#it was only very brief and not remotely detailed but it felt better to tag it anyway

[onefriendeveryday]

Legs - 4/1/2023 (though drawn on 5/1/2023 and uploaded on 6/1/2023)

The two hundred and forty first friend. A dragon. He is a long creature in many aspects. Their legs are long, their body is long, his whiskers, horns, and tail are long. His life is also long. They have been around since before the sun rose and will likely live to see its final setting. This means he has seen a lot of the world. They watched the greatest triumphs of the other creatures. However, he has also seen awful tragedies. Losing friends is common when you have such a long lifespan and this only added to the pain he experienced. There is a lot to life and it is a mixture of good and bad. They have seen it all and learned to focus on the positives. High points will always return to make things better again.

[jihyuncompass]

A Little More Interesting

Welcome to Kinktober 2021! While this is my first time participating I’m very exited to give you some treats and spice to add to your Starbucks drink and Halloween candy. Now. Without any further ado, welcome to the first fic of the month. 

Kinktober 2021. Week One 

Marius x MC

Word Count: 4.3k 

NSFW. Only read if 18+

Tags Below the Cut 

Warnings/Tags: Collaring, Vaginal Fingering, Public/Semi-Public, Toys

--------------------------------------------------

“I have a couple things for you,” Marius said after pulling into a parking spot. You glanced up from your phone, Marius’s eyes were on you. A glint in his eye that made it clear that he had something on his mind. Setting your phone aside, your attention went to him. Noticing your attention on him he smiled then reached for the bag in the backseat. 

He handed the bag over to you, dropping it into your lap. After giving him another odd look you reached back into the bag to find it’s contents. 

Marius’s gaze was locked on you as you pulled out what looked to be a jewelry box, too big for a ring but probably about the size of a necklace. Holding the box in your hand your gaze went back to Marius. His brow was arched, like he was waiting to see your reaction. Feeling around the box you started to pull up on the top. 

“Wait.” Marius said, his hand resting on the top of the box. “Before you open it.” Your hands stopped, eyes returning to him. “We talked about this not too long ago, but if you don’t want it. You don’t have to accept it.” 

His words only grew your curiosity, opening the jewelry box. Inside lay what a t first looked like a typical necklace. A simple silver chain with a ring in the center. Within the ring, a small purple gem. Simple, yet elegant. The realization didn’t hit until you lifted the piece out of the box, noticing the clasp on the end. Two small rings connected by what looked to be a small lock.

“You don’t have to wear it.” Marius said. Any previous show of confidence had fallen away. “If you don’t want to or you feel you’re not ready.” 

Holding it in your hands you considered it, knowing Marius it was likely custom made. Designed for you specifically by him. You could just imagine Marius, choosing the details on the silver chain, picking the perfect gem to match the color of his eyes. The lock on the clasp, small but by looks of it rather strong. 

“You have the key for it?” You asked him. Seemingly stunned by your sudden question Marius nodded quickly but took an extra second to find his voice. 

“I do.” Marius reached under his shirt, pulling out a similar silver chain to the one in your hand. At the end, a small silver key. 

You didn’t require much more time to consider it. Taking another moment to admire it, you handed it to Marius. Who was watching you intently. 

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” He asked. 

“Yes.” You said, putting on a smile to show your honesty. “I trust you Marius, and I want this.” 

Marius took the key around his neck and quickly unlocked the tiny lock at the clasp. Adjusting in the seat you let your back face him. Moments later his hands put the subtle collar around your neck. Closing your eyes you focused in on the feeling of the lock clicking closed. The light but present pressure where the collar rested against your neck. Marius’s hands rested on your shoulders. Urging you to turn. 

“Well?” You asked him after you turned. At first he went speechless, ears turning red and voice lost. Then after a moment, when he’d been able to fully take you in, his expression shifted. His eyes narrowed and darkend, his lips pulled into a smirk. Playful yet mischievous. 

His fingers trailed from your shoulder to your neck, his fingers running over the silver chain. Leaning close to whisper. “It’s perfect.” His hand stopped at your jawline, pulling you into a kiss, his warm lips taking your’s, sending a warm feeling down into your abdomen. Breaking away from the kiss he leaned in, whispering against the shell of your ear. “It’s also the perfect reminder. That you’re mine.” 

“I am yours.” You whispered back, holding his face in your hands. “Always will be.” 

Marius smiled, his gaze full of warmth and adoration as he looked at you. Letting himself watch you for a moment longer he pulled away just the slightest bit. 

“There’s one more thing in the bag.” He said, motioning to the bag still resting in your lap. Letting your hands drop from his face you reached in for the second item, a larger box than the last one. 

Your mouth parted in a brief shock. Your face instantly flushed bright red. 

“These events are always so boring.” Marius said. “I thought this might make it a little more interesting.” 

Interesting was one word for it you thought as you held the box for a remote controlled vibrator. You’d seen these online and in other things but never in person, you turned the box over in your hands. The flush on your face was growing worse by the moment. 

“Well?” Marius asked. 

“You really think this is a good idea?” You questioned. 

Marius smirked. “Thought it could make the night a little more interesting, that’s all.” Marius winked, looking away from him you looked at the box in your hand. The idea seemed outrageous, it wasn’t appropriate and it could cause trouble for the both of you. 

But also, you couldn’t ignore the heat growing in your lower abdomen, and the excitement sparking through your nerves. Considering the box you pulled out the device, thumb brushing over the soft silicone outside. 

Marius leaned in, the smirk briefly disappearing from his face. “We don’t have to.” Glancing between Marius and the toy you weighed your options. 

“We can use our safe word?” You asked. 

“Of course.” Marius responded in complete seriousness. “Still paintbrush, right?” You nodded. 

Taking a breath of courage you fully removed the toy from its packaging, turning it around in your hand to get a feel for it. “Did you happen to bring any lube with you?” 

“Dammit.” Marius cursed. “I knew I forgot something.” He ran a hand through his carefully styled hair, messing up some of the strands. He hastily glanced around the car, hoping maybe he could find something suitable. 

“It’s okay.” You said, stopping his frantic search. “I can just do it the traditional way.” 

“Traditional way?” Marius asked. Before you answered you’d set the toy on the console, your hand reaching between your legs, pushing aside your clothes to get where you wanted to be. “Oh.” Marius said. “That way.” 

You smirked to yourself as your finger ran against your slit, already growing wet from just your thoughts alone. Your finger circled your clit, forcing you to take a sharp breath in, your finger rubbed on the sensitive nub quickly growing swollen by the sensation. 

As your fingers moved downwards, towards your core already beginning to ache you felt Marius’s eyes on you. Throwing him a glance you happily took in his flustered face while he watched you, 

“What’s that look for?” You cooed. “Do you want to help?” 

He cleared his throat, then nodded. Trying to keep his cool as he shifted his position. You pulled your own hand away as his hand traveled down your thigh to your core. Leaning back in the seat you readjusted your hips to get a better angle for him. 

Your eyes slipped closed as his fingers ran over your slit, collecting the wetness as he moved. Biting your lip you attempted to savor the feeling as he started down towards your entrance. Careful to use the fingers without a copious amount of rings he let one finger slip in, then a second not long after. 

Marius wasted no time, his fingers already pumping in and out of you as his thumb made quick circles around your clit. You didn’t hesitate to let moans fall past your lips, each sound only making Marius go faster. 

“Marius-” You said, forcing the name past your lips. 

“Hm?” Marius answered. 

“I think-” You paused to let another wave of pleasure pass. “I think I’m ready for it.” Marius slowed his hand, letting you reach for the toy you left on the console. 

He took the toy from you, using his other hand to angle it while his other hand pulled out of you. Using the remaining arousal coating his fingers to smear it on the tip. He looked back to your face, checking your expression. 

You nodded at him, giving him the confirmation he needed for him to push the toy past your folds and inside you. Swallowing thickly you groaned from the pleasant stretch, taking some moments to adjust to the new feeling. 

“How’s that?” Marius asked, hand resting on your upper thigh. 

“It’s good.” You readjusted your clothing, sitting up straight. Heavily aware of the toy now fully inside you as you sat in the seat of the car. Looking in the mirror you fixed your hair and straightened out your clothes. 

Marius put the vibrator box back into the bag, tossing it back into the backseat. Straightening himself out as you did. The two of you took a moment to collect yourselves before exchanging a glance. 

“Ready to go in?” Marius asked. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” 

-

Tonight’s event wasn’t anything special. Especially not in comparison to some of the other events you’d attended with Marius in the past. As always the drinks were overflowing and the food while of good quality not bountiful in quantity. Following your partner you made the rounds to the copious amounts of well dressed business associates Marius knew. 

“Oh my that’s such a beautiful choker you’re wearing.” One woman said to you, motioning to the accessory on your neck. In the corner of your eye you noticed how Marius smirked to you. “Where’d you get it?” 

You were about to speak when Marius spoke first. “It’s custom made.” He explained, focused on the woman speaking you missed Marius’s hand slipping into his pocket. 

“Well it’s absolutely beautiful.” She said to you, then turned to Marius. “I must get the name of your jeweler.” 

The sudden jolt of the toy nearly made you gasp, clearing your throat to avoid making any other sounds. Inside you the toy vibrated aggressively against your walls. Shooting Marius a look, you  cleared your throat again. 

“I’m sorry I think I need a drink.” You apologized. “Please excuse me.” Stepping away from the conversation you bit your lip, the vibrations grew slowly in intensity as you walked towards one of the servers carrying a tray of glasses of wine. 

While you walked back towards Marius the vibrations slowed to a stop. Marius’s hand leaving his pocket to shake someone’s hand. Breathing a sigh of relief you rejoined him, although the mischievous glint in his eye remained. 

“Doing okay? You look a little red.” Marius teased after the others had walked away. Pressing your lips into a thin line you ignored him, even as he took your hand in his, and his other hand slipped back into his pocket. 

You braced yourself, waiting for him to start the vibrator again. However he just winked at you, leading you towards another small gathering of people. Putting on his business smile as he approached. 

These conversations were usually nothing you found particularly interesting, this one included. You listened as Marius talked about business with one of the older men. Discussing PAX’s latest ventures and asking about one another’s families. You sipped at your wine while they spoke. Usually being just the littlest bit tipsy during times like this made the small talk bearable to get through. 

“And what about you?” The man Marius had been speaking to asked you. “What do you do for work?” 

“Oh I’m-” Your sentence was cut off by the return of the vibrations. You collected yourself after a moment, pushing through the increasing setting of the toy. 

“Are you feeling alright?” The man asked. “You look a bit overheated.” 

“I’m fine. Thank you.” You said, digging your nails into your hand to keep your composure. “It’s a bit warm. That’s all.”

 You carried on with your conversation, fighting the pleasure very quickly spreading through your boy as you talked. Marius was enjoying this, that you could easily tell. His expression showed how obviously he was undressing you with his eyes, and between the toy inside you and the pressure of the collar around your neck you were starting to find it difficult to keep your composure. 

The night continued this way, with Marius routinely turning the toy on and off as he pleased. With each cycle of it making it harder and harder for you to keep control of yourself. You already could tell your face was red, your knees getting shaky from how he’d started to get you close before turning it off again. 

After a while you’d convinced Marius to sit down with you at one of the tables in the venue. Marius held your hand as you watched others flutter around one another in conversation. All the same typical business chatter, what everyone was doing, new business plans or partnerships, maybe a mention of a spouse or children. 

“Do you want more to drink?” Marius asked, motioning to one of the servers. “I could get you another glass.” 

You shook your head, you’d already drunk enough to be pleasantly buzzed, but considering your current state and the way Marius was still looking at you, getting any more intoxicated would probably be a bad move. 

“I didn’t expect to see you both here.” A voice said from beside you. Turning your head, your mouth fell open as Artem walked up to the two of you. 

“Oh hey.” Marius said. His tone gave away a slight annoyance. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” 

“I had a client invite me along. Figured I’d accept the offer.” Artem said. He smiled at you softly. “It’s good to see you. I hope you’re enjoying yourself?” 

You matched his smile. “I am. Are you?” You asked. Artem pulled up a chair to sit next to you, your eyes on him instead of Marius you didn’t think much about the way he was looking at the two of you. 

“I’m usually not one for events like this, but it’s been pretty nice so far.” Artem said, nursing a glass of wine in his hand. You nodded thoughtfully. 

“I’m not really a huge fan of these either. The food and drinks definitely make up for it though.” You said. 

“Based on what I’ve had here, I think I’m inclined to agree with you.” 

You were about to speak further when your voice was caught in your throat. Marius had

turned the toy on again. This time at a higher speed than he had ever set before. Pressing your lips together in a fine line you attempted to breathe through the waves of pleasure pulsing through your body. If you looked uncomfortable at least Artem didn’t seem to notice as he carried on with the conversation. 

“How long are you both planning on staying?” Artem asked, sipping on his wine. 

“I’m not sure.” You said, crossing your legs to try and keep the intensity controlled the best you can. “How long are you staying?” 

“Not for long I hope.” Artem said. “I have some work I want to work on tonight.” You nodded, your nails digging into your knee as Marius turned up the vibrations again. Biting your cheek as you fought back the sounds you wanted to make, keeping yourself as still as possible so your knees didn’t shake. 

“Y-yeah.” You agreed, voice cracking. “Especially with that case we just got.” You said, having to force yourself to say every word while the intense pressure in your abdomen grew bigger and bigger, heart beating faster, and face getting more hot by the word. “I did look at the case files earlier but-” You took a breath to catch yourself. “I didn’t get a chance to spend much time with it.” 

Artem set his wine glass on the table. “If you’d like we could meet and go over the details of the case. There is a lot to keep track of.” 

“Oh that would be great-” The sudden increase in the speed of the toy made you stop, covering your face with your hand. Feigning a coughing fit to distract from how your whole body was shaking and how it was becoming impossible to keep yourself together anymore. You were getting so close, so close so- 

“Do you need something to drink?” Artem asked, leaning close to try and see your face, you coughed harder to keep your face hidden, nodding frantically. 

Just as Artem stepped away to find something for you to drink you shot Marius a look, he was smirking clearly proud of himself and the mess he was making you. 

“Awful coughing fit you’re having there.” Marius teased. 

You squeezed his thigh. “Paintbrush.” You said. Within a second the toy was off, and Marius took his hand out of his pocket. His smirk disappeared, replaced with concern. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, moving closer. 

You nodded after a second. Marius rubbing your back. “It was just too much right now.” You whispered. Marius nodded, understanding. “Thank you for stopping.” 

“Of course.” Marius said. Artem returned, a glass of water in his hand. Quickly handing it off to you. After several long sips you set the glass down, giving yourself time to collect yourself. 

“Better?” Artem asked, concern written all over his face. 

“Yes, much better.” You answered, sitting up straight. “Thank you.” You sipped at the water, feeling the flush in your face going down. Marius’s hand remained on the small of your back, his thumb rubbing small circles. 

After finishing the glass Artem brought you glanced back at Marius. He’d been watching the rest of the party but quickly turned back towards you. 

“Are you wanting to go?” Marius asked you, voice low and soft. 

“I think so.” You said, finally gaining your strength back. “Besides, we have something to do.” You smirked at him, his face completely changing as he realized what you were thinking. 

“Oh that’s right.” He said. “We did have something to do.” 

You both rose from your seats, even with the toy off your legs were still shaking, your whole body struggling to keep upright. “I’m sorry to leave just after running into you.” You said to Artem. 

“It’s alright, I’ll probably leave soon myself.” Artem stood to match you both. “Get home safe. Both of you.” 

After saying a proper goodbye, you both hurried out of the venue. Holding tight to Marius’s hand as you hurried back to the parking lot. 

The second Marius’s car came into view you headed straight for the backseat, hastily opening the door and pulling Marius inside with you. 

“What-” You cut Marius off by kissing him. Pushing him against the seats as you moved to straddle his hips. His hands went immediately to rest on your hips, pulling you closer, Your hands held his jaw. Forcing him to stay close. 

You only pulled away when you needed to breathe, Marius staring at you a bit stunned. 

“You’re eager.” He said, finding his voice. You frowned, leaning in close. 

“And who’s fault is that?” You shot back, kissing him again. Your lips moved against his, pulling him in further and deeper. Marius’s hands moved downwards until he was holding your ass, digging his fingers in as you groaned. 

Breaking away from his lips you moved to press kisses along his jawline and his neck. Seeking that sweet spot you knew he liked you to pay attention to. As you did so your hands moved to his waist, searching for his pocket where he kept his phone. 

“Mmn..” Marius moaned as you found the sweet spot, although not unaware of your hand as if reached into his pocket. “Whatcha looking for babe?” He asked, pulling your head away from his neck. 

“You know what I’m looking for Marius.” You went back to reaching into his pocket until Marius’s hand around your wrist stopped you. His mischievous look returned, sending a twinge of excitement straight to your core.  

“You want more?” He whispered into your ear. 

“Yes.” Marius’s fingers traveled towards your neck, fingers brushing against the collar still locked tightly around your neck. “Please Marius.” You asked. 

Marius hummed, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I’ll turn it on. But.” He started. “We’re doing this my way.” 

Before you could even answer Marius pulled you off of him, readjusting so his back was against the car door, legs laying across the seats. 

“Come here baby.” Marius said, leading for you to lay with your back against his front. You gave him a strange look over your shoulder while you laid against him. His arm around your waist to keep you in place. 

You watched as Marius opened the app he’d been using before. Waiting not-so patiently as he slowly started to turn it back up again. 

A loud sigh of relief escaped you as the vibrator started, watching as Marius slowly turned it up. 

“Faster.” You whispered. “Please make it go faster.” Marius shook his head as pressed a kiss to your temple. Savoring every moment as you whined against him.  “Marius, please.” 

After another long agonizing moment Marius obliged, turning up the intensity just the smallest amount. Enough for the sensations to be pleasant, but not enough to satisfy you. You needed more than that. 

“You’re so pretty like this.” Marius said. “All bothered and begging.” The hand around your waist moved up, cupping your breast. You groaned, head falling back against his shoulder. Closing your eyes you press your legs together, hoping to maybe get more sensation than the cruelly low setting Marius had the toy at. 

Marius used the hand with his phone to part your legs. “Let’s not do that, remember I’m the one in charge right now.” You whined, your eyes squeezed shut, you were going to go crazy like this. 

“Please turn it up more. Please.” You begged. “Please.” 

Marius considered you for a moment, your face was getting flushed already, you looked so perfect like this, like putty in his hands. If he really wanted to he could keep you like this for hours, but you also looked so beautiful, and he struggled to refuse you. 

He turned up the speed, leaving you gasping. It was high enough now that you couldn’t stop the moans from leaving your lips. Your hips ground down against Marius below you, seeking something, anything more to make you feel good. Behind you Marius groaned, turning up the toy even higher without another thought. 

“Marius oh god-” You cried out. “It’s- ugh-” The waves of pleasure were getting more intense, rising in pressure as you felt it start to swell in your abdomen. You weren’t going to last, you were so close. Just a little bit more is all you would need. 

“Are you close?” Marius asked. 

“Y-yes!” You said, your hand gripping his wrist so tightly you thought you might break it. “Please I’m so close I’m-” 

You cried out loudly as Marius turned down the vibrator, returning to a setting just barely enough to feel. 

“Why?” You asked. “Marius-” 

“You’re mine right?” He said. His hand moved from your breast to your neck, fingers tracing the bottom of your collar. 

“Marius.” You looked at him over your shoulder. He stared into your eyes, he looked like he was seeking something in you. Something that you’d only seen when he needed your reassurance. “Of course I’m yours. I’m only yours.” 

“Good.”He whispered. Marius kissed you, pulling you closer against him. With your eyes closed you were hardly focused on anything as with his one hand Marius turned the vibrator up again. You gasped into the kiss, pulling away a moment later to moan and looking back at his phone. Slowly he was turning it up, approaching the level it’d been at during the party. The point where you hadn’t been able to keep yourself collected anymore. 

Now you didn’t hesitate to moan. You couldn’t even care if people could hear you outside this car, right now you just needed to feel good. That’s it. 

Your eyes closed as you focused on the feeling, the white hot pressure that was at its breaking point inside you. Just a little more, just another moment, just another-

One last boost in the speed was all it took. You screamed in pure pleasure as your back arched, your entire body tensing as the pleasure exploded inside you. Your body shook, eyes shut and voice going hoarse from how loudly you’d cried. 

Marius turned the vibrator off a final time as you slumped against him, chest heaving as you caught your breath. A layer of sweat coating your skin, as your hands shook. Your eyes stayed closed, even while Marius pulled aside your clothes to remove the toy, covered in your slick. He smiled at the sight. Your eyes opened just enough to see it, before shutting again. 

Setting the toy aside Marius wrapped his arms around you, kissing your neck and jaw. “You did so good, baby. I love you.” Marius whispered. You smiled, too exhausted to say anything. 

You laid there like that for a long while, Marius pressing kisses wherever he could reach, your eyes closed while you gathered your strength again. 

“Let’s go home.” You said. “I think you deserve a little something tonight too.” 

Marius smiled. “Are you sure? I bet you’re exhausted.” 

“I’m sure.” You said, sitting up fully. Marius sat up with you, looking at you with those adoring eyes you were completely obsessed with. 

Marius’s hand brushed against the collar on your neck. “Do you want to keep this on? I can take it off if you want?” 

You shook your head. Taking his hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “No, I like it. I want to keep it on.” 

Happily, Marius accepted your answer. Helping you out of the back and into the passenger seat. Ready to go home for the rest of the night. 

[xxiaoyang]

lucid | xiaojun (m)

xiaojun has one too many secrets, one of them proving much harder to hide

words: 4.5k

warnings/tags: smut, dom!reader, sub!xiaojun, virgin!xiaojun, build up, masturbation, handjobs, feelings, comfort, xiaojun is kinda baby

a/n: i have no idea what to tag this it’s just me not being able to shut up about dejun but enjoy~

to you, it was pretty obvious you had a thing for xiaojun. or at least you thought it was, but the boy seemed entirely oblivious to it. which thinking about it was probably for the best. xiaojun was most passionate about his music and performing and you'd never want to jeopardize that, even if you did stand a chance. so you kept your feelings at bay, as much as you could working beside the beautiful man. you did your job and helped him do his, and that's how it was.

xiaojun was naturally friendly and developing a friendship with him came easily, the two of you being comfortable enough with one another to go past something strictly business. and that comfort helped with your job, being one of the staff who helps with styling and makeup. makeup artist was your primary role, so you spent a lot of days being up close and personal, which was probably no good for your health, but was the closest you could get to your deeper desires. you had learned to be content with that.

what you failed to pick up on was that xiaojun harbored feelings of his own. the not-so-subtle stares, the fond eyes he held for you. the way he hung on every word when you spoke and how he reveled in your speech when you shared tiny details about yourself with him.  

xiaojun thought and felt similarly to you, thinking that it wouldn't be the best idea to get involved, but also that you wouldn't want a guy like him. he didn't think anything was really wrong with him, but when he compared himself to the other guys, he felt like he wasn't enough. to be frank, he felt too inexperienced.

to xiaojun, you were so smart, insightful, always ready to help and so capable. you weren't that far from his age, but still he couldn't help but look up to you. you were all of those things without even being condescending, only ever lifting the people around you up and encouraging them. which is probably why xiaojun's brain felt so liberated to let it get this far. he just hoped you'd never catch on to his lingering eyes and you could just stay like this, as his kind noona, as his friend.

but of course, secrets can only stay hidden for so long.

okay, so maybe xiaojun had a little problem on his hands. in his humble opinion, he'd say a pretty decent sized problem, but a problem nonetheless. and he only had maybe five minutes to solve it before he had to get his makeup done. by you. he could not let you see him like this.

he didn't mean to get this way, usually he was good at controlling his urges and suppressing any feelings that accompanied them, but when you showed up to the studio for the day, he never stood a chance. you had decided to wear a dress today. different from your usual loose fitting pants and tops, this dress was more form fitting, hugging your torso and allowing his eager eyes to take in the curve of your chest all the way down to your hips where it was a little more flared to reveal your pretty legs. 

fuck, this wasn't helping. xiaojun threw himself back against the wall and held his face in his hands, feeling disappointed with himself that he'd think such lewd things about you, and as a result, be sporting a very noticeable hard on in his pants right now.

he had already been in here for ten minutes, excusing himself almost immediately upon your arrival and retreating to a single person dressing room to try to calm himself down. but it wasn’t going away, and he only had a few minutes before he needed to get ready for the shoot. where he'd have to be next to you. with you looking at him with your pretty big eyes and leaning over to apply his makeup and your soft touches on his jaw when you hold his face steady, and your skin peeking out from the lower neckline of the dress and nope. he couldn't go out there like this. it wasn't even going down, how was he going to face you?

xiaojun felt the frustration filling him rapidly, panic joining the flood to his senses, and he knew there was only one way to get rid of this in time. and it made him feel sick. he hated that the idea even entered his brain. he was normally too shy to even participate in conversation that was remotely sexual in nature, never mind do something so dirty where anyone could see him. was he really about to jerk off in a dressing room? he glanced at the time on his phone. he had enough time to bust one out.

but it wasn't that easy. even as hard and aching as he was, he was hesitant with his touches, trying to keep from making any sounds that would allude to what was going on in here. more than that, he couldn't stop thinking of you. thinking of your warm voice and even warmer eyes and how disgusted you would probably be with him if you knew what he was doing. he was disgusted with himself. he felt like such a pervert doing this without your knowledge. he imagined the disappointment in your eyes if you ever found out and it made him want to cry. tears were already welling up out of frustration and shame and he couldn't keep going.

xiaojun kneeled down on the ground hunched over with his head in his hands, probably looking as disgraceful as he felt. he tried his best not to cry, but thought maybe if he did it would kill his boner. he didn't want you to see his eyes and ask what was wrong, though, so he just tried to calm himself and breathe.

in his concentration he hadn't realized he'd been there for more than five minutes, already being past the time he needed to start getting his makeup done. he didn't notice your soft footsteps approaching the door. he didn't even notice your careful knocks on the door or the click of the doorknob twisting and revealing his pitiful form to you.

it had been a while since xiaojun had literally ran away earlier. you’d walked into the set and greeted the rest of the boys, and before you could even get to xiaojun he was booking it to the dressing rooms. figuring that he just needed some space, you paid little mind to it, growing increasingly concerned only when you saw the time tick by on the clock, every other member already made up and ready for the shoot. you decided at this point it was okay to look for him and at least see what was going on and try to get him back to start the day. you never in your wildest dreams expected to walk in on what you were seeing now.

xiaojun was all but crumpled on the floor, his face buried in his palms, his shoulders shaky, and his pants down to his knees on the floor. you couldn't stop your eyes from wandering south and that's when you saw the tent in his gray briefs, a large wet spot spread over the front. he still hadn't noticed your presence, and you were thankful cause you were sure the look on your face was absolutely ridiculous.

your heart felt like it was in your ass and you were hit with three overwhelming desires. the first, to rush to his side and try to comfort him and find out what's wrong. the second, to close the door and find a room of your own cause you were definitely soaking your panties now. and the third and most prominent, you wanted to help him relieve his problem.

you did none of those as you now had the attention of xiaojun, who nearly jumped out of his skin when he looked up and saw you in the doorway, his heart two beats shy of a heart attack. he gaped at you, floundering for the words to say as he just curled into a ball and did his best to hide himself. when you said and did nothing, he swallowed thickly and said the only thing his brain could muster.

