#it’s just so embarrassing and it must feel actually terrible to be the boyfriend

[nct127s]

those bisexual women who pander to people who hate on them for having boyfriends are so cringe, the whole ‘omg I hate being with a man’ ‘men are so awful’ ‘I wish I had a girlfriend instead of boyfriend’ stuff is genuinely awful, I hope your man leaves you because you’re actually a piece of shit

[stunies]

KINKTOBER DAY 3 — CUCKOLDING. Hayato Suo x AFAB! Reader, ft. Sakura Haruka ﾉ In which Sakura doesn’t think he’s ever held his phone in his non-dominant hand… until tonight.

NOTE — This was written with the aim of being as gender neutral as possible, but is still tagged as AFAB just in case. With that being said, here’s my submission for @ficsforgaza’s 2024 Kinktober Collab! Thank you for taking the time to organize this & also thank you to those who sent in requests!

ᘏ ft. Hayato Suo (top) x AFAB! Reader (bottom) — Established relationship (Sakura x Reader), Sakura lets Suo have reader for a night. Cuckolding, masturbation (Sakura), consen. recording, praise, creampie (mention), light choking + fear play, very heavy overstimulation, mention of cum eating + toys (dildo) ﾉ 1096 wc

𓂃 LINK TO FFG KTBER MLIST ﾉ LINK TO STUNIES KTBER MLIST

Attachment: 1 Video.

Sakura’s brow twitches at the smiling emoji attached just beneath the video. It looks a little bit too happy for his liking— smiles like it can see him squirming through the screen.

He clicks onto the video, now comfortable enough to shift his phone into his left hand so the other can slip underneath the blankets to grab the base of his cock.

It’s much more sensitive than usual— twitches against his palm and he winces. Luckily enough for him, his room is completely silent aside from the sound of his own breathing. It’s a good thing. If anyone was near him and caught a glimpse of what he was about to do, he thinks he might actually die of embarrassment.

The video starts off with a loud rustling before he hears the muffled sound of laughter- a lighthearted chuckle.

It’s the same one he hears on a daily basis, and his cock throbs— this time dripping pre-cum onto his stomach- though he can’t find it in himself to tear his eyes off the screen for even a moment to clean it off.

“…..Eyes on me…. remember?” The microphone just barely picks up the voice, but Sakura can still make out the words. “We went through this earlier, didn’t we?”

The lewd cry that follows makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight. It takes him less than one second to recognize it as you— even if he’s never heard you sound so thoroughly ruined before. “Shit,” Sakura grumbles to himself. He’s leaking so much.

If you were with him instead of Suo tonight, would you be licking up the cum that’s spilled onto his stomach? You’ve always had that terrible habit of teasing him with your tongue. Did you learn that from Suo too?

“Oh dear.” Suo’s voice sounds much clearer now. “Let’s try and last a little longer, okay? Sakura will be watching soon, after all.”

He emphasizes ‘Sakura,’ and you instantly respond to the sound of your boyfriend’s name with a whine. “‘S so- sensitive. I c-can’t…Suo..!”

He can understand you even with the way your words come out unsteady from how hard Suo’s fucking you.

Sakura’s cock feels heavy in his hand when he finally starts jerking up and down, trying to listen carefully and match his pace with Suo’s. It’s hard. He’s breathing loudly— almost panting at this point, and you’re not being much quieter either.

“You still have one more in you,” Suo coos. “Give me one more so Sakura can see, okay? Here.”

The two of you finally come into view. Suo adjusts the camera once more before turning back to you, giving you a light slap to your cheek- just enough to snap you out of your daze. “Ready? Let’s give him a good one.”

“O-okay.. I’ll try.”

God, you sound so broken.

You look even worse off. Your arms are covering your eyes, mouth parted open in loud pants, and your body inches further up the bed with each thrust of his hips. Your lips look swollen too.

Suo must not have liked your habit of hiding from him, because he slows down and gives you a low hum. A warning. You tear your arms off your face as soon as you hear it, dazed eyes narrowing in your best attempt to focus and look at him properly.

“Better.” He smiles. “So tell us… does it feel good?”

You nod, and his pace slows again. “No.”

“I taught you better than that, didn’t I? Use your words. Tell Sakura exactly how you feel.” Suo leans down until his earrings tickle your cheek, and you practically shrink underneath his gaze. “Where do you feel it?”

Sakura forgets to breathe when he watches Suo push your thighs up towards your face with a sweet smile, letting him slam deeper inside you— your thighs instinctively jerking and slapping against his own.

“Ah!” Your head falls back against the pillows, and he tilts his head with a content grin. “Oh. Here?”

“M-mhm… there!”

Suo’s eyes darken, and the panic that rises to your face almost makes Sakura cum on the spot. “No! Wait— I meant… ah… I do.. feel it..! Deep. Super deep… ah… it feels so good..”

You seem relieved when he gives you a pleased smile in response. “Mhm. Good. You’re so good.” He rubs his thumb along your jaw, then moves up towards your cheek. “Keep doing that. Keep talking to Sakura when I reward you.

“I’ll make you feel even better if you tell him all the things you want to try with him after tonight.”

His hand moves down to linger over your neck, and your eyes widen. He feels you swallow a nervous gulp underneath his fingers. “Well? Go on.”

It’s cute how your face still burns at the request even in your delirious state. You’re still able to feel embarrassed— the both of them can tell with just one look at you. Though he still has the rest of the night before he gives you back to Sakura. If he’s watching the video now, that means Suo’s job is done and that it went well.

“H-Haru…”

The whimper that leaves his lips at the sound of you calling out to him is pathetic. “Suo… he.. ah— told me to go on all fours. He said.. to keep my face against the mattress— ah! So.. he pushed it down for me. Filled me up with cum… and then he gave me.. this.”

You weakly nod at the dildo beside your head, gasping when you feel Suo’s cock twitch inside you at the mere memory. “Suo said.. to plug it up… keep it all inside.”

“Mhm.” He smiles at you like he’s proud. “And then?”

“S-said to clean it all off with my tongue— and.. and show him my mouth. And then he said— ah.. to do all that with you next, Haru—” he interrupts you with an amused laugh.

“That’s right. Sakura— you’re watching, right?”

“I’ve taught them a lot of things tonight.” He gives you a light squeeze around your throat, and you clench down around his length. “You’re welcome to ask your partner all about them. I’m sure they’d be more than happy to replicate what they learned with me.”

He turns to you.

“Isn’t that right? I just felt you squeeze.” You almost nod— but you catch yourself just in time. “Y-yes.”

“Mhm. It's good to be honest, isn't it? You’re so good. Let’s wrap this up now. We shouldn’t make Sakura wait too long.”

𓂃 graphics by @ ficsforgaza ; animated line divider by @ cafekitsune

[nimmie-nugget]

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Concept: Logan as your Boyfriend

Note: I JUST KNOW THAT IM GONNA COME BACK TO THIS IN THE FITURE AND THINK “oh wow why did I make this, kinda cringe😬” 💀💀 NOT BCS OF LOGAN SINCE HES SO BBG BUT MAINLY BCS OF MY WORDINGS😭 BUT LETS JUST LIVE IN THE MOMENT!!! ALSO CREDITS TO MY COUSIN FOR THESE HEART THINGIESSS I LOVE HER SO MUCHHHHHH—Enjoy!

Warning: I apologize prior for any Grammer, Spelling+etc errors. Cringe?? Logan may be OOC >:(

SBG Masterlist

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NICKNAMES: Love, Darling, Honey. Just all that mushy cutesy stuff<3 Would probably be nervous when he starts giving you nicknames, not knowing if you’d like them. Definitely prefers a nickname for you though, like a shortened version since it reminds him of how beautiful your name is.

“[N/N]? C-can you help me out..please?” He fumbles, playing around with his fingers nervously as he blushed in slight embarrassment.

DATES: Anything to do with nature basically, would 100% keep sanitizer with him since he’s Germaphobic, we love a boy who keeps up with his hygiene<3

“[N/N], look here! Roses—” Proceeds to go on a rant about Plants and how they grow, even mentioning the littlest details.

LOVE LANGUAGE: Gifts, they’re a must!! Would buy you matching accessories with whatever pocket money he was given, have you SEEN him?!? His style is GREAT!!! Flowers too, not just any bought flowers though, he’d handpick the flowers himself and wouldn’t want ANYONE to help him because he wants to put effort in for you. He’s precious!!

“[N/N], here…I have a present for you..” He says shyly as he was outside you’re door, a hand on the back of his neck as he looks at his shoes, avoiding eye contact as he smiles slightly with a blush.

Holding out some handpicked flowers out for you with a keychain of your favourite Flower. The smell of hand sanitizer hitting your nose.

“…I hope you like them.” He glanced at you.

INSECURITIES: Thinks you’ll leave him one day if you find someone better. It’s honestly a miracle to him that you haven’t left. Often needs reassurance and you’re touch, unless your uncomfortable with physical touch then words with genuineness, fondness and care would work. Such an emotional boy, actually so sad :(

“Y-you pr-romise?” He sniffed as he’s curled into a ball, looking at you for comfort

CUDDLING: Little spoon most definitely, but wouldn’t mind big spooning if you’re feeling terrible<3

His head snuggled into you’re chest as his arms tightly wrapped around your waist, clinging onto you. Breathing softly as he falls into a much needed slumber.

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Lil Note: Hearts, Comments and Reblogs are Appreciated💙

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[mytheoristavenue]

MHA Mezo Shoji x Reader - Make Believe - VII

Summary: You ask Shoji to pretend to be your boyfriend for a dinner with your parents.

Warnings: mutual pining, fake dating trope, only one bed trope, nsfw, virgin!reader, virgin!Shoji, use of his quirk, mentions of scars, size difference, mentions of oral (fem receiving), heavy petting, angst, fluff

The night hours began to tick by as tried to wind down, doom scrolling on your phone. Every so often, your eyes would flick to the floor to the left of your bed- or more specifically, Shoji, still naked from the waist up, save for his mask. He laid on his back, having laid out his towel to rest on, also on his phone. You couldn't help but steal glances at his bare form, though it made you feel incredibly perverted. Your breath would hitch nearly every time he shifted, thinking he'd caught you for sure this time. He stayed none the wiser.

"Think I'll probably get some rest soon," he eventually said sitting up and stretching his muscles, twisting and popping his back. "Got maybe a blanket and pillow I can borrow?"

"Shoji..." your eyes softened at him, but you turned your gaze away before your words could capture his attention. "I'm not actually gonna make you sleep on the floor..."

"It was my idea, you aren't making me do anything." He persisted. "It's fine, really."

"Let me rephrase," you sighed, crossing your arms stubbornly. "I'm not going to let you sleep on the floor." You flashed a momentary smile, before realizing he was staring back and you glanced back at the wall, patting the spot beside you as you scooted over. "Get up here."

"I'm seriously good, (Y/N)," Shoji insisted, shaking his head. "The floor's actually pretty comfortable," he lied. "And if you don't have bedding to spare, I'll survive."

"Shoji," you warned, shooting him a glare. "Don't make me say it again." Sighing and giving in, he picked himself up off the floor, dusting himself off and scooping up the towel before draping it over the footboard. Hesitantly, he sat on the bed, legs still dangling. "Get under the covers, you'll weigh them down if you sleep on top." You said, swallowing at the way his body heat tickled your skin. Bashfully, he did so, lifting up the quilt and shimmying under it.

"Now, I think we should set some ground rules," you continued, trying not to let the lamp light show your red cheeks. "No cuddling, no touching, we sleep back to back, got it?"

"Right," he agreed, nodding and swallowing hard. "It'd be weird if that happened, considering we're not really dating."

"Yeah," you replied halfheartedly, rolling over as he did the same. You couldn't help but blush at the sensation of his bare spine against your clothed one. For a moment, you wondered if he'd notice if you lifted your shirt to feel his skin on yours. You promptly shook the idea out of your head when you noticed him trembling, lying stick straight.

"Shoji, is everything alright?" you asked, concerned, rolling back over and propping yourself up on an elbow.

"Yeah," he answers sheepishly. "It's kinda embarrassing." He chuckled.

"Tell me," you pressed, laying a hand on his forearm to see over his hulking form.

"My left arms fell asleep." he laughed nervously. "I'm not really used to sleeping on my side, I can usually only get comfortable sleeping on my back with my arms stretched out." He explains awkwardly. "I'm sure it'll be fine, though. If I get too uncomfortable, I'll go back to laying on the floor."

You felt terrible, you were so focused on your own comfort, that you forgot to take into account his. Of course, he wouldn't be able to sleep with his back to you, having three arms to lay on. "I'm so sorry, Shoji! I didn't even consider how your quirk must make mundane things difficult for you!" you worried, pawwing at his arm as he sat up with you. "I didn't mean to be so selfish!"

He waved you off, sctraching the back of his head, while trying not to fluster at your touch. "It's really okay, I totally understand. I guess I'm just built different," he laughed. "Literally."

"Maybe we should cuddle..." you suggested almost silently, twiddling your thumbs and staring at your lap.

"Hmm?" he hummed questioningly, glancing over and tilting his head.

"I-If we cuddle," you continued bashfully. "You can lay on your back and stretch out your arms, and I can lay on one of them." You explained. "Otherwise I could sleep with my head near your feet but..."

"Yeah let's not do that," Shoji joked. "But if you wanna cuddle we can..."

"I-it doesn't count though, it's not real, remember?" You said, more to reassure yourself than him.

"Right," he nodded, laying back as you pulled the cover back up. Once he was fully stretched out, you began to get comfy, snuggling up to his side. His top arms rested behind his head, his middle right supported yours, and middle left rested on his stomach along with bottom middle. The last one- the bottom left, snaked around your waist as his eyes fluttered shut, pulling you a bit closer with hand resting on your hip. Shoji could feel you become rigid under his fingertips, eyes snapping open and removing his hand. "S-Sorry, I-"

"I-It's okay," you interupted. "You can put it back..." To your relief, his hand crept back up to where it was before.

