at UA.

Dabi goes with Natsuo when he decides to get his first tattoo. Actually, they end up getting matching tattoos as a promise to never get apart again. Shoto wants one two but Fuyumi is making him wait until he's 21 years old.

Eri once sees Toga smiling and she goes to hug her, telling her that crying is okay too. Everyone goes deadly quiet as Toga suddenly cries a little, hugging Eri back. The girl who can't smile is smiling and the girl who can't cry is crying. And they're doing it because they're happy.

Dabi and Shoto take turns mocking Bakugo while Shigaraki and Deku take turns defending him. Which is really funny because them you have Toga and Uraraka pointing out which team is winning.

Bakugo gets to punch everyone at least once. At least people stop him before he goes against Toga and Uraraka. That'd be a hell of a fight.

The girls at class 1a and class 1b adore Toga and they always invite her when they're going out. Tomura drives her to the place and gives her money to buy ice-cream.

Speaking of which: have you ever thought about Kirishima punching Dabi and Shigaraki just once for kidnapping Bakugo and then going "okay, and now let's hug".

Spinner is like a big brother for the whole class 1b. They are always calling him for advice and help. Once they all decided to cosplay him for Halloween and he almost cried.

Hatsume gets all excited when Compress asks her if she can do a prosthesis for him. He let's the kids at UA create him support tech that he tests. He finds it pretty funny.

Eri tests her power on Dabi every few moths to keep his body from going worst. He messes her hair every time, pointing out how cool is her horn. She reminds him a lot of Tomura and that makes him a little nostalgic.

They find pics of Tomura as a kid by pure luck. He's with his sister and his mother and his grandparents, his father taking the photo. They also find the photo of Nana with Kotaro. Tomura let's All Might keep that one.

When Tomura first meets Momo it hits him how much she reminds him of Hana. He's ashamed at first but eventually he tells the class about his sister. The girls are nicer to him after that and so are the boys.

Rei invites Toga and Tomura for dinner every few weeks. Toga and Shoto are somehow friends, because they can rant about Deku and not understanding people. Since the first meeting, Natsuo became sort of friends with Tomura because they are the same age.

Natsuo invites Tomura to sport games and to the cinema sometimes and Fuyumi worries, but after some time she realizes Dabi is right. Tomura is not a danger to Natsuo.

Spinner joins them after a while. They are not like a crazy trio ranting about sports and movies. Spinner even finds a way to take Natsuo to the gym with him and now they train together.

Tomura and Dabi sometimes disappear together at night. They're on the roof, watching the stars. Those nights when they're feeling raw and violent, they prefer to go with Kurogiri and stay there for some time. Those days are hard, specially because it's easy to miss the friends that did not make it out alive, but they have each other and they hold tight together.

Mr. Compress helps the following years with the cultural festival. Everything is colorful and dramatic and lovely. He is like the special guest. Kurogiri visits the city those days.

Inko finds herself protecting Tomura more than once, mothering him about his scratching and scars. He's constantly eating with the Midoriyas.

Toga and Monoma become besties and no one knows who that happened. She spents a lot of time around class 1b. She also teaches Shinso how to become invisible. Present Mic gets kinda nervous but Aizawa finds it interesting. Well, that kid stabbed him once, she's good. Shinso can learn a bunch from her.

Kurogiri starts helping Fuyumi with teaching kids somehow too. He's really patient and kids adore to play around with his misty form. Fuyumi finds him reliable and responsible. Who would guess they'd find comfort in each other.

Tensei, Iida's brother, gets help from Natsuo with his therapy. Iida and Deku get Melissa Shield to help him with new tech support. He finds a way to work as a minor hero again, and he trains a lot with Compress, both of them trying to regain more mobility.

The best day of Tomura's life is when Stain recognizes he was right. Also? Iida and Tomura bonding over hating Stain? Think about the possibilities.

Tomura teaches Uraraka how to win money online playing games. She's AMAZING at that. Dabi and Shoto secretly gives her a lot of money on her streams. Dabi because he can waste Enji's money and Shoto for the same reason, plus she's her friend.