"noona, i'm so sorry, it's not what it looks like."

if he was on the verge of crying before, now he felt like he was going to break down. tears stung at his eyes as he watched your face, blurry through his tears. he fucked up. he fucked everything up. xiaojun let his head fall between his knees and hugged them close to his chest, trying to soothe himself and also astral project to a place where he hadn't just been caught like this, by you.

you snapped out of your stupor at the sound of his voice breaking into a small sob, jumping into action, closing and locking the door behind you and carefully approaching him on the floor. to hell with the shoot. they could do all the other boys first. right now, you had to figure out what happened here.

you kneeled a few inches away from xiaojun, a tentative hand coming to rest on his elbow, you figured that was the safest spot. you moved it to his knee when he didn't respond to your touch and decided to break the ice.

"junie, what's the matter?" you tried to sound as soft and neutral as possible. he cried harder at your words and you felt your heart clench with sadness. you had decided that you hated seeing xiaojun cry more than anything in the world. and you needed to make it to stop.

you tested the waters and put your hands on his shoulders, gently rubbing them in an attempt to calm him. "hey, it's okay. you don't have to say anything if you don't want to, but is there anything i can do to make you feel better?"

of course, you were still so kind to him, even when he was being a creep like this. he didn't deserve it. he didn't deserve your help. but he was so humiliated he couldn't move. he didn't know what to do. he wanted to come clean just so he could rid himself of these burdensome feelings and at least know he was honest. maybe you would understand. you were always so understanding. he whined and shook his head miserably.

you were glad to at least get a response from him, now wondering if your presence was unwanted. you decided to push a little further and if he didn't budge, you would leave. pretend you never saw anything.

"no, you don't want me to help? do you want me to leave you alone?"

you were being so patient and now he was just being rude. he huffed and shook his head faster, hoping you'd accept his nonverbal responses.

you understood that he didn't want you to leave, he just needed some time, so you carried on caressing his shoulders.

"can you tell me what happened?"

honestly, you had a pretty good idea, if the still present bulge in his briefs was any indication, but you weren't sure how he ended up like this. he was already upset before he’d noticed you walked in on him, so it couldn't just be embarrassment. you wanted to hear it from him.

xiaojun let out a shaky breath, no longer crying and just recovering from the sobs that left him. he knew he had to explain himself. he realized that letting you make your own story would probably feel worse to him than even your worst reaction to the truth. so he steadied his breathing and lifted his head, still covered by his hands. he wasn't ready to see you yet.

"i don't want you to get mad at me, but i’ll understand if you do."

okay, now you were really confused. why would you be mad at him... for being caught jerking off? clearly something was wrong beforehand, but you still walked in on him. shouldn't he be upset over that? you stayed silent and squeezed his shoulder, silently telling him to continue.

he rubbed at his eyes and sighed. this is it. there's no going back from here. he's going to tell you the truth and everything will be different. at best, you'll pretend that it doesn't bother you and just be mildly uncomfortable around him and at worst, you'll be repulsed by him and avoid working with him in the future. maybe even quit working for the group. he pushed down those thoughts. he owed you the truth.

his voice sounded foreign to him when he started speaking, hoarse and small to his own ears. he peeled his hands from his face but kept his head down, not wanting to see the look on your face as he poured himself out to you.

"i'm really sorry, noona. i didn't mean to. i didn't want to do this, i just couldn't control it. i thought it would go away on its own and when it didn't i tried to make it go away and it still didn't and i just felt so awful cause i thought such dirty things about you. i just can't help it. i..." he hesitated, unsure whether it was weird to include this but figuring if he's gone this far, he should bare it all and let you decide with the whole truth.

"i just like you a lot. you're so good to me and you're so beautiful and i couldn't stop my mind from wandering but i know it's wrong and i understand if you never want to talk to me again. i just don't want you to think of me like this."

your head felt numb. you had stopped your small motions on his shoulders, needing all your focus to comprehend his words. he was like this... because of you? he liked you?

your heartbeat increased to a steady hum, vibrating in your chest at his confession. there was so much to unpack, and much you'd have to address later, but for now the boy you had such strong feelings for needed your help, and needed to be relieved from his guilt.

without speaking you placed a hand on his jaw, raising his head to look into his eyes. they were red and puffy and he looked so pitiful yet so pretty. you were sure you'd started daydreaming in the studio and this was all fabricated in your mind. but the way xiaojun was searching your eyes was real, and the way he leaned into your touch, now realizing you had been stroking his cheek this whole time, was very real.

you wanted to take it slow, to comfort him and tell him it was okay, but you were still vaguely aware of the passing of time and knew you didn't have much of it. you needed to get your hands on him - now.

"can i help you?"

was he hearing that right? did you mean what he thought you meant? not only had you not gotten upset with him, but you wanted to help him. does that mean you feel the same? or at least want him in the same way?

as if reading his mind, you nodded, a small smile spreading over your delicate pink lips.

you realized he needed a little more assurance before you could go on. "i like you too, junie, a lot. i never wanted to act on it, but i can't help it either. and i'd really like to help you, if that's okay." your eyes flicked down to his problem.

surely he was imagining this. you hand combing through his bangs brought him down to earth and he could only nod. he didn't even just want you at this point. he needed you.

"let me make it better, junie." the nickname rolling off your tongue and sending a shiver down his spine.

you leaned in slowly, eyes on his lips before fluttering closed as you hovered barely an inch away from him, his hot breath grazing your skin.

to your surprise, he closed the gap and pressed his lips against yours, desperation flowing through him. you led him in moving your lips, deepening the kiss and relishing how soft his were. heat rushed through you and you felt greed rising up in you. you wanted more. you needed to taste him.

poking at his lips with your tongue you pushed into his mouth, his lips instantly parting for you with a gasp, and you licked at his tongue with your own.

xiaojun's breathing picked up and you knew he was still feeling it. he wanted this just as much. deciding to be forward you push one of his legs down by his knee, letting your hand slowly crawl up his thigh.

he struggled to keep up with your kiss, your tongue twirling hypnotically around his, freezing when he felt your hand on his thigh. panic took over his senses once again, realizing he had left out one minor detail. he was a virgin.

"n-noona."

you pulled yourself from him reluctantly, looking back into his eyes that were angled with worry. "what's wrong? is it too much?"

he straightened against the wall and shook his head, trying to look confident. he need to look a little less pathetic when he said this.

"i've... i've never done this before." he fascinated himself with the sleeves of his hoodie.

your heart started rolling around in your chest. could he be any sweeter? you felt bad for a second, wanting his first time to be a little nicer than just some quick handjob in a dressing room, but more than anything you wanted to make him feel good.

"that's okay. i'll just use my hands and if you want me to stop at any point i will." you tried not to sound patronizing.

he shook his head again, a pout taking over his face this time. "don't want you to stop. i want you. i just don't know what to do." he blushed.

you had to giggle at how adorable he could be even in a situation like this, taking his face in your hands and pecking his pouted lip. "it's okay, you don't have to do anything. let me take care of you."

your smooth voice melted him to his core, fully surrendering to you and your touch. he trusted you. he wanted you to do whatever you wanted to him. he just nodded and threw his head back against the wall.

you glanced at your phone, already being way past the time he needed to be ready by. what's five more minutes going to do? not wanting to be interrupted, you sent a text to kun, asking him for a few more minutes to talk to xiaojun and to have everyone else go before him. he replied in seconds, apparently having been worried and told you he'd do what he could and to try to hurry and get him back out quickly.

you couldn't tell if he was suspicious from his text alone, so you threw your cares with your phone somewhere on the floor and went back to the beautiful boy in front of you. the same boy who had just admitted his feelings for you and the fact that he was hard because of you.

returning to kneel in front of him, you placed one more quick kiss on his lips and smoothed your hands down his chest to his hips then his thighs, straightening his legs on either side of you. his face and neck were flushed and he barely held eye contact, feeling shy under your gaze. you were drinking up the sight, saving a mental image for later.

without wasting any more time, you palmed him over his briefs, his dick still straining under the material.

"this must be hurting, hm?" you gave him a few experimental strokes through the fabric and he whimpered, nodding frantically at you.

before continuing, you decided not to do this on the floor, your bare knees also starting to go numb on the cold tile, and pulled him to stand. "come on, let's get you on the couch." you helped him pull his pants off over his feet so he didn't trip on them and laid him across the futon.

he looked nervous, fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie, looking so small and fragile under you like this. it ignited a flame in you that you’d yet to place, saving the thought for later to pay attention to the boy beneath you.

you held his eyes as you hooked your fingertips under his briefs, pulling them down his thighs slowly, then letting them trail down his torso to his now bared lower half. his dick stood tall against his stomach, tip an angry red and glistening with precum. you weren’t sure what to expect, but he was bigger than you thought he would be. of course, his dick was just as pretty as him.

"such a big boy" you cooed, not sure where the tone came from but continuing as xiaojun seemed to twitch when you spoke. he turned his head from you.

“noona, don’t tease me.” he sounded so small. you rubbed his thigh and smiled.

“i‘m not. you’re just so cute, so tall and hard for me.” he let out a whine.

you curl your fingers around his length, finally feeling him under your touch, already intoxicated by his warmth and velvety skin. wiping your thumb over his tip, you collect his precum and spread it over his head, earning a loud moan from him.

“as much as i want to hear those pretty noises, you gotta keep it down so no one hears us, okay, baby?” 

xiaojun felt warmth pour through his chest. he never knew how much he wanted to hear you call him that. he wanted to be your baby. he nodded and brought his sleeved wrist to his mouth, his other hand gripping his hoodie.

you started pumping him in a steady rhythm, not wanting to make him wait any longer but trying to make it as enjoyable as possible. he was squirming under you doing his best to keep quiet, small moans and breaths escaping anyway. he never knew how good it could feel with your hands bringing him there. he was half convinced he’d never be able to be fully satisfied with his own hand again.

your free hand came to scratch at his inner thigh, making him shiver under you. “tell me, what were you thinking of that had you so worked up?” 

he gulped, barely coherent but still finding the words, “was your dress. thinking about your... breasts,” he whispered the word, “wanted to touch them, suck on them, have them all over me.” he was panting, his words having a clear effect on both of you. fuck, he was so hot.

“mm, i would love that, baby. maybe next time, somewhere more private.” you both laughed airily.

you wanted to stay here and pleasure him all day, ignoring your responsibilities in favor of earning pretty sounds from your pretty boy. but you knew you couldn’t be much longer, hoping this would be enough for xiaojun and that you’d have another, better time with him soon. 

with that you picked up speed, twisting around his head and paying special attention to the edges, occasionally running you finger over his leaking hole and pulling sharp gasps from him. 

maybe it was because it was his first time with someone else, or because he’d been hard for so long, or just because it’s you, but the coil in him was tightening embarrassingly fast. you felt so good.

you could tell he was getting close with his moans increasing in pitch, barely held back by his hand over his mouth. he looked like an angel. he didn’t even look real. but you knew this was because not even your mind could produce something so divine. you wanted to see him let go for you, because of you. with that goal in mind you pumped even faster, making sure the most friction was around his head.

he felt himself falling hard, barely able to control himself under your ministrations. it was so much. his moans bounced off the walls of the small room back to his ears, making him wince. he knew she shouldn’t be so loud but couldn’t stop. 

“it’s okay, baby, let go.” 

he whimpered, entire body shaking as he was nearing the edge. he wondered if he could find a way to stop time and have more of you to himself, but he was grateful for this for now.

your hand moved up his abdomen, lifting the hoodie up to his chin and putting his torso on full display. you eyed his chest hungrily, flicking a finger over one of his pink buds and drawing a small cry from him. so sensitive. tucking the fabric under his chin, you brought your second hand to his center to cup his balls, gently thumbing at them and learning what he liked best.

between that new sensation and the twisting motion you were using, he was going crazy. you worked him so well, he was surprised he’d even held out this long. almost on cue, he felt the heat pool and he knew he was at his end.

“noona, oh my god,” he was almost thrashing in your hold now, “gonna cum.”

he held off for a few more seconds, unsure if it was okay to just let go like this, but with one particular twist of your wrist, he was sent spiraling over the edge.

“cumming!” his hips bucked into your fist, strings of cum shooting impressively far up his chest, painting him in white. 

you let him set the pace with his thrusts as you milked him through, watching his face for a tell of when it was too much. he whined and jerked in your hand and you let him go, dipping a finger in a streak of cum on his tummy and bringing it to your lips to taste. 

xiaojun’s eyes blew wide at that, sitting up and putting a hand on your wrist to stop you, but having been too late. 

“sweetest thing i’ve ever tasted.”

the tips of his ears burned red and he let himself slump back on the couch. “thank you, noona. i’m sorry you had to find me like that.”

you went to run a hand through his hair but decided against it, wanting him to look somewhat composed when you went back out there.

“don’t be. i’ll admit, i never imagined i’d confess to you under those circumstances, but i can’t say i mind.”

he giggled, and like that the sweet boy you knew was back, smiling and stretching out his arm for your hand.

you held his for a moment before jumping up at the sound of knocking on the door. you didn’t have to wait long to figure out who it was, kun’s stern tone piercing through the wood, “if you brats are finished, we have some work to do!”

biting back a laugh, you and xiaojun rushed to fix yourselves, him pulling you back by the hand to press his lips to yours. “thank you, noona.” you just smiled.

“of course.”

[justcourttee]

And They Were Roommates-Pt 3

Marinette woke to the smell of  chocolate chip muffins. It would have been relaxing if it weren’t for the fact that she was the only one who knew how to cook in the apartment. Throwing on a sweatshirt, she raced to the kitchen, grabbing the fire extinguisher from the hall ready to put out a fire if necessary.

“Muffin?”

She blinked hard at the sight of Damian in the kitchen, holding a hot pan of muffins. Slowly, she lowered the fire extinguisher before cautiously reaching for one of the muffins sitting on a cooling rack. His eyes watched hers cautiously as she took a small bite, waiting for her reaction.

“Wow. These are actually good.”

He scoffed, taking the rest of the muffin from her hand and tossing it back on the rack, ignoring her protests.

“What was that for?” She crossed her arms staring down the man, a frown growing on her face.

Damian didn’t answer, choosing to pour a fresh batch into the now empty pan. Marinette creeped forward, picking up the remains of her muffin. Rolling her eyes, she took a seat on the couch, flipping on the television.

“Can’t you turn that cursed thing down. I am trying to focus here.”

“Can’t you say please?”

He placed the muffin pan into the oven before marching over to the couch. He held out his hand expectantly, his eyes burning holes into hers. She tentatively placed the remote in his hand, her eyes flicking to his wrist where a brief dark swirl peeked out from the edge of his long sleeve.

“Is that a note from your soulmate?”

His eyes grew large as he pulled down his sleeve as hard as he could.

“Are you always so nosy? If I wanted loud and invasive, I would’ve stayed with my brother and his wife in their house.”

“It was just a question dude.”

Damian pinched the bridge of his nose earning a second eye roll from Marinette.

“Marinette Dupen-Chang if you don’t get your nasty ass trash out of this room, we are going to fight right now!”

Chloe’s voice echoed from their room causing Marinette to wince. She meant to bring that out this morning, but the smelling of cooking scared her and she forgot. Standing up, she collected the fire extinguisher from the kitchen floor, causing Damian to give her a quizzical look.

“Dupen-Chang!”

The door flew open and a hungover Chloe came stumbling out, holding tightly to the take out tray and fork from last night.

“Great,” Marinette held the fire extinguisher defensively in front of her as the girl came charging. 

“Chloe, Why don’t I just buy you a coffee and we’ll call it even?”

She paused, a frown passing over her face before it evened out to a grimace.

“Fine, but only if Damikins and Adrikins come too?”

Marinette raised an eyebrow at the boy who shook his head in return.

“I’m going to get Adrikins up. If not, he’ll sleep the rest of the day. Be ready to go in five minutes!”

She waited until the banging on his door stopped before she risked a look at Damian. He shook his head, a scowl present on his face.

“I don’t do group outings.”

“Can’t you just do a group outing this one time?”

She did her best puppy dog eyes, but he seemed to be a wall.

“Stop that, you look ridiculous. Where is your dignity woman?”

Marinette crossed her arms, a frown forming on her face.

“Why are you like this?”

“Honest? Straight-forward? Sorry if I won’t coddle your feelings Angel.”

“Don’t call me that.” Her face was burning with anger. Only her soulmate could call her that,  not this brat.

“What’s wrong Angel? You’re too used to being coddled Angel?” His smirk was becoming unbearable. Her blood felt like it was boiling.

“You’re insufferable!”

“The feelings are mutual.”

Chloe marched into the living room, dragging a half asleep Adrien behind her.

“Are you two ready? This headache is ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.”

Damian shook his head, pushing past the group toward his room. His door slammed shut earning a wince from the two blondes.

“What’s got his panties in a twist?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.” . . . . . .  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . .

Marinette stared at her wrist, admiring the swirls and details of her soulmate’s art. He had drawn a gorgeous landscape in the shape of a woman face, her hair flowing with trees and small flowers.

“Ughhhhhh, the sun is way too bright out here. Why did I let you convince us to take a patio seat?”

Adrien groaned in pain, burying his head in his hands. Chloe didn’t look much better, but she hid it behind a large pair of white sunglasses and red lips.

“Adrikins is right Dupen-Chang, sun is not a hangover cure.”

She sighed, looking up from her wrist, her eyes dancing with amusement.

“But fresh air and coffee are. You two should stop drinking so much when you go out if you can’t handle the morning after.”

Both blondes flipped her off earning a giggle from the girl. Marinette bit her lip, staring at her two friends as they moaned and groaned in misery.

“Hey, What do you guys think of Damian?”

“What about him?” Chloe peeked over the top of her sunglasses, taking a small sip from her frappuccino.

“I don’t know. He’s just very.. different?”

“I’ll say. How can that man look that good and be straight? It’s an injustice to society.”

Adrien shook his head in disappointment as Marinette let out a soft chuckle.

“I think Damikins will come around eventually. He just left a big home with lots of older siblings who are off living their lives  and a dad who travels a lot and is never home. That’s enough to make anyone rude, I mean, look how I used to be.”

The three of them shook their heads in agreement, shuddering at the thought.

“Just give him some time Maribug.” Adrien reached over to give her hand a squeeze, turning over her wrist to admire the art.

“Your soulmate is ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. It’s not fair that you get beautiful art and all I get is lousey numbers.”

“Chloe,” Marinette rolled her eyes, sharing a look with Adrien. “They’re definitely coordinates. You know that they can’t tell you their name or their home address. Your soulmate is just using a loophole.” “Well it’s ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.”

“At least you have heard from yours. Mine only ever wrote to me once, and they only did it to tell me to never write them again! Now that’s ridiculous.”

Marinette nodded, her eyes darting back down to her wrist. She really was lucky. She had a soulmate who took the time to get to know her and never fails to make her feel loved. Her friends weren’t as lucky. She couldn’t wait to get home to write to him.

Tag List:

@damianette-is-life @ladybug-182 @fusser90 @thestressmademedoit @dast218 @thezestywalru @jardimazul @olynix @dorkus-minimus @xahriia @kris-pines04 @urbanpineapplefarmer @moonlightstar64 @itsmeevie01 @little-lady-bird @alexandriamw @lozzybowe @emmdaenovice @loysydark @toodaloo-kangaroo @jessigurl-design @aegyobutpsycho2 @stark-morgoona @tis-i-beanbandit @rebecarojas07 @abrx2002 @ash-amg @loveswifi @heaven428 @dreamykitty25 @marinettepotterandplagg

[kinogane]

Essence of Combat, Part 2: Heat Action

(incidental Yakuza spoilers below)

(previously)

The second aspect of Yakuza action combat that stands out are Heat Actions. You build Heat, press the Heavy Attack button when you see the prompt, and

definitely commit not murder.

Yup.

They’ll be fine, folks.

Heat Actions are consistently the visual highlight of Yakuza action combat, with the cinematography and choreography focused in for a few seconds on your protagonist inflicting some unspeakable pain on some daft sap who thought that picking a fight was a good idea. The cartoonish hyperviolence of some Heat Actions are consistently cathartic, and watching an enormous chunk of enemy health vanish doesn’t hurt, either. And the series knows they’re highlights, as well. Not only do some games make performing Heat Actions a completion metric, there’s an entire Revelation mechanic in 3, 4, and 5 devoted to seeing wild situations and adapting them into new, creative Heat Actions you can use to definitely not permanently debilitate your foes.

In short, Heat Actions are a big deal. A big enough deal that it wouldn’t quite be a Yakuza game without them, and indeed, the first thing I was curious about when I learned that Like a Dragon would switch to turn-based combat was “How are they gonna do Heat Actions?”

The answer is Like a Dragon’s very own version of Heat Actions, Kiwami Actions.

And they're quite the successor.

A few hours into the game, Ichiban comes across a baseball bat stuck in the concrete, and upon pulling it out like a sword of legend, his overactive imagination takes center stage and starts coloring just about every conflict from that point on. Enemies transform into fanciful archetypes and caricatures, and the Kiwami Actions you start gradually getting access to are...

Well, just look at some of them.

Certainly, you can’t fault RGG Studio for seeing an opportunity to go unabashedly over the top and taking it. Like a Dragon is, after all, the game that took the aforementioned Yakuza eccentricities and pushed them to their furthest yet.

So really, this isn’t much more than the natural continuation of the trademark Yakuza bombast, applied toward Heat Actions with Ichiban’s particularly grandiose imagination. There really isn’t anything like them in Yakuza games past.

So why am I ultimately rather ambivalent toward Kiwami Actions?

Mechanically, Kiwami Actions take on a very different role in combat flow than Heat Actions, as a logical consequence of the combat system switch. For starters, Heat Actions tend to be spontaneous in nature. After building up Heat, you have a brief window to identify that a certain Heat Action is possible and then execute. Depending on the Heat Action, these windows can be quite short, so they can create on-the-fly decision making. I just knocked a whole group of idiots down with a throw and they’re going to get back up soon. Do I go for a Heat Action? Does their remaining health justify using that Heat? Or should I instead simply stomp for some quick damage and look for a weapon nearby?

Once you perform a Heat Action, your Heat will probably drain to the point where you can’t perform another one. Additionally, many Yakuza games offer benefits to retaining Heat while in combat and/or provide other ways to expend Heat for benefits like healing or better quickstepping, which means that there are situations where saving your Heat is a better call.

Another important wrinkle is that most games punish performing the same Heat Action by lowering the damage of subsequent repeats, which means that in longer fights against bosses, you have a strong incentive to look for and set up situations that let you hit a wide array of Heat Moves to drain the boss’s health quicker. So at the highest level, the core of Yakuza action combat is about alternating building and spending Heat in ways that will benefit you in a fight the most.

Kiwami Actions, meanwhile, are 1. uniformly almost always accessible when it’s your turn, 2. simply gated behind higher-than-average MP costs, and 3. do not have deteriorating repeated damage. Once you reach lategame, it does become feasible (and outright optimal) to spam Kiwami Actions (or one Kiwami Action) over and over again to deal as much damage per turn against enemies of higher caliber.

These are all trappings of turn-based combat and JRPGs especially, so they’re very much expected, but as replacements to Heat Actions, it’s a bit of a letdown? It’s just not possible in Like a Dragon to replicate the scramble of figuring out how to hit as many different Heat Actions as possible while trying to avoid getting hit. Instead, you just... pick it in a skill menu and it happens. Again, I recognize that’s just how it is with this kind of combat. I don’t think they should try to replicate that scramble, especially given how I feel about some of the positional battle mechanics in Like a Dragon, and I fully accept that I’m just not going to get that in future turn-based Yakuza games. But it’s an omission I felt during the entirety of my time with Like a Dragon.

Furthermore, on a more aesthetic level, Kiwami Actions weirdly lack the oomph of Heat Actions. Sure, they’re more bombastic and showy, but I find that the flair is often more detrimental than not.