"This okay...?" he asked reluctantly, thumb ghosting circles over your pajama bottoms. You hummed in response with a nod. "Good," he replied sleepily. "I want you to feel good." Your head darted up to look at him, face entirely red. "I-I didn't mean anything weird! I mean like comfortable! I-i wanted to make sure you were comfrotable!"

Secretly, Shoji did want to make you feel good. Though it'd kill him to admit it, he was head over heels for you and was a victim to every emotion that came with that. Even the ones that left him pawing at himself in the dead of night, your name in whispers on the air around him. It was true that he had fallen for your kindness, power, and reckless care for others, but your evey thought left static on his skin.

It didn't help matters that you did not possess a single phyhsical attribute that Shoji disliked. He'd never consider himself as having a type, but if he did, you'd be the spitting image of it, and ervery good look he got at you reduced him to jelly. That's what landed him in this mess in the first place, an hour from home in borrowed clothes with a harsh sentance of detnetion surely awaiting his return. All you had to do was flash him that sugary sweet smile and bat your lashes and he was doomed.

"This is nice..." your voice shattered his thoughts and his attention returned to the present. "I wnder if it'll feel this nice when get to do it for real with someone."

A part of him wanted to lie and tell you it wouldn't feel nice with anyoen but him, irritated at the thought of someone else holding you, but he knew it'd be wrong. In the end, he compromised. "It probably will," she said sheepishly. "But one of the best parts of my quirk if that I give good hugs so..."

"You do give the best hugs..." you confirimed, voice tired and threatening to drift off.

"You know, if you ever want more hugs form me..." he trailed, unsure what he even planned to say. "Just ask..."

"As much as I love your hugs, Sho," you yawned, too lazy to even finish the last syllable of his name. "Think we should maybe spend some time apart when we get back."

Your noncahalant attitude about suggesting the two of you take a break from one another made his blood run cold and he couldn't keep his composure. "W-Why? Why would you want that?"

Your gaze shifted up to him questioningly. You'd hardly ever seen Shoji had strong emotions about anything so it unnerved you that he'd been so on edge all night. "What's with you?" you asked, perhaps a bit more accusitorily than you had to."

"What's with me?" He said, taken aback and confinscating his grasp on your hip, though if it was meant to be some sort of punishment or not, he couldn't decide. "What's with you?"

"Me?" You retorted, sitting up fully, officially offended.

"Yeah, you." He sassed back, also sitting up, towering over you, even hunched. "What, you just wanna go home and not be friends anymore or something? You know, for a fake relationship, this kinda sounds like a break up."

"A break up?!" you shouted in a hushed tone, so as not to wake your parents. "Shoji, we're not together! I just meant that someone has already probably started a rumor about us being gone together, if we cool it on spending time together, it might go away quicker!"

Swallowing hard, realizing he gravely misunderstood your intention, but still hurt, Shoji swung his legs over the edge of the bed, back facing you. "I still don't understand why you think I'd want that..." he trailed quietly, demeanor suddenly even tamer than usual.

"You wouldn't wanna nip a rumor that we were dating in the bud?" You asked skeptically. "You know how our classmates are, Shoji. We'd never hear the end of it."

"Not if it weren't a rumor..." he half confessed, peaking over his shoulder at you before glancing away.

You were befuddled and terribly confused. "What do you mean by that?"

He man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You drive me insane, you cannot possibly be this dense." His words cut you deeply, but you had no time to confront him as a pair of disembodied lips slithered over to you, doing the talking for his. "If you're embarrassed to be seen with me, you can just say that." He snapped, arms all crossed, save for the one that was tearing into you at the moment.

"S-Shoji, why would you think that?" you sstuttered out, tears welling in your eyes.

"Because at this point, you're the only one that this isn't real for. It's real to me, okay? "He sounded exhausted, voice hoarse anbd cracking with raw emotion. "You can't pretend not to know how I feel about you, it's so obvious."

You gulped, confused with heart racing. "Let's say for a moment that I don't..." you prod, hoping he'd shed light on things. An exhaserbated sigh came from him as he turned around to face you, dark and typically cold eyes glossy and over flowing with emotion.

"I'm obsessessed with you, (Y/N)." He stated, voice ragged like he'd run a marathon. "I'm head over heels for you and I always have been!"

"S-Shoji, I-" He didn't even give you a moment to respond, yanking his mask down in a fit of desperation, and crawling across the bed ot you, pressing his naked lips you yours at long last. You froze against him, rigid and unsure of what to do. Shoji had always been the special person you wanted to share your firsts with, but if you kissed him back this time, it would make it your first official kiss- was it the right time? The right place? Could you replay this moment forever in your head and feel fuzzy everytimne from it?

Reguardless, your body betrayed your rational thought, throat releasing a starved whimper as your lips smooshed against his with almost the same amount of need that he displayed. Eyes fluttering open, you were met with an unfirmiliar sight as you parted from him, panting. He did this same, catching his breath as he rested his forehead against yours, tension from hiding his feelings finally releasing with his exhale.

"I-I've never..." you began, stare glued to the bottom of his face. "I-I've never...seeen you without your mask before..." I admit quietly. Shoji's eyes blew wide as seperated from you the same way he had in the kitchen earlier, this time slapping a thick hand over his lips. He turned his back on you again, cursing himself for being so impulsive, all the while fumbling to stretch the fabric back over his chin.

Your hand found his forearm and you crawled closer hoping to comfort him. "I-I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me." he stressed, wrestling his mask back on. "Fucking thing..." he muttered angrily.

"M-Mezo..." You murmured, hoping the sound of his given name would catch his attention. Luckily for you, it did. He froze, still facing the wall for fear of being perceived by you.

"Y-Yeah...?"

"Let me see you..." you plead, trying to pry him towards you, hands on his biceps.

"I-I can't," he mumbled, shrinking into himself. "You'll think I'm a freak, I-"

"Mezo," you said again, more sternly this time. "Please? How am I supposed to kiss lips I've never seen?" The idea of you wanting to kiss him again seemed to spark hope in him, but it wasn't quite enough to fully chip away at his conviction.

"You'll never want to kiss me again if you saw what I looked like." He argued weakly, fingers grazing over his face.

"I'm willing to take that risk." you reassured only to be met with a swift:

"Well, I'm not."

Sighing, you stood up, creeping over to his side of the bed, standing in front of him, looking as if he were holding his face together in his hands. Gently, you took him by the wrists, prying the modesty away form his features. Hesitently, he let you, looking up at you as if he were a child trusting you to fix a beloved toy.

Once you had him unveiled, your heart skipped a beat and your breath hitched. His lips were wide, wider than that of a typical looking person, forming what you'd imagined would be the biggest, most dazling smile. Decorating his lips was a myriad of scars, though you couldn't possibly guess what could have cause them and you didn't intend on asking. You gingerly ran the pad of your thumb over a few, noting that they were deep and raised. Lastly, teeth, you noticed, were perfectly straight and ivory white and even though there was hardly a soul alive that had seen them, it was obvious that Shoji took great pride in his oral hygeine.

"Say something..." he begged and you watched his lips move, entraced in his appearance.

"Mezo..." There was his name again, sending chills down his spine with the airy way it fell out of your mouth. "You're so beautiful..." you said, unblinking, admiration not wavering in the slightest.

He had half a mind to come up with some smart alick remark, but he hadn't the time as he felt your lips brush across his, pressence ghostly and barely there. A part of him still longed for the comfort and modesty of his mask, but he was putty in your hands and he knew it, there was no way he was getting away from you so easily after everything he'd said.

"T-Thank you..." he choked out between kisses so delicate they could hardly be called such at all.

"I know nothing could ever make you feel confident in your looks after what you've endured that lead you to hide it but for what it's worth," You soothed, still standing between his legs cradling his head in your hands as he sat in front of you. "You really are just so pretty, Sho..."

It was as if that word made something inside him snap, jumping up, towering over you and pinning you to the wall opposite him. His lips instantly found yours in a needy kiss as his arms scooped you up. "C'mere," he muttered against your mouth as a second pair of lips brushed against your nape, lost in your hair as it peppered kisses on the back of your neck.

"M-Mezo..." you whimpered between hungry kisses, writhing in his grasp.

"This is all your fault..." he sighed against you, not letting go of your kiss for anything. "I told you, you drive me insane," You couldn't help but let your head fall to the side as you moaned, giving his second mouth more real estate on your throat. "Now I'm all riled up and I can't contain myself..."

You had never in a million years imagined the words he was blessing you with. Sure, you'd fantasized about him in a sexual way, but you never pegged him for the verbal type, yet here he was. He'd always somehow had a knack for making you blush but with the way he spoke to you, so deserate, yet stern at the same time made your knees weak as they buckled from beneath you.

"Careful there, baby," he cooed, catching you, reflexes sharper than ever. "Don't think I'm gonna go easy on you just because you can't stay standing." You didn't even have it in your to respond with proper words, simply groaning in his grasp. "What's the matter, baby?" He whispered, breath ragged against your face.

"M-Mezo..." you sighed, back threatening to slide down the wall if he weren't supporting you.

"I hear you," he grinned wickedly, pivoting backwards and laying you on the bed, looming over you. "Loud and clear." He studied your form, button up pajama shirt lifted up on your tummy, pink frilly duvet puffed around you. "Just let me take care of you, I've waited so damn long for this."

As soon as you nodded with permission, several pairs of disembodied lips descended upon you, sticking kisses to any exposed flesh they could find. One pair tickled your stomach with ghostly brushes, but never dared to ask for more real estate to work with. He wanted to give you the control, let you decide when and what you show him.

"Your skin's so soft," he murmured against it, though you were unsure where the voice had come from. "Can't wait to have it in my teeth."

His words flustered you infinitely further, nerves puppetting your arms up to sheild your face with your palms. "M-Mezo..." You whined again, unable to form little more than his name.

"I'm here," he replied, grounding you back into the moment as you zeroed in on where the words came from- his true mouth, above you, watching your writhe beneathe him. "Not going anywhere, I swear."

Your hands wiped down your face and sunk below your jawline, resting on your throat for a moment. You watched as he smirked, pearly teeth glistining in the moonlight that peeked through the window. "I'm afraid your gonna have to be patient if you want me to choke you," he teased, knowing well that that wasn't want was on your mind- well it was now, at least. "You'll get everything you want, I promise, just be patient for me, baby." He leaned back letting his lips press against your forehead.

"D-Don't patronize me..." you finally said, pouting as your fingers trailed beyond your collarbone and landed on the top button of your shirt.

"Oh, baby," he cooed, softening on his playfulness, realizing you were willing to share something special with him. "Do you wanna show me something?" You very timidly nodded before glancing to your right, embarrassed and having second thoughts already. That was until be began to dote on you, sealing your fate. "You're so generous, willing to share your body with me..." he sighed, lowering to his knees, still hovering over you, while scopping you up in his clamshell of an embrace. "I'll make sure to cherish it, however much or little you decide to give."

His words pulled on the strings of your desire, making you want to immediately strip fully, donating yourself to him, but you resisted. Trembling, your fingers worked your top button, spurred on by the gasp that escped his lips when the two sides of the attachment laid seperate against your sternum. One by one, they all came undone until your chest and stomach were one collumn of plush skin, framed by patterned cotton on either side. Your ribs heaved, rising and falling with anticipation for his reaction.

Shoji stared down at you with all the admiration of a devoted follower praying to a holy relic. He studied the way shadows and hightlights danced across your newly unvieled skin. "Say something..." you begged, just like he had earlier. "D-Don't just stare..."

"Theres nothing I could possibly say," he replied, making your heart sink, arms insticutally rising to protect your modesty. To your shock, your wrists were instantly pinned to either side of your head. "Don't hide from me, I wasn't finished." He warned softly, thumbs grazing over the veins that ran down your wrists. "Theres no words that could possibly begin to describe how you look right now but..." he paused, head dipping down to lay kisses on your ribs. "I'd die a happy man if I could spend the rest of my life staring at you until I could make some up."

You had never expected Shoji to be so elloquent. Everything he said or did made you feel like the only girl on the entire planet, you felt increadibly special here beneathe him. Your thoughts of his articulation, however, were shattered by the sensation of a long wet tongue slobbering a stripe from your belly button upwards, hooking under your right breast, tickling you in a terribly lewd manner. Your breath hitched and no amount of self control could have ever stifled the embarrasing moan that slipped into the air. "Me-Mezo!" You cried, overstimulated tears pricking your screwed shut eyes.

You could feel him chuckle against your skin as he sloppily made out with the crevice under your breast, teeth nashing against the curvature of it where most of the weight rested. To him, it was heaven or better, having your still partially obscured tit resting against his face, supple skin under his tongue. "Mezo..." you crooned, craning your neck upward, fruitlessly trying to find his gaze. "T-Touch them..." you granted permission, only to have him refuse your request, chuckling darkly.

"You gotta take it off for me if you want more than this," he teased, nuzzled into your ribcage. "I'm only workin' with what you give me, baby. Ball's in your court." With that, you promptly wiggled out of your shirt, tossing it in a direction you didnt care to look for, before laying back down, blushing at the way he ogled you as your breasts settled against your chest. "Shit..." his breath hitched as he stared hungrily at your nake torso.

"T-Touch me, please, Mezo?" you plead, batting your lashes up at him. His hands were on you in an instant- all of them. Fingers gripped your hips, carressed your ribs, kneaded your tits, touched you everywhere all at once. The delicious and foriegn stimuli overwhelmed your senses immediately, extracting strings of vulgarity from your vocal chords. Shoji revelled in your songs, eyes half lidded and full of desire as his digits tickled you in the best ways.

