#it’s not even subtle about its themes lmao

[maevesweirdart]

tfw you finish Persona 3 Reload

[jaeyuniversal]

anxiety - n.rk

pairing: stranger!nishimura riki x fem!reader

synopsis: you meet him on a quiet night — a stranger with sharp eyes and a colder edge, nothing like anyone in your sleepy suburb. he won’t talk, barely looks at you, but something about him lingers. maybe you’re just curious. or maybe you’ve seen him before.

featuring: ni-ki & jake of enhypen

genre: childhood friends to lovers, a sprinkle of angst, smut, skinship, kissing, etc.

warnings: smut (18+), difficult relationships with parents, love at first sight lowk, vulnerability, themes of implied watching (not rlly stalking) but it isn't graphic, riki smokes cigs, uhhh i think that's it?? lowercase intended heh

playlist: anxiety by doechii, clarity by zedd & sacrifice by enhypen

(smut warnings under cut)

wc: 9.120k

a/n: this is way longer than i expected but it came to me in a dream... enjoy! also i'm gonna start a perm taglist! comment on any of my fics or send an ask to be added! <3

smut content: riki's PACKING, they cum in their pants lol, dry humping, deepthroating kinda, backshots LMAO, missionary, dom!riki x sub!reader, degradation & praise kinks, creampie, like SO MUCH cum... n e ways! fluffy aftercare, unprotected sex (wrap b4 you tap), tit fucking, oral (m. receiving), choking, everything is consensual, riki and reader are both so down bad for each other... lmk if i missed anything :3

(not proofread)

-ˏˋ⋆ 7 months ago ⋆ˊˎ-

it was raining the day you first felt it — that creeping sensation at the back of your neck, like invisible fingers brushing against your skin.

not a storm, not anything dramatic. just that kind of soft, cold drizzle that seeped into your clothes and made the world feel like it was holding its breath. gray sky melted into gray pavement, the horizon smeared like a half-finished painting. you were standing under the chipped awning of the old bakery on the corner, the scent of yeast and sugar mixing with the rain, waiting for your usual thursday pastry that was always slightly overbaked but comfortingly warm.

you remember scrolling through your phone, aimlessly, as your friend, jake, rambled beside you about something he saw on tv. you weren't listening. you were too aware of the feeling — that hum beneath your skin. subtle but unshakable.

“there’s someone watching me,” you’d said earlier that morning, trying to brush it off with a laugh as you stirred milk into your coffee. “it’s my anxiety.” jake didn’t look up from his phone. “or maybe you’re watching yourself spiral.”

you’d rolled your eyes. maybe he was right. midterms were looming, you hadn’t slept in days, and your brain felt like it was being slowly pulled apart by rubber bands. but still. the feeling didn’t go away.

it got worse.

you’d been fidgeting, switching the weight on your feet, chewing the inside of your cheek. and then, like something calling your name without a sound, your eyes had drifted across the street.

that’s when you saw him.

a boy. or maybe a man — it was hard to tell, the rain blurred everything. tall, impossibly still, wearing a black hoodie that clung to his shoulders. he wasn’t under any kind of shelter. he stood alone, soaked to the bone, his face half-hidden by the hood, his gaze fixed. not on the road. not on the buildings. but on you.

you stared. you didn’t recognize him. not really. and yet something deep in your chest stirred like a memory. like a name you almost remembered. like a dream you’d had once and forgotten by morning.

you glanced down for a second — a message lighting up your screen.

when you looked up, he was gone.

no footsteps. no splash. just… gone.

you never told jake. what would you say? you didn’t even know what you’d seen. maybe nothing at all.

maybe your anxiety really was watching you. maybe it had grown arms and legs and a face hidden under a rain-soaked hood. maybe it had always been there, just waiting for the right day to show itself.

either way, it started then.

and it never really stopped.

-ˏˋ⋆ present day ⋆ˊˎ-

the hallway is too quiet for a friday night.

you shuffle down the corridor with a tied-up trash bag swinging limply at your side, socks stuffed in your duck slippers, slapping against the cool tile floor. the overhead light flickers once, buzzing faintly. classic.

you reach the stairwell, already bracing yourself for the sharp chill of the outside air, when you stop short.

he’s there.

leaning against the railing of the third-floor landing, hoodie pulled up over his head, cigarette dangling between his fingers — even though this is strictly a no-smoking building. he doesn’t flinch when you turn the corner. just keeps staring out at the dim skyline, face barely visible under the shadow of his hood.

you slow down, blinking.

he’s not familiar — not really. you pride yourself on knowing every face in this sleepy apartment complex, whether through polite nods in the mailroom or awkward elevator silences. but him? nothing. no name. no room number. just angles and silence.

and yet… something about him rings in your head like a half-forgotten dream.

his profile is soft, almost too pretty to be real. sharp jaw, dark lashes, bangs dipping into his eyes. he looks like he doesn’t belong here — like someone plucked him out of a bigger story and dropped him into yours by mistake.

"hey," you offer, voice casual, just above a whisper. "you new here?"

he doesn’t look at you. doesn’t answer.

awkward.

you shift the trash bag in your hands, trying again. “i live on the second floor. don’t think i’ve seen you around before.”

still nothing. just a small exhale of smoke that curls into the cold night air.

rude, you think. but not in a mean way. more like… distant. careful.

you lean against the opposite railing, letting the silence stretch for a few seconds.

"you look familiar," you say, eyes narrowing. "have we met before?"

this time, his gaze flickers. not quite to you — just past you. a twitch of recognition, maybe. or annoyance.

you can't tell.

but your brain is racing. you know him. you must. maybe in passing. maybe in a memory. maybe you’ve just seen him out here before, on the edge of your vision, existing quietly in the corners of your routine. maybe your subconscious noticed him long before you did.

he stubs out the cigarette and walks past you without a word.

you don’t move. you just watch him disappear down the hall, hoodie covered by a black jacket, hands stuffed in his pockets.

"okay then," you murmur to yourself, staring after him. and you can’t help it — the way your eyes linger on the spot he stood, heart ticking a little faster.

there’s something about him.

you just don’t know what. yet.

───

it's raining the next time you see him.

you’re standing under the overhang by the front entrance, fumbling with your umbrella, when the door swings open behind you. you glance back — and it’s him. again.

hoodie. same brown timberlands. same unreadable expression.

you swear he pauses when he sees you, just a fraction of a second. but maybe that’s in your head.

"you smoke a lot for someone living in a no-smoking building," you say without thinking, half a joke.

he doesn’t laugh. but his lips twitch, barely, like maybe he almost did.

he steps out into the rain without an umbrella.

"hey!" you call, surprised. "you're seriously just gonna walk in that?"

he doesn't stop. doesn't answer. but this time, he does glance back at you over his shoulder. eyes dark. thoughtful. like he’s trying to decide something.

“i’ve seen you before,” you say — louder, more certain now. “i just don’t remember where.”

his mouth parts, like he might say something. but then he turns and keeps walking, rain soaking into the fabric of his hoodie, blending him into the gray of the street.

and you're left standing there, umbrella unopened, heart kicking strangely against your ribs.

───

it’s quiet in the laundry room — too quiet. the kind of quiet that settles in your chest and presses down, like you’re underwater. the overhead light flickers occasionally, buzzing in protest, but no one’s bothered to fix it. you wouldn’t usually be here this late, but your sheets were stained and the smell was driving you insane. so here you are, half-past midnight, leaning against a rickety folding table, waiting.

your phone barely gets signal this far in the basement, and the wi-fi’s always spotty. it’s just you, the low groan of the washer, and your own thoughts trying to make conversation.

until the door creaks open.

you don’t jump, but your spine straightens on instinct. you don’t have to look up to know it’s him — the presence is immediate, unmistakable. that stillness in the air that follows him like a shadow. you finally glance up, and there he is. same black hoodie. same too-quiet footsteps. same face that looks like it doesn’t belong here. like it was carved into something older than this tiny suburban building.

he doesn’t say a word. just drops a bag on the floor and begins sorting laundry like it’s the most normal thing in the world. like you haven’t already seen him twice this week, always at night, always alone, always watching without watching.

“seriously?” you say, trying to keep your voice light. “do you just hang out in weird corners of this complex to freak people out?”

nothing.

he lifts a pair of dark jeans, shakes them out. you watch his fingers. they're pale. long. too clean for someone who lives in this building. you’ve lived here your whole life and never seen him before last week — and yet...

he feels familiar.

“okay,” you continue, stepping off the table now. the room feels colder suddenly. “do you live here? or are you like... a freak with laundry privileges?”

still nothing. you laugh under your breath, but it sounds too loud in the silence. your heartbeat starts to climb your throat.

then he says it. quiet. low.

“you used to wait outside the bakery every thursday. same dark purple coat. hair in a slick bun. you never looked both ways when you crossed the street.”

the words stop you cold.

“what?” you ask, your voice barely audible.

he still doesn’t look at you. he presses a button on the washer. it whirs to life.

“i remember,” he says simply.

and then he walks out.

no explanation. no glance back. just leaves you standing there, spine prickling, air thick with something you can’t name.

you don’t move for a long time. the washer keeps spinning. and somewhere in the back of your mind, a door creaks open — something old, something buried. you know that voice. you know it.

but from where?

and why now?