Tsuyu and Spinner bonding over the stress of their friends being morons. Also they enjoy each other's company a lot.

Dabi and Denki and Cami speaking in memes and only Present Mic is able to translate.

Tomura and Uraraka bonding over not being able to touch things with all their fingers.

Dabi and Sero doing pranks with Sero's tape.

Dabi is definitely a bad influence for class 1a. And even a wrost influence for class 1b.

Tomura is not better but at least he teaches them important stuff.

Dabi will deny to his death that he likes those kids. Tomura teases him constantly.

Toga has a secret account to post stuff about Tomura and Dabi and how they are secretly in love. Class 1a and class 1b join. Soon they're losing their shit all the time around them and they both are angry because they don't know what's happening.

And then class 1b makes it a competition because they ship Spinner and Shigaraki better. It is a naive game, Tomura can't be mad because it's really chaotic, but he asks them eventually to tone it down because they're crossing some limits.

Dabi and Spinner are clueless.

Kurogiri says he ships Tomura with happiness when they ask him.

Then proceeds to say he adores Spinner.

Shoto gets insulted in behalf of his brother and he gets Compress to say he prefers Shigaraki with Dabi.

When they officially asks Shigaraki, he send the meme of "Both? Both. Both is good". Next day Vlad King and Aizawa has to endlessly ask them to stop laughing in class. Specially when Tomura walks in wirh the biggest smirk ever.

AND THIS IS GOING TOO FAR. OMG. SORRY FOR WRITING SO MUCH. I GOT EXCITED.

[milkybonya]

heartbroken

order 003 for anon: a large banana milk tea with strawberry popping boba for treasure’s Yedam

Warnings: angst, crying, explicit language, threats, violence

Summary: where Yedam is the badboy! at school and he has a soft spot for you ^-^ you somehow end up as his tutor and.. yeah :")

[a/n]: idk why it's so hard for me to imagine Yedam as a bad boy??? i hope i wrote this well T.T i love the badboy! concept tho hehe so i loved this,, aLSO I'M SORRY FOR SACRIFICING JEONGWOO LIKE THIS JEONGWOO ILY <3 i feel like i kind of unconsciously wrote Yedam as resembling Han Seo Jun from True Beauty hmmmm also i’ve been listening to a lot of Kang Daniel lately and am falling hard for that man so if you see this pls send Kang Daniel pics thx ily

"Everyone move the fuck aside and let me through," Yedam growls, speaking to the crowd that's blocking the classroom door. No one listens so he barges through, pushing people down to the ground if he has to just to get to class.

He doesn't care about why they've all gathered, or the poor student that has fainted at the door. He simply sits at his desk, props his feet up and closes his eyes to take a nap as all the students wonder what they should do.

"Yedam, what the hell?! Now is not the time for sleeping. A student has fainted and all you do is push people aside so you can nap at your desk?"

Yedam opens his eyes and pushes up the shades he's wearing. No one has ever spoken to him like this before, and even the students tending to the fainted person are shocked overhearing this. A relatively quiet student yelling at Yedam?

Who's this? Yedam wonders to himself, staring you up and down. He catches a glimpse of your name tag: [y/n]. I've never met this person- ... oh.

The one memory with you that he remembers: him falling off the top of the soccer goal post in an empty field just last year after class had already ended; you leaving the library and finding him there. Despite being scared of him and wanting to just leave, you approached him and gave him a piggy back all the way to the nearest hospital. He remembers the searing pain in his leg and how fast you tried to run, the wind blowing your hair in all directions as you shouted words of comfort into the wind: "It's gonna be okay! We'll get to the hospital soon, I promise."

When he later told his friend, Haruto about it, Haruto said, "I would've left you there and never looked back."

Even though Yedam knew he was joking, he can't forget how kind your actions were that day.

Is this why he isn't getting mad at you even though you're yelling in his face?