"Like that, pretty thing? Like my fuckin' hands all over you?" He smirked, drunk on the moment as his fists closed around any flesh they could find.

"Y-Yes, God, yes!" you cried, squirming under him, only to have him press a firm hand to your sternum to hold you still.

"Stop fucking moving," he commanded with an arroused and cracked laugh. "Let me look at you, baby." You froze at his words, desperate to do anything to get him to shower you in praise again. "Shit, so pretty..." he cooed, dipping down to trail kisses down your chest and tummy before two extra mouths appeared from the hands that girpped you moments ago. Before you had time to question, you gasped, back arched like a cat as you felt tongues and teeth enclose on your nipples simultateously.

"F-Fuck..!" you hissed, throwing your head back as tears bricked your eyes. "M-Mezo!"

"I know baby," he hushed, ghosting his lips over your gaped mouth, pressing a kiss to your bottom lip. "Shhhh, just relax, baby, let me suck on these pretty tits..." He soothed as your mind began to melt fromall the new feelings you were experiencing.

Your lip quivered as he continued to pepper it with kiss as he felt you up. For a moment, you elevted to suck it between your jaws, only to be stopped by Shoji. "Ah ah, better not..." he cooed, taking it into his teeth, nipping at it softly and pulling it towards him, chuckling darkly all the while.

The action sent chills down you spine and you began to wonder if he'd down this before. "M-Mezo...h-have..." you trail off, not only unsure if it was a question you wanted answered but also if you could form the words at all.

"Hmm?" He hummed in response, paying you hardly any mond as his kisses began to trail down your throat.

"H-Have you ever..." You began, only to be interupted.

"Never, you're my first, baby." He stated with reassuring firmness. "Never wanted anyone else, you should know better than that."

"I-I thought so..." you sighed, secretly relieved.

"That a problem, princess?" he murmured from the crook of your neck before draggin his tongue from your shoulder to your earlobe, which he nibbled when he reached it, pulling a sob from you.

"N-No!" you cried in an embarrasingly obsene manner. "Y-You just seem to know- ah!" You shuddered at his teeth on your ear. "J-Just what to do..."

"Thanks, baby," he smirked, hot breath in your ear as he spoke. "Unfortunately, I'm just a big pervert," he admitted in a low grumble, making you weak. "Read too much porn, ya know?"

"S-Shoji!" you shrieked, face heating infinitely further.

"What was that, princess?" he laughed, fingers crawling up to your throat as his fist closed around it increadibly gently. "Last name basis with my mouths on your tits? Cold..."

You thought you should pinch yourself. This had to be some sort of wet dream. You'd pinch yourself and wake up in your dorm, sweating with sticky thighs. None of this could be real. Your Shoji- a perv? A porn addict? No, it couldn't be possible. He was such a gentleman! He was kind and noble...and he currently had his hand around your delicate little throat.

"M-Mezo..." you corrected yourself. "I don't believe that..." You confessed shyly. "I can't, you're not a creep like that..."

"Oh, you're so wrong there," he cooed, his hips grinding against yours as he left bruises all over your shoulder and neck. "I'm a huge creep, for you specifially..."

Your head coninued to spin at his words, curious lust bubbling inside your tummy. "W-What...kind do you like?" You asked, barely above a whisper, wanting to take an interest in his desires.

"Of porn?" He asks, chuckling lightly as he raises back up to look at you. "Tentacle stuff, mostly." He admitted with a smirk. "Kinda obvious, I'd think. Just love the idea of taking someone from all different angles..." As if to prove his point, one of his spare hands left your skin, slitherng down your body, easing up as it reached your crotch, ghosting over your heat. "You want me to touch you, baby?"

"M-Mhm..." you nodded, mind plague with the image of Shoji in his room, in the dead of night, fucking into his fist, reading hentai of things that look like him desimating girls that look like you. Once again, he brings you back to the present with the sensation of a tongue pressed against your pajama shorts. Gasping, you tense beneath him, virgin body unaccustomed to the new feeling. "A-Ah!"

"Like that, pretty girl?" he asked, voice muffled as they moved against the fabric to talk..

"Y-You don't have to use that mouth to talk..." you pout, squirming under the cage that was his body.

"I know I don't," he replied, chuckling against you, the vibration making you cry out. "But it's so fun to see you wiggle around..."

"D-Don't toy with me, Sho..." you pout, looking up at him with sugary tears in your eyes. "Take 'em off..."

Unseen fingers hook around the hips of your shorts, threatening to inch them down before they halted, pulling them back up even m,ore securely with a gentle pat. "Nah, don't think you're ready." He teassed. "I know I'm a rookie at this stuff, but from what I've read, you're supposed to be begging me to eat this pretty cunt, and you're not so..."

You wanted to smack him, punch him, scold him for talking down to you as you shrunk into yourself. Reguardless, your need for him betrayed your pride. "P-Please...?" you choke out, humiliated tears threatening to spill down your red cheeks.

"Please what?" he grinned, eyeing you mischeviously.

"P-Please...eat me..."

"Eat you? Baby, thats called cannibalism and it's illegal in Japan." He responded, chuckling at your flustered frustration. Suddenly, to his suprise and delight, you reached forward, running your fingers through his tusseled, silvery hair, collecting fistfuls of it, before shoving his face between your legs.

"M-Mezo, just eat my pussy already, please!" You wept, unable to take anymore of his teasing. The look he gave in response would have sent you into cardiate arrest as his eyes darkened with desire. You jumped at the feeling of his teeth nicking your clit as the pulled the soiled fabric away.

"Don't have to tell me twice..."

[giggly-bun]

Oh Archons {ChiLi}

A/N [WARNING THIS IS A TICKLE FIC] if you don’t like it, don’t read it. Sorry for any mistakes that i’ve made but i hope if you read this I hope you enjoy it. i was going to post this for tickletober but i decided to convert them into fics instead but i hope you enjoy it all the same :D - bunny ��

“My, my, Zhongli, I didn’t realise an archon could be so ticklish.” Childe hummed. Below him, Zhongli barely had the strength to form any words, coherent words that is, as Childe was currently drilling his thumbs into the former archon’s hips.

“CHIHIHIHILDE!” He cried, bucking his hips up and inevitably pushing himself further into the tickles. Childe just chuckled at the situation.

“Yes, my dear, what can I do for you?”

“STAHAHA- STAHAP! CHAHAHANGE PLACES!” Though his laugh was being broken up by low chuckles, Zhongli was borderline hysteric at this point. His face was flushed, head tossing this way and that to escape the sensations. The feeling was jarring, almost maddening- the harbinger’s dull nails would occasionally scratch at the thin bit of skin, thumbs pressing right in the divot of his hips, the feeling only intensifying because of the way Zhongli had been stretched taut. Childe did an exaggerated thinking face, fingers still toggling with the hypersensitive muscles exposed.

“I don’t know, Zhongli, you’re laughing so much I must assume that you like this spot?” He said, switching to scribbling along with his blunt nails. Zhongli shook his head vehemently. This was meant to be a relaxing afternoon, the elder had prepared them some jasmine tea, intending to have a peaceful chat and spend some quality time together, something they hadn’t had in quite a while. Had he known that Childe would be in one of his more playful moods, perhaps he would’ve worn more layers of protection. Alas, the thin shirt he was clad in wasn’t offering him much help, not that any protection was guaranteed to make him feel any better. The man was just far too sensitive in that one spot.

“No?”

“nohohoHOHOHO! ihihihit’s terrIHIHIble GAH-!” The ginger smirked at the answer. He would switch between poking, prodding and toggling at the spot. Zhongli arched his back before abruptly slamming it back down, only once he realised he was practically offering his tickle spots up to his devious boyfriend’s fingers. Childe couldn’t help but smirk.

“Oh, well if you don’t find it funny, I suppose I’ll stop when you stop laughing. That sound fair, love?” How unbelievably cruel!

“chihihihiHIHIHIHILDE! i-ihihihi HEHEHE! i-i cahahan’t!” Zhongli cried, his face bright red.

“You can’t? Well, why can’t you? Surely a man of your power and status can simply keep a straight face for a little longer, right, Mr Zhongli?” He teased. He punctuated his sentence by pinching Zhongli’s hips, causing the man to let out an involuntary snort. Childe snickered. “It can’t be that bad, can it? You aren’t that ticklish, are you, love?”

He was.

Terribly so.

Every other word he tried to speak came off with a squeal or giggle. He was deeply embarrassed by the noises he was making, trying to cover them up by turning his head to the side. Childe was absolutely infatuated with how his lover looked right now. Adorned in a deep blush that spread to his ears, and a grin that outshone the sun itself. He smiled fondly at his cackling boyfriend.

“Gods above, Zhongli, I could just eat you up right now. Oh, that’s not a bad idea actually.” He stated, a new glimmer in his eye. Maybe if the other wasn’t in hysterics, he would’ve seen the way Childe’s eyes lit up.

“w-whahahat dohohoho y-yohou me-EEEEEK CHIHIHIHIHILDE! S-STAHAHAHAP!” An unhinged shriek ripped from his throat, loud bouts of laughter following straight after. With speed that rivalled a top harbinger, the younger had dipped his head down, using his teeth to nibble at Zhongli’s hips with precision. It was enough to drive anyone mad.

He hummed against his skin. “Mmm, you taste so sweet, I could do this all day, Zhongli.” He mused. Zhongli drummed his feet against the arm of the chair, screeching with every bite.

“NOHOHOHO! NOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHORE- IHIHIHI GIHIHIHIVE!” He cried.

“Already? But we’ve barely gotten started. I can’t just leave the other side lonely, that wouldn’t be fair now, would it?” Said the ginger. He quickly moved his head to nibble at the other side of his hips and Zhongli saw stars. It was like ticklish shocks were being sent through his nervous system and he went wild.

“C-CHIHIHIL- ohohohoho p-pleheheHEHEASE AJAX!” That got his attention. “AJAHAHAHAHAX NOHOHOHO MOHORE!” Childe lifted his head at the call of his name, moving his hands and mouth. Zhongli’s body went limp against the couch, catching up on his breathing but still letting laughter slip out. Ajax smiled and sat up, beginning to rub gently at his boyfriend’s sensitive skin.

“You don’t call me that very often, Zhongli.” He smiled.

“Yehehes w-wehehell, I needed a w-wahahay out.” He giggled out. After a few minutes, Zhongli sat up, shooting daggers at Childe, though the effect was lost as he still had that bright eyed smile etched on his face.

“You can glare at me all you want, I know you still love me.” Childe laughed. Zhongli glanced at him momentarily before humming.

“Perhaps that is true, but do you know one thing I love more than your childish antics?” He said.

“What’s that, Mr Zhongli?”

“Revenge.”

“wha- no no no NOHOHO!”

[cosmal]

𝐄𝐠𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐠 — 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

day six of my christmas drabbles advent calendar

summary — james looks after you when you’re drunk on eggnog and craving a christmas kebab.

warnings/tags — fem!afab!reader, she/her, drunk!reader, mentions of throw up

James has spent the last twenty minutes looking for you.

Remus said you were in the kitchen. When you weren’t there, Alice, who was in the kitchen, had said you’d moved to the sofas with Sirius. Sirius, sat by himself on a three-seater, said you’d up and left five minutes ago.

James goes crazy searching Mary Macdonald’s house for you. Eventually, when he almost starts to panic, he finds you sitting down against the far wall in the lounge room like he hasn’t looked for you there three times. He sighs, a little annoyed, a lot relieved.

You’re giggling in your lap when he reaches you. He thinks you’re fucking adorable. “Hey, lovely,” he says, all sweet and natural, like the charmer he is.

You look up from where you’re fiddling with a ladder in your tights, right above the top of your white leg warmers. Something that James thinks are terribly cute every time you put them on.

You seem head-spun when you catch him. Then, you seem awfully happy. “Jamie!” you hiccup. It’s so cute James swears he’s dizzier than you.

Your leg warmers. Your small, tipsy hiccup. Everything about you tonight radiates everything lovely.

“Hey, cute thing.” He’s never called you that before. You wrinkle your face.

“Cute,” another hiccup, “cute thing?”

He crouches down so he’s at your level, splaying his hands over your knees, squeezing the fat there. “Yeah,” he says, “y’cute.”

You pull your legs closer to your chest and James wobbles. He stops still when you start kissing his knuckles. His hands tighten in their selfish grip and if he thought you’d bruise, he’d stop. But you’re kissing him like you really, desperately need to.

You pull your mouth away like you’re a little embarrassed and his knuckles tingle.

“You know you shouldn’t be on the floor this drunk.” He really can’t tell how drunk you are just yet, but at one of Mary MacDonald’s parties, he’s too aware of how you could be.

“You have really pretty hands,” you tell him, blinking slowly at him like you’ve never actually seen his hands before. He pretends you don’t ignore him.

“Thanks, lovely,” he says, “you smell like nutmeg.”

You snort, “You don’t know what nutmeg smells like.” You laugh because he’s terribly funny — or maybe you are.

“No,” he agrees, “but I know what eggnog smells like.”

You gasp like you’ve been caught with your hand in the biscuit tin. Your cheeky smile grows into something worse. James loves it.

“Marlene is really pervasive,” you say, suddenly stern like you’re entirely serious.

“Pervasive?” he snorts. He doesn’t mean to.

“Yeah,” you nod gleefully, disheveled hair falling in places that look annoying. He moves to tuck them away like the lovely boyfriend he is. He ignores the rumple in your face when he rubs your cheek for a little too long.

He knows, obviously being the sober one, that you mean persuasive. He truly thinks it’s adorable but his knees are starting to ache and he wants to move past it without disagreeing with a drunk you. He also wants you home, in bed, asleep and you’re makeup off. Not in that order, he knows better than that.