───

you see him again the next week.

it’s late. everything always is these days. late nights, late thoughts, late feelings that come crawling out of places you’ve spent years trying to bury.

he’s there again by the mailboxes, half-shrouded in the dim glow of the overhead light. same hoodie, same stillness. like he’s always belonged to the dark. like the world moves around him, but never through him.

you don’t say anything this time. just glance at him, let your eyes linger a little too long. the silence stretches like fog between you, thick and almost heavy.

when you get back to your apartment, you sit on the floor of your room, knees to your chest, staring at nothing. trying to remember.

because it’s not just déjà vu. it’s more insistent than that. it’s something sharper. something that presses at the edges of your mind like a dull knife.

you know him.

or—at least, you’ve seen him before. not in this life maybe, but in another version of it. in a hallway, maybe. in a photograph. in a moment you never thought would matter until it does.

you try to pull it apart, memory by memory. but your brain is tired and tangled, the way it always is when you think too hard about the past. especially your own.

your mom used to say you were dramatic. that you let small things become monsters under the bed. “don’t be so sensitive,” she’d snap, when you cried over things she didn’t understand. “you make everything so hard for yourself.”

your dad never said much at all.

they were loud in the wrong ways. silent in the ones that mattered. and you learned early how to turn your feelings into puzzles with missing pieces — complex enough to keep you distracted, but unsolvable enough to stop you from ever really facing them.

and yet, riki… there’s something about him that pulls at those missing pieces. like maybe he was one of them. like maybe he slipped into your life through a crack in the wall and waited, patiently, for you to notice.

was he from your old school? a kid from your neighborhood? someone you passed in a crowd once and never forgot, even if you didn’t realize it?

you hate not knowing. hate how it makes you feel like a child again — helpless and unsettled. desperate for answers no one’s willing to give.

maybe that’s what this really is. not fear. not obsession. just the ache of a memory that refuses to resurface.

he’s a question mark in human form. and you’ve never been good with uncertainty.

you don’t see him again for days.

which should be a relief. it should give you space to think, to forget. but it doesn’t. it just makes everything louder. the silence, the questions, the feeling in your gut that something is watching you — or waiting.

your sleep turns thin and restless. shadows stretch too long across your walls. you start leaving your bedroom light on. just in case.

one night, you wake up at 3:12 a.m., heart racing for no reason at all. it takes a second to realize what pulled you out of sleep — a sound. something light. deliberate.

a knock?

you hold your breath. wait. nothing.

you get up anyway.

there’s no one at the door. of course not. but something catches your eye as you start to turn back — something lying just at the edge of your doormat. small. folded. a piece of paper.

you hesitate, then pick it up. it’s blank on the outside. no name. no writing. nothing.

you open it slowly.

inside, in rushed, almost messy handwriting, are six words:

“do you really not remember me?”

your throat goes tight. your first instinct is to look around, scan the hallway, check the peephole twice. there’s no one.

no sound.

just that question burning in your hands.

do you really not remember me?

your fingers shake a little as you fold it back up. your brain is moving too fast and not fast enough at the same time. and that feeling — the one that’s been gnawing at you for days — it blooms in your chest like a scream that never makes it out.

because now it’s real. now you know you aren’t imagining it. the familiarity, the tension, the way your spine goes rigid every time you see him —

he knows you.

he’s known you.

and maybe you did know him once, too. maybe you still do, buried under everything you’ve forgotten on purpose.

you think about the look in his eyes that first night. the way he never said a word. the stillness of him.

you think of the hallway. the sound that woke you. the note.

you think of how you told your friend the other day, half-laughing, half-serious: “there’s someone watching me, it’s my anxiety.”

but what if it’s more than that?

what if it’s not just in your head?

what if it’s him? 

───

it hits you in the middle of folding laundry.

something about the way your fingers move. something about the light slanting in through the kitchen window. warm, but not comforting. and all at once, you’re not in your apartment anymore.

you’re in a house. someone else’s. maybe your own. there’s music playing — muffled through a closed door. a cheap stereo with tinny speakers. old j-pop, the kind that loops endlessly on cassettes. the wallpaper is peeling in one corner.

and then—

a voice. soft. younger. yours.

"why do you always hide when they come home?"

someone's sitting in the hallway. knees pulled to their chest. head down. shadows in the space between them like they’re both in different dimensions.

and then he looks up.

not the man in the stairwell. not riki, not yet. just a boy. sharp eyes, hollow cheeks, hair too long in front. there’s a cut on his lip. fading purple under his eye.

“because it’s safer,” he says.

the air warps around that line, like heat off asphalt. she wants to reach for him, wants to say something back, but the memory curls tighter around her, swallowing the end of it before she can hold on.

then it’s gone.

just like that.

you blink down at the pile of laundry in your lap, hands gone still.

your chest feels tight. throat aching, like you swallowed something heavy. the apartment feels colder than it should. that voice — his voice — still rings somewhere in your bones.

because you’ve heard it before. not recently. years ago.

and suddenly you’re thinking about your father’s anger. how he used to break things before he yelled. how sometimes he didn’t yell at all. how the silence always scared you more. how you stopped inviting friends over after age ten. how there was one boy you let in. once.

his name—

you press the heel of your palm to her forehead, hard, like you can shake it loose.

it won’t come. not yet.

but the shape of it is there, curling at the edges of a memory like smoke. and the boy with the bruised mouth and quiet eyes — he's not a stranger.

not even close.

later that night, you can't sleep.

there's a weight on your chest that won’t lift no matter how you shift under the sheets. it’s not insomnia — it’s memory. something clawing at the back of your skull, begging to be seen.

so you get up.

the air in the apartment is too still. even the hum of the fridge feels distant. you don't bother with the lights. just moving barefoot and slow, like any noise might scare the truth away.

the closet in the hallway creaks when you open it. you kneel. pushing past shoeboxes, tangled cords, the mess of forgotten things. until your hand hits the one you’re looking for.

a red box. scuffed corners. cheap velvet peeled at the edges. inside: scraps of a childhood. yours.

old keychains, broken friendship bracelets, polaroids faded to brown. concert tickets. a snow globe from sapporo. and then—

a photograph.

creased down the center. color bleeding with age. a summer day, maybe. you’re younger. seven or eight. awkward teeth, sunburnt nose, some awful haircut her mother swore looked cute. and beside you —

a boy.

not smiling. just… there. close, but not touching. eyes dark and watchful even then.

and it’s him.

riki.

only it wasn’t his name back then, was it? he went by ni-ki.

your breath catches. you sit back on your heels, heart thudding in your ears.

how could you forget? they lived on the same street. just four houses down. his mom used to walk him to school until she didn’t anymore. and then he stopped coming altogether.

after that, he vanished. until now.

until the stairwell. until the way he didn’t speak but looked at her like he knew everything.

you swallow the sick twist in your stomach. the sudden, sharp cold shivering down your spine.

why was he back?

and why you?

you leave the photo on the kitchen island.

maybe it’s careless, maybe even stupid, but you tell yourself it’ll make more sense in the morning. you’ll wake up, look at it with clearer eyes, and it won’t feel like your chest is caving in. besides, you live alone. and it’s just a photo.

just a photo.

you drag yourself to the couch, the blanket scratchy against your legs, exhaustion curling into your limbs like smoke. you fall asleep fast — but it’s the wrong kind of sleep. thick, dreamless, heavy with something you can’t name. a noise pulls at you. a door. or a voice. or your own heart cracking open.

you wake up just as the first light creeps through the windows. your mouth is dry. your tongue tastes like copper.

something is off.

you walk into the kitchen, still half in a fog—and stop.

the photo is gone.

you freeze, staring at the empty spot where it had been, your thoughts moving too fast and too slow all at once. the red box is still there. untouched. the lid sitting open like a mouth waiting to swallow more. you check the floor. under the fridge. between papers. nothing.

no one could’ve taken it.

the door was locked. the windows haven’t budged. you were here. you were alone.

a chill slides down your spine, sharp and crawling. you think of him again. the way he looked at you in the stairwell. not confused. not curious.

just watching.

like he already knew what you would find.

your breath catches. you don’t even realize you’ve backed up until your shoulder hits the wall.

you don’t understand what’s happening, but something is— and it’s closing in.

the silence hums in your ears. the wind slips against the glass like breath. and then you see it.

something on the kitchen table.

not the photo. but something folded.

small. white. placed exactly where the photo had been.

your name is written on the front.

in handwriting you almost recognize.

you stare at the folded paper like it might burn through the table. your name, in soft, slanted letters—almost familiar, like a half-remembered dream. the kind you wake up from with your chest tight and eyes wet, but can’t explain to anyone without sounding insane.

your fingers hesitate.

you don’t want to touch it. you want to burn it. you want to leave the apartment and never come back.

but your hand moves anyway, like it isn’t yours. like you’re being pulled by something older than memory.

the paper is heavier than it looks. the kind of paper someone saves. the kind that lives in boxes under beds, waiting to be found.

you unfold it slowly. deliberately.

the first line makes your stomach drop:

“you used to laugh with your whole face.”

your throat tightens. your vision blurs at the edges. you keep reading.