"Just let me take a nap," is all he says to you, sliding his sunglasses back down on his face. You shake your head at him before leaving the classroom, rushing to tell the teacher about the fainted student.

From that day, Yedam decides he won't leave you alone. For what reason? No one knows, not even him.

-

"Sir!"

"Yes, Yedam, what is your question?" the teacher asks, turning around from the blackboard to face the class.

"Can I change my seat?" Yedam asks.

The class laughs until Yedam shoots a glare in everyone’s direction.

"We're in the middle of a mathematics lesson, Yedam. Talk to me about it later."

"It's an emergency!"

"What's the emergency?"

"I need to sit here," Yedam says, getting up from his spot and walking to the seat on your right, tapping his fingers on the desk.

"And why's that?" the teacher asks, crossing his arms.

"Because... it's closer to the blackboard?"

Your heart is nervously racing throughout this interaction. Never in a million years would you want Yedam, the school's most renowned bad boy to sit beside you. Never.

"You've been sitting in the back for years. What's the problem?" the teacher asks.

"There's a problem. Very big one."

Yedam sits on the desk of that innocent student, sitting on their notes and crossing his arms.

"Yedam, can we talk about this later-"

"Nope. Hey... Junkyu? Can you move to my spot?" Yedam asks the student. One fierce glare from him is enough to get the student to pack up and clear the desk out.

"See? problem sorted," Yedam tells the teacher, sitting at his new spot beside you.

The teacher worriedly looks at you, noticing your discomfort.

"Well, we need to hurry on with the lesson so we'll talk about this later, okay?" the teacher explains, looking at both you and Yedam.

For the rest of the lesson, Yedam does nothing but stare at you. You don't look at him, not even once, but you can feel his eyes on you. It makes you lose focus, even though you're trying your best to take notes.

He's memorizing all of your features. the curve of your nose and lips, the colour of your eyes and how they look in the sunlight. He doesn't know why, but he just wants to look at you.

Finally, when the lesson ends and the teacher asks both of you to follow him to his office, you slam your arms down on your desk and glare at Yedam.

"Can you stop staring at me? I haven't been able to focus and you're making me uncomfortable!" you yell, silencing the chatter of the classroom.

Yedam gulps.

"I can't focus either, cause of you," Yedam says with a wink, resting his head on his palm.

You cough, shocked at his words.

"What are you saying?" you choke out.

"Let's go to the teacher's office. Whatever he says, tell him you're helping me with my studies so I need to sit beside you."

"And if I don't?" you challenge Yedam.

Yedam simply glares at you with his sharp eyes and you decide to comply.

As he lopes out of the class in a relaxed manner, you rush along behind him. In the teacher's office, you sit beside one another and across from your teacher, who sighs before he speaks.

"Yedam, I can tell [y/n] is uncomfortable with your actions. They don't want to be sitting beside you so please go back to your usual spot for the next class, okay?"

The teacher only speaks to Yedam, not even looking in your direction or asking for your opinion. You understand his intentions, but it still upsets you a little...

Yedam looks at you instead, an expectant expression on his face. Although you find him extremely annoying, his look is enough encouragement to get you to speak, even though you're about to say a bunch of lies.

"But sir, I've actually been helping Yedam with his studies these days," you croak out, gaining more confidence with each word you speak.

"Have you?" the teacher asks, raising his brow.

"They have, and you'll be seeing my improved grades soon," Yedam says, nudging you with a smirk.

"Well... if that's true, then alright. I'd better see those improved grades," the teacher says.

Yedam bites his lip while grinning, clearly glad that he'll be allowed to sit with you. On the other hand, you sigh. Who knows what kind of trouble this will bring for you...

-

After that meeting, the two of you sit beside one another in your next class. You feel your heart beating rapidly in your chest as Yedam stares at you from your right. The rest of the class has their eyes on you, too, wondering why Yedam is still sitting beside you.

"Can you please... stop staring at me," you whisper under your breath.

"I don't want to," Yedam says with a smile, continuing to look at you while his head is being held up by his palm, elbow propped up on his desk.