“Right, well,” he sniffs, standing upright so he’s above you, “tell Marlene that we appreciate the eggnog,” James doesn’t, he thinks is horrible, “but we must be going.”

You duck your head down again and James thinks you’re going to be sick. He imagines a pool of chucked up eggnog in your lap and momentarily feels sick himself. Then, you’re sighing, “God,” you throw your head back up and James thinks if you keep it up you might pass out, “I’m so fucking hungry.” You’ve moved past the persuasive talk, clearly.

“Well, if you let me help you up,” He doesn’t suggest you getting yourself up, knowing what happened the last time. The scar on your thigh an awful reminder. “I will take you to get food.” It’s cold, so cold his cheeks are a shade redder than normal, the snow hasn’t stopped all day, and he really shouldn’t, but his girlfriend is hungry. And he’s James Potter.

You look up at him, eyes and the curve of your neck glowing under the shine of the disco ball Sirius has hung up for Mary and you look the happiest you have all night. James would feel offended if he didn’t know what it feels like to be drunk and hungry.

“Really?”

He wriggles his fingers, arms outstretched to you, “Seriously.” Also feeling offended you think he wouldn’t take you to get food, would be stupid. He does though.

You reach your arms up like you might grab onto his and then they fall back down over your bent legs. “Kebabs?”

He nods, acting like he’s genuinely considering his options when kebabs have been on his mind all night, “Sounds good.”

Later that night, sitting in the best kebab diner in the whole of the UK (never argue with James or Frank about this, they’ll fight to the death) James thinks you’ve somehow gotten cuter.

The flickering LED light casts you absolutely warm, something that he swears should not make you look prettier, face shiny with grease and mayonnaise, he wants to savour this moment forever. It’s something so not Christmas, and also exactly what Christmas is about, all at once.

You’re half sober now, though your movements are still slow and sticky. Every time he watches a piece of lettuce fall onto the table below you, he grimaces, but you’re really trying your best.

Your motor spatial skills are worse than normal, he thinks with a total fondness, but he’s not one to stop you from stuffing your face when you’d told him how hungry you were the entire drive over. I’m so hungry, I could eat a donkey is what you’d told him, face pressed up against the cold window of his car. James laughed a little too much.

“Christmas kebabs are the best kebabs,” you tell him, mouth full of chicken, your eyes a little droopy. 

James agrees but his mouth is just as full. He has the soberness in him to keep his mouth shut.

“You know what’s better, though?”

“What?” he asks after he swallows.

“Christmas pudding,” you smile.

“I have some at home,” he grins, way too knowingly of what you’re about to say.

You stand, too quickly for his liking when you wobble around. “Well c’mon then, what are we waiting for?”

“You’ve barely finished your kebab!” he says, standing anyways.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Right.”

You pass out still in your full face of makeup, and fancy clothes when you get home, the thought of Christmas pudding completely gone. It takes James and hour to get you clean and back into bed.

[lollytea]

Up until a month back I liked a guy. And I really liked him. But I found out he didn't like me back. I was really upset, but I didn't want to hold it against him, but then I found out he had a reputation of being a player (which, at our age of 14 is flirtatiously texting girls and then just. Ghosting them).

And I felt really upset. I began to question if he even saw me as a friend, and whether the way he texted me was even friendly. What if he secretly loathed me and was just doing this to get a kick out of it? What if he knew about my feelings and they were just a joke to him?

I wanted to cry, but I told my friends and my sister I was okay. But I wanted to scream. Its not my fault I was born ugly. It's not my fault my face makes me unlovable. And even though I wanted to distance myself from him I felt some sort of perverse pleasure every time he did something embarrassing in front of every one.) And that's when I think it hit me.

That's why I'm unlovable. I am unlovable because I'm a terrible person. My friends tried to comfort me saying that he's a shitty person who can't see my beauty/cuteness, but friends are obligated to say that. I wanted to believe them because they're all so beautiful, and they would never lie to me because they love me. But they deserve a better friend than me.

I want to cry because I want to experience having a whirlwind romance, and falling in love. I also know I'll probably never have that.

And AGH I feel so upset. Because all my life I've known I was ugly. But when this guy showed me attention, was nice to me, it made me feel special. Made me feel like I was having my own romance.

I hate it I hate it I hate it. I hate that I can't be loved, I hate my face, I hate myself for feeling these things. Last year when I suspected I began liking him, I told myself not to fall too deep, and here I am, ranting to you on tumblr dot com.

Lollytea, I love your writing and I love your posts. I love how confident you are of yourself. I'm very sorry for ranting in your inbox about my shitty love life, if this makes you uncomfortable, please delete it. But if you don't, I genuinely would like some encouragement. That my time for my own romance will come. That I will learn to love this face.

You're not unlovable. You're just 14. It just happens that being 14 feels a lot like being chronically unlovable. But no, that is not actually the case.

Maybe you've heard this a lot. And I imagine that it must be frustrating to listen to. That being a teenager just means your emotions are bigger and more intense than they will ever be in your entire life, so they're irrational and silly.

That's not the case either. Your feelings matter. And they're worth being listened to. But I do need you to keep in mind that the age range you're in right now is one of the most difficult periods of time that a human being will ever go through. Being a teenager is very hard. Being an adult is hard too. But me and every adult I've ever met would not trade it for being 14 again. No way in hell.

It does severely influence how you see yourself and why your emotions feel so strong and messy and all over the place. But I assure you that you're doing a fantastic job for a person in your situation. It's rough and you're getting through it and I'm proud of you.

Firstly, I'm going to say this quite bluntly but dont take it as me insulting them. Most of the boys in your class probably aren't that smart. And they are the absolute worst people to be seeking validation from. I promise that their opinion of you is not worth worrying about because they are...stupid, frankly. They won't be stupid forever. Probably. But being 14 is a weird age for boys too and they're quite mean for a while before they mature and chill tf out. Please try not to let it get to you if one of them doesn't like you romantically. I promise you it is not remotely a big deal. None of them have any idea how to be good boyfriends yet anyway.

No, you're not unlovable for occasionally having spiteful little thoughts about somebody who was mean to you. Everybody has those every once in a while. As long as you maintain some self-awareness and don't let cruelty consume your whole brain, having a few mean thoughts doesn't make you a terrible person. What WOULD make you a terrible person is external terrible behaviour. It's your actions that matter. So just be kind, alright? Be kind to your friends. Ignore the people you don't like but be civil. Don't hurt anyone. If you stick to all of this, you're golden. Considering that you already seem so self-critical of being a bit bitchy inside your own head, I think that's a promising sign than you won't do anything worse than that. I hope so anyway. Be kind, that's all you can do. Your friends love you. If you put your all into loving them in return, then you can have something so special.

You're not ugly, you're 14. Sorry, I'm getting a bit repetitive but I think it's relevant information to this whole situation. At the age you're at, your face is probably in this weird transitional period between child and adult so maybe that's why it might look "uglier" than usual to you. It might last a few more years but it won't look like that forever. I assure you that your face is beautiful because it's doing exactly what it's supposed to do. It's alright if you've felt ugly your whole life. The way you look at your own face is way more personal than the way you look at other people's faces. We don't really notice the flaws on others the way we notice our own. We're wired weird like that.

All I can say is hang tight. If you don't like your face then please try not to let it upset you that much. Your face hasn't fully developed yet. For the time being, you look exactly the way you're supposed to look and you're perfect. Let's see how it looks in a few years before we make any rash decisions about it being as ugly as you think it is.

Don't be hasty in the belief that you'll never find love and romance. I assure you that the age you're at is the absolute worst time to get a boyfriend and its perfectly okay if you don't experience it for another while. It's normal. You're fine. It's okay.

I know you want it. I know it sounds nice. And I promise that if its important to you, once you're older and the people you're interested in are a little smarter, you will have it.

I'm serious when I say that for the time being, focus on being a good friend. Focus on school. Focus on your own physical and mental health. Focus on your hobbies. Being wanted by 14 year old boys won't mean shit in the long run.

Things will be okay. You talk so much about how you'll be alone for the rest of your life. But your life has only just begun and you hardly know who you are yet. It's impossible to tell what will happen in the coming years. I promise that you'll be okay.

I know you came for me for reassurance but from that last paragraphs, I'm sure you're already smart enough to know the things I've told you. But I imagine that you just needed a second opinion. Take care, love.

[simslegacy5083]

NSB (Straud Legacy) Gen 9 Ep 78: Awkwardness, Overcome

Luigi was so wrapped up in wrestling with responsibility and morality that just like with his father, he didn’t notice Noemi until she sat down next to him.

He looked up in confusion; desperately glad to see her but embarrassed to be in such poor shape. Her wince when she got a good look at his face didn’t help put him at ease. “You have quite the shiner there, friend. It’s not too late for us to bail if your family isn’t as friendly as you thought.”

Luigi gingerly reached up, grimacing as his fingers met the bruised and swollen skin encircling his right eye, all the while struggling to process that Noemi was really here and that she’d said us. “I guess I must look like the monster I really am right now, but even I’m not evil enough to ditch Dad tonight.”

“Evil!?” she asked. “Whatever gave you that idea?” Luigi explained about the fight with Leroy, Amaya's angry words, his father's disappointment, and his larger secret shame. “I really hurt Beau. Am I going to keep hurting people because I can’t control myself?”

Noemi shook her head “You are a lot of things, but evil certainly isn’t one of them. Just the fact that you feel so terrible about what happened with Beau proves that.” When his downtrodden expression didn’t shift, she gently squeezed his hand and decided to try a different approach.

Turning playful Noemi said in a sing song voice: “Ooo look out, I’m evil Luigi! I’ll defend my friends from your insults and then become your co-captain and maybe best friend on the team! I’m so mean I have tons of friends and… she looked meaningfully through the window at the dancing and laughing crowd inside … way too many relatives who want to party with me.”

She made vampire hands to snatch at the now bemused Luigi who was watching her tirade with a much more put upon, but much less pitiful, look.

Noemi smiled as Luigi chuckled, feeling much better after her lighthearted show. “Thank you for that. I guess you’re right, maybe I’m not evil, but I obviously have some work to do controlling this stupid temper and making a better habit of repairing relationships like I did with Beau.”

Luigi knew that making amends for bad behavior wasn't the same as not causing the trouble in the first place, but saying sorry to those he’d hurt was a step in the right direction. He resolved to reach out to Bryon on Social Bunny one day soon and apologize for that whole mess as well.

Noemi agreed “There’s always room for personal growth. That’s… actually why I decided to come here after all.”

Now serious she explained “Luigi, I’m so sorry. Social situations are so hard for me, and this big wedding is terrifying. After you left that night, I tried to tell myself it was for the best, but I couldn't get you out of my head. The silent apartment you left behind taunted me with every empty room.”

“I looked at the future I was headed for and I didn’t like it one bit. I don’t want to end up a recluse afraid of crowds, but most importantly I don’t want to end up without YOU. It took me forever to find the courage, but I decided to come here and get my boyfriend back. Assuming you’re still willing to introduce us to your family that way.”

Luigi’s expression morphed into an excited smile. “Are you kidding?! You show up, turn my misery into happiness once again, and offer everything I wished for! I’d like nothing better than to take my girlfriend inside and show her around.”

Rising Noemi took a deep breath, muttering nervously “Let’s get this over with.” Luigi leaped up to embrace her, grinning like a fool.

“I’ll be there for you every second, and if all those hours of Sims Forever have taught me anything, it’s how to come up with a story to explain away an unusual situation!” They walked inside hand in hand, shocking his parents with his transformed mood and even more unexpectedly altered date.

True to his word, Luigi spun truth and lies into a smooth explanation. Meeting and discovering they shared a major at Harvestfest, their friendship deepening over time, and the awkwardness Noemi felt about meeting everyone again causing them to keep it all a secret until now.

His elders took the whole thing in stride. Peachy joked “there’s nothing wrong with keeping it in the family!” while Valentina simply said, “its lovely to see you again dear”.

With that hurdle overcome at last, Luigi led his reclaimed lady to the dance floor. Just like before that fatefulHarvestfestdinner he was excited to take their relationship to the next level now that they were out of hiding and Noemi was finally free of the burdens of the past.

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

[tirose]

Some words about myself.

warning: some non-graphic mentions about violence and sexual abuse

I don't know if I want to leave this story here or delete it again, as I have done so many times before. I still think I am exaggerating, that it happens to almost everyone, and that I shouldn't make such a fuss. But it's time to find my voice and share my story—not just for myself, but also for those who might find themselves in my words. My parents always said I had such a great home because they weren't alcoholics. I don't know if that made it worse or better. If I had such great parents, what kind of terrible child must I have been to deserve what they did to me?

Even today, it's hard for me to write this. I still feel so ashamed. Everything was my fault. That my mother dragged me by my hair into the bathroom in the morning from the age of 5, screamed at me, then laughed mockingly and said it made her furious because I had such a stupid look on my face.

That she occasionally reminded me I might be dumb, but it was my luck that I was so pretty because then I might be able to marry a rich man one day.

That when I was 13 and on vacation, I was groped by several men (which was incredibly frightening), and afterward, my father remained angrily silent, and my mother explained that he was ashamed because of me (my trauma and the fact that I couldn't let anyone touch me for a while afterward obviously didn't matter to them).

That my father still beat me so hard on my bare skin when I was already a teenager (he checked my room every day to see if it was tidy) that I had cuts and bruises.

That when I was 15, he yelled at me for minutes in a car in a parking lot, saying he would kill me, just because I wanted to go to the beach with my best friend. Since my father threatened to kill me, I always locked my bedroom door at night. I truly lived in that fear for years. Home was not a safe place for me.

I was so ashamed of my home life. My parents didn't have much money. My father was a simple worker (and looked the part), and my mother was constantly sick in bed. Without wanting to offend her, I believe she had Munchausen syndrome. As a child, I was always afraid she had a severe, undiagnosed illness and would die soon. We lived in a really old, rundown house. I visited it a few months ago, and now other people live there. From an adult perspective, I'm shocked at how terrible and poor it actually looked. But as a child, I didn't notice it that much.