“i remember when you were afraid of thunderstorms. you’d hide under the table with that stuffed bear. the one with the missing eye.”

you sink into the nearest chair. it creaks beneath you. your heartbeat pounds in your ears like thunder.

how does he know that?

no one remembers that.

not even your mother—too busy fighting shadows of men who never stayed long enough to learn your name.

you blink hard, trying to push away the sting in your eyes. your hand shakes as you reach the last line:

“it’s okay if you don’t remember me. i remember you.”

the note isn’t signed.

but you already know who it’s from.

and you’re not sure if that makes it better… or so much worse.

you find yourself standing at the corner of the street, unsure of where to go or how to breathe. the note is heavy in your hand, the words on it are still too real. still too impossible to wrap your mind around.

but you can’t ignore it anymore. you’ve been running from something, running from the truth, but it’s all catching up with you. and it starts with one thing—one person—who might just hold the answers.

you text jake. i need to talk to you.

he replies almost immediately: come over. i’ll make coffee.

you don’t hesitate. your body moves before your brain can catch up.

jake’s apartment smells like coffee, like books, and like something homey you can’t quite place. you’ve always liked it here—quiet, safe, with jake’s easy smile and the way he always listens like he doesn’t have a million things on his plate.

but today, when he opens the door, his smile falters. his eyes linger on the note in your hand before he invites you in.

“what’s going on?” he asks, his voice soft. “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“worse,” you murmur, sitting down at the kitchen table. “riki. the guy from my apartment building. the one i’ve been thinking about.”

jake’s face changes. his usual calm demeanor cracks for a split second, but it’s enough. enough to make you sit up straighter, enough to make your heart skip a beat.

“what do you mean, the guy you’ve been thinking about?” he asks carefully. “y/n, you’ve been telling me you’ve never met him before. he’s just some weird guy who shows up at random times. are you sure you’re okay?”

you hesitate. the note is still in your hand. you want to show it to him, but something holds you back. you can’t explain this to him without sounding insane.

“he knows things, jake. about me. about my childhood. stuff no one would know.” you pause, swallowing hard. “it’s like he’s been... watching me.”

the silence in the room thickens. jake stands still, his hands gripping the edge of the table. you can feel his mind working through it, piecing things together. finally, he exhales sharply.

“you know who he is, don’t you?” jake’s voice cracks just a little, and you hate that you can hear it.

“he’s riki,” you whisper. “i know it.”

jake looks like he’s just seen a ghost too. but it’s worse than that. it’s betrayal, old wounds you never knew were still there.

“how do you know him?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

jake runs a hand through his hair, his face tight with something you can’t read. "riki... he was my best friend back home. we were inseparable when we were kids, after he randomly showed up one day. before everything in his home town happened. before he disappeared from there."

you lean forward, your heart racing. "why did he disappear?"

jake looks away, his eyes shadowed with memories. "riki got tangled up in some bad stuff, y/n. things that don’t go away, things that ruin people. he got in with the wrong crowd—gangs, debts, all kinds of shit. he disappeared from there too and... no one ever really knew what happened. but the rumors started. they said he ran. he left everything behind."

your throat tightens. “but... he didn’t.”

jake’s gaze is heavy, dark. “no. he didn’t. he’s been trying to stay hidden ever since. but some ghosts don’t stay buried, y/n.”

your chest tightens. you’ve been living in the shadow of something you can’t even remember fully. and now it’s back.

───

later that night, you find yourself standing in front of riki’s door, your heart hammering in your chest. you knock once, twice, and wait.

the door opens slowly, and riki stands there, eyes wide, almost guilty. he looks different in the light, darker somehow, worn and tired. but the same fire is still there. it’s still riki.

“you know, don’t you?” he says, his voice tight, like he’s holding something back.

you nod, your voice barely above a whisper. “you disappeared. you ran. kept running. and i don’t understand why.”

riki’s eyes flicker with something—pain, maybe. “it’s not that simple. there’s things you don’t know, things i can’t tell you.”

you step closer, ignoring the hesitation in your chest. “i need to know, riki. everything. i need you to tell me.”

his jaw clenches. but then he opens the door wider, his shoulders slumping as he gestures for you to come inside.

you step into his dimly lit apartment, your heart racing. the room feels charged with something unspoken, like the air is holding its breath.

“i didn’t want you to get involved in all of this,” riki says, his voice raw. “but now that you know, i can’t just leave you hanging.”

you take a step forward, your hand trembling as you reach for him, the tension between you unbearable. “you’re not alone in this anymore, riki. i’m here.”

he looks at you, eyes haunted, like he’s trying to decide if he can trust you. then, without warning, his lips crash against yours.

you freeze for a second, the intensity of it taking you by surprise. but then your body reacts, pulling him closer, kissing him back with everything you’ve been holding in. it’s messy, desperate, like neither of you knows what’s happening but can’t stop it.

his hands are everywhere—on your waist, your back, your neck—like he’s trying to memorize you, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

your heart is racing, your body pressed against his, and for a moment, everything feels like it’s on fire.

riki pulls back, his breathing shallow, his forehead resting against yours. the tension between you two is still there, but it's different now — softer, like a thread connecting you in a way neither of you can fully explain.

"y/n," he says, his voice low but intense, trembling slightly. "there are things i never wanted to tell you, things i couldn't bear to say. i thought it would be easier to push you away, to make you hate me before you found out... but i can't do it anymore. i can't keep lying to myself."

you step back a little, your chest tightening as you watch him. his eyes are full of so many emotions—regret, pain, love—but it’s the last one that makes your heart ache with something you didn’t expect.

"i’ve been in this dark place for so long, y/n. i never thought i could get out of it. i pushed everyone away, especially you, because i knew if i let you in, you’d see the mess i am... but you’re the only one who’s ever mattered. i’ve always known it, even when i was too afraid to admit it. i love you."

his words hang in the air, raw and vulnerable. and you feel something inside of you break wide open—something you’ve been trying so hard to protect, trying to hide.

“i’ve always loved you,” riki continues, his voice softer now, almost like he’s confessing a secret that’s been buried for too long. “even when i tried to run from it, even when i tried to push you away... you were always the one. always.”

you can barely find your voice, overwhelmed by the tenderness in his words. "riki, i—"

but he shakes his head, cutting you off gently. "no, listen. i know i’ve hurt you. i know i’ve been distant, but everything i did... i did it because i was scared. scared of losing you. scared of what you’d think of me if you knew everything. but i can’t hide anymore. not from you. i’ve never stopped loving you. not even for a second.”

tears sting the back of your eyes, but you blink them away, letting his confession settle inside you. your heart feels too full, too full of emotions you don’t know how to contain. you take a deep breath, your voice trembling when you finally speak.

“i’m not going anywhere, riki,” you whisper, the words catching in your throat. “i never was. i don’t care about the past... i don’t care about what happened before. i care about you. i’ve always cared about you.”

for a moment, neither of you moves. the world feels so quiet, like everything has stopped, and it’s just the two of you in this space—this moment where everything you’ve both been hiding finally comes to light.

riki steps closer, his hands gently cupping your face, his thumbs brushing over your skin. his eyes are soft now, almost like he’s memorizing every detail of you, like he never wants to forget this moment.

“can i kiss you again?” he asks, his voice so soft, so unsure. it’s like he’s asking for permission, like he’s afraid of making the wrong move.

you nod, your breath catching in your throat. “please,” you whisper.

and then, his lips are on yours, gentle but urgent, like everything he’s held inside of him is pouring into this kiss. his hands slide to your back, pulling you closer, and you melt into him. you kiss him back with everything you’ve been holding onto, everything you’ve been feeling but never knew how to say.

when you pull back, both of you breathless, riki presses his forehead to yours, his hands resting gently on your hips. his eyes are full of that same tenderness, that same love that’s been there all along.

“i love you, y/n,” he whispers again, this time with more certainty, more peace. “and i always will. no matter what.”

and in that moment, you know, without a doubt, that everything—every question, every fear, every hesitation—has been worth it. because now, in this space, with him, everything feels right.

“i love you too, riki,” you say softly, the words more sure now. “i always will.”

and the kiss that follows is more than just passion—it’s a promise. 

he breaks the kiss and leads you to his bedroom, sitting on the edge of his bed. he pulls you onto his lap and crashes his lips against yours once again. 

but this kiss, it’s different than the others. 

it’s hot. fiery. desperate. 

his tongue bullies its way into your mouth, fighting for dominance which you happily give him. as you continue making out, he becomes increasingly handsy. they fly from your jaw, to your shoulder blades, sliding down to rest on your ass. he grips your clothed flesh with desire.

and that's when you feel it—the unmistakable hardness settled between his legs. pressed against your burning hot core. 

you gasped into his lips and he swallowed it up eagerly. 

he rolled your hips down onto his crotch, seeking friction to ease his hard on. groaning into the kiss, he broke it, tilting his head back.

you carefully observed how his adam’s apple bobbed each time he swallowed, your self control fading into nothing. reaching out to grab his neck, you lightly apply pressure as you leave sloppy, wet kisses all over his jaw. your eyes drop to his collarbones, noticing his hoodie getting in the way.

you shift in his lap, knees sinking further into his bed as your hands find his shoulders for balance. riki looks up at you, eyes half-lidded, lips parted slightly like he’s caught between breath and want. his hoodie is bunched up from where your fingers had tugged at the hem earlier, and when you reach for it again, he doesn’t stop you.

you pull it over his head slowly, your fingers grazing warm skin as the fabric slides up and off. beneath it, he’s wearing a black tank top that clings to him in all the right places—soft cotton stretched over lean muscle, tracing the shape of his chest and the dip of his waist.

his collarbones catch the low light of the room, sharp and defined, leading down to the elegant curve of his neck. you can see the slight rise and fall of it as he swallows, your gaze drifting lower to the sculpted line of his biceps, muscles flexing subtly under your weight, like he’s holding back.

he looks devastating like this—relaxed and bare in a way that feels forbidden, like you’re seeing something no one else is allowed to.