"I bet that [y/n] somehow seduced Yedam. They may look quiet, but they might be the slyest person on this planet," a classmate suggests from behind you.

Yedam's chair screeches backwards from beside you and he stands up, his arms swinging slightly at his sides.

"What the fuck did you just say?" Yedam asks, turning around to the classmate who was speaking nonsense. His face looks extremely angry - you've never seen him like this before.

The classmate puffs up their chest, trying to look stronger than they really are.

"I said [y/n] seduced you! And what?"

"You idiot," Yedam hisses, taking a few strides forward and smacking them in the face.

Instead of fighting back, the classmate doesn't budge. They have their head down, slowly reaching their hand up to their injured cheek.

Yedam crouches down to the seated student to meet their eyes.

"[y/n] never seduced me and never will. We've all been classmates for so long, you still can't recognize one another? Stop the bullshit. If I hear this again, it'll be more than your face that'll be harmed, you hear me?"

"Yedam, that's enough," you say, tugging at the back of his uniform blazer.

He finally turns around after a while, greeting you with such a bright smile that you wonder if he's forgotten everything that just happened.

"So, [y/n], are you gonna help me study or what?" Yedam asks you, returning to his seat."

"What do you mean?" you ask, confused.

"The teacher is expecting improved grades, so of course we should show him that, shouldn't we?"

The way Yedam tilts his head to one side while smiling at you makes your breath falter for a second.

"I-I guess we should," you stutter. Why are you suddenly getting so nervous around a jerk like Yedam? No but firstly, why is he being so nice to you?

"Okay, everyone! Class is starting, get to your- what happened to Jeongwoo?" the teacher asks, pointing to the classmate who Yedam smacked.

Jeongwoo's cheek is red and he has some ice pressed up against it.

"Got hit by a baseball. He's never paying attention to the right things," Yedam says, shaking his head.

The teacher thankfully shrugs things off. If not, Yedam would have been in deep trouble. 

You release the breath you didn’t realize you’ve been holding and Yedam pokes you with the eraser end of his pencil.

“Library after school today, okay?” he whispers. You nod.

-

Yedam watches you neatly pack up your things with his arms crossed, unconsciously smiling at the way you make sure everything is in the right part of your bag before you sling it over your shoulders and declare that you’re ready to go.

“You don’t mind taking a motorbike ride real quick, do you?” Yedam asks, glancing at you as the two of you walk down the hallway.

Shit. You’d forgotten that Yedam has a motorbike and takes the thing everywhere with him. Even though you’re a little scared to ride it with him, if that’s what he’s suggesting, you’re more scared to say ‘no’ to Yedam, so you simply nod.

Yedam is quick to notice the way you gulp, though, and how you nervously fidget with your hands as you walk, taking shaky steps.

They’re nervous... he tells himself. I’d better treat them well.

-

Yedam hands you his spare helmet. When you hesitate to take it from him, he places it over your head himself, knocking on it to show how protective it is. 

“In case anything happens, I promise I won’t let you get hurt, okay?” he tells you, holding out his pinkie finger. 

You let out a scoff at his unexpected childishness, but still loop your pinkie around his.

“I’m not scared, you know,” you exert, swinging your right leg around the motorbike as you take a seat behind Yedam.

“Sure.”

Before you can even blink, Yedam starts the motorbike and whizzes off. You’re forced to wrap your arms tightly around him out of fear, and he smiles under your warm embrace.

“You can just grab onto my blazer instead, you know,” he yells into the wind. You hear him, but pretend you didn’t. You’re too scared to move your hands right now.

After getting over some of the fear, you raise your head and admire the moving blue sky above you, the way the trees stand at the edge of the skyline and how the wind seems to surge through your veins as well as directly through you.

You don’t even realize you’ve arrived until Yedam tells you, helping you get off the bike. Regaining your senses, you stare at the glass building in front of you.

“Yedam... why are we here?” you ask him in shock. This mans really brought you to the library that’s on the other side of the city.