I used to love being at the home of my few friends and always tried to be especially polite and impress their parents. I fantasized that maybe someone would adopt me or that my mother would at least divorce my hot-tempered father. Of course, neither happened.

In elementary school, I was a really sweet girl and wanted to please everyone. When I got to middle school, I started to become really rebellious. I had trouble organizing myself and keeping up with my classes. I think the teachers didn't like me much either because my family wasn't that great. If my father was angry about something, he would also yell at and threaten other people. It was so awful, and I was always incredibly embarrassed that he couldn't control himself, even outside the house.

I wanted to have a boyfriend quite early and was very fixated on boys. I think I was constantly searching for validation and appreciation, which I never got at home. Since puberty, I flirted a lot, but paradoxically, I was always afraid of getting close to a boy; otherwise, I probably would have gotten pregnant early. I was a real flirt but I think I just wanted to be seen and loved.

I have to add that, unfortunately, I experienced an additional trauma at the age of 6. A man jerked himself off in front of me. He was talking in a strange way while doing it. I was alone, and it terrified me. I was completely beside myself afterward because I didn't understand what had happened. I thought the man was insane, in the sense of being mentally ill (which isn't entirely far-fetched). To this day, I don't know how much that event affected me. I often think it wasn't that bad because other people experience much worse. I wasn't even touched, just threatened from what he said. Maybe I'm just overreacting.

In any case, my performance in school declined significantly. The older I got, the more I realized how sick everything at home was. I withdrew more and more into my room and felt anxiety and dread whenever my father came home from work. He eventually got fired, and from then on, I had no peace at home. He often beat me with objects (I lived in daily fear that it would happen), screamed at me, and threatened me.

Sometimes his attacks were so absurd. We were in the kitchen, and I suggested to my father that I help him with his job search. He totally lost it at that moment and, because he was standing by the fridge, threw eggs at me. I once told this story at the university where I study, and I laughed while everyone else just looked shocked and didn't think it was funny at all.

I once ran away from home and had to stay overnight at a classmate's house because I was so afraid of my abusive father. Honestly, I felt so pathetic about it.

She was a bit edgy and knew early on that she was bisexual. Today, people would probably call her Emo or something similar.

Anyway, we slept in the same bed, and she initiated sex. Out of guilt, I went along with it. Pathetic, as I said. Why did I do such things?

Afterward, I was just as confused as I was after the experience of being sexually abused (and I’m not saying it was a assault, it really wasn't. I consent to do it. But it caused the same sexual confusion in my mind).

From the age of about 17 constantly maneuvered myself into such strange and risky situations. I was like a loose cannon, which culminated in me prostituting myself twice "for fun." I felt like I finally had power over a man, and it somehow turned me on.

There was also a situation where I was raped (I consent in having sex but there was a certain kind of practice he forced upon me. I am not going into details). I cried. My mother found out, and I remember how she blamed me, saying it was my fault. Why would I always put myself in such situations? Of course, I didn't report it.

I got married early and divorced early. My husband strangled me multiple times. My mother had nothing to say but, "What did you do to make him do that to you?"

Fortunately, I had the strength to leave him before the kids got old enough to see those things or before it got worse.

I only really felt good after going no contact with my parents two years ago, but it hurts me a lot that I don't and didn't have the parents I so desperately needed and that my children don't have grandparents. It is a great and painful loss and not a day passes without me thinking about it.

Otherwise, I think I lead a much better life than my parents did, and I do everything I can to make sure my children don't go through the same shit. This also requires a lot of work on myself, including going no contact with my parents.

I still have problems with my self-confidence and immediately doubt myself when people "don't like" me (or are just neutral towards me). I am also very hesistant to throw myself into a new relationship and even though lots of men find me attractive, I am scared of them getting to know me. I am ashamed about going no contact with my parents and wouldn't want to explain to a love interest why that is. I think I deep down also have the idea (sorry to any male readers) of most men generally being dangerous and are not to be trusted.

I also really turned into an introvert and have not much of a social life left since I have kids. I really think I just look good and otherwise there is not much to it. I really don't think much of myself. Like why would someone enjoy being with me?

The story of JJ Maybank somehow reminded me of my own. It's probably the only aspect of the series that was realistically portrayed. It triggered me a lot to watch it, and made me remember lots of things from my own past. That's probably why I am so obsessed about JJ Maybank's story.

I also think I involuntarily use projection as a healing tool. I am easily drawn into abuse stories. But I am trying to break this mechanism and to see my own story more, if that makes sense.

[jixiswrites]

Suguru wakes up to blood and Satoru's absence

The first thing he registers is the smell - no, the taste - of blood.

It’s unpleasant and gut-wrenchingly familiar. 

It takes a long time for him to notice anything else, but when he does, it’s also blood. Drying cool and clammy on his skin, sticking hair to his face. Wet and greasy and clotting and so much. 

Is it his? 

Some of it, he guesses, when he can’t quite move his fingers on his right hand. There’s a dull agony in his shoulder, a twisted pain in his leg, but it’s not the worst he’s felt by far. He needs to throw up - not a new feeling, but the intensity of more curses than he remembers ever seeing, much less swallowing, roils in his stomach. 

What the hell happened. 

He blinks up at the clear blue sky. It’s far too pretty for the state he’s found himself in, an endless infinite blue just like Satoru’s eyes. 

Satoru.

Fuck, where’s Satoru?

He levers himself up with his good arm, trying desperately to not faceplant back into the blood-soaked earth. A quick scan reveals bodies - why are there so many bodies, what happened - but none of them have the tell-tale white hair. 

It doesn’t comfort Suguru as much as he’d hoped. If he’s in this state and Satoru isn’t beside him - well. Satoru must be in a worse state. 

His arm fails; he hits the ground with a jolt that rocks his entire core. The world dims, getting darker by degrees even as he scrambles desperately for consciousness. 

Satoru, is his last thought, Satoru, please be okay.

~

He wakes again, all the blood cold and tacky on him. Suguru may have felt more gross before, but if he has, he can’t remember. 

Satoru. 

He’s in the same place, the sky turning violet above him with the coming night. Fuck. He’s been out a while and Satoru still isn’t here. 

That does not bode well. 

His good arm isn’t his dominant, but it’ll do to find his phone. If he even still has a phone. With his luck, it’ll have been crushed by… whatever happened. 

Tentatively, he pats down his hip, searching for the pocket he keeps it in. 

It’s not there. 

Not just the phone - his pocket, as well. Groaning, he lifts his head enough to see that he’s dressed in… something? Not his regular clothes. Nothing at all like his regular clothes, actually. 

Well. That’s… concerning? Less concerning than all the blood and bodies, obviously, but still. Suguru pats vaguely at the strange… apron-robe-thing he’s wearing, hoping that there’s some kind of pocket hidden in the many (many) folds. 

Dark spots dance in front of him when he tries to think too hard. He can’t remember - he doesn’t remember what he can’t remember.

But he needs Satoru. 

Eventually, he finds his phone, tucked into the sash at his waist. It’s cracked, of course. He smears it with congealed blood when he tries to unlock it. When he wipes his hand off on his clothes, the sticky blood pulls at scabs he hadn’t realized were there, and then he’s bleeding more: sluggish, dark red. 

Fuck. 

With effort, he manages to get to the recent calls screen through the cracks and the blood. Satoru is always in his top three, but when he looks now, he’s nowhere. Yaga isn’t listed either. Neither is Shoko. Instead, it’s name after name of organizations he doesn’t know and people that mean nothing to him. 

Slightly frantic, he goes to his contacts. There’s no ‘Satoru’ under ‘S’. There’s no ‘Most annoying human in the world’ in ‘M’.

Hesitantly, wondering how he could be embarrassed while still bleeding out, he looks for ‘My one and only’, ‘Best friend’, ‘Love of my life’, and any other cringy thing he could’ve named Satoru.

(He looks for ‘Boyfriend’. He looks for ‘Husband’. He will never tell a single soul this.)

And he’s just… not there. 

Like he’s not here. 

Suguru doesn’t know what’s happened, but something has gone terribly, terribly wrong. 

His vision is fading fast. He has the horrible, absolute feeling that if he passes out again he won’t wake up. 

It’s a last resort, but he takes his cursed energy - so much more than he remembers, sticky and thick, roiling with hundreds if not thousands of curses - and shoots it up in the sky like a flare. Like a firework. 

Help.

Please, Satoru, help - 

I don’t want to die. 

(I don’t want to die without you.)

~

“Suguru!” He thinks he hears. Maybe. Or maybe his brain is being kind for once and he’s hallucinating that Satoru came for him. That’d be nice. Suguru could pretend he’s being held by him as he goes on to whatever’s next. 

There’s a pressure on his chest and a pressure at his wrist and a pressure on his neck; he opens up gummy eyes due to pure curiosity. 

Oh. 

It is Satoru, twisting all his limbs around so he can touch every pulse point at once. His head is resting on Suguru’s chest, pretty white hair brushing over congealed blood. It’s probably too dry at this point to stain, but Suguru should tell him to lift his head up anyway. He doesn’t like when Satoru’s hair is red…

When has it ever been red?

His mouth is twisted in this weird snarl. It’s nothing like Suguru has ever seen from him - or… is it?

Satoru’s wearing a blindfold. Suguru’s forgotten which arm is the undamaged one, so he simply tries to use both as he reaches for Satoru’s face. He wants to see his eyes while he goes.

One of his arms falters and he groans as it hits the ground with a dull thwack. 

“Suguru,” Satoru says, desperate. 

Darkness fills his vision. 

It’s nice that the last thing he heard was Satoru saying his name. 

He’d wanted to ask about the blindfold, though. 

~

 “Fix him.”

“Are you sure…”

“Shoko.” 

Suguru almost musters the strength to say something about Satoru using that pitch while he’s trying to sleep. Almost. Really. He’s about to wake up and…

It’s dark.

~

Suguru comes to in Satoru’s arms. “Mm,” he mumbles, pressing his face into Satoru’s shirt. He’s not dead, maybe. Or maybe he is and he actually gets to hallucinate that Satoru holds him while he finds out what awaits in the afterlife. 

Satoru still uses the same cologne he did in highschool.

Or - wait - aren’t they still in highschool?

It’s soothingly dark again. 

~

Again, he wakes up. Unless the afterlife is a bunch of woozy half-remembered instances of Satoru holding him, he’s probably alive. 

That’s good then.

Right?

There’s a tugging at his abdomen. He looks down, sees Satoru undoing whatever the hell he’s wearing. There’s a lot of ties. He doesn’t falter once. Suguru is the one wearing it and he wouldn’t know where to start.

It’s just like Satoru. Good at everything. 

~

He’s naked. The air is cold around him. 

Shivering, he curls further into Satoru. “Whassat,” is his elegant question to why he’s naked, being held in Satoru’s arms. It’s not like Satoru hasn’t seen him naked, but mostly they’re naked together, not just Suguru trying to hide from the cold by burrowing into Satoru’s chest. 

“Gonna wash the blood off you.”

“Mhm,” Suguru agrees. It’d be nice to be less bloody. His nostrils have acclimated to the smell, but every time he turns his head his hair sticks and pulls. 

Faintly, he registers running water. Satoru is holding him with one arm as he adjusts the temperature, which is hot as hell. Everything has been bad and confusing since he woke up, but now that he’s in Satoru’s arms, he knows it’ll be okay. 

Satoru steps them both into the shower when he deems it the correct temperature. Warm - hot, even. Hotter than he knows Satoru likes it, so he’s bearing it for him. Suguru nuzzles further into cloth - Satoru, always annoying and abrasive and always taking care of him. 

Wait - 

“Satoru, why are you wearing clothes?”

At least that's what he wanted to say. What comes out is more of a “S’ru, whu’clothe.” This is accompanied by a weak but insistent tugging on said clothes. 

Satoru understands him, of course. He always does. “I’m not the one that needs to get clean.”

Suguru whines, tugging harder at his clothes. Who cares if it’s pathetic, this is Satoru and he’s injured and he wants to feel his best friend’s skin against his own. It’s not like it’d be anything new. 

“Suguru…”

“C’mon,” he whines, taking a page from Satoru’s playbook. “‘M injured. Gotta b’nice.”

Satoru huffs out a laugh. It doesn’t sound happy at all. Suguru snuggles further into him - he hadn’t been that hurt. Satoru always beats himself up if Suguru gets so much of a scratch while Satoru smiles through being impaled.

…When has Satoru been impaled?

He stops thinking about it when Satoru rips off his clothes in one fell swoop. Always dramatic. Suguru snorts as he rubs his nose into Satoru’s ribs - has he been eating enough? Every ridge and dip is pronounced. He’s still burning hot, though - warmer than the water steaming around them. Satoru always runs unreasonably hot, it’s why most winter nights find him curled in the other’s body. He’s better than a kotatsu. 

He wriggles around for more skin contact. Turns out bleeding out in a village somewhere leaves you ‘tepid’ at best. 

Oh, right. Why was he bleeding out in a village somewhere?

“Satoru,” he mumbles. The man in question has started running his hands through Suguru’s hair, untangling it where blood and dirt has left it knotted. “Did I get the curse?”

“Mm?”

“The curse,” he coughs a bit into Satoru’s side. Satoru, being who he is, doesn’t mind. “Whatever killed all those people. Is it taken care of?”

There’s silence for a long time. Suguru doesn’t fall asleep through sheer force of will - he can after he knows. After he knows it can’t hurt anyone ever again. He can still taste the blood in his throat; can still see the bodies. 

“Yeah, Suguru,” he sighs, eventually. “You got it.”

He falls asleep to the gentle ministrations of Satoru washing his hair. 