"you’re staring," he says quietly, a flicker of amusement in his voice, but there's a softness to it too, like he doesn’t mind being seen this way. like he wants you to look.

you smile, brushing your fingers across his shoulder, down his arm, feeling the strength beneath the surface. "can you blame me?"

he laughs under his breath, hands settling at your hips, warm and steady. "not really."

you lean in closer, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck, right where it meets his collarbone. he shivers under your touch, and you feel it in your core—how easy it is to fall into him, how right it feels to be here like this.

you push him further on his bed, his back hitting the soft comforter, hands never leaving your hips. 

he captures your lips once again in a kiss that's delicate, like he’s trying to process everything but he can’t. are you really here with him right now? his childhood best friend who he forced himself to cut contact with—but then again, did he ever really cut contact with you? he had to make sure you were okay one way or another, so he watched from the shadows. even if it meant sacrificing his greatest love. you. 

as if you could sense the gears overheating in his brain, you pull away from him and stare into his familiar brown eyes. he pouts and you see a glimpse of ni-ki. the scared, eight year old who you’d give up anything to protect. 

he cradles your face like you’re made of glass and whispers, “are you sure you want this, angel? because once i start… i don’t think i’ll be able to stop.” 

you nod your head, but that doesn’t seem to be enough for him, “words, baby. i need words, hmm?” you bite back a flustered smile, “yeah ni-ki, i want this. you.” 

he grins hearing his childhood name fall out of your soft, sweet lips and picks you up off his lap so he can rest with his back against the headboard. 

settling back on his thighs, and becoming increasingly impatient, you roll your hips against his, surprising him.

he lets out a breathy moan, urging you to continue. you want to hear each of his pretty sounds.

pressing your clothed clit into the tip of his dick, he closes his eyes, biting his lip. you feel him pulsing beneath you, the thin layer of his sweats not doing much to hide his arousal. 

neither of you have ever been this turned on just by kissing, heavy petting, and grinding. but neither of you dare to stop. it feels too good, like a craving you’ve subconsciously had. 

riki pauses the movement of your hips, being the first one to break this careful, but familiar, tension between you two. “baby, give me a sec. i’m c-close,” he mutters.

wanting to see what he looks like when he finishes, you grin, dragging your hips down harder and slower, in a teasing manner. he groans, but with the same teasing energy, bucks his hips up into yours, allowing you to feel just how big he is—and he knows it, too. judging by your reaction, he can tell it’s been a while since you’ve both been intimate with someone else. 

feeling his release closer than he’d say out loud, he takes control of your movements, speeding them up. you can feel how badly he needs this. how desperate he needs you.

the friction of his covered cock rubbing repeatedly on your sensitive clit, feels better than anything you’ve ever tried with others or yourself. you’re both panting, forehead to forehead, when everything comes crashing down. riki releases into his gray sweats, making a mess. he swears he’s never cum that hard. and your panties get increasingly sticky and uncomfortable.

basking in the aftermath of your shared orgasm, riki gently holds you by the waist, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. lots of “you did great,” “that felt so good, baby,” and a lot of whining. “i need you so bad,” “please, angel, i’ll make you feel so so good.” 

who are you to deny your first and only love?

you slowly stand on wobbly legs, stripping, giving riki a show. 

he gawks as you remove each item of clothing, starting with your shirt. he’s surprised you aren’t wearing a bra but when your perky tits come into his eyesight, he’s right in front of you. grabbing—licking—whatever’s closest to his mouth and hands. 

feeling a bit exposed, while he’s still fully clothed, you whimper into his mouth, silently asking him to take his clothes off as well.

speeding up the process, he rips his tank top off and finally. finally. you get a glimpse of what he always hides under his baggy hoodies. sculpted by the greek gods, you nearly drool at his defined torso. reaching out to drag a hand down his abs, riki shivers at your gentle, yet burning, touch. 

you back him up so he sits on his bed and slowly sink to your knees. he leans back on his palms, quiet, but watching you like a hawk. you bring a hand up to cup his bulge, not caring about the sticky stain he’s left. 

he groans, low, hot, and it goes straight to your wetness, practically leaking on his floor. 

with your hands gripping his waistband, you look up into his dark eyes, clouded with lust, and he nods lifting his hips. yanking his sweats down, you’re met with his hard cock, slapping his abs. “no boxers, huh?” you smugly ask, as if he anticipated this. “nah, not when i’m relaxing, sweetheart.” sweetheart. the name he called you the last day you saw him as kids. 

staring at his flushed cock, you lick your lips, ready to devour the man sitting in front of you.

you start by gripping his base, your fingers not fully wrapping around him. how the fuck are you supposed to fit him inside your mouth? a problem you’ve never faced, but for riki? you’d be stupid not to choke on it. 

giving his tip sweet little kitten licks, you dig your tongue into his slit, as if you were trying to drink up all his precum. “fuck,” he grunts out, hoping you didn’t discover how sensitive he was at his tip. 

he thinks you didn’t, but he should really know better. 

you focus all your attention on his swollen head, sucking softly and jerking off the rest of his lengthy dick. his back falls flat, resting on his bed, while he lets out a symphony of moans. 

abruptly, you pull off him and when he leans up on his elbows to see why, he’s met with the sight of spit falling from your lips, landing right on his tip. then, his vision goes white.

you lean down, shoving him in your mouth, lips stretched around his girth. 

you take him halfway, and the stretch alone is painful already. knowing this might be an issue, riki speaks up, “fuck, you don’t have to take all of me, this already feels so—” but you cut him off, when you sink your mouth further, his tip hitting your throat. 

you swallow around him and he whimpers. he’s never felt anything like this before.

when he’s tried to hook up with girls in the past, they normally gave up after a minute of trying to unhinge their jaw to please him. 

but with you? he should’ve known you’d be the one to make him proud. 

noticing how surprised he is, you start bobbing your head up and down, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth. 

it’s messy, wet, and loud. but neither of you care. not when riki is whimpering beneath you so prettily. 

his tip repeatedly slams into the back of your throat, making you gag but it just turns him on more. his thighs start to tense and he knows he’s close to his second orgasm. 

feeling him twitch in your mouth, you hollow your cheeks and ignore the tears streaming down your face. only focused on his pleasure. you know exactly what will push him over the edge, so you bring your mouth up his cock, lips wrapped carefully around his tip. 

swirling your tongue around it, occasionally focusing on his slit, you bring one hand up to his balls and the other to wrap around his base, applying pressure to the vein running along his shaft. 

one second later, your mouth gets flooded with his sticky, hot cum. rope after rope shooting from his enlarged tip. his dick is pulsing in your mouth and his cum never ends. it’s spilling out of your mouth onto the floor, but you try and swallow everything you can, not wanting to waste even a drop. 

his chest is rapidly rising and falling when you pull off of him with a pop. you wipe your mouth with the sleeve of your shirt and smile sweetly at him, acting like you didn’t just suck him so good his soul left his body.

“damn, baby, didn’t know you wanted me that bad.” he says through a smirk. “calm down nishimura, i could’ve filled up a gallon of water with how much you came,” you bite back. he just looks at your tear stained cheeks and a sense of pride swells in his chest. 

while he’s lost in his thoughts, you stand up, knees bruised from his hardwood floor. 

glancing between his legs, you notice he’s still hard. how much cum does he have for you? you wonder, taking off your jeans and panties in one go. 

now that you’re both fully naked, riki gets up off his bed and approaches you, holding one of your hands. he spins you around, taking in your fully nude body for the first time. 

noticing his staring, you open your mouth, “are you just gonna stare or fuck me?”

smoothly, he leads you to lie down on his bed, “patience, princess, be good for me while i take care of you, yeah?” oh you’re gone already.

he leans down to kiss you and your hands find his nape, gently grabbing the hair trailing down his neck. 

you mistook riki for an ass guy, when his fascination with your tits makes you break the kiss. he’s sucking gently on your right nipple, his free hand finding your left boob. 

moaning gently, you tip your head back into his pillow that smells like comfort, and something musky, but it’s something extremely riki. you instinctively arch into his touch, bare core desperately grinding into the air of his bedroom, desperate for friction. 

he senses your neediness, bringing his stiff cock down to rub between your soaked folds. his tip catches your clit, eliciting soft whimpers from your parted lips. using your slick as lube, he lines himself up, stopping before he goes further. “condom?” he sweetly asks. you whisper, under your breath, “n-no, i’m on birth—,” however, you don’t get to answer him when you feel his tip slide into your awaiting hole. 

both moaning in relief, he stays with just his tip in, preparing you for the stretch that’s about to come. you relax a bit, a signal for him to push a bit further, cutting off his action with a loud moan. 

it’s better than any porn he could dream of, and he’s only about two inches in. the sheer girth of him alone makes it feel like he’s splitting you open in the best way possible. 

you look down, thinking he’s halfway in, when in reality, he’s about a fourth of the way inside you. meeting his eyes, he senses your nerves, bringing a hand down to rub your sensitive bundle of nerves.

it helps distract you from the pain, allowing him to slide half way in. he groans at the sensation of your warm, wet walls, engulfing his aching cock. “baby, you gotta relax… you’re s’tight,” he drunkenly mumbles. you can only whimper in response, exhaling as you try to calm down.

once your breathing has returned to a normal state, riki slowly pushes in more, but it all comes to a halt when you wrap your legs around his torso, pulling him all the way in. 

he moans, caught off guard, guessing your patience snapped like a thin wire. 

as his thick length rests inside you, you can’t help but let out a string of moans, incoherently babbling about how big he feels, and how deep he’s reaching. 