For starters, every single Kiwami Action transports the attacker and the target to an alternate dimension where the attack plays out, then switches back onto the active battlefield. This is a practical necessity of not being able to guarantee that all battles take place in arenas where all Kiwami Actions can be depicted. In fact, if you pay close attention to Heat Actions in previous Yakuza games, they do the exact same thing, only instead of an entirely alternate dimension, the environment and actors are rearranged a bit as needed.

This pragmatic reality, alongside the simple fact that the increased flair and grandiosity means that the average Kiwami Action is considerably longer than the average Heat Action, means that Kiwami Actions are bigger interruptions of flow than Heat Actions. It’s a bit difficult for Kiwami Actions to have comparable impact when they’re very clearly situated away from battle and must have a longer build-up, climax, and follow-through, as opposed to Heat Actions which more easily appear to happen in the moment and are relatively quick peaks of action.

Also, if you look at the Kiwami Actions as a whole, they’re also sort of... all over the place and inconsistent in terms of showiness?

Like, take a look at Adachi’s moveset. The Kiwami Action he learns for reaching Detective Rank 28, Essence of Body Stacking, involves Adachi hitting two enemies on top of each other, then hitting them both down at once. It’s downright mundane. It could pass for a weapon Heat Action.

Meanwhile, the Kiwami Action he learns at Level 45, Essence of Hell’s Wheel, involves, uh,

You should really see it for yourself, if you haven’t.

If this was just one instance, it’d be a weird curiosity. Hell, you could even write this off as a higher level means a more outlandish Kiwami Action. That would be fine, but that’s just... not true? Contrast the above two with Han, whose Hitman Rank 28 Kiwami Action, Essence of Trick Shots, involves some Gun Kata-ass choreography,

while his Level 50 Kiwami Action, Essence of Assassin Dive, is...

a bunch of kicks.

What’s more, just about every Tag Team Kiwami Action is very low-key. In fact, besides Nanba’s and Zhao’s Tag Team Kiwami Actions, all of them could pass for Tag Team Heat Actions, which is completely fine and not a problem, were it not for these category of Kiwami Actions being a weird blind spot of mundanity in comparison to colossal pigeon swarms and spontaneous concerts. (They involve two people! Two people, both potentially able to do some wild shit! Am I to believe that Ichiban is just unable to come up with something suitably imaginitive?)

This isn’t to suggest that Heat Actions don’t have this spread, either. For every Heat Action where Kiryu or Saejima pick a dude up, jump five feet in the air, and drive the schmuck’s poor head straight into the concrete, there’s another where they just... kick a dude really hard. But I don’t have this problem with Heat Actions, so why the double standard?

Certainly, the mundane Heat Actions usually being faster helps a lot. It also helps when after you simply punch a dude on the ground he looks like, well,

yikes.

But two reasons in particularly really stand out to me. The first is that the gap between the most fantastic and most mundane Heat Actions isn’t all that large. Again, grabbing someone, leaping into the air, planting the top of their cranium right into the ground, and not killing them is very fantastical, but it’s just cartoonish and superhuman enough to be within the bounds of what you would expect of a Yakuza protagonist, so it’s not all that weird to see them do something as simple as slam someone against a wall headfirst. With Kiwami Actions, meanwhile, the gap between using your bat like nunchaku and spinning like an hypercharged Beyblade is considerably larger. The disparity becomes a lot stranger to think about.

The second is that even the more mundane Heat Actions can invoke a visceral reaction that the more mundane Kiwami Actions aren’t capable of. I’ve seen multiple people react to the Essence of Pliers Heat Actions, and the sheer discomfort they feel, every time, is extremely funny to me, every time.

Besides maybe Han’s Tag Team: Terrorizing Trample, none of the more simplistic Kiwami Actions come even remotely close to anything like Essence of Pliers.

And at the end of the day... I don’t think they even try to, or maybe even should.

I recognize that I’ve just spent a ludicrous number of words explaining in excruciating detail why I prefer Heat Actions over Kiwami Actions. And yes, absolutely, it’s ridiculous to compare seven games worth of Heat Actions to one game’s worth of Kiwami Actions. And yes, the tl;dr is that I prefer the moment-to-moment of the action combat over the moment-to-moment of the turn-based combat. It’s really that simple. Therefore, I prefer Heat Actions because they complement the action combat very well, more than I think the Kiwami Actions complement the turn-based combat. They’re just fundamentally different, and that’s... the point. It’s totally fine.

Believe it or not, I honestly didn’t spend almost any time wishing that Like a Dragon had action combat. Having achieved 100% completion for Like a Dragon, I’ve seen just about everything its turn-based combat has to offer, and I like it quite a bit. The stats are fun to raise, the weapons are fun to upgrade, and the skills are fun to use. Having to Perfect Guard attacks I’ve seen thrown my way for the whole game to have a chance at surviving in the True Final Millennium Tower is a satisfying postgame test of mastery. And for as much as I might seem down on them, yeah, the Kiwami Actions are fun to watch. You can pull out a human-sized grater and just go to town shredding some putz’s face, I’m not going to sit here and pretend that isn’t good stuff.

So why did I bother writing all of this, besides out of sheer boredom?

Well, I did say I didn’t spend almost any time wishing for action combat.

(continued)

[syms-things-5]

Clear The Area - Chapter Fifteen (Part Two)

**A Chris Evans Story**

Previous Chapter Here

Tags: @jennmurawski13 @kelbabyblue

Warnings: 18+ NSFW, strong language, generally a bit awkward

Notes: This is a long chapter, sorry. Any comments welcome, good and bad.

Chapter Fifteen (Part Two)

“Let me just bring up your booking here, one moment please.”

The lobby of The Langham was an ocean of grey and blue. The sun was shining brightly outside, the hottest day of the year so far, and it reflected in every surface of the space and accompanying bar. It was sparse on the usual detailing, instead preferring a minimalist approach; the check-in desk consisted of a mere iPad and one lily artfully growing from a tall, geometrical glass vase. Random art hung from all sides. One looked vaguely like a donkey, Sarah was sure. There was also what she thought was an ash tray balanced on a pillar to the left of where she was standing but she didn’t dare to investigate it any closer in case it cost the price of a small car.

It had the same over-perfumed odour as the fragrance section of a Macy’s. The tiled floor look so clean and fresh you could be forgiven for thinking it had only just been laid that very morning. Sarah felt a pang of guilt walking in wearing her scuffed Converse. She always felt so out of place in places like this. It was the kind of place she would run a mile from if she had the choice but Greg had an “in” with the manager and now here she was. 

“So that will be four nights in our Executive Suite with Central Park view. You also have the bar allowance of $150 per night. You just need to take the elevator up to the 32nd floor and it’s the second door on your left. Would you like a hand with your bags, madam?” She motioned for the concierge to come over but held her hand up when she spied the puzzled look on Sarah’s face.

“I’m really sorry but I think there’s been some kind of mistake. I didn’t book a suite, just a standard double and I don’t think I pre-paid for any bar allowance. I didn’t even know I could do that to be honest.” Sarah chuckled awkwardly in an attempt to diffuse the tension but it fell on deaf ears. She handed the key card back to the lady, unsure of what else to suggest.

The lady showed practically no emotion at the possible mistake and simply took another look at her records before confirming that she was in fact correct with the initial room choice. “It’s definitely your suite, and...everything is paid for in advance. Could it have been made on your behalf? It looks like it was upgraded yesterday afternoon.”

Sarah wasn’t sure if she was asking her a question or telling her. She couldn’t believe she wasn’t biting her hand off but she hoped she hadn’t made some kind of horrific error her bank wouldn’t forgive her for. She could barely afford the double room she’d booked as it was and she’s sure the college wouldn’t have upgraded her without letting her know in advance. It made zero sense. They couldn’t have that kind of money going spare, putting students up in posh suites. She had no clue what could have happened.

Unless...Chris?

No, it wouldn’t be. He was less than pleased to hear she’d be away as it was. Except...well, who else? Sarah rolled her eyes a little too obviously before accepting the key card back. “That’s OK. I think I know what’s happened. It’s only the one bag. I can manage it.”

The lady nodded her thanks and, smiling politely, pointed her back towards the elevators. Sarah couldn’t move away from her fast enough.

Arriving at her floor, Sarah emerged from the lift expecting someone to come running up to her to confirm that they had in fact made a horrendous mistake. She slipped the key card into her door before pushing her way in to find her new home for the week.

The bedroom was large, uncomfortable so, with the bed positioned just off the middle in the room. Sarah figured the designer for a psychopath. It was big but not as empty as the lobby would have had her believe. In fact, it seemed reassuringly cosy despite the windows, so many windows stretching around the suite. There was a soft blue curved sofa opposite a screen that she’d seen smaller versions of in a cinema. Cushions fucking everywhere and fluffy white slippers she’d probably never take off again.

Everything seemed to be controlled from an iPad set in a stand by the bedroom door; the lights, the curtains, the air freshener, some background music for ambiance if she wanted. The windows tinted darker to block out the sunlight. Even the $1300 coffee machine was remote controlled; she had recognised it from the last edition of Home & Country Jocelyn had mailed to her, the exact one Shanna had been dropping hints about to Chris as a potential Christmas present.

The lounge offered her the clearest view of Central Park and with the light at this time in the afternoon, it was beyond stunning. She snapped a picture and considered texting it to Shanna but thought better of drawing attention to where she was staying. There was no way she could pass this off as a standard room even with her best efforts.

It was almost a shame to waste all of this on just herself. This room deserved romance, she thought.

Around the same time, Chris was on his third beer of the afternoon and lounging on his sofa. He had a new script in one hand, one he wasn’t particularly keen on but offered to read as a favour for a friend. He was so relaxed now that he had to re-read the last ten or so pages simply because it wasn’t landing. The whole room was lit softly by the sun outside. It had gone 4 o’clock when his phone rang disturbing the peace.

“Bernette! How was the journey?” he smiled into the phone as soon as he saw who it was.

“The bathtub is the size of my entire bathroom.” She announced, not giving him room to breathe. She heard him laugh heartily at the end of the line and could picture him looking smug and proud of himself, the dick. “I could have an orgy with the Patriots and still have room left.”

“Hey, don’t go getting any ideas.” he jostled with her. He placed the script down on the tablet to give her his full attention. “So, you like it, huh?”

“It’s...it’s absolutely gorgeous and utterly ridiculous. Seriously, dude, you did not need to do this.” She could sense his growing pride from here. “I’ve never stayed in anything like it. I have, like, a hundred towels.”

“That’s why I did it in the first place. Not for the towels, obviously, but just because you deserved something different. Something nice.” He enthused. “Don’t fight me on this, Bernette.”

“You should see the view. It’s so beautiful. I think I can see the museum.” She was stood on her tiptoes, pressed against the glass, looking at the tiny people milling around on the street so far below her. 

“i know,” he responded. “You’ll be there for a week and best to be comfortable, right?”

She didn’t want to argue with him. She was tired and extremely grateful for the kind gesture. She’d be able to enjoy the place and her time in the City more if she could firmly separate her work from any space in which she could chill out. It wasn’t like she was going to be raving all night nor have much chance to see places at this rate, so more space was probably a good thing. She hadn’t had an unbroken night’s sleep in...she couldn’t even remember when.

“Thank you, Chris.” she spoke softly after a brief pause.

“You’re welcome.”

She put her phone down on the bedside table and set about removing her clothes from her suitcase. Well, “clothes” in the loose sense. What she’d packed was basically gym gear, sweat pants, t-shirts, nothing remotely attractive, and a simple paid of black trousers for the exam day itself. Who was going to see her anyway? Shanna had thrown a jumper in the mix without her realising, dismayed at her insistence that she was not going out to bars to hook up with someone.

“But you’ll be gone the next day! It’s. The. Perfect. Crime!” Shanna had said, exasperated and throwing her hands in the air in dismay.

The majority of space in her suitcase has been taken up with journals and textbooks, ones she hadn’t see since she left medical school and had long since expected she would never see again. Funny what opportunities life threw at you when you least expected it.

She was soon feeling the push and pull of the day and had planned on spending at least a couple of hours studying that evening, so she had a clean-up and threw on the first set of sweatpants that fell out of the closet. She tied her hair up and out of her face, pulled out her notepad and switched her Macbook on. The TV was showing some repeat of a gameshow with the sound on low, more for background company than anything else, and she finally figured out how to get the coffee machine working thanks to a small tome buried inside a drawer underneath the coffee table.

Chris 9.44pm: All OK? Need company yet??

Sarah 9.45pm: I love you guys bt I can’t tell u how amazing it is having space to myself. Been a looooong day

Chris 9.51pm: ah

Chris 9.52pm: OK maybe don’t look outside your door

Momentarily confused, she rubbed at her eyes trying to come up with a pithy response.

Chris 9.56pm: well this is awkward...........

Sarah looked at the door and then back at her phone. Looking up at the door again, she unfolded her feet from underneath her and slowly walked towards it. Pulling it open, she found Chris looking up at her through his lashes, sheepishness drenching his entire body.

“OK, funny story,” he said. “But I thought this might be romantic and then I got carried away and now I’m here and I can absolutely go if you need me to...?” He half-turned his body in the direction of the elevators. “I’m so sorry, honey. I just thought it might be nice and not at all annoying but it’s annoying, isn’t it? It’s OK, you don’t need to say anything. Dammit, I really thought I pitched this right.”

“Chris, it’s fine.” Sarah finally found her voice to speak. “Honestly. I’m...I’m just really surprised is all. I was not expecting you to...drive? All this way?”

He nodded. “Yeh, I just bombed it down the ‘95.”

Awkward silence fell between them as they stared at each other unsure of what to do next. Finally picking up on the fact he remained in the hallway, a backpack thrown over his shoulder, she moved out of the way and he entered the suite. Relieved, he placed his bag down and turned to see her close the door behind him. He looked mildly embarrassed and she was all too aware she wasn’t welcoming but it was getting late and her eyes had started to hurt a little as she rubbed at them with the back of her hand.

“Fuck, that’s a long couch.” he announced, taking his black suede jacket off and placing it over the armrest nearest to him. He glanced over and saw papers strewn over the coffee table, her laptop light blaring brightly and looked back to her. She was working hard and he had ruined it.

“I am so sorry. First thing tomorrow, I’ll go home, I promise.” He held his hands up by way of an apology but she shook her head in response.

“Stop apologising.” she chuckled. “Do you want a beer?”

He nodded gratefully and looked so adorable that any annoyance she might have felt finally dissipated. “How about I give you a hug and then leave you to it? I need a shower and I can amuse myself in there for a little while. I don’t know why I just said that.”

Sarah laughed again and a little more relief moved through him. He wasn’t sure why he was feeling so nervous when he had been so confident of his decisions in the car all the way here. He’d rehearsed his lines and imagined her big smile when seeing behind the door. He had wanted to stop off and buy flowers but he was so eager to see her, he’d just kept driving. No daydream could live up to the reality of seeing her face up close.

*

He watched her from the bathroom doorway. She was cross-legged on the bed, studying the thickest textbook he’d ever seen with colour-coded notecards laid out across the duvet. He had earlier glimpsed a page over her shoulder but decided against pursuing medicine as a new career when he was faced with photographs of god knows what. He tried to remove the images from his mind by drinking another beer and thinking of Sarah in her scrubs. That tended to work well for him these days.

She looked so cute sat on the bed, her reading glasses perched on the end of her nose. He wanted to come up with a joke, calm the tension a little that had grown between them in the meantime, but she looked pretty hot. More hot than usual and it was distracting. Like a sexy Librarian and for the second time this month he discovered something else he was into.

One pen was stuck behind her ear but she’d forgotten she’d put it there and was now using a different one. Her hair was tied up at the top of her head in a messy bun that she hadn’t touched since she’d arrived, more and more strands falling loosely around her as the evening wore on, framing her perfect, round face. She seemed to engrossed in what she was doing.

He was still a little wet from his shower and pondered whether she would notice if he just whipped his towel off and offered himself to her. There really wasn’t anything he wanted more at this moment in time than to have her touch him, to have her run hands gently over his chest, to tease him a little bit. There’d be some time, he reasoned, and right not it was just was exhilarating to think of her being here alongside him knowing it would be just the two of them for a little while.

He perched on the end of the bed in front of her. She barely moved, barely seemed to notice him. He took one of her blank notecards and carefully placed it on the open page so as not to lose her place. She leaned back slightly, allowing him to gather up the papers and place them in a pile on the floor besides the bed before turning back to lean in towards her, one arm stretching out across her legs. She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes again. She wanted peace and quiet and he decided to rock up just because he could. He sighed to himself. He was such a dick sometimes.

“Do you mind me being here?” he asked her, fully resigning himself to leaving if she now asked him to as hard as that might be. He’d got so caught up in his idea of surprising her that he hadn’t fully registered just how important these exams were or how well she wanted to do. Passing them wasn’t an option for Sarah; she wanted to knock it out of the park. She wanted to do better for herself and the more he got to know her like this, the more it became his favourite thing about her. And he related. He related perfectly. He knew exactly what that was like. “Cos I can go if you need me to.”

“Chris, I’ve said it’s fine. It’s nice that you’re here. I would just hate you feeling bored if all I’m doing is studying all the time.” She nervously twirled the pen between her fingers while taking in how amazing he looked following a shower, a little steam rising off his skin.

“I won’t get bored.” he assured her. “It’ll be nice hanging out with you. Just the two of us.”

He plucked the pen from behind her ears and she rolled her eyes realising the mistake she’d made. He tucked strands of hair back and leaned in placing a quick, soft kiss to her lips. He smelled like her coconut shampoo and she just now understood how truly spontaneous his trip had been.

“Listen, there’s another reason why I’m here. There’s something I need to talk to you about and I couldn’t wait until you got home.” he stroked her arm gently, looking down into her lap. “It’s been going around in my head and I’m not entirely sure what to say about it to be honest, but...it looks like Jenny’s done an interview with a magazine. A full thing with a photoshoot and stuff and it looks like I might be involved.” He closed his eyes for a second before correcting himself. “Not might actually, it’s pretty much definite that I’m in there for a large portion of it.”

“OK.” Sarah nodded. He for sure seemed weary of the whole thing and she felt for him.

“I just, I know she can be pretty unfiltered at the best of times, so-”

“-but she won’t have said anything negative, right?”

“No, no, not negative. I’m not worried about that exactly. It’s just that...” He was struggling to find the words. “I just didn’t want you to get the wrong idea about us, about me and her. I expect she’ll have this hyper-romanticised view of things and I guess I didn’t want you thinking it was some great love affair which is what I think she’ll spin it as.” He couldn’t quite meet her eye while he was talking. “I’m not proud of myself or of what I said or did at the time but I was low and she was there and it was...easy, I guess.”

He immediately regretted his choice of words. As much as he wanted Sarah to understand, he didn’t want Sarah to think he was dismissive of his relationships in this way. “Matt’s figuring out some damage control with them. Hopefully, it’ll go away as quickly as it comes.”

“You think he’ll be able to clear it up?��

Chris nodded. Matt was a formidable guy and he was assured things would look and read much better by the time it went to print. He placed his hand on her thigh and it was only now she registered just how close he was to surrounding her.  “I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve all too often but when I do, they know about it. I want to make them aware of exactly how I feel about them and I didn’t do that with her.” He dipped his head to catch her eye line. “So, when I do something for someone, it means something, y’know?”

“Yeh, of course. You’re a good guy, Chris. Everyone knows that.” She took his hand and lightly interlocked their fingers together.

“I guess I just didn’t want you worrying about her ‘cos there’s absolutely nothing there for me. Never had been.”

“You don’t need to explain this to me, I’m not going to hold anything against you.” she stroked his chin with her thumb and felt him relax into her hand. He glanced down at the mess he’d made on the floor and started picking a few things back up.

“How much left do you have to do tonight?” he whispered as his lips closed upon hers for a fleeting moment.

“I could do with finishing some notes but...half an hour, maybe?”

“I’ll hold you to that.” he kissed her again and got up from the bed, lifting her books back on top. “Just come get me when you’re done, yeh?”

*

Finishing up in the bathroom, Sarah switched off the light and moved towards the bed. She kneeled alongside Chris who was lying flat out, naked except for the duvet bunched across legs, reading what she assumed was the hotel magazine only to find upon closer inspection that it was in fact one of her medical journals. She giggled as she grabbed the moisturiser from the bedside table and began rubbing a small amount up and down her arms, regarding him as his nose creased up in apparent disgust at something he’d just read. 

“Did you know the body has ten times more microorganisms living in it than actual human cells?! That’s bacteria, Sarah. Living, gross bacteria. All over us.” he looked at her, shock and horror crossing his fine, perfect features. She wasn’t sure whether to pat him on the head or laugh.

“It’s mostly good bacteria, though. Only, like, 1% of it is bad for us.”

“And when exactly were you going to tell me about this?!”

She creased up laughing and flopped on to her side next to him. “It’s all information that’s out there for the world to see. Remind me not to tell you about eyelashes.”

“What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever removed from somebody’s ass?” he asked.

“What? Why is that always a question people want an answer to?”

“I don’t know. It’s just weird. Humans are weird.” he muttered, turning back to the pages in front of him. She was glad he had chosen one without pictures. That was the last thing she wanted to see before falling asleep.

“So, have you learned something new?” she asked, curling her legs under the duvet.

“I have. I think you should test me and if I get a question wrong, you can do whatever you like to me. Deal?” he asked, smirking. She shyly smiled and he tossed the book onto the floor. “Hi.”

“Hi.” She repeated. She watched as his eyes slowly travelled down her body. It was unreasonable how much he managed to disarm her with only a look.

His hand reached out to gently caress the side of her thigh, nudging the duvet slightly down before moving back up to her hip, a ticklish area he’d picked up on the last time they were together. He leaned in and kiss her on the side of her jaw, so feather-like and soft she barely felt it if not for his warm breath she could feel on her neck.

“You smell nice.” he whispered, looking at her from underneath his eyelashes. “We could have showered together, y’know? Save the planet?”

As much as she was getting used to the little things he would do when they were alone, rubbing her arm, tucking hair behind her ears, saying nice things about how pretty she looked, having him here in such close proximity with no else around to distract them or force them into the light...it was getting risky. Not that Chris ever pushed her, mind. He’d been nothing but understanding and respectful and she was grateful for that but also growing concerned he was perhaps a little...bored. Why else would he drive over state lines to see her. None of this was normal and the more time went by, the more she became fretful of what they were doing.

“What are you thinking about?” he kissed her shoulder. “Is it dirty? If it’s dirty, I wanna know about it.”

Sarah smiled and placed her hand on the side of his face, running her fingers gently over his beard. He’d thoroughly given up shaving but she liked how soft it still felt under her finger tips and judging by the breath he released as he closed his eyes, so did he, relaxing into her hand. He kissed her again. She was hoping he’d take charge so she could put off talking to him a little longer but instead, he refrained from pushing them any further and leaned back a little, looking into her eyes. “Talk to me.”

She could feel his hand move slowly and deliberately up her arm until he reached the back of her neck, his fingers playing with the loose strands of hair that had fallen from her messy bun. There was no getting away from this.

“You know you can tell me anything, right? It’s OK for you to tell me what you want.” She could feel his breath on her skin, his voice low and rough. His fingers moved again and she felt them touch her lips, one of them running back and forth over her lower lip until she parted them ever so slightly and his finger softly dipped inside her mouth. He seemed to like that and kissed her again, a little harder this time.

“Just keep kissing me.” she whispered, relieved that se finally got some words out.

He smiled at her, satisfied with her response, and kissed her again. Slow, wet, a kind of kiss that was full of promise of what he wanted to do and it made her whole body thrum with anticipation.

One hand now resting on the bed beside her and the other moved from her cheek back down to her thigh. She was frozen to the spot, this man focussed on her so intently, prepared to give her whatever she asked for, whatever she needed, expressing so much in a kiss that she didn’t register when her hand began moving slowly, grazing a finger ever so slightly over the waistline of her shorts.

“...and what else?”

A little more, he moved his hand until his fingers dipped inside her underwear until he felt her skin, hot to the touch. She broke the kiss momentarily to let out a breath, one hand resting on the back of his neck for leverage as he continued tenderly moving his fingers until he got to where he wanted to be. Feeling her wet for him seemed to spark something inside and she felt him push her carefully until she was lying back on the bed, head just off the pillow, and he leaned over her. He adjusted his hand ever so slightly until she could feel his fingers pressing at her entrance before moving in small circular motions, riling her up.

“Look at me, honey.” he whispered, his voice rough and turned on as he wanted her grabbing at the covers as he stroked her. She tried to but she couldn’t stop her eyes from closing again, zoned out with only his smooth and confident movements to focus on. It was almost getting too much with him hitting her at just the right spot for her to lose herself completely when, just like that, he pulled his hand away and grabbed both sides of her underwear to pull them down and off her legs. The next thing she remembered was the feel of him skilfully grabbing her from underneath her thighs, his tongue swiftly taking over.

It didn’t take long for her to feel like was she coming undone and him feeling proud of himself. She couldn’t fight it and with one arm draped across her lower tummy, he certainly had not intention of letting her get away. Any feelings of awkwardness were soon a thing of the past as she let the gentle, unbridled bliss he was giving her wash over her completely. She honestly couldn’t remember ever feeling anything like this before, she was so out of it. He was covering her completely, her wetness mixing with his own, his beard rubbing against her smooth skin adding another level of pleasure. 

She ran her fingers through his hair, messing it up. His tongue hit her clit again and again causing her to give him a short, sharp pull. His groan was so filthy and deep from within him, she felt it reverberate through her, raising goose bumps up and down her skin.