“I just wanted to enjoy a fun bike ride with you,” he mumbles, walking up the steps to the library.

Once the two of you find a spot, you don’t waste any time in getting right to work.

“So... what subject do you struggle with the most?”

“[y/n],” he mumbles.

“What?”

“Uh... math.”

“Okay... let’s get started with that, then.”

As you talk, Yedam loses focus, getting lost in the sweet tone of your voice, the way your hands move as you talk, and your precious lips.

“Yedam? What’s the answer to this question?” you ask, pointing to the equation you’ve written on the paper before you.

“Uh... I don’t know,” he admits. 

You sigh.

“I just explained to you how you should solve this! Did you not understand or were you not listening?”

“Um... I kind of just want to kiss you right now,” Yedam mumbles under his breath, smiling up at you with a slightly reddened face.

“What? Yedam, you’ve been mumbling all day today and it’s been scaring me.”

“Scaring you? No no, I don’t mean to scare you-”

Both of your phones vibrate on the desk and you glance at one another. You check yours and find out it’s a message from the class groupchat.

Jeongwoo: guys guys! [y/n] and Yedam are at the library across town studying together! i’m telling you, something is up...

Junkyu: says who?

Jeongwoo: sent a photo.

When you look at the photo, it’s of you and Yedam at the very desk you’re sitting at right now. Suddenly, you feel anxious. Has someone been following you? For how long?

Yedam: whichever one of you hoes is following us better fucking stop before i show up at your house and set it on fire. istg please leave us the FUCK ALONE!

Jeongwoo: shit i didn’t mean to send this to the class groupchat...

Yedam slams his phone down and looks carefully around the library.

“I found him,” he whispers before getting up and running across the library. You try to follow his trail and find someone wearing your school uniform running away with Yedam chasing closely behind.

If a fight breaks out because of you, you won’t be able to forgive yourself... you rush after them and follow them to the parking lot, which is luckily quite busy. You know Yedam won’t start a fight in such a busy place...

“You asshole, did Jeongwoo set you up to this?” Yedam grunts, grabbing your classmate by his collar.

“N-no.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Yedam growls.

“Guys, please stop! This parking lot is full of people-”

“Leave me alone!” the boy yells at the top of his lungs. People start to stare and Yedam lets go of his collar, dusting himself off. The veins on his neck are visible, showing his anger.

“If you do anything like this again, you’ll be in for it,” Yedam says to the boy before he runs away.

“[y/n], I’m so sorry-”

“Yedam, if this is what it’s gonna be like for me to help you study then I don’t want to do it!”

“I know, but-”

“Yedam, I’m scared,” you admit, starting to tear up slightly.

Yedam doesn’t know what to do, so he just sadly watches you as you cover your face and try not to cry. Then, you feel his arms around you as he presses his body against yours.

“I’m sorry, [y/n], I just... I’m sorry for putting you in this situation but I just... wanted to spend some time with you and-”

“You call this spending time with me?!” you sob into his chest.

“I’ll make them pay...”

“No, Yedam. I’ve had enough of your revenge and violence and... I just want to go back to my quiet life. Even a day spent like this has been too much for me.”

Yedam pulls away and steps back.

“I’ll pack up my stuff from the library. Please don’t talk to me ever again.”

As you walk away, Yedam silently watches you, hating himself for the fact that his heart is breaking. Why is his heart breaking?

-

The next day, Yedam is in his usual spot somewhere behind you in class, trying to sleep with his head on the desk but being unable to because you still haven’t shown up and he’s worried.

The same thing happens the next day.

And the next.

And the next.

At this point, you haven’t shown up for a week and Yedam is incredibly worried. He’s tried texting and calling you, but you haven’t replied. So he storms into the teachers’ office, demanding for your home address so he can visit you.

The teachers refuse for privacy reasons, but Yedam says he won’t leave the office until they give it to him, so they reluctantly do.

“You better not be going to bother [y/n] in any way, but to truly just visit them.”