“f-fuck. baby, please, can—can i move?” he forces out. you hum in agreement. 

he slowly pulls out until only his tip is sheathed inside your warm pussy, then pushes back in all the way. your eyes roll into the back of your head, “fuck. s—s’big, riks.” his pace steadily increases until he notices how your boobs bounce with each thrust he gives you. 

he brings his head down, lips wrapping around one of the perky budd, giving you even more pleasure than you knew what to do with. 

loud moans grace his ears, the only other sound being skin slapping. 

his attention is dragged back to your face when one of your hands reaches for his and brings it up to your neck. his pace falters for a bit until his face contorts, realization dawning over his lust filled features. “oh? does my baby wanna be choked? dirty slut.” you nod in response. 

feeling the pressure of his cold ring clad fingers wrapping around your burning flesh, you let out a sigh of relief, the tension in your tummy building at a rapid pace. 

riki suddenly pulls out of you, flipping you on all fours, placing a pillow under your stomach. he drags your hips up, kneading the plumpness of your ass. he slams back into you, reaching even deeper in your guts, as he hovers over your back. 

“you like feelin’ me this deep, hm?” he takes your hand and places it over the bump you feel with every thrust. your noises are muffled by his bed, which ticks him off—he wants to hear every sound that slips through your mouth. noticing that you liked things a bit rough, he pulls your hair, bringing you flush against the hardness of his chest. 

he stills inside you, letting you feel every inch, twitch, and pulse. he’s holding off his orgasm for as long as he can, but he’s not sure how long he can last when you keep clenching around him. 

he knows it’s unintentional, but it feels too good, he just needs a second. 

you can feel him breathing down your neck when you begin to move. he tries stopping you, but to no avail, you start bouncing on his stiffened cock. 

“f-fuck. gonna—cum,” he moans when he attempts to pull out. you push him back down, needing to feel him fill you up. “no. inside,” is all you can muster when he makes a sound of confusion. 

slowly gaining confidence, you turn around, and flip him over so you’re on top of him. 

flustered by the change in positions, riki gasps when you start to move. his hand finds your clit, rubbing in tight circles. 

the band in your stomach starts building, fueling both of your desperation. 

your orgasm comes crashing down in waves, pushing riki to buck his hips up, fucking you through it. “that’s it, baby, let it out. c’mon, be a good girl f’me and make a mess,” he mutters out, wanting to prolong your pleasure for as long as he can. 

as you cum, your walls uncontrollably clench around his dick, making it harder for him to slide in and out. he starts to chase his own high, gently placing your head back on his pillow and picking up your legs to rest on his shoulders. 

he pistons in and out of you, mind hazy, consumed with the need to cum inside of you. 

groaning, he stills in your abused cunt, flooding you with the gift of his cum. each pulse, you clench around his hard cock, milking him dry. 

he’s on cloud nine, feeling the way you’re taking everything he could possibly offer you.

just as he thinks he’s nearing the end of his high, you whisper in a sultry voice, “you’re still hard, riks,” which makes his skin flush a deep red. his balls tighten and somehow a couple more ropes of cum shoot into your womb. he doesn’t know what you do to him, “take it out on me, baby, i can’t imagine how pent up you must be…” and that does it for him. 

wanting to try something new, he straddles your torso, pushing your plush tits together. he aligns his sensitive cock between the flesh and slowly slides through. you stick your tongue out, trying to lick his tip each time it peeks between your boobs. 

his cock is nearly too thick for your tits to wrap around him, but he doesn’t care. the sight is more than enough for him to finish. 

he’s already close. 

the sensitivity gets to him when you begin to hold your tits together, giving him an unobstructed view of you. each time your tongue laps at his slit, he feels himself growing closer to the high he so badly craves. 

what really does it for him, is when you spit between your breasts, further lubing his cock. with a low, drawn-out moan, he paints your tits and face with his cum. the sight is too much, his balls go into overdrive, pulsing out more and more ropes of his white, messy load. 

your mouth hangs open, wanting to taste more of the salty substance. he thinks you’re perfect. 

he collapses on top of you, feeling spent and tired. it’s only when you whine about the stickiness between your legs, on your boobs, and on your face that he gets out of bed, rushing to his bathroom. 

he makes his way back over to you with a warm washcloth, and the softest touch you’ve ever felt. he gently cleans the mess he made, only now realizing how much cum he gave you. 

and you took all of it. his good girl.

once he’s done wiping away his mess, he picks you up bridal style, heading back to his bathroom. to your surprise, he drew you a bath, with scented candles—lavender. he remembered your favorite. 

he helps you into the tub, climbing in behind you. he shampoos your hair, conditions it, and even washes your body with such care, it brings tears to your eyes. 

after many hushed whispers, he drains the bathtub, helping you dry off and get into your (his) clothes. 

you both get back into his bed, snuggled against one another, riki’s embrace wrapped around you warmer than any blanket could provide. 

“riki?” you whisper, afraid to shatter the delicate silence. he hums in response. “please don’t leave me again,” you say trembling, a silent tear slipping down your cheek. 

he turns you to face him, “hey, hey, hey, baby, i’m right here. and i know what i did was shitty, you deserved an explanation. but. i couldn’t let you get caught up in what i was doing. it was risky, i couldn’t be what you deserve,” he croaks out, tears wetting his lashes. now it was your turn to comfort him, “oh my riki,” you cooed, cradling his face. 

“you did what you had to do, but what’s important is that you’re here now. with me. okay?” you plant the softest kiss on his plump lips. “okay,” he says with a small smile. 

you don’t let go. neither does he. his hands stay on your waist, tentative but needing, like he’s still trying to memorize the feel of you. your fingers linger against his jaw, your thumb brushing the damp skin beneath his eye. there’s silence between you, but it’s no longer heavy—just full. thick with everything that couldn’t be said before.

his lips brush against yours again—slower this time, deeper. like a question. and an answer. you lean in, the way you sigh into him. it’s not desperate, not rushed. it’s reverent.

when he pulls back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his breath is shaky. “i missed you,” he whispers, voice barely audible. “missed you so much i forgot how to breathe without it hurting.”

you cup his face in both hands now, heart aching in the best way. “i’m here. i’m not going anywhere.”

and then you kiss him again—like a vow sealed in warmth and want. like a beginning.

reblog if u enjoyed this! and comment or send an ask to be part of my perm taglist <3

[ @jaeyuniversal ] prod. 250419

[harukyuu2]

heyya !! Here to request a Rui x flirty!reader who really has rizz and maybe sometimes make Rui lowkey flustered basically the rizzler in their relationship/j but tbh I can see Rui flirting back to reader (?) lmao idk but hope you’ll see this ^_^ hcs and a mini scenario included will do! thank youu

₍^. .^₎⟆ (ominous cat is staring at your soul /insert Mizu5 picture)

LMAO ANYWAYS HAVE A GOOD DAYY ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )

୨୧ "Soothing your heart up!" - Rui + Akito x Flirty!Reader ୨୧

!! - Fluff, scenario + headcanons! gn reader, cringy flirts because it was funny, reaaally cheesy since reader uses pickup rizz lines , use of petnames - Hope you dont mind i added Akito lmao

୨୧ ↷ Rui !! -

❥ Boy wont go down without a fight, seriously. You two have this thing of starting back and forths flirts until one blushes or doesnt know how to respond— thats a win!

❥ You flirt with him on public? Yeah, no problem. Dont forget he can shamelessly perform without permission at a theme park and build a robot at school, so calling you a "cutie" in public is 0 issue for him

❥ Its kinda hard seeing him blush because he pretends reaaally well. Using subtle ways— averting his gaze or throwing the attention on you. But still, he'll fold eventually, he cant help it! youre too cute for him! and he likes seeing you pout when you arent able to see him blush

"Rui..." - You call him out while he fixes a small robot with you on his side. It was lunchtime and you two were on the rooftop passing the time after finishing the meal, starting to get bored— an idea camed to your mind!

"Hm?" - He mumbled curious on what was on your mind now, turning slightly to catch a glance at the smug smile you put before throwing a pick up line

You leaned toward him, resting your arm on his shoulder while talking pretty closely with a playful smile. You wanted to laugh, but it was a bit too early for that— just yet. - "You knooww... I always say math is really confusing because it talks about X and Y but not you and I..." You drawled the words, and at the cheesy pick-up line you just dropped, you couldnt help but let out a small laugh

Rui's eyes widen slightly amused by your pick up line, but quickly hides it with a sigh and his usual smirk, tilting his head slightly to meet your gaze— the distance between you two was lacking a lot. - "Ah, that time of the day already...? Well, there's nothing i can do about it though. You always attract me with those lines, sweetheart— almost like if you were a magnet."

You hummed in amusement, leaning slightly back since Rui was looking at you pretty intensely— he didnt seem eager to let you win today. Grabbing his chin for a moment, you made him look at you more closer than he already was. Your touch lingered on his jaw for a second before letting your hand fall and returning to the flirty game

"Oh, arent you a cutie, Rui? i wonder what you are then...maybe i could say a door? Because you kept slamming me with your beauty while i try to attract you into my arms" - You giggled seeing him averting his gaze almost like if he was looking out for flirts on the air, youre pretty proud that you managed to mix up his flirt with yours!

Rui tried to think of something quick to respond with, feeling your intense gaze pressuring him to fold. Youre always so good at this— its almost unfair. He sighed, finally letting the blush creep onto his face, even if he still maintained that signature smile of his. Shaking his head, he looked at you with a much softer gaze, a product of your relentless flirting and the way you looked at him so intensely.