He wanted her on the edge as much as he felt he was. He wanted her to want him, to tell him exactly what she wanted him to do. He wanted her on fire. He wanted to hear her beg.

Just as she was on the edge for a second time, he stopped and blew softly across her wisps of hair. He chuckled when he heard what sounded like a quiet yet frustrated groan leave her lips, followed by a chuckle, something innocent and familiar. Her hands loosened from his hair as they stared into each other’s eyes, their mutual breathlessness the only sound they could hear.

“Does that feel good?” he whispered, the breath from his words scorching her skin. He moved his tongue just a little lower, not breaking eye contact, and she felt him dip ever so slightly inside of her, his arm wrapped around her thigh and the pad of his thumb taking care of the rest. He did this a second time, then a third, and when he returned to pressing his tongue over her clit, drawing her into his mouth, she was soon grabbing at him in any way she could in a futile attempt to take the edge off the orgasm that was coming at her like a freight train.

She was close. He knew she was so close now and he held his arms tightly around her to keep her close to him. One more swipe of his tongue right....there...and she was gone.

When her breathing even out, she slowly opened her eyes to see him move up and over her, placing soft, wet kisses on her hip, her tummy, her neck, and finally on her lips. He seemed cautious to kiss her, unsure of whether she wanted him to but she grabbed his face with both hands to pull him back down to her, kissing him as passionately as she could manage with what felt like no energy. She could taste herself and it was so much more erotic than she could ever have imagined. 

She felt him smile into the kiss as he carefully settled his body on top of hers, allowing her to wrap her legs around him. He moved the hair that was sticking to her forehead and stroked her face with one finger, gently mapping her eye and her nose and her cheek. She couldn’t reconcile this being the same man who had minutes earlier been so dominant. He had so clearly wanted to say something at that point if only his hardness hadn’t been so distracting. He mover one arm under her neck, using the other hand to move hair from where it had clung to the side of her face. Holding her as close to him as possible and feeling blissful when he felt her legs wrap around his own, he entered her and held still, enjoying the moment.

“We should’ve done this years ago.” he spoke and for a brief moment, without realising, she was pulled from their intimacy, a pang of guilt taking its place.

He was too busy pushing into her, needing whatever she had left to give him. He grabbed at the back of her neck to keep her in place, his face buried into her hair. She felt her skin heat up all over from his breath as he panted at her side. It was more frantic than he’d wanted it to be as he groaned and moaned and pushed his whole weight into her with force. It was really all she could do to just hang on to him as he fucked her deeper, as he surged towards his own orgasm, then letting go when she felt him shudder insider her minutes later. He sounded helpless and as much as he tried to hold himself up from collapsing on her, he soon gave up trying and laid his head on her shoulder.

His warm breath continued covering her skin as she ran her hand gently over the back of his head. She felt him chuckle a vibration into the top of her arm before a wet kiss landed just underneath her ear, a place he had deigned his own after he realised how sensitive she was on that particular spot.

Finally rolling off her to lie on his back, he kept his arm stretched across her lower tummy and rubbed his fingers across the apex of her thigh. She wasn’t sure how long they stayed in this position but at some point he leaned over her to turn the bedside light off plunging the room into complete darkness and they continued to lie there in silence not really sure if the other was asleep or not.

He eventually turned onto his side to face her, keeping a firm grip on her waist. He was across her pillow and she could practically feel the flutter of his eyelashes as he watched her in the dark, a soft outline gradually appearing as his eyes adjusted to the blackness of the room, making out her features. she felt his hand move up and down her ribcage and over the inside of her elbow, another sensitive spot that made her shudder and him chuckle again when he realised she was in fact still awake.

She turned onto her side to face him and his hand moved to her lower back where it finally rested over her hip. She pushed her leg in between his and he seemed content and comfortable in how they were existing in this space, both aware they didn’t have to worry about getting up any time soon. He was running his fingers up and down her spine in slow, circular motions and it felt wonderful. Too wonderful. And there was that guilt again.

“What will you do tomorrow?” she asked.

He took a deep breath in contemplation at her unexpected question. “Gym looks pretty good. I have a book and a couple of scripts, too. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

“I know.” she murmured but he knew she was dwelling on something.

“I wanna be here for you if you need anything and if you don’t, you won’t even know I’m around. I promise.”

“I know that, too.”

She could sense him smile at her even in their dark. “Good.” he said. “It feels nice knowing I’ve made a good decision for a change.”

*

[bjy-on-ao3]

Fic Friday: Needy, Part 2

(As usual, you can find the AO3 version of all my uploads [and some things I don’t post here to tumblr] via my Masterlist blog page.)

If you came to this fic looking for smut, this is where you’ll be getting it. Some teasing lead-up still, but it’s related well enough, so I hope y’all enjoy it! Kinda sorta little bits of feelings and fluff sprinkled in? Idk.

Part 1

Tags/Warnings Begging, Dirty Talk, Masturbation, Oral Sex, PWP, Shameless Smut, Slight Fluff, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex

Summary Reader’s jealousy over the attention Izaya gives to everyone else finally comes to a head one evening. They discover it hasn't exactly been a secret to the information broker.

Needy (F! Reader/Izaya Orihara)

Chapter 2. Feed the Beast

When Izaya returned, the daylight hours were winding to a close and the sun was sneaking beneath the horizon of the cityscape, painting the world in angry reds and golds. A fitting backdrop to the fiery emotions that had taken root in your chest. Stretched out on the couch with a book that was only remotely interesting in your lap, the sound of the door immediately drew your attention. When you looked up from the pages, he looked as unrushed and unconcerned as he always did.

“Do anything fun while I was out?” Izaya asked casually, brushing past the couch - hardly paying you mind more than his words - and moving to sit at his desk.

You snapped the book in your hand shut loudly and rose to put it back in the bookcase before you looked over to answer him. “Hm,” you paused as if you had much to consider when you’d done mostly nothing for the day, save for your brief trip into town, “just a walk around Ikebukuro. Checking out the usual chaos,” you said as you fitted the book into its slot. You stepped back toward the sofa and Izaya’s desk. “Didn’t see anything particularly intriguing. Things seem… quiet.”

“Looks can be deceiving, my dear,” Izaya chided, gesturing with a finger. You noticed he was facing you as he spoke, instead of surveying his computer monitor as usual lately. His demeanor shifted, his grin dipping slightly. “Something on your mind?” He asked. You weren’t sure if the concern in his tone was genuine.

“No, it’s nothing. Get back to your work,” you tried to convince him, as if your words and a dismissive wave of your hand would put an end to the line of thought. “I’m sure plenty of people are waiting to hear from you.” You hated the pettiness clawing at your breast when you spoke. Worse, it bled through in your tone.

“Oh, is that so?” Izaya appeared suddenly far more interested in you, eyes narrowing in a calculating manner and one eyebrow arching gracefully. “What’s that I hear in your voice, darling? It almost sounded like jealousy,” he prodded, and you only barely caught the excited undercurrent in his speech.

“You’re hearing things,” you denied flatly, though you cursed the way your nostrils flared and the sourness tainting your voice.

“Hm, I don’t know.” It was hard to miss the feigned uncertainty in Izaya’s voice as he got to his feet. It was always a case to be cautious when Izaya played dumb.

Coming to stand by the full-length windows, you refused to meet his eyes, answering your reflection in the glass, speech short and clipped. “Yes, I’m sure. Go on. Nothing’s wrong.”

When Izaya spoke again, he was at your side, hooking his thumb and forefinger beneath your jaw and coaxing you to turn your head and look at him. “You’re so cute when you try to lie to me,” he said in an amused hush.

Despite the way your heart stuttered in your chest, you remained firm in your denial. “I don’t have the slightest idea what you mean.”

There was not a single trace of malice or irritation on Izaya’s handsome face as you lied through your teeth to him. But something sharp and mischievous glittered back at you from his intent stare. “Do you think I haven’t noticed?”

Anger seethed white-hot in your stomach and you balled your hands into fists at your sides, remembering how much he had ignored you over the past days. How hints you thought blatantly obvious had been left by the wayside without so much as a word, while Izaya entrenched himself in his work. Or at least what excuses amounted to work, if what you had seen earlier that day was any sign. “Oh please, you’ve been too busy with everyone but me to notice anything,” you snapped.

His sly chuckle in response made your belly twist angrily once more. “I thought you knew me better than that, darling. I know just how needy you are.” He leaned in closer as he spoke, voice dripping amusement but taking on a breathy note. “How greedy you are for my attention.” His lips brushed yours as he spoke and your anger floundered and died, overcome by a fluttering, hopeful buzz. 

His lips didn’t seal over yours like you so very much wanted them to, and it left you feeling electrified and tense. The breath in your throat felt like a solid lump and you didn’t dare let it go. Izaya coaxed you backward, one hand pushing lightly into your shoulder, steering you until the solid plane of the window met you. The hand on your shoulder slipped aside, splaying over the glass beside your head.

“Now, why don’t you tell me what’s gotten you so agitated? Tell me what you’ve missed so much.” His voice was hardly greater than a whisper, but your burning ears caught every steadily more playful word. “After all, you want my attention so badly for some reason, don’t you?”

The sultry hint in his voice in the last few words made it even more difficult to breathe than it had been already. Your blood burned like fire that infused your skin and bubbled your brain. “I…” you began, the lone word breathless and hesitant. 

Far gone was the indignant ball of jealousy and anger that stood before Izaya only moments ago. Here he was, clinging to every little word and flicker of emotion as you had desired, only for the courage to answer him to flee at from same intense focus.

“Don’t bother acting shy,” Izaya warned you. “I’ll get it out of you one way or another.” His voice dropped huskily, and you shivered as the thumb on your jaw stroked gently over your skin to accompany his words.

“I’ve missed your touch,” you said, swallowing to clear your throat, the words coming out like a gasp.

“Oh?” The single syllable dripped with faux-shock. “Where? Here?” The hand on your jaw caressed the line of your neck lower and lower until it touched the exposed bits of your collarbone.

Your breath caught again with Izaya’s face still so close to yours, his half-lidded gaze surveying each tiny detail. Or rather, it was more the intensity nearly made you forget to breathe at all combined with his light touch. “What about here?” His wandering hand slid down, stopping at the hem of your shirt before sneaking beneath it and delicately caressing your torso up and down, stopping at the curve of your waist.

A small whimper left your lips and Izaya’s knowing grin split a little wider. But he hadn’t gotten what he was after yet, judging by the gleam in his eyes. “Not it? Why don’t you show me then?” He suggested, rubbing small circles on your waist.

Flushing at the thought, you looked away from his keen gaze and wet your lips apprehensively. Izaya finding enjoyment in flustering you was nothing new, but somehow what he asked seemed mortifying. He remained there, waiting patiently and showing no sign of letting you get away without demonstrating where you craved his touch.

Tentatively, you slid a hand to the waistband of your pants, pushing them and your panties down enough Izaya could see as you slipped your fingers between your legs. Your face felt hotter than the sun-baked sidewalk outside, and when you looked back into Izaya’s ruddy eyes, your body burned elsewhere. A wave of warmth surged between your thighs as you dipped your fingers into your folds, already slick and dripping into your underwear.

His gaze was ardent, attention engrossed in the motion of your hand and alight with excitement. “Mm, there? How obscene!” His tone wavered with pretended surprise, as if he were aghast at your lewd behavior. You had known Izaya long enough to know he loved to make a show of things though. Nor did you think he was even close to done. “And just how have you been wanting me to touch you? What have you been hoping I’d do to you?” His words tickled your ear, his cheek feeling cool as it pressed against yours.

“Izaya, please…” you begged, still embarrassed to carry on, even when your pussy was throbbing in time with your heart and coating your fingertips.

“No need to get embarrassed now,” he teased, encouraging you with a lazy lick to the shell of your ear. “Seems like you’ve had plenty of time to think about. I bet it’s been driving you crazy.”

“I…” you began again, bordering on the choice of dignity or desire. 

He was right, and you both loved and hated it. It had been driving you mad in so many definitions of the word. Izaya was leaving you little choice but to admit it and indulge his ego. But if it was that or go back to being ignored, the choice had already made itself.

Choosing the heat between your legs and the thrum of anticipation flooding you, you shifted your pants and panties further down, working your finger up and down your slit, stopping at the top and rubbing gingerly. “Yes, it’s, aah, all I can think about lately,” you confessed, the sensation of your fingers on your clit accented by the touch of Izaya’s mouth on your jawline making you pause and whine.

A breathy hum acknowledged your confession. “I thought so.” He always sounded self-assured, even in heated moments. “Have you been thinking about it while you watched me work?” Izaya pressed, looking you in lust-clouded eyes. ”Or maybe when you were spying on me in Ikebukuro earlier? Don’t think I missed that,” he hissed deviously.

You shuddered and flushed, continuing to stroke yourself, only able to manage a nod of confirmation as another whimper rendered you wordless. “I know how desperately you’ve wanted me to have my way with you again.” You rubbed yourself more urgently in the wake of his words, adding another finger and pausing only to ease them both shallowly inside your cunt.

You didn’t bother to stop when you spoke again, moving your fingers in and out slowly, absorbed in touching yourself for Izaya now that you had begun. “So, w-what?” Your voice wavered and nearly cracked, hardly managing the venom you wanted, “Ignoring me was just another, aah, game?”

His hand on your waist fell smoothly, joining your hand inside your underwear and trailing a slender finger along your folds as you finger-fucked yourself. “Maybe I just wanted to see you admit how much you wanted me,” Izaya answered with a wider smirk, placing a quick ghost of a kiss on your slightly parted lips. “But it’s been so much fun watching you pout thinking I wasn’t paying any mind, wondering what you’d do next.”

You thought back on the morning through the distraction. How Izaya had so casually acted as if he hadn’t been listening, how he had pretended to pause and consider your words, and how he had let his fingers briefly linger on your shoulder. Had the entire thing and the days before been an act? Just how long had it been going on?

“I-Izaya, stop teasing me,” you groaned as he gave you another quick kiss before peppering your jaw and neck with pecks that were equally light and quick. His fingers moved to your clit, left alone in favor of crooking your fingers inside your cunt, rubbing over it agonizingly slowly.

“Where’s the fun in that?” He asked, “Besides, you seem like you’re enjoying yourself,” he noted as you panted, thrusting your fingers into your heat more frantically as the combined touches pushed you higher. “Unless there’s something else you’ve been thinking about?”

It was getting harder and harder to think, let alone speak, and you cursed quietly, incoherently. “Don’t… don’t make me say it,” you argued.

“Mm, how else am I supposed to know?” He said coyly, acting as if he wasn’t able to read most people like an open book.

“F-fuck. Like how… you know… everything else,” you gasped, a touch of irritation rising among the meek tone. You bucked your hips, feeling the tension expanding, the point of no return so close it was nearly tangible.

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere. You’ll just have to tell me. Or maybe I should just go back to work?”

His hand stopped, and he grabbed your wrist, pulling your fingers away. You whined petulantly, reflexively trying to jerk your hand out of his grasp and return to what you had been doing. But Izaya’s grip held fast, and when you focused on his face, his expression was far too pleased, like the cat that ate the canary.

“N-no!” you protested quickly at his threat. You couldn’t take being set aside again for who knew how much longer, especially not after he riled you up so much. “Fuck, fine. I want you to…” you trailed off, watching Izaya nonchalantly lift the hand he had captured to his lips and pull your slick fingers into his mouth.

You watched transfixed, lips parted but speechless, as he sucked on the digits, the slippery, warm touch of his tongue rolling over them. When he had licked them clean of your essence, he dragged them from his mouth, eyeing you coolly, despite the hunger swirling in his gaze.

“C’mon, you can tell me.”

“Eat me out, Izaya,” you were struck from your stupor, the words bursting over your tongue and instantly giving you the sense you might spontaneously combust beneath his ardent gaze.

A grin with a hint of teeth dawned on Izaya’s face. It thrilled him it had taken less convincing than initially expected to make you admit something so dirty. “There you go. Was that so hard?” he teased, the undertone of desire that made his voice drop an octave very distracting. “All you had to do was ask.”

You let out a startled squeak when Izaya let go of your hand, picking you up off your feet. You swung your legs around his waist in panic, though you weren’t without support for long. Within a few feet, Izaya set you down on the hard surface of the edge of his desk. Disentangling your legs from his waist, he pushed you back until you rested on your elbows. He reached forward to drag your pants and underwear the rest of the way down and you did what you could to assist him, shimmying your hips and lifting them until you could kick the clothing away.

You jumped when Izaya’s touch traced over your stomach, just beneath the hem of your shirt, caressing the skin there lightly before drawing lines down toward your thighs. He kneaded the tender skin on either side; the muscles twitching reflexively under his fingers. “You seem a little tense,” he mused, leaning down and placing several open-mouthed kisses on your skin, following the same path as his hands. “Who knew you got so wound up without my attention?”

His fingers dug harder into your skin, the cool metal of his rings a pleasant contrast on your skin as he grabbed your thighs and spread your legs wider. He bent his head, the fringe of his hair blocking some of his face from sight, your thighs hiding even more of him. His tongue flickered out, starting at the bottom of your seam and barely breaching it before dragging slowly up.

You bucked into his mouth, a short gasp rolling off your tongue, the molten warmth in your gut swelling in answer. Releasing your thighs, he settled the fingers of one hand in a vee on either side of your lips, spreading your pussy open and admiring it. His tongue lolled out again, licking a more deliberate stripe up your folds and wriggling his tongue in a serpentine pattern over your clit. His free hand settled on your hip as you rolled them upward again, preventing you from squirming too much.

He continued, alternating between teasing your clit with light strokes of his tongue and sucking on it gently. His name flowed from your mouth in a breathless stream, punctuated by airy, obscene sounds. When he pulled away, you were trembling from the mounting pleasure, cunt clenching erratically around nothing and chest heaving, brought to the peak of pleasure but still not beyond. All over, your body was hot, tense, and tingling, and you yearned for the last little push.

“You must have missed me a lot. You’re so wet,” Izaya noted, pushing two fingers into your cunt and languidly pumping them in and out. “And you’re shaking. Are you that excited?” He asked gleefully.

At first, you just moaned, enjoying the new sensation, rocking your hips as much as you still could against it. “Yes, yes, Izaya,” you groaned, eyes squeezed shut, indulging in the feeling and the smooth, husky sound of his voice. “It feels so good… I’ve needed you so bad,” you admitted, crying out needily between your words.

“I can tell,” he said, sinking back down for a moment to lick and suck at your clit again while his fingers worked you slowly. “How do you want to cum, my dear? From my tongue or on my cock?” He offered when he paused again, delighting in the way your breathing hitched again.

You bit your lip, struggling to hold back the moans that poured from your lips so you could answer him. With the tight feeling in your gut growing tenser, it was no simple task. “Better decide quick,” Izaya teased again, “feels like you’re getting awfully close.”

Fighting the delicious feeling smoldering between your legs, you gave Izaya an answer, panting and unrestrained. “On your cock, Izaya. Fuck me, please. I need you,” you begged without shame, previous embarrassment and reluctance melting away in a flash of primal heat.

“You sound so sweet and desperate,” Izaya purred, moving from between your legs and standing back to undress. “I guess I can’t say no to that.”

You watched him strip off his shirt and his pants, taking a second yourself to pull your shirt and bra over your head and toss them onto the floor carelessly. When Izaya returned to you, his cock hanging stiff and eager between his legs, crowned by a bead of pre-cum, you expected him to fuck you on the desk. Instead, he picked you up again, helping you curl your legs around him and cupping your ass. To your surprise, he climbed the stairs easily with you held tightly and clinging to his shoulders.

Your cunt throbbed needily, reminding you of your desires, and your pulse pounded so loud it was all you could hear. Crossing the threshold into the dark bedroom, Izaya lay you across the sheets, tidied from the morning earlier. You scooted back, further up the sheets, until you were fully settled on the mattress. Izaya followed eagerly, though even in his eagerness, his motion was purposeful and confident.

When he reached you, he spread his lean frame along you, letting all of your skin press flush against his. You shivered again, goosebumps rising on your skin and you groaned. He nipped a path over your neck and collarbone, a few especially hard bites leaving small, angry patches of red behind.

Izaya hadn’t forgotten how close he’d brought you to cumming downstairs, nor had he forgotten your lustful pleas for him to fuck you. Slipping himself between your legs, he guided the head of his cock to your entrance, pushing forward. Slowly. Far too slowly for the intensity of your boiling blood and all the teasing he had put you through.

“Aah, Izaya… you’re going too slow. More, please,” you begged, giving your hips a short buck to try to take more of his length inside you.

Izaya moved both hands to your hips, holding them down and ruining your attempt to dictate his pace. “Easy, darling. I want to take my time,” he told you mischievously, though his voice betrayed that the slow slide of your cunt around his cock affected him as well. “You know they say patience is a virtue.” The words were low and quiet into your ear,  accompanied by a hungry stroke of his tongue that turned into a bite.

You whimpered, still trying to grind your hips against his futilely. Unable to affect his pace from below, you wrapped your hands around him, trying to press him forward by his slim waist. “But maybe it’s one you don’t quite have,” he taunted, amused by your persistent attempts to bury his dick in you fully.

He continued to push forward, making sure you both felt every inch. You whimpered at the hot stretch of his cock, body buzzing with the sense of fullness as he sank deeper, your cunt throbbing. He mirrored your noises, his moans coming out softer, but deeper, between more of his lips skating over your skin. Now and then he pressed more passionate kisses to your lips, at one point tangling your tongue with his own.

“Mm, there,” he growled hotly when he was completely sheathed in your heat. He groaned and let his head loll forward, enjoying how your pussy hugged him close and tight, your arms reflecting its embrace. “You’re squeezing me so tight, how am I supposed to give you what you want?”

He lifted his hands away from your hips, unraveling your arms from around him. Gathering both your wrists in one hand, he pinned them above your head in the sheets. You were beyond sense, giving in to the hunger pervading your blood and the satisfaction of having Izaya’s full attention at last after being so sorely neglected. “Please, please, please,” you chanted, taking advantage of your newly free hips and bucking against Izaya’s.

Bracing himself on his free hand, Izaya withdrew slowly, not done tormenting you, despite how far drowned you were in your rapture. “There’s that wonderful desperation again,” he murmured, watching as your face twisted with pleasure as he sank back in, coaxing another soft whimper from your throat. “How’s it feel? Did you miss this, too?” He drew his hips back a bit quicker, driving them back until he was balls deep in your heat again, enjoying the fluttering of your cunt.

“Fuck… yes!” You cried out. “Your cock feels so good. I missed it. You. This. All of it,” your voice sank to a hush, thick and breathless, content and full as Izaya rocked into you.

“What a good girl,” he praised, catching your lips for another kiss and swallowing the moans that flowed over your tongue.

  Your body tensed again, the familiar sensation of approaching orgasm dawning on you for the third time that evening. This time, your pleasure showed no signs of being taken away. In fact, Izaya responded more readily to the clench of your body around him and the increasing pitch in your smothered moans and the way your breathing picked up, heavy and short.

He broke the kiss, putting his lips to your ear again. “Don’t stop making those beautiful noises for me, darling. I can tell you’re almost there.”

As if the breathy rasp of his voice had been a trigger, the wave of your orgasm broke over you, shattering the taut spring in your gut and reducing you to a gasping, moaning mess, writhing deliciously beneath his body. You called his name amidst a string of gibberish and curses, arching your back and clenching your hands.

When he spoke again, Izaya was hard to make out through the orgasmic fog dampening your senses. “That face when you cum never gets boring.” More praise rolled off his tongue, and he thrust into you rougher, fighting the squeeze of your cunt as you rode out your orgasm. “What a mess you’ve made of me. Fuck,” he cursed. 

Coated in sweat, his dark hair sticking to his forehead and brown eyes wild, he truly looked a beautiful mess, even to your muddled glance. His tempo grew less steady, coming quickly to his own end. “I hope you’re ready for what you’ve done to me,” he groaned before he came, stiffening against you.

Several more long, satisfying moans drifted into the room, overpowering your last few fading whimpers. His cum filled you, hot and thick, and he collapsed over you, catching his breath, thrusting shallowly a couple times more. He groaned, resting his head on your chest and letting go of your wrists. You both remained still for a few minutes, panting and exhausted, the room thick with the musky smell of sex.

Pulling out, he rolled off to the side, and you felt the slow, warm trickle of his cum on your thigh. You looked over, expecting that he wouldn’t stay in bed long. “I guess now you have to get back to work…” you mumbled, the disappointment in your voice poorly hidden.

To your surprise, Izaya didn’t make for his feet to leave the room and redress. He turned onto his side, grabbing you by the hip and pulling you toward him until his front was pressed to your back, hands folded over your chest. “I think I’ve got some time left.” he considered thoughtfully, his cool demeanor returning with his breath, the way his thumbs absently stroked your skin a sign of how relaxed he was. “Besides, I don’t think you’ve gotten enough me yet, am I right?”

[hostgalli19]

The Aftermath Chapter 2: Bite Marks, Burns & Scars

Chapter Summary:  Yancy gets his wings back, Dark and Matthew have a ... chat with Warden Murder-Slaughter and we find out a little more about Yancy’s childhood.

Note: I'm sorry this has taken me so long to get up. I had trouble with Murder-Slaughter's dialogue. I finally finished it though. Thank you to @lamiasluck and The_Queen_of_Fluff. 

You were a massive help with this thank you. This chapter does contain mentions of self-harms and somewhat detailed description of what Derek did to Yancy as punishment. 

He is a sadistic and horrible person and this is the exact reason why we keep killing him. 