~

Later, he wakes up: dry and clean in bed. It’s only a moment before Satoru’s beside him, a mug with an adorable little bendy straw being presented to him. 

Not trusting Satoru to feed him some slushy-sugary-awfulness, he glares at the other man. 

“Water,” is the response. Suguru eyes it suspiciously. “I swear it’s just water, Suguru.”

Satoru sounds… different. Sadder? Faker? 

He doesn’t know what to make of it. Squints sleepily at his face before chasing the straw around with his mouth. The laugh Satoru huffs at that sounds genuine, at least. 

After draining the whole cup (which was, thankfully, just water) he properly looks at Satoru for the first time. He’s still wearing the blindfold - what the fuck is all that about, have his migraines gotten so bad he walks around with a blindfold? Why hadn’t he been talking to Suguru about this, he knows Suguru learned that weird head massage just for him for when it gets bad -

Oh. 

He takes a proper look at Satoru’s face, the curves and slants that are so much sharper than he remembers. 

He’s not just sadder, and faker, and wearing a blindfold - he’s broader and stronger and older.

By a lot.

That’s… probably not good.

“Satoru,” he says, doing a very respectable job at keeping his tone level. “I think I may be missing a bit of time.”

Satoru smiles. Suguru likes it a lot less than the last smile he remembers getting from him. “Yeah,” he responds. “I figured.”

That does not bode well.

~

“So what was I doing in that village?” he asks around a bowl of noodles. A bowl of noodles that Satoru cooked. A bowl of noodles that Satoru cooked that tastes good. “What curse could do all that?” There’s a long, anxiety-inducing pause. “We’re still the strongest, right? No overpowered special grades have popped up?”

There’s a longer pause. Suguru refuses to break the silence this time, slurping passive-aggressively. Satoru stares at him. Probably. The blindfold is disconcerting. He slurps his noodles more aggressively than passively. 

Satoru stares. 

Suguru attempts to take another aggressive bite of noodles and finds there’s none left. 

The silence stretches. The boding is going and it is not going well. 

“What’s the last thing you remember?” is what Satoru eventually says, which hell no. 

“I’m the one with amnesia?” he reminds Satoru, incredulous. “Shouldn’t I be the one that asks the questions?”

“Well,” Satoru replies, smarmy smirk that is so familiar resting on his face. “How am I supposed to know what to tell you if I don’t know what you remember?”

“You could start by answering my questions.” Satoru tilts his head. “The very specific questions I just barely asked you? At least one of them is a simple yes-or-no, I’m sure you could manage that.”

“Hrm.” Suguru has the intense, debilitating urge to hit him. “Nah.”

“I’m guessing that’s not you saying ‘no’ to us being the strongest, still.”

“...Nah.”

“And it’s not you saying that no overpowered special grades have popped up.”

“...Nah?”

They stare at each other. Sort of. Suguru really hates the fucking blindfold. 

“Why the fuck are you wearing that instead of coming to me?” is what tears out of his throat, embarrassingly. 

“Er?”

“You told me I made your migraines go away! You barely had to wear sunglasses inside. Why the fuck do you have a stupid blindfold on?” He blinks at his tone, the snappishness that comes easier than it ever has. 

“Um.” Satoru actually sits up. “You think it’s stupid?” He flicks at the black fabric like the thought never occurred to him that wearing a blindfold was weird. 

“You just wander around with a blindfold on?”

“I have sunglasses for going out!”

Suguru pouts. He doesn’t really know why he’s pouting. “I’m gonna go… be not here.”

“With amnesia?”

“Just to the bathroom, so I don’t punch your stupid blindfold-wearing face.”

Satoru laughs like it’s funny. It’s not funny. Nothing about this is funny, but trust Satoru to make it into a joke. He strides away. Realizes he doesn’t know where the bathroom is.

“Second door on the right.” It’s interspersed with giggles.

He didn’t remember Satoru being this infuriating. 

Suguru purposely avoids the mirror as he splashes cold water on his face. He takes a deep breath. Another. Tries to steel himself and… looks. 

He’s older, of course - but he’s also older in a way he can’t explain. There’s deep bags under his eyes - his face somehow looks sallow and puffy at the same time. His hair is longer - much longer - and wild in a way he’s never let it be before. 

Honestly, he’s looking pretty rough. 

He fumbles around in the drawer Satoru keeps his hair ties in. It's a long moment before he realizes he hasn't touched a single one -

Because there aren't any.

He blinks down at his empty hand.

Satoru always has hair ties for him. This is a different place, sure, but everywhere Satoru has ever lived, the leftmost drawer had hair ties (among other random, aggravating bullshit).

He chokes down the instinctive panic. 

Maybe he’d changed where he keeps them? Suguru paws through the other drawers and comes up empty.

He comes up empty of anything that could feasibly belong to him. 

This is Satoru's house, right? Maybe it's a sort of safehouse he barely visits? Still, their things had been interchangeable last he recalled. 

Which, admittedly, seems to have been a long time ago. Maybe a decade? He could place them both at around twenty-six, now. Harder lines to their faces. Satoru looked less like someone sent him through a taffy stretcher, more like one of the strongest.

He hadn't wanted to think too hard about it in front of Satoru, but now he pokes around his brain, trying to get to where his last fully-formed memory was. There's weird snatches - emotions, mostly. 

It's troubling that they're almost entirely negative: anger, sadness. Betrayal. A manic intensity that feels… 

Well. 

It doesn't feel good, mixes unpleasantly with what must be thousands of curses rolling around inside him. He's been busy collecting them, it seems. 

It's not all bad: there's flashes of an almost parental affection; sparks of pleasure; a certain confidence in himself he gets the feeling was lost, for a while. 

But none of it's concrete. He reaches farther back, farther, and - it's Satoru's eyes. 

Of course it is. 

Satoru, grinning at him. Young and happy - the beach behind him. "We're the strongest, after all."

Somehow, the words that had bolstered him then bog him down now. He doesn't know how to feel about that - can't, probably. Without context, anyway. Context that Satoru had been extremely unhelpful in giving. 

Suguru holds himself in reasonably high regard. He's certainly not dumb, not like people seem to expect from someone from the countryside, but - his brain is railing against the picture of this future that's slowly forming. 

He takes a deep breath. Brushes a wet finger against the deep bags under his eyes. 

And rallies. 

Whatever bizarre world he's in (that he's created? That Satoru's created?) he'll just have to find his footing until his memory comes back. 

Starting with why Satoru is wearing a stupid-ass blindfold. 

~

The blindfold is still on when he comes back out. He stares for a long time.

"Oh, good," Satoru says, flippant. "Thought you might've drowned yourself."

Suguru can't do anything but stare. He'd confided, hadn't he? At least once. Right? 

That the urge to drown himself pops up more often than he'd like?

He thinks so. And he thinks - Satoru had been kind about it. Satoru wasn't kind about much, but that soft confession had always been held as sacred. 

Something on his face must give him away, because Satoru tips his head down and shrugs. "You've lost a lot of time, haven't you?"

It's the closest thing to an apology he'll get. It rends something open in his chest. 

He doesn't think he likes this future very much at all. 

~ 

“Where are we?”

“My house.”

“Your house. You own a house?”

“Many people do.”

“Can you take off the stupid fucking blindfold? It’s weird not seeing your eyes.”

“I always wear it now.”

“...Even around me?”

“Yeah, Suguru.” The way he says his name makes something unpleasant wriggle its way up his spine. “Even around you.”

“Why?” 

Satoru is silent. He tilts his head and at least that’s familiar, and then finally takes the blindfold off. “I’ll make you some tea.”

Okay then. “Just tell me if you need my magical migraine-killing fingers,” Suguru says, and it comes out more sincere than he’d like. “I haven’t forgotten that, at least.”

“You haven’t, huh?” Satoru sounds far away. 

~

“So can you please tell me what the hell has happened?” Suguru asks later, sipping his tea. Satoru had made it just how he likes and stuffed ungodly amounts of sugar in his own. “You’re fucking weird now.”

“I’m weird, huh?” Satoru tips his head and peers at Suguru. At least his eyes are the same. “Just tell me what you last remember and we’ll go from there.”

“Where’s all my shit?” Suguru says instead, because he’s nothing if not contrary. A trait he shares with Satoru, unfortunately. 

“Your… shit.”

“Yes. My things. My stuff. Did it all fucking burn down in a fire or something? You don’t even have any hair ties in your drawer.”

“You don’t live here, Suguru.”

“Yeah, I sort of figured. Do you even live here? It feels fucking sterile.”

“Not really, I suppose.”

“Do we just stay in hotel rooms a lot then? Constant missions keeping us out? Do I have my own house?”

Satoru looks very, very sad all of a sudden. “Yeah. You have your own house.”

“Oh. Why aren’t we there, then?” 

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“I have memory loss.” He takes an angry sip of his tea. “I woke up dying somewhere where everyone was fucking massacred not remembering the past ten years of my life.” Another, calmer sip. “I couldn’t find you in my phone. It’s a much newer one, too. What do I save your number as, these days?”

Satoru is silent.

“Fine! Oh my god, is there anything you will answer?” More silence. “What the fuck was I wearing, anyway? Surely you can answer that. Was I undercover or something?”

“It’s called a gojogesa.” Suguru startles badly.

“I - we’re - it’s like that?”

“I don’t know what it’s like.” He sets down his tea with a clatter. “I have to go. Duty calls, and all that. You can’t leave, though. Sorry.”

“I - can’t come with you?”

“No.”

Then he’s gone. 

His tea is still steaming.

Well. Another thing he hadn’t forgotten: Satoru’s teleportation thing was fucking annoying. 

~

He literally can’t leave. 

As in, he tried to walk out of Satoru’s house - because fuck him - and he couldn’t. 

He’s trapped here. 

Satoru trapped him in his house. 

He knows a lot can happen in a decade but something has gone very, very wrong if Satoru is psychotic enough to trap him in his house. 

(And that - that’s almost something, something about… something about Satoru he can almost remember. Something he’d had to pull him back from. 

But as soon as it drifts through his head, it’s gone, just the impression of sparkling eyes left.)

Satoru is going to have so much explaining to do when he comes back.

*

hiya! i truly cannot justify starting another multichapter fic but this doesn't really stand alone enough to be considered a oneshot but i was v proud of it... so i posted it here... it may be continued once i actually finish a few of my multichapter fics c:

[echo-rambles]

Fuck it- it's fine!

words: 1830 summary: inspired by the general vibe of bad idea right? by olivia rodrigo. tags: past established relationship, ex-boyfriend bang chan, best friend felix, suggestive content but nothing explicit note: first ever reader insert fic I've written! that's probably why it's pretty introspective and there's not much chan. I just wanted to get the feeling of writing reader insert so I hope it's not too terrible! please enjoy~

-o0o-

To be completely fair, you were the one who messaged him first. Could it be seen as slightly desperate? Maybe. But in your defense, you were pretty drunk and left unsupervised.

That doesn’t mean it’s not a complete shock to your system when you wake up the next morning and notice that he messaged you back. Which, ok. What an absolutely wild turn of events seeing as how he’s meant to be the mature adult of the relationship. (his words, thrown out midst argument) 

Once you blink away the hungover fog and wade through the low lying panic, you find it a little funny, actually. Your text, the first between the two of you in months, is embarrassing and filled with a few too many emojis- it’s the epitome of a drunk text to your ex who you might have been missing at the peak of your intoxication. 

The funny part is that he had texted back, playing into your theatrics. Maybe it’s not funny in a haha way. Maybe it’s funny in an ironic sort of way. The guy that once told you that you’re incredibly impulsive and never think things through, replying to you and not even scolding you. 

Ok, so maybe he was a little bit correct and you are impulsive, because the next thing you know your fingers are tapping away at your phone screen and you're replying to his reply as if this is something the two of you still do. There’s been a whole lot of maybes filling up your head far too early in the morning, but maybe this could be something you two do. Like, maybe it can become normal again. 

>I hope you’re drinking water to combat all the vodka you must have drank to use seven whole emojis in a row. 

<I demolished an entire water bottle when I got home last night but sadly it wasn’t enough to save me 

You’ve crawled your way out of bed and are in the middle of trying to wash up to feel human again when your phone buzzes. Thankfully you’re alone in your bathroom or else it would be embarrassing how quickly you check who the new text is from.

Before you can unlock your phone and reply to the notif saying something about ‘RIP you should’ve drank three…’ another message pops up, staring at you from the lock screen, half of the message fading off in an ellipses. 

You still have his contact saved. Somehow that’s the first thing you think, so incredibly belatedly. In your defense you thought deleting it would be stupid, seeing as how you share friends and what if Felix was in trouble and the only way anyone could reach you was through your ex-boyfriend? It’s a flimsy excuse but you clung to it at the time. 

For a while his contact was changed to HEARTBREAKER, all in caps with broken heart emojis book ending it. At some point you changed it again, hating the reminder the name would elicit every time you scrolled past it. It just made you feel bad, to be honest. Not in a guilt way, but in the way of it settling all weird in your stomach. 

So now he’s filed under a very polite and professional Bang Christopher Chan. It feels safer this way. The least amount of intimacy possible. 

Looking at it now, knowing that there’s multiple messages attached to it because you were drunk and then half asleep and he’s apparently a child who can’t just ignore you- it feels like a stupidly personal inside joke. Which is stupid. It’s his name. 

>I know this is last minute, but I was wondering if we c…

This is not something you can read by yourself while still hungover and sleepy. Absolutely not. Any sort of question he has will have to be dealt with once you’ve consumed a sufficient amount of caffeine. 

“What do you think it says?” You ask, a little bit later after your second cup of coffee. 

Felix barely even moves his head from where it’s resting against the table. He’s clearly just as hungover as you are, but you feel like you’re in the middle of making a very bad decision and you need a second opinion. You shimmy your phone under the seam where his forehead meets the wood. 