"Alright, alright...you win this time, dear. Didnt expect you to be so flirty today" - Rui mumbles embarassed and your eyes light up at your win!

In the end, you let him return his attention to the small robot after a quick kiss to seal your win. The rest of the lunch happens in a comfortable silence that sometimes had the sound of Rui's tools while you used your phone, you two indeed fall for each other <3

୨୧ ↷ Akito !! -

❥ There's no way you fail to make this boy blush. At the first or second pick up line he is already all red and asking you to stop because he doesnt know how to respond back. He thinks youre gonna be the death of him literally— he isnt against the idea tho...

❥ OH, and if you flirt with him on public...Hell nah, he has to turn and walk away because he is a living tomato from head to feet, you'll have to apologize to the poor baby because you make him stop working on those moments. He isnt too fond of pda!

❥ In private or chat, he's a little more confident of flirting with you— but still he loses it the second you respond back. Probably leaves a swear and gives you a quick kiss so you stop teasing him

Akito camed to your house after his usual practice with vivid bad squad finished, deciding to stay the night since he missed you. Akito decided to help you wash the dishes after dinner with your family. He got a little grossed out when his hand touched some leftover food, so in the end, he focused on rinsing them. But the soap accidentally slipped from his hand— giving you the perfect opportunity to tease your boyfriend!

"Akito..." - You called him and the moment his eyes meet yours, your signature teasing smile that he feared appeared— it was too late for him... - "What's the difference between that soap and me...? The soap falled from your hands, while i falled for you!"

A blush started to appear in his cheeks while he furrowed his eyebrows, averting his gaze to make sure you didnt just throw that in front of your family. He leaved a sigh, scratching his neck while mumbling embarassed at your cheesy flirt -

"Youre so stupid...dont you have any better cheesy flirts than that?" - He tries to make you stop, but he knows that his comment only will fuel you more with that intense gaze he is feeling on himself— he is fucked up by now, sigh.

"Hey! im not stupid, i know the twenty letters in the alphabet! Oh- i forgot to count U - R - A - Q - T, silly meee" - You drawl and cant help but laugh at his grumpy face since youre managing to make him blush a lot, what if your family appears and sees him like this? thats what he thinks, probably

Akito huffs— cupping your cheeks before you throw another cheesy line or worst, a real flirt that makes him stop working. - "Fuck you..." - Akito simply murmurs and steals a quick kiss from you

As he leaned back, catching the small blush on your face from his bold move, an idea sparked in his mind! Deciding to be playful and imitate you, he took full advantage now that you two werent in public anymore - "You always wear makeup blush, right? but now i know youre really blushing..."

You let out a soft laugh at his stupid, cheesy flirt and smirk, rolling your eyes before grabbing his hand and leading him to the bedroom to finally get some sleep. It was getting late, and you knew how hard he usually went during practice. Still, you couldnt help but say something that— for some reason, made his heart feel warm and proud

"Well, thats...something, good job Akito! Lets go to sleep by now, wont tease you with pickup lines for the rest of the night"

i repeat it— youre gonna be the death of Akito, but he isnt against the idea <3

[jazzically]

NEW TMAGP EP LETSGOOOOOOOOOO

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD do uou understand the joy that arose in me upon seeing "scrutiny" and "xxxxerror"

hahaha i bet theyre running out of watching-related words to title their episodes with tma and tmagp combined

SCREAMS

oh i forgot i have homework

whatever this takes priority :333 (whats my work ethic you say? i call it tmagp)

yaaaaaah i knew it sounded familiar ok anyway starting episode

Oh. oh my goodness it's not just any eye statement it's THIS ONE

pardon me but how did i not notice they called him "Archivist" here

UUUUGH time for my monthly fall-apart-over-the-monumentally-intricate-plot-planning-of-s1–s4-tma break

break over back on track sorry i had to savor this moment

LMAO THE VERY FIRST COMMENT BRO

sighhh this theme brings me such joy

S C R U T I N I Z E THIS WRETCHED THING

hahahahahaha the way he said that was perfect

weeks of medical treatment?!

oh yeah it's real-time-ish

OHMYGOSH ARE WE GOING TO GET TO SEE MELANIE??? I AM A WHOLE OTHER LEVEL OF INSANE RIGHT NOW

MY BETTER HALF. just kill me now before i die of dehydration from my own tears

mUsTaRrD gAs i love the transcripts

OOOOOH OOOOOOOOHHHHHH

UNKNOWN!!!!!!!!!! DUDE!!!!!!!! +1 million points for that excellent choice of words

........that hit me like a truck............. this ashe person is a BRILLIANT voice actress

i adore this sort of dystopian social commentary in fictional media. i feel like there is so much more to talk about and explore with the concept of the fear domains and their implications outside of the story

oh this is horrible.

see there's no way one frog spattered over the whole classroom. this sort of subtle exaggeration of personal fears is gorgeous

i love how they get to continue inventing fear domains with this new format in protocol even if jon and martin didnt have time to explore everything aaaand now guest VAs get to read their statements

this hurt. Like in my soul

the sad thing is that crippling insecurity and ceaseless judgment can Absolutely spawn this exact kind of constant negative self-talk. like its barely exaggerated in my opinion. this can be what goes on in my head sometimes. bit personal sorry anyway its just hitting how much realism this domain description has

also how dare they start with toxic family :(

(how dare as in my emotions are getting whooped immediately instead of gradually)

Kids this is your reminder that you are worth more than you think about and the demons in your head are constantly contradicting themselves which means they're wrong

ASHE GOT KILLED??? NOOOOOOOOO I LIKED ASHE

i love how george didnt even bat an eye at sams arrival cause she already knew abt parallel universe shif

whoa vibe switch

They don't have electronics???

HOLY FREAKAFRACK I DIDNT REGISTER I WAS HEARING MELANIES VOICE TILL I WENT BACK TO THE TRANSCRIPT

ohhhhhHHHHMY GOD MELANIE !!!!!!!!! I MISSED YOU SO MUCH HOW HAVE YOU BEEN !!!!!!!!!!!!!! MALENNIEEEEEFHDODBDOFJKDNDKDNDKFKDHDI

shut up stop i actually missed her so much im THRILLED I LOVE GORGEOUE AND MALENIE i meant t type georgie whatever w e (i) are calling them gorgeous and maleficent now

OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!! OH MY GOD WORLDBUILDING IM SO HAPPY!!!!!!!!!!! i bet alex and jonny had a lot of fun writing this bit. i do imagine it would be difficult to make it sound authentic and not just like an infodump but i think its great

Yet another perfect representation of the dichotomy between human travesty and community

I LOVE YOU MELANIE

[click]

OHHHH YAAAYYYYY MORE MELANIE AND SAM DIALOGUE AAAAAWWUUUGHHHHH please continue talking about the magnus institute™

"dear" aaaauhhhww m omg i go crazy

OH MY GOSH

my bRAIN JUST MELTED.

that is all for today i need to process that hOLy FRICKALICIOUS

[kurishiri]

on my way to start William’s route, but as for the other two…

official Ikemen Villains twitter posted templates and so I took used them, ehe. Minor route spoilers ahead, maybe, as I delve into some personal thoughts! You can click on the images for higher quality; I put content warnings for each route there too, though I may have missed a couple here and there.

Liam — key word: “tomorrow”

the themes in the story really add to the story’s poignancy, and I think it was interesting how they chose to make Liam an actor — as that part of his character played a significant role in the story and its themes.

I don’t have a very high sexy rating here relatively, and that’s not to say there aren’t sexy parts, but I think the presence of it feels a bit dampened by the fact I either didn’t purchase premium stories so it felt like the sexual scenes happened off screen in my personal experience or just that the story was overall so heavy with Liam’s mental struggles. Also, Liam was my first route, so I didn’t really have any other rating to compare it to. So I figured it was good to start somewhere in the middle and go on from there. Overall, I felt it was more romantic than sexy (especially if you look at, well… Alfons). To me, it’s not a bad thing! I’m just as alright with a story not having any sexual scenes as I am with one containing them.

honestly Liam’s route is probably the closest I’ll get to romancing Kate — because I related so much to Liam, he hit a bit too close to home sometimes lmao

Harrison — key phrase: “that doesn’t sound half bad.”

overall, I feel his story was solid. If you were to ask me between Liam and Harrison, whose route I enjoyed more, I would probably say Harrison. I enjoyed Liam as well for what it was, but I feel Harrison’s route is just more… fun.

to be completely honest he was really frustrating in the first few chapters. And the way the first sort of conflict ended between Kate and Harry still left me a bit frustrated. Even now, I sometimes wish it ended a bit differently, but I can understand as the story went on that Harry always had kind intentions toward Kate. He always had — since the beginning.

his romance definitely felt more subtle (and I loved that), since even if he has feelings for you, he always masks it with a half truth or a lie. And boy, is he good at lying 😂👌 at first they were really frustrating, but later there were a couple lies that are kinda funny that I can’t help but love him for his funny (and sweet) lies. Interpreting his half truth half lie words is like translating from another language lmao

reading Harrison’s route felt like reading a mystery and adventure novel at once. And I think if you want like to get a good taste of everyone else’s dynamics (without overshadowing Kate and Harry’s) in action and outside of it, it’s best to read Harry as opposed to Liam, in my opinion.

if you have any thoughts and opinions about the two, I’d love to hear!