Length: 6,684 (12 pages)

Tag List: @doctordiscord123, @matt10nt, @scuttling-thoughtfully, @andybemarky, @devon-rever-860, @wilfordwarfstacheisbae

Link on Ao3

Date: 03/12/19 – 09/12/19 Time: 12:57 pm – 1:27 am

"Yancy, what the hell happened?" Wilford questioned, horrified as he stared at the bruises, cuts and scars littering Yancy's chest. The ones that were the most concerning were the ones along his shoulder, arms and the tops of his legs. He had a sinking feeling he knew exactly where those had come from even though he prayed he was wrong. 

Yancy didn't answer, just twisted his shirt in his hands as he stared at the ground. He rarely removed his shirt, no matter what, it stayed on. The Warden and his Guards, however, didn't care what he thought, often removing it no matter how much Yancy begged and pleaded for them to leave it on. 

They would press against the wounds on his back, not caring as Yancy's screamed and cried in pain.

"The Warden wasn't pleased that I helped the man that came to Happy Trails or that I had broken into his office to get the box back because it seemed too important, he was less than pleased when I took parole. I think I spent a week in solitary before he signed the paper," Yancy answered pausing when he realised he hadn't known the name of the man that came to Happy Trails but he somehow knew it now.

Dark stared at him wondering what he was talking about before remembering the box that Mark had stolen from the museum. 

"Where did you get those tattoo?" Dark questioned, now was the best time to ask, he shivered when Yancy ran his fingers over the tattoo on his left hand absentmindedly. In the three weeks, Yancy had been at the Manor dark had noticed he had a habit of tracing the tattoos on his knuckles, usually, it was his right hand. 

Dark couldn't help but wonder if those tattoos were somehow linked to him and Mark, as over the last nine months they had felt irrationally angry or protective and felt the need to kill someone but hadn't known why.

"I have no idea. They just appeared one day. Sometimes, they tingle and burn, though that's only happened a few times," Yancy answered, trying his best to ignore Dr Iplier cleaning the cuts on his chest. Dark nodded, so his theory about Yancy being able to at least feel when they were upset or angry from his tattoos.

It made him wonder what was happening when they had felt so protective and felt the need to kill someone. 

"Yancy, what are those two wounds on your back. They look fresh but they're not bleeding," Dr Iplier questioned when he saw the two wounds on Yancy's back between his shoulders. Yancy's froze staring at Dr Iplier with a terrified look on his face. Dark stared at Yancy, trying to figure out what Dr Iplier was talking about. 

Then he remembered what the ex-convict had said after Dark released him from his restraints and couldn’t' help but pale.

"Wha... what did he do?" Dark asked nervously, walking over to Yancy and grabbing his chin, forcing Yancy to look at him, going his best to ignore the way his stomach twisting uncomfortably when Yancy flinched. Fresh tears slipped down his face, his eyes turned glassy and he curled in on himself as much as Dark's hand under his chin would allow. 

Dr Iplier and Wilford shared a concerned look, wondering what had Dark so worked up. 

"He...he removed them after I tried to escape a year into my stay there. I don't know how he found out," Yancy answered, shakily, trying not to sob as the place where his used to be ached and burned, he could feel the cold press of class against his feathers as his wings flapped which made it even worse. Dark's nails turned to claws, digging into his cheek.

Yancy wanted to pull away but couldn't, Dark's grip tightened when he tried to move his head forcing him to look at Dark as his features morphed into something truly horrifying. He didn't look at all human. He seemed to snap out of it when there was a thud. It took him months to be able to walk properly after the Warden had removed his wings. 

He missed the comforting weight, he was always cold at night having used them as a blanket, it was either too hot or too cold at night. There were times where he was certain he could feel the cold press of glass against his feathers. It was impossible. The inmates had been horrified when Yancy was finally released from his two-month-long stay in solitary and his two-week-long stay in the infirmary. 

He was barely able to stand, looked paler than normal and had a dazed look in his eyes

He didn't tell them what happened or why he was having trouble balancing. In the months following his release from solitary, they had to watch him carefully to make sure he didn't overbalance and accidentally hurting himself. Like he was used to compensating for something that was no longer there. 

They knew something serious had happened when Sparkles McGee slapped Yancy on the back. He had done it many times before only for Yancy to let out a blood-curdling scream that made everyone's blood run cold as Yancy collapsed, tears dripping down his face. Sparkles McGee was alarmed when he felt something warm on his hand and looked down and saw blood on his hand. 

He had gone as white as a sheet and looked like he was going to faint. He never tried to escape after that even though the inmates knew Yancy knew how to escape without being caught but he never told anyone. He would sometimes sneak out, not that they ever mentioned it to the guards. Yancy never took parole, even though it was offered.

None of them believed when he was happy to stay at Happy Trails Penitentiary. They knew he wasn't happy and yet he didn't leave. Dark stared at Yancy unable to believe what he was hearing. He tried to control his temper knowing Yancy would he (Dark) was mad at him. The thought of never been able to sly again sent a cold shiver down his spine and his back ached. 

He looked up when he heard a thus and was surprised to see Matthew standing in the doorway of Dr Iplier's office, looking concerned and alarmed. Dark looked down when he heard whimpering and realised his control over his aura had slipped. Yancy was staring at him with wide, terrified eyes, he was shaking, tears leaking down his face. 

Dark had seen the same response from Beta, despite wanting to struggle he didn't because he had been conditioned to stay still unless he wanted his punishment to be worse.

"Dark, what's the matter?" Matthew questioned, alarmed when he suddenly found himself in the doorway of Dr Iplier's office, Dark liked he wanted to kill someone, all light had been sucked from the room. Before he had been pulled to the manor, he had felt a growing sense of disbelief, alarm, finally anger, the overwhelming feeling of protectiveness and the need to kill someone. 

He knew Dark was ... displeased about something. 

"It seems we need to have a little ... chat with the Warden of Happy Trails Penitentiary," Dark ground out, his voice demonic, his cold smile sent chills down Yancy's spine when the door broke under Matthew's hand. The spot across the back of his shoulders burned white-hot before chilling. The tattoo on his left hand was burning as well and knew Dark was mad.

He shrunk when Dark looked down at him, trying to reassure him he had done nothing wrong but Yancy wasn't convinced. he knew he shouldn't have mentioned the Warden removed his wings or even said anything about them. He just hoped the punishment wasn't too horrible. Matthew didn't say anything, he just nodded and walked through the hole Dark ripped in the void. 

Wilford absently noted that Matthew was wearing a suit similar too Dark. It was times like these that made it obvious they were related in some way. He wanted to go with Dark and Matthew but knew it would be better if he stayed with Yancy. It was clear he hadn't had the best experience with Doctor's. Wilford walked over to Yancy and pulled the ex-convict into a hug, being mindful of the wounds on his back.

Yancy closed his eyes and started to sob quietly. He didn't have the strength to pretend he was even remotely okay. He flinched when Dr Iplier pressed something cool against the wounds on his back. It made the pain go away. Dr Iplier smiled tightly and hoped Dark would explain why he had to have a chat with the Warden when he got back.

It had been a long time since he had seen Dark lose control of his aura like that. Seeing his face go completely blank was terrifying as had the brief few seconds before Matthew appeared Dark hadn't even looked remotely human. It was a marical Yancy had been able to stay so still, those claws looked sharp enough to slice someone to pieces with very little effort.

Happy Trails Penitentiary - 3 Weeks After Yancy Went On Parole

Dark and Matthew appeared outside the Warden office, Dark pushed the door open, ignoring the women asking if they had an appointment then tell them to stop, she quickly shut up when Matthew glared at her. He normally would have tried to calm Dark down but given how angry Dark was Matthew wasn't even going to try and calm the demon down.

The Warden jerked when his door slammed open. Dark and Matthew Fischbach stalked into his office, he gulped wondering what they were doing there. There was no reason for them to visit after they had collected Eric who had somehow ended up staying Happy Trails for 8 months and he hadn't even known about it until they walked through his door.

He shivered when he turned his attention back to Dark and Matthew and saw them staring at the case holding Yancy's wings. Murder-Slaughter got a sinking feeling he wouldn't be walking out this meeting without some sort of injury. He was just glad Matthew had come with Dark this time and not Wilford Warfstache.

That man was insane and had definitely killed all the people his brother had claimed he had killed and yet he had never been convicted.

"Hello, Mr Fischbach. Wha-what can I do for you? How is Eric adjusting?" Murder-Slaughter questioned alarmed, stuttering. He leaned back in his chair, trying to appear like he wasn't frightened. Dark glared down at the pathetic human. He knew he was making the human nervous but couldn't bring himself to care.

He had gotten used to being the most powerful person and having the inmates at his mercy. He could do anything them and they couldn't stop him.

"Oh, Eric is perfectly fine considering the way he was treated during his stay here. It took him months to get used to being back home. We need to have a little chat with you about your treatment of the inmates," Dark growled, not even trying to stop some of his human facades from slipping. Warden Murder-Slaughter stared at Dark alarmed. How did Mr Fischbach know what he and the guards did to the prisoners?

"Wha-what are you talking about? The way I treat the inmates is perfectly acceptable given the things they have done," Warden Murder-Slaughter tried not to stammer the only way they would have known was if Eric had snitched and told Dark and Matthew, telling them how the prisoners were treated.

There was no way Yancy could have told them. He had never taken parole ... well, he had but had somehow turned up in solitary again. Murder-Slaughter didn't know how it was possible but didn't question it.

Having his pet back, he was so submissive and obedient. He didn't fight back anymore. It was delightful having such an obedient and submissive pet who would do anything he or the guards wanted. No matter what it was Yancy would do it. He really was the perfect little slut, the other inmates had long since learned that not behaving would only result in Yancy getting hurt. 

The other inmates had long since learned that not behaving would only result in Yancy getting hurt and that was something they tried to avoid is possible. 

They hated seeing him get hurt. They all knew why he was there and knew his father should have been in Yancy's cell and the Warden and his guard's plaything. They had all seen the scars on his back even though Yancy kept his shirt on all the time.

"Normal? There is nothing even remotely normal about the way you treat the inmates. Do you seriously think locking someone in solitary for weeks while they're strapped to a chair, only being realised to shower and go acceptable?" Matthew demanded flatly speaking for the first time. His voice was emotionless making Murder-Slaughter flinch that wasn't natural.

Murder-Slaughter stared at him in shock and horribly concealed horror. How did he know about it? None of the inmates knew what happened to Yancy during his time in solitary, he never told them. The only way Dark and Matthew would have found out was if the guards had snitched which wasn't possible and as the Warden knew Yancy didn't know Dark and Matthew.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I would never treat my prisoners like that. Whoever told you that was lying," Murder-Slaughter denied, trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice. Dark and Matthew glared at him and he knew they didn't believe him. He hoped they would leave quickly. He tried to call for the guards but found he was unable to. Something was stopping him.

"If that's so then where did you get those wings from, hm. They don't look like props or something someone normal has in their office," Dark questioned, staring at Murder-Slaughter with a raised eyebrow. He knew there was no way the Warden could lie about where he had gotten the wings. Matthew looked closer at the wings, they were white that faded to tan, a golden brown then into black at the very tips.

They were pinned to the back of the case with what looked to be black pins or bands.

"They were made by the inmates from feathers they found," Murder-Slaughter answered, scrambling to come up with a believable excuse as to why he had the wings, Matthew and Dark shared a look before turning to look at cowering human. Didn't he know that lying was just going to earn him a more painful death? Luckily for him, they were only there to talk with Murder-Slaughter and get Yancy's wing's back. 

"Do you seriously expect us to believe that? We know how you got those wings so don't bother lying. Just be glad we have other places to be," Dark snapped as he stalked over to the display case, black shadows wrapped around it. The demon glared at the pathetic human ripping a hole in the void and stepped through, Matthew following quickly, the display case with Yancy's wings disappeared with him.

Murder-Slaughter relaxed as soon as they were unable to believe he had managed to get out of that without any injuries. He knew they would be back though. Murder-Slaughter walked out of his office and down to a particular solitary cell, smiling when he saw the terrified look on the inhabitance face when they saw Murder-Slaughter and he couldn't help but smile.

Iplier Manor - Dr Iplier's Office

Wilford gently rubbed Yancy's arms as Dr Iplier cleaned the wounds on his back. They looked red and painful but they weren't bleeding even though they looked like should have been. Wilford looked down at his watch wondering when Dark and Matthew would be back. They have been done for a while and he was starting to worry, nothing good ever come when Dark was that angry.

Dr Iplier was... concerned to say the least he looked over the injuries on Yancy's back, there were also the bite marks on shoulders and upper arms. They looked familiar somehow, it took him a few seconds to realise that was because they looked like the bite marks all the egos left when they bit into something which made a knot form in Doctor Iplier's stomach.

Dr Iplier questioned holding out the soft material he used. Yancy stared at him unsurely before taking the item, rolling into a ball, flattening it a little to make it look like a brick, opened his mouth and fit inside before biting down hard enough to an impression. He left it in his mouth for a minute before carefully removing it. 

Dr Iplier walked over to his workbench, pulled out a scalpel and cut the brick in half so he could flatten it. It looked exactly like the bit marks on Yanyc's shoulder's and upper arms only confirming what Dr Iplier already suspected. Yancy had bitten his own shoulders and arms several times, given how deep the scars were, it was hard enough to draw blood. 

He didn't get the chance to ask why he did as Dark and Matthew stepped out of the void straight into his office with a giant case. Dr Iplier and Wilford stared at the case trying to comprehend what they were seeing. Yancy was staring at them with wide eyes. Matthew smiled reassuringly and Dark opened the case and gently touched the huge wings inside it

Yancy gasped and the wings fluttered against the giant metal bands. Dark removed the metal bands while Matthew held the wings down. Tears were leaking down Yancy's face. He could feel the metal band ds and Dark and Matthew's hands on his feathers. Slowly the metal bands holding Yancy's wings to the case were released.

Dark and Matthew gently removed the wings from the case having to tighten their grip when they started to flap a little. Yancy buried his head in Wilford's shoulder as Dark and Matthew lined his wings up with the wounds on his back. They quickly had to move out of the way when a bright brown gold light flash and Yancy's wings flicked out, nearly knocking Matthew and Doctor Iplier over. 

They fluttered and stretched in the cramped office before folding tightly against Yancy's back. 

Wilford rubbed Yancy’s back, accidentally brushing against his newly attached wings making him gasp. He a blissed-out look on his face. He sat up a little, his wings fluttering and slowly stretching out, he was mindful not to hit Wilford. They were at least 15 to 16 feet long, though they could have been bigger. It was impossible to tell; they would have to be outside.

Wilford rubbed Yancy's back, accidentally brushing against his newly attached wings making him gasp. He a blissed-out look on his face. He sat up a little, his wings fluttered and slowly stretched out, he was mindful not to hit Wilford and Dark. They were at least 15 or 16 feet long, though they could have been bigger. 

It was impossible to tell; they would have to be outside. Yancy folded his wings again and moved to get off the bed, some of his strength had returned, he looked down when he felt something wrap around his legs and snaked up his body and saw the black shadows. The black shadows helped him stay standing as he stumbled with the extra weight on his back again after 23 years. 

It would take a while to get used to having them back.

Dark took Yancy back to his room and let him rest up promising to wake him up when dinner was ready. He wasn't surprised when Yancy passed out before his head even hit the pillow, he was exhausted and would likely sleep through the rest of the day. Once, Yancy was asleep Dark went to call a meeting with the other egos wanting to know who thought it would be a good idea to tie Yancy up like that.

Silver, Google, Ed and Bin had no idea why Dark had called a meeting or why he had sounded so angry. Reynolds looked nervous; he always did. They knew it was a by-product of being around Derek. He hadn't been nice to his 'assistant' and his eldest sons friend. Host looked absolutely livid as he stalked into the meeting room dragging the Jim's with him, Prince sitting on his shoulder.

“What were you two thinking when you tied Yancy to that chair?” Dark demanded as Host dumped the Jim's into two spare chairs. They shrunk into their chairs wondering how Dark had even found out they had tied Yancy to a chair in one of the unused rooms. They didn't know why they had done it.

One minute they were in their room going over their latest scripts and the next they were standing outside the doors of one of the unused rooms. They hadn’t thought anything of it.

“We don’t remember doing it. One minute we were in our room and the next we were standing outside one of the unused rooms. We didn’t think much of it. We don’t know why it happened. How did you know?” RJ stammered, trying to explain what had happened as quickly as possible. The egos knew the Jim's would sometimes blackout. It seemed this was one of those times.

“Because I was the one who found him. He had a panic attack after I released him. It seems the Warden didn’t treat him that well. Hopefully, his treatment of the inmates improves after our little chat with him,” Dark growled RJ and CJ shrunk further into their chairs. Reynolds stared at Dark, wondering what had gotten him so angry about the Warden's treatment of Yancy. 

He knew from his friend that Warden Murder-Slaughter treated them wasn't that good, but it couldn't have been that bad... right? None of the egos saw Yancy until dinner, he walked into the kitchen with Wilford's help. He was limping and looked like he was having trouble balancing correctly and had to lean on Wilford. 

The biggest shock was the huge, white, gold, brown and black wings he had which created a slight wind when they started fluttering. Eric stared at his brother, he didn't know Yancy had wings, though something about that felt wrong like he should have known. There were two slits in the back of his shirt for his wings. 

He stumbled a little clearly not used to having the weight of his wings which fanned out a little in order to help him balance. Yancy turned his chair around before sitting down, he had always done that, Eric had never understood why. Now that he knew his brother had wings his strange way of sitting in chairs made sense.

He turned his chair around before sitting down, he had always done that, they had never understood why. Now that he had wings, his habit of sitting on his chair backwards made sense. He sat on one his legs, his wings pressed against his back as he ate. It looked completely normal and right. Every other time they had seen him do that it had felt wrong like something was missing.

One of his legs was under him, his wings pressed against his back as he ate, occasionally fluttering. It looked completely normal. Every other time he had done it felt like there was something missing. Yancy had just gotten up when someone brushed against his wings and something that sounded like a lighter.

Yancy's wings snapped open, sending whoever had touched his wings slamming into the wall with a dull thud. He turned around and stared in horror as someone who looked a lot like Dark groaned and pulled himself off the floor. Yancy winced he heard hear a dull CRACK and saw Dark's twin crack his neck like Yancy had seen Dark do over the last three weeks.  

"Oh god, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I'll be good I promise. I'll do anything you, please don't burn them," Yancy pleaded, backing away from Dark's twin, his breathing getting faster as he tugged at his hair with one hand, his wings pressed tightly to his back, easily passing through his shirt and pressing against his skin as they become intangible. 

Dark's twin groaned as he moved and stretched, the action was soon followed by the sound of bones popping back into place. 

It had taken him a long time to learn how to make his wings intangible. They turned invisible on their own. It was the only reason no one had found out he had wings. Derek had always called him an "unnatural, worthless freak, who would never amount to anything" as he tugged on Yanyc's wings, not hard enough to pull out any of his feathers but hard enough to hurt. 

He had learnt to keep his wings tight to his back, underneath his shirt at all times. Even when he was at home. He knew he was never safe. The only time it was safe to have his wings free was when he was completely alone and no one was around. He would often practise flying, which was the best feeling in the world. 

He hadn’t realised the way Derek treated him was wrong until he had gone to kindergarten, he had mostly kept to himself, not used to being around so many people, even though no one could see his wings, they still stepped on them or pulled at them. He never made any sound though. He had long since learned that making sound only made the punishment worse. It was better to keep his mouth shut.

He hadn't realised the way Derek treated him was even a little wrong until he had gone to kindergarten, he mostly kept to himself, not used to being around so many people. Even though no one could see his wings, they still stepped on them or accidentally pulled them. He never made a sound though. 

He had long since learned that making any sort of noise only made the punishment worse. It was better to say quite. He had been at the daycare for around six or so months when one of his teachers noticed bruises on his arms and chest from punishment after they had a wet day. 

He had been at the daycare for close to eight months when one of his teachers noticed the bruises on his arms and chest after he had gotten water dumped over him and his clothes had been soaked. She had been concerned. He was around two and a half at the time. Derek hadn’t been pleased when his teacher and social serves started asking questions.

He hadn't known why she had been so concerned. He had been around two and a half at the time. Derek hadn't been pleased when his teachers and social serves started asking uncomfortable and unwanted questions thus he had quickly become very good at hiding his emotions and learned how to act like a 'normal' child that wasn't being beaten every day for the smallest thing. 

That practise come in handy later on when he got his first job as a stagehand. He would sometimes help the actors if someone was away. He would pretend to be that person. It was a lot of fun and something he greatly enjoyed. He eventually became the unintentional understudy for just about every role. 

He helped the actors remember their lines. He was also able to build anything the actors or director needed. It was just something he was naturally good at. There were a few times where one of the actors called in sick and Yancy had to perform their role without anyone but the other actors knowing. 

There were a few times where the only people who knew Yancy had replace someone was the director and one other actor. Yancy was very good at mimicking people's voices. He had no idea how he could do. It was always a talent he had always had, though it felt he was borrowing those abilities from someone.

When he had gotten home Derek had stripped him, beaten him up, his arse red and sore, put him in a diaper then locked him a giant padded case. Metal bands wrapped around Yancy's arms, legs, chest and torso. More metal bands were used to pin his wings open. The sharp pins sliding between his feathers and into the cushions of the case. 

The diaper Derek had put him in was extra padded and thick and tight enough to press uncomfortably against his red and sore arse. He shoved a gag into Yancy's mouth, closed the glass doors and walked away leaving him there from Friday afternoon to Monday morning. Only taking him out long enough to spank his arse again and change his diaper. 

On Monday morning Derek had spanked his arse until it was red and sore, put a cold waterproof diaper on and dressed him pants that were a little too tight with the diaper making it extra painful to walk. His teachers had been confused as he was toilet trained and no longer needed a diaper but put one on him anyway. 

Happened 8 more times. He had quickly learned to make his wings intangible and invisible at all times. Derek wasn’t able to pin his wings anymore, but he still put him in there, usually over the weekend. Sometimes it happened during the week when that happened, Derek would spank him until his arse was red and sore.

It happened 8 more times, his wings being pinned to the back of the case. Derek might not have been able to pin his wings to the case anymore but that stop him from putting Yancy in that case. Usually over the weekend. Sometimes it happened during the week which Yancy hated.

When that happened Derek would spank him until his arse was red, sore and painful, put a cold waterproof nappy on him and leave him in the case for the night, only come to change him a few times. Taking him out and repeating the process in the morning and sending him to daycare, feeding him dinner when he got home, spanking him again, putting him a cold diaper and shutting him the case until the following morning.

He quickly learned to enjoy the few times he wasn't in that case and was able to sleep in his own bed. He knew there would be a day when he would be too big and too strong for Derek and couldn't help but wonder what the man would do to him then. 

It happened when he was around six-years-old. By that time Derek had been dating his soon-to-be-wife Detta for close to two years, she appeared to be a perfectly normal woman who wouldn't help their boyfriend (and soon to be husband) pin his six-year-old son down while he put a diaper on him after spanking him and manhandling him into a giant glass case.

Around that time he had started flying, he could lift himself off the ground for a few minutes. His wings were slowly getting stronger. Due to him getting stronger the older he got Derek and Detta had to start drugging him. Yancy had no idea where they had gotten the drugs or what they told the doctor who had subscribed them.

Being locked in that case was hell. He was still taken out and his diaper was changed, his arse was spanked again. He wanted to run away by the time he was seven but knew he would never be able to survive (Derek had made sure of that) and he had to protect his half-brother. He hadn't been surprised when Detta had gotten pregnant when he was six and a half. 

If he didn't do a good job looking after his little brother then he was locked in that case. He wanted to get out but knew he couldn't. He had to teach himself the necessary skills he would need if he was ever to escape. Detta kept having more and more children. By the time Yany was 10 he had eight half-brothers and he had to look after all of them.

They were his responsibility. They had all seen and heard the way their 'parents' Yancy. They had heard him screaming and shouting as he was injected with the drug and put in the display case upstairs in their parent's room, a room they weren't ever allowed to in. Only later did Yancy learn what Derek had done to him was wrong. 

He had thought it was completely normal until he was nine and he had moved out. He hadn't been able to leave because he was the one who looked after his little brothers. His mother had gotten sick of Derek and divorced him when Yancy was eight-years-old. They had joint custody of Yancy. 

The time he spent with his mother was heaven.

He was allowed to do whatever he wanted and was never locked up. He dreaded going back to Derek's but knew his half-brother's needed him. Despite the fact, he was getting older Derek and Detta still put him in the glass case. It had gotten bigger, the metal restraints had been reinforced due to Yancy getting stronger. 

The drug dosage had gotten stronger. The drug zapped his strength. He couldn't fight back, not that he didn't try. He was allowed to be a normal child but as soon as he was inside the house and all his chores were taken care of, he was drugged. He had tried to avoid it but it never worked. It only made the spanking worse.

His arse was often bruised and cut from the belt buckle. He was put in a cold waterproof diaper and left in that case. Derek had long since given up on getting him to make his wings reappear. He had learned that pocking anything hot in the space where Yancy's wings should have been was still painful. 

Derek had long since given up on trying to get him to show his wings again. He was happy as he couldn’t see them though he had learned that pocking anything hot at the space where Yancy’s wings should be was still painful for him. He told Yancy’s brothers to pull and tug at his Yancy’s back or scratch him. Some of his older brothers had done that and they had regrated it.