With a little pout and deep groan, he’s shifting around and waking up your phone to stare at the lock screen. The silence stretches on as he stares, blinks, and blinks some more. With a start, he’s sitting up straight, pulling the phone closer. 

“I thought you said you didn’t want to talk to him-”

“I’m aware of what I said! But that was also like, months ago, and we’re both totally over it-”

“It felt like you two went through a divorce, I don’t know if a few months is long enough-”

“I’m over it!” You proclaim, a little loudly. A little desperately. “And he is too if he’s talking to me.” 

Felix says your name, with that specific tone like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how. So, like a normal, emotionally stable adult, you completely ignore him and instead scoop up your phone. Suddenly the nerves over wondering exactly what Chan wanted to ask you have been replaced with a confidence only born from needing a distraction. 

Finally, you read the text he sent. 

>I know this is last minute, but I was wondering if we could maybe grab lunch? Or, if you’re still too hungover for lunch, maybe something later? 

Oh. Definitely the beginning of a very bad idea. 

<you paying??

>Of course I am >When was the last time you paid?

Uncalled for, but also completely fair.

<then sure count me in

It all feels way too easy. Like the last few months have just been- what, erased? Ignored? Boxed away so you can talk about it later? But hey, that’s a problem for the future version of yourself. 

“Did you just agree to spend time with him?” Felix asks, because of course he does. Are you really that predictable? 

“Maybe.”

Shaking his head, Felix sits back in his seat. “You know I love you both, but I don’t know if this is a great idea.”

“It doesn’t have to be romantic! We’re just meeting up, like friends do.” The silence is practically palpable. “We can be friends! We’re both adults- we can totally be friends.” 

Felix gives you possibly the most pitying look you’ve ever seen on his angelic little face.

-o0o-

Ok. Maybe you can’t be friends. The two of you started off as friends, definitely. You built your whole relationship off of being friends. But somewhere along the way something got all gummed up. Being together dissolved into months of barely even talking to each other. 

You were hoping that could change tonight. After getting all dressed up- because you wanted to feel pretty and you couldn’t remember the last time you got dressed up, thank you very much Minho. With his judging eyebrow and the way he clicked his tongue when you told him about the text messages and your dinner plans. Just because you were meeting up with someone who you used to give hickeys to had nothing to do with the dress you wore. 

(it absolutely did but no one had the right to know.)

It started off as just something casual. Stilted awkward conversation as you both tried to remember how to be civil around each other. It came a lot easier to Chan, as always. But you missed this. You missed being in the same space as him and hearing his voice and god Felix was right, you’re so incredibly weak. 

You wanted to try and be friends again so badly. But you were absolutely lying to yourself, big time, because the second that he smiled- that small little smile where he ducks his head and bites at his lip, oh you were gone. 

Currently you’re being pinned to the wall with his tongue down your throat and you can’t really think straight. 

Somehow you went from a casual get together to this. Attacking each other's faces like starving animals who haven’t eaten in weeks. It’d be embarrassing if it weren’t for the way Chan is so clearly feeling the exact same things you are. Your hands are running through his hair and his hands are anchored to your hips, and he still tastes the same. He still makes the same little noises when you drag your teeth along the edge of his jaw. 

It’s so fucking familiar and you already feel like you could drown in it. 

You should probably talk about this. The making out, yes, absolutely, but also the last few months and the texts and him asking to see you out of the blue. It should be talked about, right? Except what would you even say? You’ll just rehash the same things you’ve been saying. You felt ignored and he felt suffocated and you could never find a way to meet in the middle because you’re both stubborn. 

You should say something though, right? Right? 

The press of his hand against the dip of your waist, pulling you closer, has you losing any semblance of what language even is. Words? Who needs them? He’s hooking his other hand behind your knee and hiking it up, guiding you to wrap your leg around him, and really all you can think about is how you aren’t close enough.

You sneak your fingers up under the hem of his shirt, feeling the expanse of his skin, and the sound of the breathiest gasp leaving his lips settles along the curve of your spine. 

“Is this a bad idea?” You ask, once you remember how to use words. 

He stops short, as if he’s just remembered not only did he leave the oven on but he also left incredibly flammable items near it. A little shocked and worried and second guessing. Which, you’re not really sure what sort of reaction you were hoping for but you should have expected this at the least. He’s a chronic over-thinker sometimes. 

It’s fine, it’s cute even. When it’s not annoying you to no end. Sometimes you need his specific brand of cautious energy, a voice helping you recognize when something actually is a terrible idea because you didn’t realize before he pointed it out. Other times, like now, you already know the answer to your own question and you seriously do not need him to answer. It was rhetorical, thank you very much. 

“Um, well- I-” He stumbles over his sentence, breathing hard and face flushed.

“Nevermind, don’t answer that. Just kiss me.” 

Thankfully Bang Chan is very good at going along with your bad ideas. 

You can deal with whatever all of this means after. Right now, the both of you are wearing far too much clothing and you need to fix that immediately. 

[allycat75]

You know what I think of when I hear "I had no choice"?

When it is in reference to a rich white male who starred in a billion dollar franchise, I would have to say that you must have made some big mistakes that led up to this horrible choice, regardless of how many people you support or how much your team was supposed to take off the top. You didn't look close enough at a thing that burned your charmed life to the ground because nothing bad had ever happened before (you even said something so flip and callous during an interview about meditation during the "Lightyear" press tour- it was so shockingly dangerous I remembered it as disturbing even when I was still blinded by The Woke Political Avenger persona).

This lack of ability to cope with a bit of discomfort led you into a fantasy world, not unlike the construct your team created of you for your fans as a Disney Prince, living in your own fairy tale. You didn't have to confront some very concrete realities lurking in the shadows, until you actually did, only they grew exponentially enormous in size and in a moment of "Ready, Shoot, Aim" you decided this was your only option.

So do I feel bad? Yes, but not at any commensurate level to what you should be feeling. I am sensitive you suffer from anxiety and I do believe you have a good heart; part of the reason you got into this mess is that you gave too much and trusted too freely, but I also think you have been coddled and shielded from confronting the demons we all face, also contributing to your current demise.

So I am going to try to be delicate because I know you hate yourself (also a cause of this mess), but I am not going to sugar coat (I'm a Sagittarius and I'm owning my brutal honesty, but as my sister sign of Gemini you should respect that).

Your seemingly no choice decision, even if it had been successful to get you a string of plum roles, hurt many people. The teacher who had to quit because she supported a charity. Jinx, the small dog food company who thought they were signing America's dog dad to help establish themselves in the marketplace. Your loyal fans who saved you from a shattering embarrassment, just to be sacrificed as jealous, crazy and stupid for telling the truth. The people of marginalized communities who believed you were an ally, only to tie yourself- first as a boyfriend, then as a "husband", and hopefully soon as an 'ex-husband"- to an antisemetic, racist fat-shammer, making you guilty by association. And let's not forget all of the talented, hard working actresses that deserved a shot at their dreams- much more than your arrogant, immature, lazy, untalented and entitled wifey. They are all collateral damage in your scheme to save yourself.

But worst of all, you have used your family, friends and even your beloved dog to further this lie, over and over. I suspect this has not gone over well and many of these precious relationships are now strained. I am sure they would rather have you happy, present and whole than be treated to all expense paid trips to Disney World. And if not, they are just clout chasers and you should divest of them.

And what did you get? Still sucking hind teat for any roles, let alone good ones. And you know why? Because the same people who convinced you this was a good idea have something personally to gain by keeping you vulnerable and weak, and are the same ones giving you dreadful scripts, if any scripts at all. You are no longer an actor, but a reality TV star working 24-7 and not getting paid. In fact, I bet for every mistake made or engineered, they billed you for every second of clean up. You may have gotten a part or two, but all are a bit dubious in quality, and where before you could draw an audience to a mediocre or just plain terrible film to, at worst, break even, you are now often the reason it is labeled as awful and, unlike the dick pic, there are no loyal fans to save you. You don't fuck around with karma- it is real and it will find you in whatever pottery shed you hide.

I don't expect you to be super human. But you do have an obligation to be human, flaws and all. And right now you are an automaton, who has no clue of what you stand for because you sacrificed all of that for the handful of magic Nazi beans. Until you can get to the bare minimum of a person- maybe provide an elevator speech of who you are at your core- let yourself feel this pain and emptiness so you are never tempted to go down this road again. It is like an addiction and you need to detox the selfish, shallow privlege out of you.

Trust is the hardest thing to earn back and is at the backbone of any solid relationship so if you want it, you are headed for a dark, tough road ahead and you will have to work harder and more diligently than you will ever have to for anything else in your life, with no guarantee of external reward.

But is it worse than what you are feeling now?

[bubbleecloud]

omg i loved the stans gang hcs please i am on the ground asking for craigs gang because its hard to find anyone interested in sp, only if you would like though :)

Your wish is my command, anon 😌 headcannons for Craig and his goons!

Craig:

-pretty average ticklishness

-thinks tickling is childish and embarrassing

-will threaten you to no end if you try to tickle him, but he's all talk.

-will hold in his laugh until he physically can't anymore (just go for his underarms and he's gone)

-uncharacteristically loud laugh. Like uncontrollably so

-will only let tweek get away with tickling him without consequence. If your not him, though..

-boy oh boy

-terrifyingly stoic ler. His silence is honestly more effective than the tickling

-just goes for the death spot and calls it a day, isnt really one for build up

-unless your tweek. Behind closed doors he's such a soft Ler with his boyfriend 🥺

Tweek:

-hes not really terribly ticklish, but his reactions are so borderline insane that you'd think his nerves were out side of his body

-he just can't handle it, poor thing. He shrieks and squirms like crazy! just begs and pleads immediately

-cannot handle anticipation or teasing. He gets so unbelievably jittery

-doesn't mind being tickled as long as your not too rough. Sometimes it tires him out enough to where he can relax for a bit!

-ticklish 👏ears👏and👏hips👏

-hes a compulsive Ler and only really tickles people out of adrenaline and vengeance if you tickle him first

-will tap out if you start laughing too hard because it feels like to much pressure to keep it up while still being fun

-likes to tickle craig if he's being too grumpy

Clyde:

-Such a fucking drama queen. If asked if he's ticklish he's try to act all cool and tough. He ends up getting teamed up on 😬😬

-squeals and tries to curl up to protect himself

-will get pouty afterwards, but he actually really loves the attention

-tears up very easily, and hiccups if he's tickled hard enough

-ticklish tum!!! Pretty bad near his underarms too

-he's such a silly and playful Ler omfg

-is the biggest Ler of the group and loves to start tickle fights!

-likes to team up with Tolkien and completely wreak the other three

-is always cautious of taking it too far

-hes so teasy bro! Expect alot of compliments and harmless flirting

Tolkien:

-not really much of a Lee, honestly

-isnt too ticklish in many places, and you can only ever really get him to giggle at best

-Clyde once tried to tickle him and it totally backfired.

-a big fan of playful roughhousing with tickling, often gets into wrestling matches with Craig to try to get the upper hand.

-pretty chill and casual Ler. Never really goes to far into it unless its a situation like above

-is currently the tickle champion solely because he's so hard to get

Jimmy:

ok, I know there's some discourse about whether or not Jimmy is apart of Craig's gang, but I just love him too much!

-its hard for him to participate in tickling because of his disability, but the others always find ways to make sure he's included

-at times when they're all just chilling at Craig's house and he has his crutches off, he just gets bombarded

-a surprising defiant Lee, will curse your name throughout the whole process

-although he really does appreciate that his friends just treat him like any other kid, he's just saving face

-really ticklish sides

-has such a bubbly contagious laugh

-as a comedian, he loves making people laugh

-if ya know what I mean

- will totally crack jokes while he's tickling you, and then say something like "wow, you must have found that one really funny!"

-will lovingly make fun of you, but it's all in good nature

-really good upper arm strength and totally uses it to his advantage. Will not hesitate to pin you

Aaaaa there we go, you guys!! Hope you enjoy! ^^

[hacked-by-jake]

What are your thoughts on a (potentially very) possessive Jake?

Oh, difficult topic haha. Well, a little more context would maybe not be bad. 😅

Okay, so you asked for my opinion and here it comes, but I have to say very clearly, I’m not romanticizing such behavior here. If you hope to read that I would find it hot, then I must disappoint you, that will not happen. I speak the truth here and do not gloss over such conduct. Sorry not sorry. I don’t want to attack anyone, but I don’t want to say that something not good is somehow good. <3

Well, if it limits me in any way, then I am absolutely not enthusiastic about this behavior. Even without it, I don’t think much of it. Even without it limiting me, I don’t think anything positive about it. Because possessive behavior is actually always toxic and indicates that something is not "okay" with the partner and means an impairment of mental health. And I think the not so functioning mental health of the partner should never be romanticised in any way. I can definitely understand, and in irrational moments I feel the same way that possessive behavior can be interpreted as a kind of affection. Of course, it’s nice to notice that your partner is afraid to lose you or something. But that also works in a healthy way. With words etc. And I can also be very possessive, but I know this is my toxic side and I need to work on it. And I do work on it.

I was in a very toxic relationship for two years, 3 more years it was a terrible on and off. He was extremely toxic, but I also did my part, I won’t deny it. Possessive behavior was in excess there and I still suffer from it a lot.

A very possessive Jake would only be okay for me if Jake knew that it is unhealthy behavior that he has to work on it and above all that he would not restrict me with this behavior.

Hold my hand, put your arm around me and show that I’m your partner, okay, but anything beyond that, no. If he gets mad or interrupts my conversations or something like that, then Jake should prepare for argument he's never experienced before. If he is so possessive that I have the feeling he does not trust me or the like, then bye.

I wouldn’t leave him if he knew he had to change his behavior, but if he didn’t change, yes. I would help and support him, but he must want to.