[coolmanjohnny]

SAW: (unrated) rant

Okay. I just watched the unrated version of Saw (2004) in theaters. So for some reason, they alter the ending for the unrated version of Saw. I have no idea why they chose to do this. I didn't see much discussion going over the details so I thought I'd go over it and why I think its inferior to the original cut. (Forgive me if I seem nitpick-y, I just love the original film so much haha. Totally fine if you like the unrated ver., I'm just sharing my thoughts here.)

To start, the unrated is advertised as a version with more gore/blood, which it does fine on that part. There are a few extra seconds of shots, for instance, the scene where Amanda is sifting through organs, some of the crime scene photos, and the wire trap maze is slightly longer. Here is a good article that goes over the Director's Cut with more details if you are interested. (I believe the Director's Cut is the same, if not very similar, to the unrated version? Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong.) Also, I think the colors are also less blue? I can't confirm this though. I believe there may be a few other details changed as well, but they're not super relevant. Feel free to share any ones I'm missing just for fun though.

These extra shots are fine, thumbs up emoji. My problem starts and ends with the final moments of Saw (unrated). This is Tumblr. You all know the ending to Saw and are probably obsessed with it. It's incredibly impactful and angsty. Its one of my favorite ending sequences of all time. I still think about Adam being left to die alone often. RIP.

Now, lets go over what's changed in Saw (unrated)'s ending:

Some of the final lines are cut out. (Why???)

For some reason, they cut the line where Adam asks, "Am I gonna be okay?" and Larry turns back and says, "I wouldn't lie to you." Why would they do this? I don't know. I can only speculate. Maybe they thought that it contradicted with Lawrence's character, since he is in fact a liar/adulterer? Maybe they thought it was too "hopeful"? Homophobia? (joke)

I think that it's really a shame, because it makes Larry much more likable imo. This one moment is representative of his character development in the film. There are a lot of complex emotions tied with that one line. For once, Lawrence isn't lying to Adam. He truly does want to help. At the same time, you can tell that he feels uncertain. He doesn't know if he actually will be able to make it back in time (if even at all).

Notice how he responds to Adam's question in a roundabout way. He doesn't know if Adam will be okay.

In a way, Jigsaw's trap did work. Lawrence learned empathy. LMAO. It is also makes Adam so much more tragic, any last glimmers of hope he had left get ripped away as soon as he realizes that Jigsaw isn't who he thought it was. They are both fucked. (Ignore that Saw 3D exists for a second here, lol. I definitely think that the original implication here was that Larry is screwed. Either Kramer gets to him, or he bleeds out.)

Here is the original scene for reference:

2. The end credits are changed.

Saw ends with Adam's haunting screams bleeding into the end credits. There's about 20-30 seconds of silence/very subtle music. Then, it leads into the song "Bite The Hand that Bleeds" by Fear Factory. I just LOVE the angst.

Now, lets see what the unrated version is like. (I had to really dig to find this lol.) Obviously, there is no longer licensed music. It instead plays the "Saw theme". (I believe Hello Zepp/Overture is the official name of the song?)

It's...fine. (Once again, forgive me for nitpicking. I'm starting to think that I may be overreacting a bit, lol.)

I sort of understand why they would change the licensed music. It makes the first film feel more "connected" with the sequels; now they all have matching theme songs. (Another idea is that they simply didn't get the rights back to the original song for the re-release. I'd have to do more research on this.) However, it still makes me sad, lol. I just love how edgy and aggressively 2000s the original end credits feel. It matches the film's tone so well imo. The filmography of Saw reminds me a lot of early 2000s nu-metal music videos (unique colors, over-edited to hell, etc.).

I want to really emphasize the importance of film preservation in this post. Thankfully, the original theatrical cut of Saw is pretty easily accessible. (However, this isn't the case for all films. Star Wars is probably the most famous example.) I am just a little saddened that some first-time viewers will end up watching this version of the film without being aware of these changes. I love Saw so much you guys

[crusherthedoctor]

❤️‍🩹 Writing in general :3

If I ever write a story that portrays badniks as a metaphor for minorities and Eggman as a thinly-veiled caricature of orange man, please shoot me. (This won't be necessary, I have no desire to insert US politics where it doesn't belong.) ("But what about SA2's themes?" Yeah I didn't care for it there either ack ack ack ack ack.) (Also I'm not even American lmao.)

Writing is my release, despite the embarrassment of how long it takes me due to perfectionism. It has been my comfort in a fandom that constantly frustrates me with its frequent and unreasonably popular shitty takes, as well as the ongoing age of Flynn shoving himself into virtually everything. Nowadays, it's also my primary deposit for conveying my interpretation of the characters' portrayals: while I'm no stranger to going in-depth and analyzing, like the Sweet or Shite series, these have always been the exception, as the current fandom era of "if you don't express every thought in a sixty paragraph essay with thousands of likes and reblogs, your opinion is automatically wrong and stupid" is just too grinding, draining, and frankly not fun for me to keep up with. I'll always be enthusiastic about the things that I love, that will never change, but it should never be a job to explain how I feel about this character or that story, and no matter what I say or do, there will always be fans who misinterpret me, dismiss me, or purposefully paint my views in the most bad faith manner possible. With all this in mind, I'm better off spending my time more productively by using my perspective to create out of passion, instead of debate out of "for the millionth time, that's not what I fucking said".

Another incentive for writing, at least for the multi-chapter fics with a focus on action and adventure, is to indulge in my most favourite tone of all. This goes beyond merely being balanced: the specific juxtaposition of a legitimately evil Eggman, with all the darkness and tragedy (for victims) that entails, VS a beautiful and whimsical world with likable characters and plenty of appropriate humor, is sadly not a combination that you often see in fanfics, as they usually lean in completely on one scale (high school AUs, friendly enemy Eggman ala Boom), or the other scale (gratuitous grimdark misery porn ala Prison Island Break or the zombot arc). So as they always say, if you want something done... I also get to convey my personal approach to build up, the different nuances in each character's gesturing and emoting, emphasis on subtle or surreal horror (this one might sound like an informed attribute currently, but it becomes more prominent later on), and of course, portraying the environment with as much character as the actual characters. IDW making every location Generic City Zone made me double down on that last one as a form of protest lol.

Eggman and Trudy are undeniably my favourites to write in Stellar, what with them being my favourite character and my own delicately crafted creation respectively. I'm not ashamed in admitting this, because aside from all writers having their favourites anyway, I don't use it to slack off with the rest of the cast like certain beloved writers who I could name. Even when it's a character who I severely struggle to give a fuck about, like Silver (he's not in Stellar specifically, but I digress), I nonetheless find it important to put as much effort into portraying them accurately and fairly. You also don't see me claiming that Trudy would single-handedly change the entire plot of Forces, instead I let her tug on Sonic's collar with consent. :P

As for the Mario fic, the premise of Eggman turning a different universe inside out has been a really fun experiment in terms of exploring how this unrelated world sees the doctor and vice-versa. Obviously, there's a mutual hatred just like his dynamic with Sonic and Co, but given these are fresh faces from each other's perspective, there are inherent differences in the way that this is conveyed. For instance, Eggman takes notes that Mario is a human who wasn't born with any (conventional) superpowers just like himself, and as such, he displays a more superficially cordial attitude towards him compared to his more obvious contempt towards Sonic... all the while continuing to do horrible shit and not actually respecting Mario as a person, and respecting best girl Vivian even less.

[magicalbats]

Penance (Suguru x Reader)

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 8962

Warnings: afab!reader, hamfisted religious themes, rimming, ass eating as punishment, themes of humiliation/degradation/ objectification, some gendered language, reader is not privileged with an orgasm (rip)

A/N: I spent some time going through my WIPs tonight and after giving this one a quick proof read I decided to just go ahead and post it. I have, no joke, been sitting on it since 2021. lmao I think it might be time.

⭐

“That’s a rather sharp tongue you’ve got, isn’t it?” Suguru’s voice is soft and pointed, all understated elegance and quiet laughter that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He extends one long hand towards you; curls the fingers under your chin and tilts your face up with a deceptively gentle nudge so you have no choice but to look directly at him. 

There is nothing soft about the expression staring back at you, even for as placid as it is. The tension pulling at the corner of his mouth gives his small smile a razor's edge, so indescribably minuscule you would have missed it had you not been sitting so close and that was to say absolutely nothing of the forged steel glint in his dark irises. It was funny, almost. That he should accuse you of having a sharp tongue when he was all carefully filed edges and beautifully cast steel that had survived hundreds of blazing infernos just to become the living embodiment of an executioner's sword looming over you in the here and now. 

He was the judge, the jury and the butcher all wrapped into one neat, perfectly coiffed package with a smile and a kind word to spare, and you would have followed him to any stretch of this world or the next for even a sliver of that double edged approval. Even knowing the danger he posed to you and everyone like you, his subtle threats so politely concealed yet plain as day to anyone who paid enough attention. Even knowing how lethal his very existence was, you would still willfully lay yourself across that altar and fulfill your role as the sacrificial lamb he always seemed to be searching for. 

No, not in spite of it. 

Because of it. 

Faintly humming as if in thought, he turns your face this way and that, still with the tips of his fingers touching the spot under your chin just so. It’s a featherlight mockery of suggestion rather than outright demand but you obediently follow the motion as if there were magnets stuck in your skin, guiding you where his hand was not. Silently, you beg the blood that pounds wildly in your ears to subside so you can hang onto every word that drips from his poisoned mouth unhindered. 

“You know … I’m inclined to say it’s not very ladylike, especially for someone of your impeccable breeding, but. Well.” A pause while he studies your profile in silent contemplation before finally directing your attention back around with a brief, lingering tap that makes you swallow. “I suppose it’s not entirely without its charm. That being said, I do believe there are some better uses we could put it to that don’t involve lashing out at others, hm? Wouldn’t you agree?” 