He had told Yancy's brothers to pull and tug at Yancy's back or scratch him. Some of his older brothers had done that and had very much regretted it. Yancy was far stronger than they were. Yancy wasn't their brother, he was their parents and angering him wasn't ... pleasant. He put them in time out, forcing them to sit in the kitchen when they had homework and they weren't allowed electronics nor able to see friends.

They never called Yancy "Dad" to his face. They would often call him "Yan". Derek was their "Father" but not their "Dad". That was Yancy. Their habit of talking about Yancy like he was their father when they were around others was likely the only reason social serves wasn't called to investigate.

Yancy started saving money from his job as a stagehand. That was where he met Reynold Voorhees. He was the only person who had any idea that Yancy's home life wasn't the best. Any and all money Yancy made he save to Reynold for safekeeping. That way it couldn't be taken off him. 

By the time Yancy was sixteen he was able to fly. It was the best feeling in the world. His wings were strong enough to break bones as he found out when he was nearly mugged. His attacker had ended up with broken ribs. He tried to stay as busy as possible, that way Derek and Detta couldn't drug him and lock in the case.

By that time he had 13 brothers. He had gotten very good at look after them. They were incredibly well behaved given everything they went through at home. Yancy did his best to support his brothers while also putting himself and his school-aged brothers through school. It was stressful but he somehow managed to make it work. 

He moved out when he turned 18 and rented a house of his with Reynolds. He still had to look after his bothers but didn't have to 'go home' all that often as his oldest step-brothers were more than able to look after everyone. He was twenty-three when he found out his mother had a one-nightstand with Derek resulting in his last brother.

Yancy somehow knew things were going to go downhill from there. He spent many days over at his mother's house looking after Eric, his brother was a sweet baby. Eric spent the first eight to nine months with his mother before the courts forced Eric to stay with his "Father" on a semi-regular basis.

Yancy had gotten more than one panicked call in the middle of the night from one of his brothers about how to look after Eric because Derek wasn't going anything. Yancy spent many more nights then he wished at Derek's house looking after his little brother, he had been furious when he saw how much weight Eric had lost, he had made sure to document everything.

He had been planning on reporting Derek to the police but then everything went to hell. He could still remember Derek clearly holding a gun to Eric's head demanding money. He had told Derek he would think about it. He had actually planned on going to the police station with the evidence he had  gathered 

He had been too shocked to do anything until he found himself in the back of a police car after Derek had shot Eric, not killing him but by then it was already too late. He had told Reynolds to hid his money and possessions and not let Derek get his hands on any of it. Yancy was pulled from his panic attack when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Yancy, calm down, I’m perfectly fine, albeit a little sore. I’m more resilient to damage,” Dark's twin replied, it took Yancy a few seconds to realise it was Mark, only he looked older than when Yancy had last seen him when Eric had told him what the tattoo on his left forearm meant before they went through the Heist endings. He sighed shakily and tried to shake off the memories but it impossible. 

Reynolds kept him updated on the going on with his brothers through letters. He had been devastated when he heard all his brothers had died in the crash except Eric. The egos quickly learned not to touch Yancy's back or shoulders. It took him a few more days to get used to the feeling of having his wings back. 

One night he went to bed feeling strange, a sick nervous feeling washed over him. He had trouble getting to sleep. He eventually fell asleep and woke up tied to a chair that Warden had made specifically for him. He was still in solitary, all of it had been a dream after all. He knew it had been too good to be true. 

He looked up when he heard the door open and the Warden walked in with his guards, he felt sick. He was never going to be free. He would never get his wings back and he would never see his little brother again. Something in Yancy's mind broke, just a little as all his tattoo started to burn and pulse. 

“Hello Yancy, have you decided to be a good little pet and do as you're told?”

Note: Yes, I know this chapter is long. I'm sorry. Writing about Yancy's childhood took the LONGEST time, I know I was horrible to him. 

EDIT 13/12/19: I've FINALLY finished editing this story. This story was 5,967 (9 PAGES) words before editing it and its 6,684 (12 pages) words after editing and 

[solesurvivorkat]

‘Six’ Sentence Sunday/Monday WIP meme

Tagged by @noonvvraith, ty hunny!  :-D  <3  (I’m sure you won’t mind that I combined both meme tags, hence the quotes around ‘Six’, lol)

...SO. As I told my Discord group, I must have lost my mind with this whole pandemic thing. I MUST have - why ELSE would I ever consider starting a THIRD fanfic, especially when I’m so far behind in updating my other two? (...Seriously - still haven’t given up on them yet, I swear.)

Welp, I have no idea why, but one of my favorite movies, ‘While You Were Sleeping’, has been in my head lately. Couldn’t shake it off. So... after much (sooooo much) debating, I figured any writing/inspiration was better than none - and I decided to start a ‘Far Cry 5′ no-cult AU fic based off of this fluffy little ‘90s romantic comedy. 

...I don’t expect a ton of people to know this movie... and whether they do or not, I don’t expect a ton of people to read this fic. I’ll be a little disappointed if no one reads it, I won’t lie, but... this is something that I thought would be fun to work on, so at the end of the day I’m doing this more for me than for anyone else (...no offense meant, lol).

For those that do know the movie though, I’ll say this: while the main plot is going to mimic that of the movie, it’s not going to be exact. I plan on incorporating a ‘non-cult FC5 touch’ into the story. Some details will be changed (both from FC5 canon and the movie’s), there will be slight ‘fudging’ of details, and I just ask that if something seems ‘factually wrong’ or ‘out of place’, to please bear with me. I will do my best to entertain and not disappoint, I promise. The main pairing in this fic will be my FC5 OC Sarah Rook, and of course, my boy John.

Without further ado (and sorry for the long intro):

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‘I Need to Tell You’ (coming very soon to AO3)

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When I was growing up in Connecticut, my dad used to say, ‘Life doesn’t always turn out the way you plan.’ I used to think he was referring to him and my mom, who had died when I was only a little girl. It never occurred to me until I was much older that he was actually referring to MY life.

He tried to be brave, always look happy around me... but I could tell he really missed her. My own memories of her were a bit hazy, so I’d question him about her every so often. One time I asked my dad when he knew he was TRULY in love with my mom. He got this big smile on his face as he thought for a moment, then replied, ‘Sarah, your mother gave me a special gift. She gave me the world.’

...Actually, it was a globe with a light in it. But... for the romantic that he was, it might as WELL have been the world.

Well, the first time I saw HIM, he didn’t exactly give me the world - it was a train ticket stub (...here in remote Montana - where I live NOW - we don’t have those fancy automated ticket machines like more densely-populated areas). But... I looked forward to it at work, every single day. He started coming to my station counter between 8:01 and 8:15am every morning, Monday through Friday, and he was just... what was he? ...Mysterious, I think is the word I’d use to describe him. Mysterious, yet... alluring. 

Tall, definitely at least six feet. In his late 30s, maybe early 40s based on the slight crinkles beginning to form on his face. Imposing but not over-the-top build. Always wore a green camouflage army jacket. I’d catch a glimpse of the name tape every so often - ‘SEED’, above his right upper pocket. Undercut hairstyle (buzzed short on the sides, longer on top), moustache, and beard the color of rust. Some small scars and rashes on his face... this man has definitely seen some battle.

He’d lumber over, combat boots thumping with every step, drop the ticket stub on my counter, and continue on to the train platform. We didn’t make eye contact often - and in the brief moments in which we DID... there was just something about those blue eyes of his. I felt like he had a lot of interesting stories to tell.

We’ve- well, we’ve never actually SPOKEN, but... I know someday we will. I just know it. And someday... I’ll find a way to introduce myself, and it’s gonna be great - just like my handsome, mysterious soldier.

[rogsclogs]

Some Day One Day (Brian May x Reader); part 5

Hello there! The first half of this was already written before my laptop died on me weeks ago, so I was able to finish it pretty quickly. I hope you enjoy, can’t wait to get on with this story. Feedback is always appreciated :)

Taglist: @brighter-thanthe-sky @im-a-sheerheartattack @fruityfreddie @discodeacygotmorerhythm @ladylannisterxo @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen @queenismylifenow (if you want to be tagged please message me)

previous parts are found under the ‘some day one day’ tag!

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Brian spent the whole 25 minutes between the phone call and Y/N’s arrival pacing around his living room in a worn out shirt and a pair of briefs, his mac and cheese long forgotten and his mind lost in space. He’d tried to tidy the house a bit, hiding dirty clothes and his daughter’s toys under the bed and in old plastic boxes, but his nerves couldn't let him focus on one task and he ended up ignoring most of the chaos he’d made.

He didn't know why, but he truly wanted to make a good impression on Y/N and for her to like him for who he was, although he knew that wasn't the reason she was coming over. He shouldn't even have had those thoughts in the first place.

He stared at the door for a couple of minutes until the doorbell rang and he felt his heart try to break his ribcage apart. 

After taking a quick look at himself in the small mirror he had hung in the hallway and shaking his head at the image reflected back, disappointed at his appearance with bags under his eyes from the lack of sleep he’d been experiencing lately and curly hair all over the place from running his hands through it way too often, he hurried to the door to not let her wait outside too long, considering how cold it had gotten that night.

When he opened it, he was shocked to see a very distressed Y/N who somehow looked tinier than usual with her shoulders hunched and makeup stains all over the soft skin of her face. Before he could stop his actions, he reached out and gently wiped the area under her eyes with his thumbs, holding her cheeks in his palms as she leaned into his right hand seeking comfort and affection. 

“Hi Brian”

“Hi my love, did you drive here?” He asked with concern, not wanting her to get behind the wheel in such a state.

“I did. It’s fine though, I’m a pretty good driver” 

“I don’t doubt that, but you should be careful. You could have asked me to come pick you up”

She shrugged and detached her eyes from his own, not needing to be scolded from him in such an emotional state. 

Brian stepped aside and finally let her in his apartment. She took notice of everything that surrounded her, the pictures on the walls and the shelves, the shoes that were left abandoned by the closet and the different pieces of forniture, some of which strongly contrasted with each other. She noticed an old black and white picture of a very young Brian holding a guitar and smiling at the camera and took it in her hands, admiring his features which she realized hadn't changed much since his youth days.

“You play?” For some reason that detail about him surprised her, maybe she thought someone as dedicated to physics as him couldn't have many other hobbies. To be honest, the guitar looked amazing on him, like he was meant to have it on himself at all times.

“I do. That picture is older than you probably, it’s from 1969. But yes, I do play, I’m in a band with a couple of my friends”

He smiled fondly at the memory of him and his three best friends playing for small crowds when they were younger and full of life as he watched Y/N take in every detail of his house. It wasn’t very big, anything he earned from his job he spent on spoiling his daughter, but it was cozy and homey, and Y/N thought it represented him very well, with scattered papers all around and posters of planets and galaxies almost everywhere. 

“I’d love to hear you play one day” she said before something caught her attention: a very tiny pink shoe left laying on the ground, which Brian must had forgotten to put back in its place previously. 

The thought of him having children had never crossed her mind for some reason, but in that moment she realized that she shouldn't have made assumptions, after all she knew almost nothing about him. He noticed her eyes wandering and took a close look at her reaction, not knowing what to expect from her.

“You.. have kids?” The words sounded even stranger on her tongue.

“I, uhm, I have a daughter, yes. Emily. Yeah. She's not here tonight though, don't worry” he blushed profusely at the idea of Y/N knowing about Em, he didn't even exactly know why but to him it was always a struggle to open up about anything even remotely personal. 

“I never thought you’d be the kind of person to have children Brian, but that's absolutely adorable”

He swiftly took his wallet from out of his old bag that he usually brought to school and pulled out a tiny picture of a very smiley, red cheeked and wide eyed little girl, proudly showing it to Y/N.

“This is her, she's the love of my life”

Y/N examined the picture, trying to find little clues that connected her to Brian and, in fact, finding many and realizing just how similar the two were. She was fascinated by the little girl and by the idea of tall, lanky professor May being a dad. 

“She’s beautiful, Brian. She looks just like you” she said after a while, hoping that with that statement she had made it clear that she thought he was also extremely beautiful. Actually, the word beautiful couldn't even begin to express the way she saw him, but it was a start.

He smiled fondly at the girl in front of him seeing genuine interest in her eyes. 

“You might meet her one day, I’d love for you to” as he spoke those words he realized just how true they were, he realized he wanted Em to get to know Y/N and watch movies about fairies and princesses with her, and he couldn’t understand why. Emily had a mother already, granted she wasn’t the most maternal person in the world, but she tried her best just like Brian did. Sometimes he felt like she didn’t do enough though, Emily would often come back home to him from a weekend spent with her mother craving affection and physical contact, so did that mean that her mother wasn't able to provide those things for her? He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Y/N grabbed Brian’s hand and held it close to her body without thinking twice, she knew that would bring her comfort and all she wanted was a break from the emotional pain.

“Sorry for getting here so late, you’re always so kind to me but you really didn’t have to invite me here, maybe you had better plans in mind than listen to me whine”

“Don’t even say that love, I couldn’t stand knowing you weren’t okay and not doing anything about it”

Brian lingered a bit longer than usual on the last words, wondering if it was alright for him to keep going.

“I have grown quite attached to you Y/N, I only want what’s best for you, I hope you never forget that” he decided to say.

Almost instinctively he opened his long and skinny arms, letting Y/N crash her head on his firm chest then wrapping them around her, bending his head so that his curls would caress her cheeks as she left tears stains on his shirt.

“I’m such a mess Brian, I don’t know how to go on from here, I feel lost, I mean, I wasn’t even able to pass this test and that's a clear indication that I’m never going to achieve anything in my life” she was able to shakily let out a few words in between sobs and sniffles. She didn’t know what pushed her to feel so free and able to let herself be emotional around a man that she clearly didn't know that well after all, but there was an aura around him that smelled like home and family and love, and Y/N had never had much of any of those things.

He knew she wasn't thinking straight and that she was allowing her negative thoughts and insecurities run wild and take over her brain, he’d been in that same position many times in his own life. 

“Take a deep breath baby, you’re fine and I promise you’re always going to be fine. If it takes us two more years to get you to pass that test than that’s how long we’re gonna be working for. You’re gonna achieve such great things in life and I can tell because you’re so young and yet so determined and willing to fight already, that's not something everyone has in them. You are special love, I truly want you to learn to see that. Failures teach us how to keep going, not how to quit”.

His words were wonderful and spot on, she didn't know how he always somehow knew exactly what to say in any circumstance, but in that moment she felt the need to cry her feelings out, and Brian didn't question her, he understood her even when she didn't say a word. 

“Shall we make tea? Would that make you feel better in any way? It’s not magic, but I can make it for you just like my mom used to make it for me when I was young and ill, it’s life changing I promise” he said with a gentle expression on his lightly freckled face. 

All Y/N had to do was nod and she suddenly found herself sat on the kitchen counter staring at the gentle giant in front of her who was currently fixing her tea, she didn't even have it in herself to wonder how she got there because for once she felt like that was exactly where she belonged.

Brian could feel her eyes on him the whole time and he didn't mind the attention at all.

He handed her a steaming cup and got one for himself. Silence surrounded them, but it wasn't an awkward one, it was rather calming for Y/N’s nerves and excruciating headache. She was able to recollect her thoughts and realize just how lucky she was to have his support available at any hour of any day.

“I should probably head back home soon Bri, if my parents find out I’m not in my bedroom they're going to flip on me”

“What did you tell them about the test?”

He didn't know anything about her parents apart from the few things that had slipped from her mouth every once in a while during their tutoring sessions, but the fact that their own daughter was currently at his apartment seeking help and emotional support instead of being with them told him more about the kind of people they were than any words could. 

“I just said that I tried my best and that I won’t know how I did for another couple of weeks at least, then I gave them a big fake smile and disappeared. I kept it simple”

Brian nodded understandingly then wrapped his arms around her once more, not for any specific reason, but he felt that she could have used an extra hug. He felt weird, in a way that he would never be able to explain to himself even years after these events took place. He felt his stomach twist in a nervous knot and an overwhelming urge to kiss the girl and never let go of her. He wanted to be physically and emotionally connected to her and show her that not everything in life was so terrible after all. He wanted her, night and day, all of her.

A big part of him, however, knew very well that what he wanted was morally questionable.

He couldn't just go and kiss her without at least talking to her about it first, what if that's not what she wanted? She could have gotten him fired if she’d spread the word to anyone in school. Was it worth risking his whole career over this one girl? (Yes, yes it was).

Maybe if she hadn’t been his student and years younger than him things would have been different, but anyhow he was able to keep those urges under control by holding her tighter against his body, allowing himself to pretend for a second things could actually be different. 

He couldn't believe his own conscience, but his feelings were stronger than anything he’d ever experienced and later on, when Y/N left his house despite his concerns about her safety and his offer to let her sleep over for the night, he found himself wishing he didn't have so much self control. 

[jellidile]

Pages and Pages (Vergil, sad)

Welp, I was inspired by the goings on with the dmc diaries that have recently popped up. And apparently, Nero is very interested in his mom and Vergil’s relationship... Hopefully, it isn’t as sad as this 

@nerosdailydiary and @journalofvergilsparda Why don’t y’all take a look? Maybe it isn’t what happens between the two of you, but it is fanfic for you both so it’s only right to tag you :)

Nero goes looking for a diary Vergil hid. He’s pretty sure it’ll have something about his mother in it... He gets a lot more than he bargained for.

Nero couldn’t help but laugh as he pulled a dusty book from his father’s closet. The old man had sworn off talking about his younger years, much to Nero’s displeasure. But, he had mentioned he had a diary from those days, so now, three days in, Nero couldn’t help but feel a little pride,

“Try hiding it better next time, Dad” flipping through the first pages Nero didn’t see anything of interest. Mostly just rambles about how Dante was the worst, or how he felt abandoned. Bits of poetry here and there. Until finally, he found mentions of Fortuna. Quickly Nero skimmed through until,

Day 25 in Fortuna

I met a woman today. She was… Well, she wasn’t terrible looking. She seemed harmless enough. She asked if I wanted a tour of the church, and when I asked why she was very insistent that everyone who visits Fortuna should see it. I don’t know why (it has nothing to do with my visit) but I followed her. Overall, it… was a good day.

Nero smiled wide. Skipping ahead a few pages.

Day 35 in Fortuna

She’s all that I can think about anymore. I don’t understand what’s wrong with me. Today we were talking again and I, I wanted to kiss her so bad. Is it wrong for me to want to spend time with her all the time? I followed her home last night and she met with a friend of her’s… I want her to hug me the way she hugs her friends. I want to make her laugh because her laugh is so… when she laughs too hard she snorts and it’s… endearing. I’m rambling… anyways I think I’m sick. I shall continue my research into the church after I figure out what the hell is wrong with me.

Day 36

I AM MOST DEFINITELY SICK

Nero barked out a laugh. Of course, his awkward dad wouldn’t know what he was feeling. But it was also nice to know that on some level, he laughed like his mother. The diary had a few days missing but Nero was glad to see that nothing much was missing.

Day 50

I kissed her. We were sitting beside each other, and she pointed out that it was getting late… And just the way the sun was hitting her face, she just looked so… so… Gah! damn it all, there are no words! But I leaned in and kissed her… and I must be going mad because it felt so right. I-I think the best part was that she kissed back and I got to hold her. However brief that moment really was… It didn’t feel like it. Even now, sitting here, that moment felt like hours. Although… I’m ashamed to admit I left right after it was over. I hope to see her tomorrow.

Nero was amazed. He couldn’t help but smile. He would’ve never thought that his father was capable of doing anything even remotely close to making the first move. He kept reading. Most entries were now either focussed on him finding out what the church was up to or recounting a date he and Nero’s mother had been on. But one entry caught his eye,

Day 85

I love her so. Today we were talking and I… I told her that I had no family,

“I’m all alone.” I know Dante is still alive, but I doubt he would take me back. We may be twins but, I’ve changed too much. Anyways, after I said that she went,

“You aren’t alone Vergil. I care about you.” and she held me. There was a moment I paused, and I cried. I don’t she knows how much those words really meant to me. I’m even finding it hard to write here but… Those words, “you aren’t alone” it’s all that I’ve wanted to hear.

Day 86

How to tell the woman you love, you love her… I’ve been trying to come up with a way to tell her all day and I can’t seem to think of anything. Every time I want to say it the words die on my tongue. But I don’t even feel worthy of saying to her. How could I tell her that I love her? Just three words seem so… stupid. She means more to me then words can convey. My sun and moon. My world and stars. Life without her would be dull and meaningless. She somehow pulled down my walls. And I’m still at a loss as to how. Bubbly and bright. I remember wanting to make her laugh, but it’s the other way around. She makes me laugh. But her smile when I laugh… She practically glows. I came here seeking answers, but they don’t interest me when I see her. Sometimes we can just lie down holding each other, no words will pass our lips, but for hours we are content to do so. How do I tell my reason for all my joy, that she is so? I doubt it can be simply done.

Day 90

I am writing this in the morning because my princess says I won’t have any time tonight. She has a busy day planned. I think I might try to tell her how I feel. Hopefully, all goes well.

It’s night now… I got to tell her, and uh… Show her… If that’s clear enough. I’d rather not retell the details of tonight. That’s a memory I shall keep all to myself. Though looking at her now as she sleeps… I am overcome with a deep and profound want- no, need to stay with her. Power be damned. I love her.

Nero couldn’t help but stare speechlessly at the two entries. Tear’s flowed down his cheeks, he didn’t even know that they were there. But the way his father wrote so much about his mother… to go as far as, “Power be damned” yet he still wasn’t done reading the book. Only about halfway,

Flipping through the entries were now solely focused on his mother, and then there was a jump, Day 108, Day 109, Day 110, Day 130? Nero’s heart stopped,

Day 130

I’m leaving Fortuna. Alone. A few weeks ago demons came and… They attacked me, I didn’t see one, and… Why didn’t I see it? I should’ve seen it. Now she’s hurt and it’s all my fault… I-I wasn’t strong enough. I let her get hurt. I DID THAT! I COULDN’T- She isn’t safe with me around. Dante would laugh at me. Sobbing into my hands, alone. Bless her heart though,

“It’s not your fault Vergil. I’m still alive. Knowing you, it will never happen again.” she tries. But she’s too optimistic, all humans are. I should’ve known that it all would’ve come crumbling down. I’m a son of Sparda. I should’ve seen the demon, but I didn’t. And she’s hurt, and I- I don’t deserve to be with someone I can’t protect. Why does it hurt me to write this… Why… I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry. I just want to protect you. I can’t I can’t lose anyone else. Especially not you. Please don’t resent me for this. Please...

Nero shook. Anything else that was written on the page was smudged. It looked as though Vergil had been crying as he wrote… Still, Nero was not done reading the journal as at least 50 pages remained.  And page upon page was filled with heartbroken words. 50 pages were filled to the brim each one different yet all of them all trying to say sorry. Nero found himself particularly affected by the very last page.

If I could run back to you, love I promise I would. We were young and in love, and I can only hope that it does not mean we are dumb. But each night when I close my eyes, you are there. And it is that blessed night where we joined body and soul again, and I can hear myself saying I love you over and over. I can still hear every whispered message of love and desire. Even after all this time, I find myself drawn to the thought of you. Maybe in another life, I’m not the coward that I am today. Scared of inadvertently hurting those he loves, but it seems I’ve already done plenty of that. I’ve always been seeking power, and with you, I didn’t think I needed it. Perhaps I didn’t. Who could know?

If I could be held in your arms again, darling I’d be back in a second. Yet would you even take me as I am? On those nights where I am left plagued by nightmares, I see you again highlighted and glowing in the sunset. I feel your lips against mine and I remember every curve, I remember every inch of you. How I wish to hold you, how I wish to be held. Within your shelter, I was warm and loved. Safe from the nightmare’s of losses long ago. But even so, could you hold me? Hold the man who loved you so much he left? Who could know?

If I could lie with you and talk like we would always do, princess, there would be no other place I would wish to be. So many if’s wander through my tortured mind, and so many are met with the scared ramblings of a man deeply scarred and bitter. But, how I adored your laugh and your smile. Oh, I can still recall every time I let my eyes wander, only to find them locked with yours. How I worshipped you, and love I meant every word of passion I  ever said. But do you still love me I wonder? Do you still think back to those days of bright joy, and look fondly upon my memory? Do you love me? Ah, who could know?

As Nero stopped reading he shuddered out a sigh. Strong arms wrapped around his shoulders. Nero jumped but was held in place. Vergil spoke mournfully as he placed his head on Nero’s shoulder,

“I’m sorry I left you and your mother. I left you both all alone.” Nero wanted to say something but he could only wiggle around and hug his father back. Vergil’s grip tightened on his son as he silently sobbed,

“I’m so sorry Nero…” 

“It’s okay Dad.” 

We aren’t alone anymore.

[fizzyxcustard]

Just To Let Go (4)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Masterlist here

Full fic on AO3 here

Fandom: Real Person Fiction (Richard Armitage)

Summary: You and Richard Armitage are best friends and during a meeting in London, the two of you find that your relationship takes a very serious turn. You are terrified of letting yourself go and loving Richard, despite knowing deep down that you adore him. Your insecurity is keeping you both from being together, and you also find pictures online of the two of you in public. Richard begs you to accompany him in New York and make the move, but will you overcome it all and finally find your strength?