“Do I look like I would bother [y/n]?”

“Yes.”

Yedam scoffs, leaving the office with your address in his hands. He leaves the school right then and there too, not caring about the rest of his classes for that day.

After an hour of getting lost on his motorbike searching for your home, he finally finds it. Slightly sweaty and incredibly tired, he knocks on your door, praying that you’ll open it.

“Who is it?” you sleepily ask, opening the door. Your first reaction is to slam the door shut as soon as you see Yedam, but he stops you.

“Please, [y/n],” he begs. “I’ve been searching for your house for an hour and I’m so tired... just let me in.”

Your pure and wholesome soul can’t say no to this, so you invite him in, quickly bringing him a glass of water.

“Why haven’t you been at school?”

“I think you know why,” you say, sitting on the couch next to Yedam’s.

“Because of me?”

You nod.

Yedam sighs.

“[y/n], you shouldn’t stop coming to school because-”

“The kids have stopped talking about us now, right? So I’ll come back, don’t worry.”

“Ah... right,” Yedam says with a sigh, running his hand through his hair.

“Why are you even... here?” you ask him.

“To check on you?” he says in a sarcastic tone, as if it should be obvious.

“Why?”

“Because I-” like you. He almost says it but stops himself, knowing that now is not the right time but also because what the heck?! He likes you?! Since when?! These feelings have been growing so fast on their own that Yedam can’t even keep up with them.

“Because?” you urge him.

“I was worried. Am I not allowed to be here?”

“That’s the thing, I don’t get why you would be worried.”

The truth is, you’re suspecting Yedam has developed feelings for you. You’re hoping it isn’t true, but you need to know. So you’re trying to get him to confess.

“I like you, [y/n], okay?! I know now isn’t the time but you keep putting so much pressure on me and I just...”

Your heart works harder than normal in your chest to keep blood flowing, and you wonder why. It’s not like you like Yedam or anything... right?

“I’m sorry, [y/n]. I’ll leave now,” he says, standing up and grabbing his helmet from where he left it at his feet.

Your heart races as you wonder if you should decide to do that thing you’re thinking about... should you... kiss him?

Ah, you don’t even like this jerk! Why would you do that?!

Exactly, why would you...? Why are you even considering this-

Before you know it, your body is moving on its own as you pull Yedam towards you and connect your lips to his. The sound of his helmet hitting the floor doesn’t hinder you from deepening the kiss as you realize that heck... maybe you really do like Yedam. Why else would you have butterflies?! You wouldn’t get butterflies from kissing someone you hate! Like you wouldn’t get butterflies from kissing trump-

okay sorry, i’ve lost myself here but i’m trying to say

the way Yedam is giving you butterflies is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before, and the way he wraps his arm around your lower back, holding you close makes you...

Yedam pulls away, panting slightly.

“[y/n], what the fuck?”

“Yedam... I think I like you, too.”

“You think?” Yedam teases you, grinning.

“What was that for, then?” he asks, pointing to his lips.

“Shut up,” you say, walking past him and purposely bumping into his shoulder. 

He grabs your arm and whirls you back around to face him.

“Just how the heck did we end up liking each other?” he asks you. But after looking at you for even a second, he knows. You’re beautiful, and he realized this the day you helped him when he was injured in that empty school field.

I guess for you, somehow this idiot made his way into your life, and his repeated efforts to win your love somehow rubbed off on you. But still, no one can make your heart race like Yedam does.

-

“[y/n] is back!”

“Yedam is sitting next to [y/n] again?”

“Are they holding hands?!”

You and Yedam sit side by side in class, discreetly holding hands under the desk while sharing earbuds. Sure, the whole class will probably talk and spread rumours about you dating Yedam, but who cares? You’ve found someone you love now, and that’s all that matters.

“Okay, class, let’s start the lesson,” the teacher says, only stopping to show a thumbs up and a wink in your and Yedam’s direction.

“What was that?” you ask Yedam, who smiles.

“I guess he’s showing his support for our newfound relationship?”