Yes, I also imagine my Jake a little possessive, and yes, also a little jealous, I do not want to deny that here. However, in the way already shown in the game by himself. He says he doesn’t mind the MC and Phil having contact, he just has to get used to it. Okay. I think that's okay. As long as he doesn’t change his mind and his behavior.

So, yes, my Jake is also a little jealous and possessive. But he would never interfere in my life. Never forbid anything or act like an embarrassing jealous boyfriend who kills every other with his eyes for no reason. Just because they could look at me. And rather in a funny and teasing way. Jake himself makes jokes about it and always holds back. He would never interfere in a conversation or anything like that, and above all he lets me sort everything out myself unless I ask for his help. For example, if I had a fight with a stranger or a stranger would flirt with me or something. He wouldn’t interfere unless I want him to. The way I picture my Jake, and the relationship with him, it’s definitely very healthy and always on an equal footing. Everything is fair and everyone is treated equally. My Jake doesn’t think anything good about toxic masculinity or whatever. :D

-

Well, maybe not the answer you expected, dear Anon. But thank you very much for the ask/question, even if my answer is not very positive I love to answer such questions. And I hope you will have a wonderful day/evening/night. 💚

[t4t-apexeclipse]

Solar Eclipse

Chapter Three: The Eye of the Beholder

im reposting this chapter because the first time i tried to post it it glitched out and im going insane over it jshdjfjfk

Summary: In a drunken stupor, Janus confesses to Patton that he's in love with both Roman and Logan. When things spiral out of control from there, how will he keep his feelings in check?

Characters: Janus: Patton, Roman, Logan

Pairing(s): endgame roloceit, current logince and focus on janus’s feelings for logan and roman

Warnings: some light crying but i think that’s it, lemme know if i missed something!

Word count: 1,661

~

Janus was the first to excuse himself from breakfast, trying very hard to hold it together until he was alone. Once he made it to his room, he locked the door and disabled the ability to rise up or appear. He didn't need to be checked on, he needed to be alone.

He wasn't one to cry when he was upset, but he wasn't sure what else to do in this situation. He lowered himself onto his bed, wrapping his arms around himself as tears rose to his eyes.

Why did it hurt this much? He already knew they'd never love him back. This was just confirmation that he was right. He should feel proud of himself for being right.

Sometimes he really fucking hated it when he was right.

There was a knock at his door. He had a feeling he knew who was there.

"Um, Janus?" Patton's small voice called through the door. "I know you're probably really upset right now, but I just... I wanted to check on you. See how you're doing."

Janus said nothing.

"Janus—?"

"Go away, Patton," Janus snapped, embarrassed at the way his voice cracked.

"Are you sure you don't wanna talk?"

"There's nothing to talk about, just leave me alone."

A long silence passed. "Let me know if you need anything."

Several minutes passed before Janus decided he'd had enough of this room.

He grabbed his easel and a canvas as well as his pack of painting supplies. He went through his door and headed down the hallway to Roman's side of the Imagination. He went through the door and began his search for the perfect muse.

There was a lovely little pond near the entrance with Roman's castle perfectly in the background. It was perfect.

He set his easel down and set the canvas on it. He took a look at the view, making sure he was in the right spot. He moved the easel a bit to the left. Excellent.

He began his process of painting, finding his stress melting away with every stroke of his brush. He spent an hour painting, and was making decent progress. He dipped his brush in the water to switch colors when a voice interrupted him.

"I didn't know you could paint."

Roman being in the Imagination shouldn't have been a surprise, especially since this was his side of the realm. However, it caught Janus off guard regardless, and he nearly jumped out of his skin as he whirled around to face him.

He cleared his throat. "I can, yes. Have I never told you?"

"Not that I recall. How often do you paint here?"

"Here, not terribly often; I do my best work here, so I save it for times that I could really use a pick-me-up."

"Ah, I see. Still recovering from that hangover I take it?"

"It's almost passed. I thought painting would be a nice distraction."

Roman looked almost sheepish. "I didn't mean to interrupt your distraction. Apologies."

"Quite alright. Actually... if you're not busy, I wouldn't mind the company."

Roman grinned. "As much as it would honor me to watch you work, I'm actually here with a purpose; I'm setting up a little date night with Logan."

A spear went through Janus's heart.

"I'm so excited to be able to say that now," Roman said with a bright smile. "A date with Logan. My boyfriend, Logan. My boyfriend, oh, be still my beating heart."

The spear twisted in his chest.

"You're lucky to have one another," he said, hoping that wouldn't reveal the true meaning behind his words.

"Thank you. Well, I must bid you adieu, but I do wish you luck with your painting."

Janus forced a smile. "Thank you. I wish you luck on your date."

"Thank you. Farewell, Janus."

"Farewell, Roman."

Roman headed off to wherever he was headed off to, leaving Janus with his painting in progress.

He looked over the painting, certain he would only need another hour to finish it.

He took a deep breath, and dipped his brush in the paint.

The next hour came and went, and Janus was left with only the finishing touches. He noticed Roman coming back from wherever he'd been, and he smiled when he met Janus's eyes.

"Still at it, I see!"

"Not for much longer, I'm afraid."

Roman came up and inspected the painting as Janus added the last details. He took a step back and looked over his finished work.

"What do you think?" Janus asked apprehensively.

"This is gorgeous," Roman praised with a smile. "The influence of the impressionist movement is so inspired."

Janus smiled rather brightly. "Thank you. I don't know if it's obvious, but I take a lot of inspiration from the likes of Van Gogh and Monet."

Roman nodded. "I can see it. The impasto of Van Gogh in the grass, the way it captures light in the manner of Monet's works. Truly a masterpiece."

Janus wanted to kiss him.

"I... I have other paintings."

Roman turned to smile at him. "Can I see?"

Janus and Roman carried Janus's painting supplies back to his room. Once everything was in its place, Janus led Roman through the door to his gallery.

He had created a gallery for his paintings when he ran out of room on his walls. With Remus's help, of course. He had been painting for many years, and most of his paintings were of Thomas's memories.

Roman looked around the large white room in awe. He had the biggest smile on his face, and Janus was so proud to be the one to put that smile there.

He was so helplessly in love.

"How long have you been painting?" Roman asked breathlessly.

"Oh, you know... do you remember when Thomas went on that field trip to the art museum?"

Roman whirled around to look at him in surprise. "You've been painting since Thomas was in third grade?"

Janus shrugged. "You know... I dabble."

Roman's smile faded. "I remember that field trip. I tried painting, too. Tried to get Thomas to paint. After a week, I gave up. I wish I'd kept at it."

"I could teach you," Janus blurted out without thinking.

Roman brightened up again. "You could? I mean, you don't have to. I mean, it's no big deal, really. I just—"

"I would be delighted to."

Roman smiled again. He looked around at the paintings on the walls. "Are these... Thomas's memories?"

"They are. I've... on occasion, snuck into the Library, swiped a book of memories, and painted what I saw. Especially when Thomas formed a particularly happy memory. Those are my favorite ones to paint."

Roman looked at him again. "Can I show Logan? I think he'd love to see paintings of Thomas's memories."

Janus smiled. "Sure."

Roman went and got Logan, leading him into the gallery with his hands over Logan's eyes. Janus chuckled a little at the sight.

"Are you ready?" Roman asked.

Logan sighed, but smiled. "Roman, you're being ridiculous."

"I know. Alright... behold."

He removed his hands from Logan's eyes, and Logan adjusted his glasses as he took in the paintings. For some reason, this made Janus more nervous. Perhaps because Logan had never seen his paintings before, and now he was faced with all of them.

"Janus," Logan said breathlessly. "Did you paint all of these?"

Janus cleared his throat. "Well, if you like them, then yes I did, but if you hate them, then absolutely not."

Logan rolled his eyes, his smile widening. "Of course I like them. They're very impressive."

"Thank you." Janus thought for a moment. He might regret it, but he wanted to show them. "Would you two like to see... my very first painting?"

Roman and Logan both perked up.

"I would love to," Roman said with a smile.

"As would I," Logan agreed.

"Follow me."

Janus led them through the room, towards the back. The room was massive, so it took a minute or so to get there. In the back, there was a door labelled "keep out" in bright red. Janus stopped and turned towards Logan and Roman.

"This room... well, it's where I keep all my earlier work. Basically, all the paintings I hate. I don't want to display them, but I couldn't bring myself to destroy them, so they... sit back here and gather dust. I... I don't expect you to be impressed, I just... you deserve to see my first."

Both their expressions were unreadable and Janus couldn't stand it. He turned back towards the door and took a deep breath. He opened it and turned on the light.

Most of the paintings in this room were propped against the wall and stacked on top of each other. There was one, however, that was hung on the wall opposite of the door.

A childish painting of a person outside in the grass. A little boy with short brown hair, brown eyes, and a big smile. The boy was labelled "my person". There was some kind of bird painted beside him, and Janus remembered it was supposed to be a goose.

"Is that...?" Roman began.

"Thomas, yes," Janus confirmed. "From that day in third grade. That field trip to the art museum. Everyone went outside for lunch, and Thomas spotted that flock of geese. He chased after them, and of course, being geese, they scared him off. Then Joan came up and punched one of the geese in the face." Janus chuckled at the memory.

"When Thomas and Joan first became friends," Roman recalled.

Janus nodded. "Yeah."

They all stood there in serene silence. Janus found himself smiling. It was nice revisiting this painting. He often considered repainting it in his current style, but something held him back.

The three of them soon left the gallery. Logan and Roman departed for their date in the Imagination.

Janus had almost forgotten about why he'd started painting today in the first place.

[justmybookthots]

Once Upon a Broken Heart / A Ballad of Never After

1.5/5 stars

What can I say about this series except that it was so terribly disappointing? 

The most vexing part was that I actually found the first book decent - not very good, but it was decent, and I enjoyed it. Also, a lot of people said that this book was much better than Caraval, so I’m kind of scared of / morbidly fascinated by how bad Caraval must be now.

But anyway, that is beside the point. The first book is decent, with a very pretty writing style and a simple but engaging plot. The writing was very redolent of a fairy tale; it actually reminded me a little of Enid Blyton’s writing in her children's stories. However, it did give me the feeling that the story was a little vapid at times - maybe I just needed more grit, blood and strife, and less focus on true love ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Not that there wasn’t any in the story, but the conflict rang kind of hollow, and I can’t exactly pinpoint why. I felt as if I were reading a series of tropes and mechanisms rather than an actual person going through all those things.

I must say that I disliked Evangeline, even in the first book. Here is a picture of her:

Before I elaborate on why she looks like that, let's start with the early parts of her I disliked. She was naïve and stupid, and had some real Main Character Syndrome (to be fair, she is the main character, but she's not supposed to know that). I cringed when she entered the North and immediately dreamed of marrying Prince Apollo, when she didn’t even know him yet, all for the expectations of a happy ending for herself. The secondhand embarrassment was at its peak when Apollo stepped towards the girl he would choose for the first dance, and she stepped forward, thinking he was about to choose her.

He didn’t. 

:)

I should probably talk about Jacks, who is arguably the heart of the story. Or the broken heart, because he, uh, is the Prince of Broken Hearts. 

I hate him. 

See, it's a pity because I actually liked him in the first book; his characterisation was intriguing, clever and to my taste. I thought he still had a lot of untapped potential, though, because I’d barely scratched the surface with him in Book 1. And with BookTok wanking him to oblivion - someone chose him over a gazillion book boyfriends - I had hopes that the sequel would blow my socks out of water. (Yes, yes, my misplaced faith in BookTok's credibility is my own vice)

Well, it did! Without a doubt, the sequel certainly blew all my hopes that this story would ever be decent 👍

Jacks is a coward. That’s all he ever is, and does. How does one do cowardice, you might ask? Well, you run and hurt the person you’re supposed to love, over and over again. Because he’s afraid of hurting Evangeline, he, uh, hurts her. Yes. And he spends the sequel being an ass - he flirts with girls frequently, while rudely barging in the moment Evangeline strikes up a conversation with another man. My teeth were grinding when she caught him in that deserted corridor with that girl, about to kiss her after spending the evening constantly sabotaging Evangeline’s attempts to get over him with other men.

If you don’t want her, fine. If you’re too much of a wuss, whatever. But what you don't do is stop her from starting something with someone else. You can’t have your cake and eat it, too.

And Evangeline? She actually started the book writing a letter to herself as a reminder that she must never fall for Jacks because he was dangerous. And how does she spend the last half of the book? Spoiler: Mooning over Jacks and acknowledging she’s fallen for him (which I was… very unconvinced about because the build-up to their romance SUCKED) and telling herself she was going to save him from his fear of love.

My dear, you are not Bob the Builder. No woman should be for any man. I think you should go fix your head first.

The last nail in the coffin for me was when Jacks revealed that all along, he was planning to turn back time to be with another girl (whom he didn't even love, but hoped to score a second chance with). 😂 Hilarious. You could turn back time to before the curse befell you, and you choose to go back... for some chick you didn't like? I get his theme is wanting to find true love, but I always found that so frivolous, and of course, so insulting to poor Evangeline. And after she “died” and he decided to turn back time to save her life - which, by the way, does not redeem anything for me. This girl practically risked her life to help you get the stones to help you find your true love. This is the least you can do, loser - he was such a rude ass to her to “protect her”. 

For once, Evangeline grew enough balls (it lasted for about as long as the dialogue went before she lapsed back into Bob-the-Builder mode again) to tell him this after he yelled at her:

EXACTLY. 

Anyway, I have ranted enough about this book. I don’t want any part of it anymore, and will not be abusing myself by reading the next book. I MAY read Caraval, mainly because I want to see just how bad it is. And also, I want to be sure Stephanie Garber is really a lost cause before I write her off completely. 

- 15 July 2023