Warnings: Bad language, sexual references, angst, insecurity

Pairings: Richard Armitage x Fem!Reader

Comments/Notes: Originally posted under fizzy-custard as an imagine with no official story title. Now condensed into 4 parts. If you wish to be added to any character, series or fandom tag lists, message me or send an ask. Thank you @tigereyesf for requesting the final part of this fic...which I forgot to post as I felt everyone has lost interest. This is for you! ;) 

Follow Forever tag list: @himoverflowers @shikin83 @theincaprincess @deepestfirefun @nowiloveandwilllove @houseofrahl @mynameisnoneya1991@blankdblank @captainrainbowpanda @cd1242 @c-s-stars @thorins-magnificent-ass @patanghill17 @trees-and-ink @inumorph @leah-halliwell92  @msjava1972 @bespectacled-bunny @ghostlyandee @raindancer2004 @dottiechan @captain-almighty @hobbitlover23 @catthefearless @epicallychrissy @nelswp @adaliamalfoy @spn-obsession @armitageadoration @peneigh-dzredfohl @here2have-fun @xxbyimm @greendragonette @littlebird54 @thophil2941btw @princessoferebor94 @banlaochranda @wilhelmyna @gabrieleaquaman @rachel1959 @serpensortia06 @rcrispina @kategorically-challenged @tigereyesf @jumpingmanatee @alae-megallen @tschrist1 @inlovewithamantwicemyage @aspiringtranslator

Richard was watching as each person walked through the arrivals area at JFK airport. He smiled as families were reunited, couples embraced and friends met for the first time in years, or maybe for the first time. He held a rose in his hand, waiting for you. The rest of the roses, all three bouquets, were back at the apartment, arranged on the bed for you with a bottle of wine and two accompanying glasses.

He checked his watch as the dozens of passengers disappeared through the terminal and off towards their final destinations, and then he looked up at the arrivals board. Your flight had definitely landed: United Airlines from London Heathrow came in at midday.

Richard saw an immigration officer walk past and enquired as to whether the plane you had been scheduled to board had landed. The officer, a middle aged, white haired man, grunted, saying that it had and walked on. Surely the officers wouldn’t have had any issues with your visa and entry, so you being detained was highly unlikely.

Back in England and you had resorted to calling upon your parents for help and you were temporarily living with them until you could get yourself back up on your feet. Your mother had already told you how much of an idiot you were for giving up your job and home for a man you had only just gotten into a relationship with.

Two days before you were due to join Richard and you had been messaged by an ex-colleague from the cinema you had just resigned from, with a link to an online article. The article had shown pictures of you and Richard walking hand in hand down a London street, both of you completely unawares to any photographer in the area. But the worst part had been all the degrading comments you had read beneath, slating you for being with Richard and calling you very disgusting names like ‘dog’ and ‘ugly bitch’. You knew these were just jealous fans, but the comments had cut you deep, re-rooting all the insecurity that you felt you were just putting to bed.

The comments kept playing through your mind as you slept, when you showered, when you ate, and in the end you had decided against joining Richard. But you were a coward and couldn’t be up front and tell him.

Around early evening of the day you were due to land in New York, you looked up at the clock, knowing that it would be time your flight would land and Richard would be in arrivals waiting for you. Your father was too busy watching a quiz programme to even be concerned with your worries, and your mother was taking a nap after an overnight shift at the local hospital where she worked as a nurse.

Your phone began to vibrate on the coffee table so you grabbed it and disappeared into your room. Your heart hammered painfully as you saw his name across the screen in large letters.

“Where are you?” he asked, sounding frantic as you accepted the call.

“I never got on the plane, Rich,” you told him, the pain in your chest rising upwards so you began sobbing.

“W....wha? I’m stood in ARRIVALS WAITING FOR YOU!” he shouted down the phone. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me? What’s going on? I can’t keep this up!”

“Well, you don’t have to,” you snapped back at him. “Thank all your wonderful, dedicated fans for this.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Richard growled.

You closed your eyes and exhaled, gathering your thoughts as much as you could from the fog that had descended on you. “Photos were published online of us, and some of the comments made against me were disgusting. I’ve never been called anything like that by people who KNOW me, let alone people I’ve never met before. I can’t stand that.”

“Why should anyone else’s opinion matter?” Richard’s voice had lowered in volume, but the frustration was deepening. This was when you knew he was at his worst; he didn’t shout, but his voice became a quiet growl. “You’re playing me around now, and I can’t carry on like this with you, not knowing what’s going on and when you’re going to break up with me next. I mean, come on, you’ve sold your stuff and moved out. Where are you now?”

“I’m with my mom and dad.”

“Who you don’t get on with?” Richard almost mocked. “You gave up your job and flat to now let this stupidity get to you.”

“Why is it stupidity?” you argued.

“I have this every day of my life. My name and my job are dragged through shit by critics and God knows who else. You’ve got to learn to get over it. And I know that’s easy for me to say, but you need to stand against it and go for what you love in life. That’s if you love me...”

“You know I do,” you whispered, tears falling down your face. “I love you more than anything.”

“Then you need to focus on me, on our future, and fuck everyone else.”

***

Those horrible, degrading comments that Richard’s fans had put online about you still raced through your mind. You would lie in bed, constantly sifting through the words, wondering if they were right. Your relationship with Richard was still on the brink of breaking down due to the fact that you would not agree to go to New York.

Richard had been on the phone with you again, and it was now a week since you had been scheduled to meet up with him at JFK airport. He slumped down on the bed and sighed in exasperation; he was tired, frustrated and didn’t know how long he could continue fighting for you.

Each day that passed, that you were physically absent, and it became harder for Richard to function. The brief taste he had had of you back in England had left him hungry for more, pining for you more than ever. In meetings regarding an upcoming play he was considering, and Richard was distracted, slipping into daydreams, imagining you saying ‘yes’ and finally coming to New York to be with him.

He looked at the large wine stain in the carpet where he had smashed a bottle of wine against the wall a week earlier in a fit of rage once he had returned to his apartment, without you. The roses had been stuffed away in the rubbish as tears had fallen down his face, and his hands bled from thorns digging into his flesh.

And things now were still no better with you. Your whole relationship was hanging by a tiny thread, threatening to tear apart at any moment. It was barely even a relationship, and had only been anything remotely like what it should have been for a handful of days.

In bed you let your mind think of wherever Richard was. All you could feel were his hands on you, him inside you, and his lips slipping over every inch of you. You had never been so wanted, cherished and needed. Richard treated you right in every way a person should be in a relationship. The truth was this, you adored him, loved him more than you had ever loved anyone before, and it was all scaring you. You had put your fear aside once, giving in, and now those hateful comments were plaguing you. There was no one you could tell, apart from your parents. Richard’s career was always something you kept quiet; when you were both friends, you only said that he worked in London and New York to other people, never elaborating on the details.

All you had done was consider your own feelings, never Richard’s. Everything, so far, had been about you. You looked at your clock and saw it was nearly midnight, so it would be evening for Richard. You had already text a few times that day, passing the usual pleasantries to each other, but with tension lingering behind your words.

You picked up your phone and let it call out to him. Within half a dozen rings and he answered.

“Hi,” he said softly. You could sense a smile behind the greeting, as though you could hear it pouring down the phone line.

“I’m sorry if I’ve bothered you, Rich,” you apologised, pulling yourself up in bed.

“You never bother me,” he replied. “I’m just glad you called. I...erm, miss you so much.”

“I miss you, too,” you said, closing your eyes. You squeezed your lips together and tried to push the painful lump in your throat away. “I lie awake at night and I want to be next to you. I imagine how it all felt when we slept together.”

You heard Richard’s light chuckle down the phone. “Then come out to me. I’d come to you but I have so many meetings to finalise my contract for the upcoming play.”

“So you’ve decided to do it?” you asked.

“Don’t dodge what we were talking about. I know you. Come out to me.”

The more you heard his voice, and the way it pleaded for you, and the easier it was for him to break your resolve. All you wanted was to feel him, see him and be wrapped up in his arms.

“Alright, and it’ll be a definite this time,” you promised.

***

You laughed as Richard called you just as you were sat at the airport gate, waiting to board your United Airlines flight to JFK airport. “Are you sure you’re boarding this time?” he asked, chuckling. Then two minutes later into the conversation he playfully interrupted you and asked again.

“Oh, shut up, you daft idiot,” you laughed back at him. The tension and frustration that had lain between you both the last couple of weeks had dissipated, leaving peace, happiness and excitement in its place. Your interaction with Richard had become what it once was: playful banter, heart to heart conversations and philosophical debate. Usually the philosophical debate came from a book that Richard had been reading, and you had no idea what he was talking about, but would try your best to keep up.

Suddenly a voice came over the tannoy. “Welcome to this United, non-stop flight to JFK International Airport. All business passengers and Star Alliance card holders are now welcome to board.”

“Boarding is starting,” you told Richard. “I should land at around two, and hopefully the queue through border control will be quick.”

“I can’t wait to see you,” he replied with a sigh. “I love you. Safe journey, angel. I’ll be waiting in arrivals for you.”

“I love you, too,” you told him, meaning each word.

The flight seemed so long, so much longer than seven hours. However, this was only your second ever flight. Normally Richard came to you in London, and the only other time you had flown was when you had gone on holiday to Spain in your teens with your parents, and hated every minute of it. The take off was the exiting part but once you were in the air, you felt the tension in your muscles at every tiny bump. The loud sound of the engines did not ease your nerves either. The landing was even worse; you braced yourself for the whole descent, feeling as if you were crashing.

Finally you were on the ground and you saw the terminal. You followed everyone out, holding your large weekender bag with your valuables in. The sights and sounds were completely alien to you, but the thought of being with Richard again meant that you didn’t concentrate on the new environment as much as you should have.

Immigration was swift despite the long queues; an officer asked you a couple of questions regarding your entry clearance which showed up against your passport. You gave Richard’s address where you would be staying, and explained you were coming to join your partner. Then you had your fingerprints taken. The officer stamped your passport, smiled, and allowed you to go.

Next you collected your large suitcase from the carousel and began your walk to the main arrivals area where friends, family and taxi drivers waited.

Your heart began to race and you felt the butterflies hit your stomach as you walked through the vast terminal towards the exit. You walked through the door, exhaling loudly, and then you saw him.

The butterflies flapped viciously and you laughed, dashing towards him. You never noticed the large bouquet of roses in his hand as he grabbed you tight and kissed you, not caring who was watching.

You looked at him for a couple of seconds and brushed your hand down his cheek, feeling his beard beneath your touch. “This is it, Rich. I’m yours,” you whispered.

Fin.

[n0ttinghamshad0w]

The Game’s Afoot! || Crime Squad

In which Rob robs the Davis house, with a little help from Andrina, Desoto, and Sarina...

@andrina-the-amazingsupergenius @accendimi @desotosykes

[CW: uh crime? creepy gnomes, slight implied child abuse mention]

Here’s the plan as I’ve got it laid out, yeah? She’s movin’ stuff, I know this, been movin’ things for a while. Not sure why, but judgin’ from all the stuff, I think she’s got a new place and may be rentin’ this place out at one point — anyways, point is that she’s out this weekend, the 27th of July and that’s when we’re goin’ in —

We’ve got the van, picked up a spell from one of the sorcerers in town to make it look like a movers. We’ve got the uniforms. ‘Ts gonna be as simple as walkin’ right up to the front door, only we’ve got Andrina here to disable all the security. Once we’re in, we divide and conquer — one of yas, Sarina, yeah, get to the safe and pick it open. Take whatever else you want — we’ll ditch the van right as we leave, burn the uniforms, and divvy up the stuff to pawn....

ANDRINA: 

Today, after months of planning and foreplay, Andrina was going to help rob Crazy Gnome Lady.

 Fun! 

 She got to wear a super sexy, special crime outfit for the occasion-- a cookie-coloured jumpsuit with a logo stitched to the front advertising MIKE’S MOVERS AND SHAKERS. She had to hand it to Rob; he had really committed to accuracy for replicating the logo down to the terrible Comic Sans font (graphic design was Mike Mover’s passion). Her favourite part of the look was actually the baseball cap, which she threaded her long, curled ponytail through, and used to hide the headset that would let her talk to her version of Oprah’s Book Club-- some hot chick named Sarina, some Italian Mobster transported straight from the set of the Sopranos named DeSoto, and their fearless, foxy leader, Robin Hunt, posing as the infamous Mike Mover himself. 

Important supporting characters included the moving van they’d rented for the occasion, sporting the same logo. 

 Also, the gnomes inside the Crazy Gnome Lady’s house. 

 Phase One began here: parked right in front of the aforementioned target. It still felt slightly counterintuitive to Andy. When Rob had told her they were gonna just roll up to the driveway, she’d raised her eyebrows. You sure you’ve done this before? Shouldn’t we park down the street? Wait for the cover of night? Plan a diversion?

That’s more suspicious, he’d told her and flashed a toothy smile, his confident tipping over to a cockiness Andy found very sexy. The secret to gettin’ away with somethin’, he told her, is to pretend like there’s nothin’ to get away with.

 And so the mid-afternoon sun was their spotlight. It was time for Andrina’s debut. Cue Ashley O’s On a Roll from Andy’s phone hooked up to the aux, and Andy cracked her knuckles and got started. 

 Her laptop pulled up, she clacked her way into Gnome Lady’s wi-fi. “Leeeet’s see….” she said, her tongue edging out against the bottom of her lip as she started to poke around Gnome Bitch’s desktop remotely. While the rest of her daring, dashing crew were going old-school bulgery, she’d get a chance to mine the digital treasure trove for any extra goodies. But for now, she was looking for one thing and one thing only-- 

 “Annnnnd-- disabled,” Andrina chirped as she deactivated Gnome Bitch’s security system.

 The house remained perfect still and silent, a sleeping giant of brick and mortar and ugly beige. 

 Andy flashed her grin at her comrades. “It’s moving day.” 

DESOTO:

This whole thing was kinda strange for Des. Not in the way he’d never done it before. Naw. He’d broken into houses and even stores before when he was a helluva lot younger. And dumber. What was strange was the amount of planning that went into it. The team that was put together and the plan that had been laid out by the man that had contacted him what felt like months ago. It was smart. Brilliant even. And the fact they’d just be… waltzing into the house and taking shit? It made it even better. Maybe he’d have to invest in this sort of crime more often. It was stress free. Stress free crime. Ha.

Dutifully he waited for the okay to head inside, pulling the ball cap he wore down out of instinct. They had the disguise as a moving company but there was still that slight paranoia that made him want to be as unnoticeable as possible. It’s why they’d gotten the gloves, right? An added security measure to further protect their identities if anything happened.

Following the mental map that he’d created as Rob detailed what he would be charged with getting and where exactly it would be, DeSoto made his way through the too goddamn beige house to get to his target. The room was, surprise, beige with pictures of gnomes and pixies and were generally creepy. No matter where Des went in the room it felt like those creepy little eyes were on him, watching every step he took. Were those where the cameras were? Hiding in creepy pictures so that any wrong doer would know intrinsically that they were being watched? Would be crafty of her, honestly. Crafty and creepy. Right up this lady’s alley.

The room itself was huge. Bigger than any one person would need. DeSoto understood the need for space, though. His own room back home had been too large. He’d filled the space with a large bed and then let it get cluttered with a shit ton of things that didn’t exactly matter to him but filled the space. Almost as if he were trying to fill an empty spot within himself. This room felt like that. Though, certainly more like a strange tomb. It smelled of the kind of perfume that made your allergies act up and mothballs. Idly he wondered how he’d drawn this room but pushed the thought to the back of his mind as he began combing through the drawers of the huge vanity. 

Rob had told him that the old broad had a ton of jewelry but he hadn’t anticipated this damn much. Each drawer was filled to the brim with gaudy jewelry that was organized by style. Bracelets, necklaces, rings, those weird things old broad’s wore on their shirts. Obviously he wouldn’t take it all but a good amount would be missing next time she bothered to look at any of this crap. Easily DeSoto began packing shit away, filling the box he’d brought with random expensive looking pieces. They’d get a pretty fucking penny for all this shit and Des wouldn’t have to worry about funding his next batch of drugs for a good while. 

Next was the closet, the smell of mothballs even stronger as he began pulling dress after dress from the hangers they were on. Each was made of exquisite fabric and for a brief moment Des wondered where the hell this bitch wore these clothes. There certainly wasn’t any place in Swynlake that warranted this fashion. Not hat it mattered. He was here for a paycheck, basically.

JELLY:

Jelly had one last job in Swynlake before she left. A job that Sarina had accepted and why not. If she fucked up she would just kick someone's ass and bounce sooner than expected. She was already burning bridges that Sarina had so nothing would follow her. 

And neither would this rag tag group of people she was apparently robbing a house with. She however did admire the plan. Jelly didnt want to deal with them. Let her be alone and make sure Sarina's skills worked in her favour.

She was just sad she didnt wear her heels to listen to the sound of clicking on the hardwood floors as she proved to herself over and over why she was better than all of them.

And this stupid moving uniforms. It was gross. 

That was for another time though as Jelly walked into room. It was impressive. At least until she spotted that creepy ghome. What was with this bitch and Ghomes. For a human she really had a lack of family pictures. Wasnt that a high human thing. To look at your loved ones 24/7. Not that Jelly cared. 

Jelly almost wished she was here just so she could play with the obsession. Make the woman think she was shattering all of them. Actually Jelly would shatter all of them. Let's not lie.

Glancing around the room Jelly walked over to the creepy painting not wasting any time and pulling the thing off the hooks. If there was anything she knew about humans was that they were predictable even on the worse days.

And a safe behind the picture. Yeah that was obvious. Settling in Jelly pulled up to the safe focusing on Sarina's memories without giving the girl a chance to breath instead ripping them from her mind without a concern for the pain she caused her. 

Listen to the locks. Be smooth in your motions. The fact you could insert a wire in the right place to give you better access. It was all there and Jelly loved it. Sarina had to easily be one of her favourite hosts.

It didnt take long for her to have the safe swing open and there was the cash nicely bundled just asking to be taken and as Jelly grabbed it the numbers rang in her mind. 

1000. 

1500.

2000.

3000.

4680.

Not a bad haul for less than half a days work.

ROB:

He’d let his two accomplices handle the bulk of the haul. He dinnit care what they took, s’long as they weren’t stupid (and he knew they weren’t stupid — Sarina’d done this before and before, and Desoto had a stake in stayin’ in the town so he wouldn’t fuck up). While they plundered, Rob idlly walked through the halls of the house.

He was on the hunt, you see, but not for money or jewels or any of the stuff he’d promised Sarina and Desoto (he’d promised Andrina the thrill of the chase, and out of everyone, he hoped she got what she was after). Nah, you see, Rob was lookin’ for something else. 

Normally, see, he’d take something — a mug that said Number One Dad from a dad who dinnit deserve it; a mother’s flask tucked away under a pillow; gambling stubs; a belt used for punishment —

But this house was barren. There wasn’t a single indication that Mrs. Davis even had kids, let alone two, let alone one of the kindest souls Rob had ever known, let alone a boy buried in the ground.

Nothing he could take that would remind her of what she’d done.

As he walked by the fireplace, he glanced at the garish modern paintings on the mantle and the thought occured to him. 

He reached in his pocket, pullin’ out the photograph Tuck had given him, smoothin’ out the edges. It was a young Mrs. Davis, her first husband, and Tuck as a baby — already Mrs. Davis’ face was stern and she held her baby at a distance. This’d been taken a few months before they decided they dinnit want him. He’d been left unceremoniously on the doorstep of the orphanage, as if Mrs. Davis were some woman in a Victorian nove dying of a wastin’ disease.

Rob wasn’t sure how she got from Nottingham to here, wasn’t sure what she told everyone happened to the first kid.

What he did know was that she left Tuck. She left Tuck and she had another kid and she dinnit even remember that her son was dead, dinnit even act like he existed —

He didn’t want to leave the photo, the only thing of Tuck he had, but there was a spot open on the mantelpiece. 

With a gloved hand, he smoothed out the creases and left it right on the empty space. 

[psicomma-s-very-secret-lab]

First night at the Asylum

This has been in my inbox (the old lab's inbox orz) for a looooong time and it's not even the oldest question LOL. I postponed my answer bc I wanted to incorporate some art here and I haven't had the chance to draw Shaun and Lo together in ages but man I feel like answering this after all this time cause their story is important even though it's been eclipsed by the story between Shaun and Ani ;__; (Girl look what a mess you've made smh)

Shaun and Loan's story is gross I'll tell you right away. If you want something cute or even remotely decent and healthy, better go on your way.

That question would actually require me to review all Asphyxia and Asphyxia Unplugged from A to Z, so I guess I'll only cover the encouter, from Loan's perspective here. Trigger warnings : violence, sex, drugs, French, and obscenely long post.

______________________________________________________________________________________________

Loan is 18 when he meets Shaun for the first time. He recently left the family home to move to the big city. After a few weeks in university he realises he has absolutely no interest in pursuing an academic career and drops his literary studies. He begins to live at night and makes a few acquaintances; Madame Charlie, a drag queen and a retired sex worker owning a pub in Camden town quickly takes Loan under her wing and the Ace of Hearts becomes Loan's rehearsal place for him and his newly formed band, Asphyxia. Loan also finds a part time job as an apprentice tattoo artist thanks to his connections ; it amuses him for a while, less boring than uni but he doesn't take it very seriously either. Loan has a brief affair in the end of the year with a guy called Adrian, the only contact he kept from university. Adrian had a brand new kind of stress reliever he would use before his finals, and he generously offered to share some with Loan one night after an okay fuck. That's when Loan takes his first bite in the poison apple. 

It was just a few puffs but the feeling heroin gave him was so amazing it got Loan coming back for more, and more and even more. His growing lust for the substance probably scared Adrian away cause the guy stopped answering Loan's calls eventually. That's when he thought it'd be a good idea to get wasted and drag his skinny ass up to the North of London in the middle of the night to get some by himself. 

He was walking down your typical film noir stinky dark alley when two guys approached him and started to molest him. Loan never knew what sobriety and subtlety meant so he would always go outside dressed like a glam punk whore and it never failed to get him into trouble of course.

Loan fought back quite honourably, he even managed to give a nice black eye to one of his aggressors thanks to his armour ring. But he eventually ended up being kicked to the ground, curling himself up like a louse. He heard the loud barking of a big dog and the beating suddenly stopped. A voice coming from afar shouted across the alley "Aren't ya fucktards supposed to be working?" – Silence. The dog growled.- "'The hell are you lookin at? Get the fuck out of here." They left in a hurry, their tail between their legs. Loan heard the ferocious barks again when the two guys ran away, then he heard the panting breathing of the dog and its claws on the pavement ; it was coming near him. Loan opened an eye and despite his blurry vision he could distinguish the big, drooling face of an adult rottweiler being busy sniffing his jacket.

« Aika. » The dog immediately left Loan alone, going back to its owner’s side. He could see a long shadow stretching on the ground. He was only a few feet away, slowly getting closer.

Loan was still shuddering on the pavement when he saw a hand reaching out to him. His brain was too dizzy from the beating and the alcohol he didn't hesitate one sec before grabbing that hand. He was freezing and that hand was oddly warm. Loan stumbled as he got back on his feet. "Hey, easy there." Then he spat out some blood before finally looking at his accidental saviour. 

And there he was. Shaun Myers. If only Loan had known all the trouble this man would bring upon him he would probably have run away like the devil was chasing him the second he met those eyes. He first noticed his height ; being 6'3'' and always wearing big combat boots Loan wasn't used to have to look up to meet the eyes of whoever he was talking to. 

Shaun shamelessly rose Loan's chin with his hand, wiping some blood off with his thumb, suddenly noticing Loan's pretty features. The dog was staying still, only its tail wriggling slowly.

"You. You're definitely not a whore." He said scrutinizing Lo's bruised face. Loan said nothing. 

"And you're far from home, aren't ya?"

"Kinda." 

"What brings you here?" 

"I don't know. What do you think brings people here?"

The dog didn’t seem very convinced by Loan’s answer and snarled, baring its teeth.

« Aika… » Its owner said, in a low but firm tone. The dog calmed down, sat reluctantly at Shaun’s feet, still visibly suspicious about Loan.

Shaun smiled, amused by Loan’s wit and his dog’s animosity towards him, then he lit up cigarette and Loan was instantly struck by Shaun's bicoloured gaze. Every single detail about his face set his insides on fire. But it only lasted for half a second- when the lighter swallowed back the flame the image got lost into Loan's numb mind and quickly faded into oblivion. 

"Follow me."

Loan followed Shaun for what seemed like an eternity. The streets were poorly lit but he felt like everyone was looking at them -the hobos, the hookers, the creeps at their windows-  it was like everyone was staring at his open lip and smudged makeup. Little did he know that people weren't staring at him because of his looks, but because of the tall dark stranger beside him walking with a huge rottweiler on the loose.

They arrived near what seemed to be an abandoned facility - probably used to be a school a few decades ago- some walls were partly demolished and the area was surrounded by Portakabins covered with graffitis that the builders must've been using by the time they were working on the site but now they were mostly squats for hobos and junkies. Shaun led him to a wobbly spiral service staircase and Loan almost fell a couple times trying to get down. "Watch your step" they ended up in a narrow alley - a smell of puke and liquor in the dry cold air - Shaun locked the staircase behind them as Loan started to hear some noise coming from nearby ; indistinct people chatting, dull basses, other big dogs barking... 

« You wait here. »

He whistled and left with the dog. Loan noticed the animal was strangely calm and didn’t respond when it heard the other dogs barking from afar. Shaun came back five minutes later, without his beast beside him.

"This way."

He led him to the opposite direction the noises were coming from, to what seemed like a fire door. Shaun pushed it and suddenly Loan was overwhelmed by the harsh neon lights and the infernal hubbub saturating the air of what oddly resembled a hospital corridor. "You're gonna stay here or what? Move your ass." The high pitched, crass laughter of a girl almost broke one of Loan's eardrums as Shaun got him into another staircase. Dirty walls covered with obscene caricatures, tags, spray paint, a guy with his hands inside the panties of the girl he was making out with at the third flight of stairs...

They must've been two floors underground when Shaun stopped in front of one of the doors with a red "Keep out" sign on it. While he was searching for  the right  key inside of his hoodie, Loan lost himself contemplating the graffitis. He noticed a used condom sticked to the tread of his boot. "Putain fait chier. Merde." Then a few 'clicks' and the door opened. Shaun held it open for him as Loan got inside. Never in his entire life had he heard basses so fucking loud. He could barely see in front of him. The atmosphere reeked of sex and marijuana. He could glimpse some sweaty naked bodies kissed by the electric blue neons lights as the DJ was blasting the beat even louder. For a second he lost sight of Shaun and bumped into an obscenely obese guy making him spill some of his drink "I'll cut you motherfucker!" Loan felt a hand grabbing his shoulder and taking him away before the guy could do anything "Better not get lost, Alice, we're already late."

"Late for what? What the fuck is this place??" 

"That's the Asylum babe, the only safe place for someone like you."

Loan was probably too wasted to understand that the Asylum was the actual name of this underground Babylon and he would learn later that Shaun wasn't exactly the type to make jokes anyway. 

Crossing the dancefloor of the Asylum was like swimming into the dark waters of the Phlegethon. A long time ago that place used to be an olympic swimming pool, the echo and even the tiles on the walls were still here- but now it was just a gaping black hole swarming with the broken souls of the fallen ones. 

As they arrived near the bar some girl, visibly quite drunk, made her way to Shaun and lasciviously wrapped her arms around his neck, Loan barely saw her murmuring a word to his ear before Shaun pushed her away with a rare violence. She fell on a  guy who was sitting at the bar, spilling all the drinks and breaking some of the glasses. Her head hit the counter as she fell down, her ankles twisted in what must've been an awfully painful position. Loan stared at her unconscious body in shock - Shaun didn't even flinch when he brushed her off and started to make his way upstairs, without even looking back. "You coming or what?" It was only now that Loan actually considered whether he should really follow that guy or not. He looked at that girl - he could read the words she was muttering on her lips "help me... One hit... Just one fucking hit..." as a some blood was running down her forehead.

Loan shook his head and climbed up the stairs. Some fucking stairs again. Everyone was staring at him, was staring at Shaun, but Loan was honestly too busy staring at Shaun's ass through his Levi's to notice any of that. 

Five minutes later this whole freak show seemed like a distant dream; the room where Shaun had taken Loan was quiet, so quiet it was hard to believe it was actually located in the same building. But here it was ; low ceiling, dim lighting, nothing on the walls where the yellowish white paint was partly bloated because of past inundations, no windows, just one queen size bed with messy sheets, a coffee table with an ashtray filled with cigarettes butts, a door half opened on what seemed to be a bathroom, and one big wardrobe facing the bed. 

"Make yourself at home." 

He sat on the bed as Shaun took off his jacket, beanie and hoodie, tossing them on the chair by the coffee table. Loan was ogling at each of his movements with impunity ; he was way too fucked up to give a damn about decorum. 

"I'll be back in a minute."

Less than a minute later Shaun was back into the room, opening his big hand under Loan's nose. A tiny freezer bag, containing a tiny amount of what could've easily been mistaken for flour or icing sugar.

"Your poison, Snow White."

Loan took the bag, observed it in the light of the bedside lamp as if he had any fucking clue about what he was doing. 

"That's 80£."

"80£??"

Shaun sighed "Jesus, you first timers are the worst. If you don't have the money I'm taking that back, also do I need to mention the house doesn't take credit cards nor cheques?"

"Fine." Loan glared at him shoving the bills into that greedy hand. Shaun hastily put the money inside his jeans' back pocket.

"Now do you wanna fuck?"

"Excuse me?"

"I said do you wanna fuck, like me and you."

"I-I'm not a whore."

"I know, that's why I'm asking you nicely."

Where the fuck was that guy coming from? Loan stared back at Shaun dead in the eye and saw he was serious. He tilted his head, pouted.

"Depends on what you have to offer."

In the blink of an eye Shaun pounced on him like a beast on its prey and before he knew it Loan was nailed to the bed, his face buried in the pillow. He could feel Shaun's hand pressing on his neck with a terrifying strength and he knew he could just snap it at any moment if he liked. He felt all his bulk lunging at his frail body as he leaned forward, until he was close enough so that Loan could feel the warmth of his breath against his ear.

"Just let me get this clear ; I don't have anything to offer. I'm gonna use you. I'm gonna take everything I want from you like it's my fucking birthday. And you're gonna love it even if in the end, you'll regret it, cause that's how it goes. You're probably gonna cry but it won't stop me. I'm not gonna give you my number, I'm not gonna give you a ride home, I'm not even gonna give you my name. Now if you're okay with that say yes." 

"Y-yes. Please." Loan panted. 

"Great." He said thoughtlessly before roughly pulling down Loan's jeans. 

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If you read this then it means you have vanquished this monster post, YAY! Here's a cookie to help you recover from that exhausting and traumatizing experience : 🍪

And ofc, special thanks to @ramblingpolkadots for the question! 😁 it was probably not the answer you expected but hey, it was fun to write this at least

[kbrown78]

Monthly Wrap Up: September

Looking back, September wasn't a great month. Granted I did read 9 books and 3 of those books were over 500 pages, but most of these books I didn't enjoy. There were a couple highlights and two of the books that I did read were non fiction, both I thought were fairly good. I will also say real quick that I tried to start the last book in the Gemma Doyle trilogy, but I gave up on it because it was the exact same story I had to endure in the second book and I wasn't going to deal with 800 pages of that.

The Defiant Heir by Melisa Caruso: This is the second book in the Swords an Fire trilogy, and I thought it was even better than the first, and I gave the first one 5 stars. First it does build off of what was established in the previous book, with the worlds and the characters. The main conflict is Amalia trying to prevent an internal war while also trying to solve what happened to the missing Falcons. This series is exactly what I want to read, with an amazing intellectual character who knows how to use her smarts to achieve her goals and is someone who tries to do right thing. The relationships are all astounding, female friendships in particular, and I like that Amalia's mother is an active presence who cares about her daughter but lets her do her own thing. The romance is great too, despite the fact that there is a love triangle. The villain is despicably evil, but he's not mustache twirling and while he did have a sad past, that fact isn't even remotely treated as an excuse for his horrible actions. The plot keeps me invested and keeps adding new twists that add to the story. The world is fantastic, with each location feeling well developed and distinct from each other. Seriously the only complaint I have about this series is that it isn't longer. The Defiant Heir received 5 out 5 stars.

Bitterblue by Kristen Cashore: This book was such a disappointment. When I first read the Graceling trilogy, I hated the other two books, and I think that clouded my judgement and made me rate Bitterblue much higher. I do ultimately think Bitterblue is the best book in the series, but after rereading it I realize that it's not nearly as good as I originally thought it was. It's going to be hard to do this review without giving away spoilers, but I'll try. A brief synopsis is that Queen Bitterblue is working to help her kingdom recover and there are those that are trying to stop her. So Bitterblue makes an effort to be a good ruler and do the right thing in difficult situations. She's also book smart, which I usually like that type of character, but she did some really stupid things and was also quite bratty at times. There are two potential love interests, and I didn't really like either of them. One was just brooding, which I never like in a love interest, the other one was a bit boring. The weakest aspect of this book is definitely the plot. There's a sub plot about rebellion in the other kingdoms, but it was pretty irrelevant to the overall plot, and I just wasn't interested in any of the characters involved. This is the part where it's impossible to talk about the book with out spoilers, but I will say this. The struggle's that the kingdom is facing were well written and did a good job of exploring various themes of ruling and recovery. However, the big plot twist at the end that helps resolve their issues is so unrealistic that it causes the entire story to just collapse. The best aspects of this book were some of the themes explored and the art work because there are some beautiful interior designs. I would still say this book is the best out of the three, but looking back it isn't nearly as good as I remember it (although I do in part blame the reading slump I was in after finishing Defiant Heir, but only partly). Bitterblue received 2 out 5 stars and was my pick for the PopSugar promt “book with your favorite color in the title”.

Red Sister by Mark Lawrence: I went into this book with high expectations, and while it did live up to a few, it also disappointed me. The basic summary is this girl gets taken in by a convent of assassin nuns, where she spends her years training. Sounds like a pretty cool synopsis, but every time I hope a book is going to be similar to Harry Potter, with the schooling, it never lives up to that expectation. First I liked the protagonist, Nona. It was nice to have a female character who was a badass fighter, but she wasn't cold. She cares deeply about her friends and friendship and protecting those she cares about are important to her. That's not a type of character I see often. With that established, I do think some of the friendships were well done, like Hessa's, Arabella's and Clera's, because of how much they differ but at the same time feeling like it wasn't forced. Some of the nuns were interesting, but they didn't quite feel fully fleshed out, and one nun I hated because of how mean she was and I'm sick of seeing that kind of adult in fiction. The world building was so weird, and I honestly didn't like it because it felt very underdeveloped and made little sense. The story is Nona's story, but there times when I felt like it didn't focus on her and those were usually my least favorite parts because I was just invested in Nona, not in anything that was happening in the outside world or with any other character. Because of that there were some parts I honestly just skimmed through. I mentioned the Harry Potter thing, and what I meant by that is Nona has classes that she needs to take, and while they are mentioned, I didn't get much of sense of her learning. It was more like she suddenly had these skills, which I blame on both the lack of detail on what she did learn, and the poor pacing of this story, with those parts just being rushed through at a rate I couldn't even discern. So while I liked parts of the story, I definitely didn't love it was much as I thought I would and I'm not sure if I'm going to continue with rest of the series. Red Sister received 3 out 5 stars from me.  

The Silk Roads: A New  History of World by Peter Frankopan: I was originally going to be reading this book over the entire year, but I decided to just finish it up as some as possible. I didn't tag this book and I won't be doing a full review of it because it is historical nonfiction. Now the premise of the book intrigued me, exploring world history through the Silk Road, and I also though the cover was pretty. The first half of the book really intrigued because I like learning about ancient history, and it was very detailed and I was fascinated by what I was learning. My impression, however, had been that this book would primarily focus on ancient times, but this was not the case. I could have done with history that was all pre-1700s, but the last third of the book focused on history from the 1800s to modern times, and while I tried to pay attention because there was a lot that was relevant to today's world, I just couldn't focus as much as I had in the previous sections. That's not to say it wasn't as well written or well researched as the previous parts, I just wasn't interested anymore. So this book received 3.5 out 5 stars,  but that's only because it's a case of “it's not you, it's me,” and I would highly recommend this book to anyone that loves history.  

You Are A Badass by Jen Sincero: This was the other nonfiction I read this month, and this was just a real quick self help book. I do think overall it did a good job at identifying ways to improve but I do admit I started skimming through the extra text just to get to the bullet points. So helpful but maybe not presented in the most efficient way. You Are A Badass received 3 out 5 stars.

The Library at Mount Char by Scott Hawkins: Oh man, I was looking forward to this book, but it epicly failed. I read a sample of it and was really intrigued. It felt very mysterious, I didn't know exactly what was going on and I got the distinct impression that these characters weren't entirely human. Then I read the rest of the book and I didn't connect with any of the characters, I found the writing style to be increasing irritating, the story made no sense to me because I didn't understand what was happening and I didn't understand the sense of urgency, and I got increasingly sexist vibes from the story. All I can make sense of is that “Father” was gone missing from the Library and there's a lot of death and resurrection. I can't do a full review of this story because I DNFed it 50% through, I just couldn't take it anymore. I initially chose this one as my pick for the PopSugar promt “book set in a library”  and needless to say this book received 1 out 5 stars because I couldn't even force myself to finish it.  

Circle of Magic: Sandry's Book by Tamora Pierce: I hoped that I would enjoy this one. I've been looking forward to reading it for awhile. But lately I've really been struggling with YA, and even for a YA book I found this one to be bad. First, there's no plot. Literaly two major events happen in the book and that's it everything else was filler. What I remember of almost all my favorite reads as a child (with the exception being East) is that they got into the action and the plot fast, so I can definitely say that even as child I wouldn't have liked this book. I thought all the characters were pretty flat. I wasn't expecting to get everyone's perspective, I thought there would just be Sandry's perspective, since the book is literally called “Sandy's Book,” and I don't think adding in the extra perspectives helped the story in any way. I also got the impression that the children were acting overly immature but also the audience was expected to be immature. There was one scene where three of the character don't know what the word “kid” means, and it really irritated me. I won't be doing a full review for this one too, because I did tag it, but I didn't take any notes because of how overly simple this story was. I have the next 3 books and maybe they'll get better, but I'm in no rush. Sandry's Book received 1.5 out 5 stars.  

The Star Touched Queen by Roshani Chokshi: So I mentioned in the previous entry that I have been struggling with YA, particularly YA fantasy. This book, thank goodness, is a very pleasant exception to that. I really liked reading this book the first time through, and second read through, while there were a few things I disliked, I actually enjoyed the story even more. It's always pitched as Hades/ Persphone with Indian folklore, and both parts are so well done. I loved the romance, I loved the story, I loved the characters (most of them). The writing style is gorgeous, it's so flowery and atmospheric. I could see the vivid colors, I could taste the jewel fruit. I love Chokshi's books, and I cannot wait to get to her short stories that are set in the same world. Star Touched Queen received 5 out 5 stars.  

Sabriel by Garth Nix: And so we return to the YA slump. I shouldn't be too hard on this book though. There were some very interesting aspects of it, and the first half of the book was good. Sabriel was competent character who was trained to deal with death, and Mogget was this eerie figure that I kind of liked but was also kid of afraid of. I loved the focus on death, and how death is it's own world. The magic system was really cool to, with different marks and the bells. I thought the pacing of the first half was decent too, fast but not rushed. Things took a turn, however, when the love interest was introduced. It was so obvious this guy was the love interest, and the relationship felt so forced and there was insta-love, which I hate. After Touchstone was introduced, the pacing was so much more rushed, there was a lot of telling instead of showing, and there was also quite a bit Deus Ex Machina. Things really fell apart in the second half, and it turns out this was because the first book was going to be treated more as a prequel instead of a first book. Sabriel received 3 out 5 stars.

[i-w-p-chan]

Deicide

Summary: Akechi Goro and Kurusu Akira are just two reincarnated souls who simply go about their life while life happens to them.

OR

AU!Akechi Goro and AU!Kurusu Akira are reincarnated in P5 ‘verse. Crack happens.

Note: This is basically a vent fic where I write crack just for the sake of winding down after having four final exams in two days. One right after the other. So this is a mess…

Warnings: Crack, Self-Indulgence To The Extreme, This Is A Mess, Zero Effort Went Into This, Things Finals Make Me Do, Reincarnation AU, Mentions Of Kamoshida And Kamoshida-esque Asshole-ness (By Which I Mean: Very Brief Mention Of Past Attempted Sexual Assault. It’s Very Tiny And Not Detailed), Akechi And Akira Be In An Open Relationship, Implied Sin, Brief Discussion Of Sugar Daddy-hood And Sugar Baby-hood, Insufferable!Akechi To Akira’s Sane Man, Too Much Fun With Warning Tags.

Disclaimer: Don’t own P5.

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Akira stared pensively at the TV screen, taking in the features of the ‘second coming of the Detective Prince’; brown hair, reddish-brown eyes, a sweet smile, a gentle demeanor.

No wonder he already had fans.

Akira sighed.

The door to the apartment he lived in opened and a voice called out, “Honey, I’m home!”

Akira merely grumbled under his breath.

He could easily hear the footsteps approaching the living room where he was currently, and come up behind him.

“Oh, you’re watching that? The Detective Prince thing? My, oh my~ Do you have a thing for cute, brown-haired high school detectives?”

Akira huffed as a body climbed over the back of the couch to drop into his lap and wrap arms around his neck.

“Aren’t I just mysterious?” Akechi Goro purred, fluttering his eyelashes up at Akira.

Akira deadpanned and poked Goro’s cheek with a finger.

Goro sighed forlornly, “My sweet, charming beloved won’t even pay me any attention.”

“Attention whore.” Akira rolled his eyes and Goro gasped dramatically.

“Oh, woe is me~ My beloved just called me a. A. An attention whore! How scandalous! What if someone heard you?”

“You didn’t seem that concerned about it last week when we went to that new restaurant and called me an attention whore out loud because I was trying to get the waiter’s attention for my order.”

Goro’s eyes glinted mischievously, “Your order was, as I recall, ‘one hot waiter spread out for me on the table please’ with a wink added at the end for good measure.”

“Details.”

“Oho?” Goro raised himself up to press his body flush against Akira’s as he looked at him through half-lidded eyes, “Well, I know what you can have spread open for you on your bed~”

Akira poked Goro’s cheek again, “Not today, not in the mood.”

“Oh, darn.” Goro pouted and climbed off Akira’s lap, “You know where to find me in case you change your mind~” With a wink thrown over his shoulder, he sashayed his way to the bedroom.

Akira sighed for what must have been the umpteenth time that day and fished around the couch’s pillows, looking for the TV’s remote.

(At least Goro didn’t make any comment about having the body of a fifteen year old giving him more stamina and energy to go for a long while, this time.)

He let out a small victorious nose as he wrenched the remote from between the couch’s cushions and flipped through the rest of the TV channels. He blinked as his eyes caught sight of the new episode of the TV drama, Steal Yo’ Hearts and cranked the volume up to its highest settings as he settled down to watch.

Goro was bound to be finished messing around with himself by the time the episode was done.

He could hear the sounds of his neighbors as they scrambled about to increase the volume of their own TVs and music players to the highest setting possible.

Their next door neighbor living in the apartment on their right screamed, “GOD, NO! DON’T START YET! AT LEAST GIVE ME A FIVE-MINUTE HEADSTART!”

Akira could then hear her slam open the door to her apartment and storm outside, her footsteps loud as she rushed to the elevators.

If Goro found out he basically had the neighbors, uh, trained to his moods, he’d be even more insufferable.

Did he have to be so loud?

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At some point during the episode, Goro had slipped out of the bedroom and into the bath to clean up, emerging fully showered after the episode ended and the credits were rolling, and heading straight to the kitchen.

“Akira! We don’t have food in the fridge and I hunger!”

“Tough luck! Remember it’s your turn to get groceries!”

“Ugh. I’ll get them later. I’ll just go get some food now.”

Akira called out as he heard Goro head to the door, “That food better not be paid for by one of your sugar daddies!”

“I don’t have sugar daddies!” Goro shouted as he was leaving the apartment.

“Tell that to the guy living a couple of blocks over!”

“Oh, come on!” Goro shouted again as he closed the door behind him, leaving to get food.

Akira sighed yet again, and then he straightened and his eyes flew open in shock before he vaulted over the back of the couch, rushing to the bedroom.

Goro had better not have left a mess on the bed behind! Akira slept on that bed!

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Akira had lived a whole life in the company of Akechi Goro. Heck, he even followed him after death, reborn into a new life and a new world, and met him yet again, only to be sucked into Goro’s life again with disturbing ease.

(Not that Akira minded, but he thought he was the hurricane of the duo, not Goro.)

(It was probably the rebirth process that was making Goro a bit more… unrestrained.)

Besides, it wasn’t like it wasn’t fun to tease Goro and poke fun at him from time to time (okay, most of the time).

“You graduated from being a sugar baby to having a sugar baby?” Akira asked, amused, as he watched Goro pose for a Kosei student who wanted to (nay, needed) Goro to become his model.

His nude model.

“I told you.” Goro sniffed indignantly, “I didn’t, still don’t, have sugar daddies! And similarly, I’m not anyone’s sugar daddy let alone Yusuke’s.” Goro blinked and frowned contemplatively, “Not that Yusuke won’t benefit from me becoming his sugar daddy… actually…”

“And that’s your cue to stop right there, honey,” Akira drawled as he saw the wide-eyed look on Yusuke’s face.

“Don’t mind Goro, kiddo.”

Yusuke’s face scrunched, “But aren’t we the same age, Akira-san?”

“I see you haven’t dropped the –san yet.” Akira pouted, “But, yes, we are. I just have more Goro-based seniority.”

Yusuke blinked, “Alright, senpai.”

Akira pouted harder and Goro had to restrain the urge to laugh out loud, “Congratulations, Aki-kun, you’re now a recognized senpai.”

Akira let his eyes droop to half mast and leaned towards Goro, “Well,” He purred, “You’re still senpai, senpai.”

Goro blushed and chuckled breathlessly.

“Well, aren’t you a flirt?”

“Always have been, babe.”

The two turned their attention at Yusuke when he hummed thoughtfully, “Would you model for me as well, senpai?”

Akira blinked, “Me?” His plain ass?

Goro nudged him in the side. Hard.

(Akira highly suspected that Goro had a sixth sense for every time Akira called himself plain-looking.)

“Yes.” Yusuke nodded, “It seems your presence brings out another side of Akechi-san. You complement each other.” Yusuke looked deep in thought as he added, “Like you are each other’s foils.”

Goro cocked his head to the side with amusement, and Akira had to repress a chuckle.

“Akechi-san. Your pose.” Yusuke snapped out of his thoughts to send Goro an absolutely adorable reprimanding look.

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When Akira had managed to convince his parents to let him move to Tokyo after he finished middle school, he applied and was accepted to Shujin, while Goro attended Kosei.

Goro had suggested that Akira apply for Kosei, but Akira had shot that idea down fast.

(Goro with his usual insufferable self would make some dramatic scene with him and cause rumors to spread about the whole school grounds, so no thank you.)

The decision to apply to Shujin turned out to have some unexpected… not exactly upsides but…

Let it be known that Akira did not tolerate people like Kamoshida Suguru, and the mere thought of what he could do in Shujin if left to run unsupervised due to how lax the principle was, made Akira shudder in disgust and rage.

Akira had never stopped nursing a grudge the size of the universe against sexual offenders since he was fifteen back in his previous life and had seen a temple priest attempt to drag Goro off to a secluded corner; since he was fifteen and had thrown himself at the priest, all claws and teeth to get him away from Goro, uncaring that the priest could literally call forth heavenly wrath to strike him where he stood.

Kamoshida was no temple priest, he had no access to any magic whatsoever, and had no contact with any deity he could seek protection from. Akira would tear him a new one, and he’d make him regret-

.

“-speaking of strange incidents.” The show hostess smiled blindingly, “There is the news of what happened with Kamoshida Suguru, former Olympic medalist and current teacher at Shujin Academy. What are your thoughts, Akechi-kun?”

Goro smiled back at the hostess, just as blindingly, “I have seen his face, and it looks like he ended up in a spat with a cat. A cat with quite the impressive set of claws; the scratches looked deep.”

“A cat?” The host chuckled, “You believe it’s a cat.”

“It’s highly likely, as anyone who’d seen his face could guess. Besides, I’ve had my fair share of scratches from my cat as well.”

“My!” The host honed in on the new bit of information, “A cat, you said? You own a cat?”

Goro chuckled, “I own the cat and the cat owns me, we have a mutual understanding between each other. He’s such an adorable, handsome floof with sharp eyes. Unfortunately he’s camera shy.” Goro pouted slightly.

.

“You called me a cat! On TV! I can’t believe you called me a cat!”

“But it’s the truth!”

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Goro frowned and pressed his lips together into a displeased line, dragging Akira closer to him to bury his head into Akira’s messy hair.

He felt Akira turn around in bed to face him and wrap him in his arms, “Bad dream?”

Goro grumbled and let one of his eyes crack open slightly, “It’s that dream again. The one with the blue room and short man with long nose.”

Akira raised his hands to tangle them in Goro’s hair before he raised himself to press his forehead against Goro’s, letting their mental link open up and allow the memories to flood into Akira’s mind.

The two only rarely used their mental link due to the risk of information overload that could happen to either or both of them, but the recurring dreams Goro had been seeing for a year now about that very same blue room and the long-nosed man were worrying, as they seemed to press heavily on Goro’s mind, as if they were attempting to influence it in some way.

Akira was willing to take the risk to use the mental link to see for himself, so that they could find clues because Goro could never remember any other details. Hell, it was lucky he even recalled the few details he did.

Akira pulled back with a frown, unfortunately, the memories were already slipping from Goro’s mind, and so Akira couldn’t find anything he didn’t already know.

Goro took one look at Akira’s face and his frown deepened, “Nothing new, yeah?”

Akira nodded, “I think we should start actively looking for the cause.”

Goro pressed a hand to his own forehead and closed his eyes, digging deep into his psyche, if they were looking to confront whatever asshole trying to but in on their lives, then…

This world didn’t have the obstacles that demanded the two use their skills from their previous life to counter them; this world didn’t have people who could use magic, period.

And so, both Goro and Akira never had to call on to the power lying dormant in their cores.

But now…

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“The word of the day is deicide.” Goro declared as he sat down on Sae’s desk and started flipping through the file in his hand.

Sae looked up at him, eyebrow raised, “If you’re referring to the mess with Shido, then I’d like to tell you that it’s completely inaccurate as Shido is no god and no one had killed him, not even in the metaphorical sense. Someone leaked information about his immoral dealings, true, but it’s the outrage of the public that’s causing the problems for Shido more than anything else.

“Now, get back to work on Madarame’s file, you personally asked to take care of his case and I indulged you, so you better not disappoint me.”

“Oh, that’s not what I mean.” Goro chuckled before he gestured towards the screen in the office, broadcasting a news coverage about a protest calling for Shido to go down, “It looks like someone killed the god of apathy, and suddenly, everyone cares.”

Sae snorted, “I told you to get back to work, didn’t I?”

Goro saluted her, “Yes, ma’am.”

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End