You shrivel under his guillotine stare as well as the sweetly posed question that seems to cut you straight to the bone. It makes you wither like a once succulent rose that had been cruelly denied sunlight and water, and air itself with which to survive. This was not the way someone should be speaking to a grown woman. Neither was this the way a grown woman should allow herself to be spoken to. It was condescension in its purest, most vile form - or, at least, you’re quite certain that’s what it is. 

Suguru’s kind, agreeable demeanor and his honeyed tone of voice make it hard to tell sometimes. The stark contrast between one and the other and the next leaves you reeling; intoxicated beyond all measure off nothing more than just his mere presence and its bold study in broad strokes of contradiction. You were regretfully helpless before it though. Eager to have those arsenic dipped words aimed at you for the vindicating thrill of it as much as you shied away from it, fearing their burning sting. 

“I’m sorry …” It’s all you can think to say. 

His expression shifts and the threadbare tension fades. But rather than softening at your mouse squeak apology it only grows sharper with the hard lines of put upon pity that slither across his face like a stretching, clawing shadow. It comes in the form of a stilted upward draw of his brows to accompany the cooing pucker of damnably kissable lips. If you didn’t know any better you could almost convince yourself that he was looking upon a contemptible stray or a particularly unfortunate child rather than at you. Certainly not you, with all your money and the posh upbringing you’d enjoyed by virtue of your well to-do parents and their considerable sway in the world of politics. Your top rated education, your impressive track record of boyfriends, each more affluent than the last. The shiny new car you’d abandoned in favor of coming here right along with everything else from your past life, even the expensive jewelry you were in the habit of buying for yourself just because. 

These were the things that made people look at you in envy, not ignominious disregard. No one had ever stared you down quite like this before and that, too, makes you wither from the inside out as much as it has your gut twisting with a surge of molten heat. This was not the way a grown woman of your social standing was supposed to react to being degraded, verbally or otherwise. You knew that as much as you knew the back of your own hand. But you only lean towards him as if seeking out the warmth of the sun you’d been so long denied rather than scuttling away as you probably should have. 

Would have, if you were only just a little bit smarter. 

“I’m sorry.” You say it again, feeling like you owed him that and so much more. 

“Whatever do you have to apologize for, love? I said it wasn’t without its charm, didn’t I?” 

Tilting his head, Suguru gives your chin another soft tap as if to encourage you but it has the opposite effect of making your bottom lip warble. Something white hot and steely flashes behind his eyes, and he tips closer until the end of his nose stops just short of touching yours. Those long fingers remain a steady, unforgiving knife on your jugular throughout it all. 

“Oh, but don’t fret now. There’s no reason for tears, is there? You’re still my good girl, aren’t you?” 

You wonder, idly, if this is some kind of trap. 

In the same breath you decide that this is most certainly a trap. No doubt about it, but you find yourself sadly nodding along with him all the same. He pulls you into it, guides the motion out of you just as a master puppeteer might manipulate his hollow wooden dolls, and you’re happy to go along with it, as with anything else, so long as he keeps looking at you like that. 

“I know, darling. I know you are. You try your best to be good, don’t you? That mouth of yours is what gets you into trouble, isn’t it?”

Another nod, and this time you can’t seem to stop the tears from tracking hot streaks down your burning face. You were flushed in shame and something not far off from excitement, equally torn between the two. Uncertain if you should preen under the blazing spotlight of his attention, as natural inclination would dictate, or the groveling, desperate urge in your higher functioning mind to rectify your mistakes so he wouldn’t be upset with you anymore.

The latter wins out quickly enough. It always does, particularly when his sugar coated reprimands make you feel so infantile and pathetic. Just as small and meaningless as a chewed up wad of gum stuck to the sidewalk. You were willing to do anything to earn your spot back in his good graces again. Anything. 

Clearly seeing what he was looking for now, Suguru’s smile slides back into place with a staggeringly slow curl across the line of his mouth. It’s somehow even sharper this time, and you’re almost blinded by the glint of a blade bathed in sunlight. 

“There, there. I understand. Really, I do. Your tongue just doesn’t know any better, does it?” 

You suck in a wet, faltering breath. “No …” 

His lashes droop to an almost seductive half lidded state, promising the absolution of eternal rest as much as the dizzying, unspeakable heights of carnal pleasure he could bring you. Drawing a carefully tempered breath that seems to steal the air from your lungs, he slides his hand out from under your chin and reaches up to wipe the tears off one cheek with a lingering swipe of his thumb. He pauses then, for just a moment, while he studies your face before sedately reaching around to repeat the process on the other side. 

“Don’t you think we should give it something more productive to do then?” 

It's barely more than a whisper, intended for your ears only in an otherwise empty, cavernous, sparsely furnished room that was so horribly still and quiet you would almost believe only the dead walked here. 

And you shudder for him - tremble and shake like some small, frightened creature caught under the talons of an incomprehensibly vicious monster. There was close to nothing you would not do for him, no humiliation you wouldn’t endure for his sake and his sake alone. You’d happily let him make an example out of you and mould you into the idyllic martyr he seemed to want so bad. It was a blessing coming from him, and you warm with the rush of helium in your chest that swells at being chosen by the god of sharp edges and black silk. 

“Please tell me what to do, Geto-sama. Please.” 

“Hush,” He mouths the word like a prayer. “I have just the thing in mind. You’ll do it for me, won’t you?”

“Yes. Anything.” That was very much the truth. 

A pleased exhale from him teases the flyaways in your hair and Suguru’s hand retreats, making you whimper at the loss of contact. Instinctively you try to follow, tipping forward on your knees so far that you almost lose balance, but he only pins you with an amused look of warning as he reclines back against his plush throne of pillows. Still so sharp and jagged, even at ease, and you watch him get settled in rapt fascination, unsure what he would have of you. 

You were eager to learn though, and the serrated glint in his eye never strays from your face, ensuring you don’t look away as he reaches down to grab at the bulk of his robe and tug at it. Pulls the heavy fabric up, up, up with a quiet slither and an almost coquettish flourish to accompany it. 

Slowly, more and more of him is revealed to your voracious gaze — much more than you would have ever dreamed yourself worthy of looking upon — and your throat goes bone dry when you realize he’s much more sturdy than the shapeless robe would have had you believe. Almost sickeningly so, and the unbearable heat that spears through you almost bowls you over on the spot. 

Nicely shaped calves that speak of an active life outside this temple, outside of this role he's taken here on these hallowed grounds, lead the way up to a pair of well defined thighs, beautiful in their muscle heavy composition. It’s perfectly scandalous in its own right to have him baring himself at you like this but he doesn’t stop there and instead drags one corner of the garment even higher, teasing you with a glimpse of his smooth hip. The realization that he’s not wearing anything underneath makes you sway on the spot, well and truly lightheaded now. 

“G - Geto-sama, I - -“ 

“What’s the matter, love?” He cuts across you in a tone that hits its mark like the lethal swing of a battle sword, rendering you immediately and irreparably mute. “I’m certain you just said you would do anything. Or was I mistaken?” 

You hesitate. 

You clench your clammy hands into tight fists. 

You don’t know what to do, how to react. What to say. 

The world itself seems to stand still as you surreptitiously glance at the spot between his legs with brazen, boldfaced interest, unable to conceal it even if you tried. That part of him is still obscured by the pool of fabric gathered in his lap, however, and he laughs at the eager look of apprehension in your expression. Light and airy, and so horribly cruel you feel the prick of fresh tears in your eyes again. 

“Not that, I’m afraid. That’s only for good girls who don’t need to have their behavior corrected. You really should know that by now.”

You feel the hurt of that deep in your bones and it leaves behind a throbbing ache as if he’d ruthlessly brought a harsh leather strap down across your back. He may as well have done just that for as much anguish it causes, how cleanly it slices despite his voice maintaining its ever pleasant intonation, and you implore him with a wet, wide eyed look. If not that then what? 

But Suguru only inclines his chin in lieu of a proper response, inviting you to keep your eyes on him. To keep watching as he decorously turns over onto his side and then further over onto his front with the topmost leg splaying out from his body at a wide arch. He cranes his neck around to look back at you over his shoulder then, and you suddenly forget how to breathe. 

Both because you’d never seen him look at anyone with the same tawdry, undeniably flirtatious little smirk that he gives you and because your scrambled brain was already starting to connect the dots. You weren’t stupid. You may have been willfully, happily dumb and malleable for him but you weren’t stupid, once you got right down to it, and yet you can’t find the presence of mind to protest. Nor do you manage the wherewithal needed to argue against what you already knew was coming. Your heartbeat pounds a wild rhythm against your rib cage, threatening to burst right out of you as he brings his hand down to hike the back of his robe up in similar fashion to the front, teasing you with it. 

The curvy backs of his thighs are just as enticing and you voraciously soak them up, admiring the smooth, flawlessly warm tone of his skin while you let them draw your attention straight up to the meat of his ass. It’s tight and narrow, as most men’s are, but unexpectedly soft looking in texture. Just plump enough to offer something to squeeze and hold on to. It gives the impression of being the only part of his body with any real cushion, completely lacking in any of the sharp angles you see in his face and his hands. 

You swallow so hard you audibly choke on it. 

Even having already surmised what his intention was, you still struggle to wrap your head around the reality of it staring back at you. The embarrassment is felt almost as sharply as the humiliation, but neither quite compare to the nauseating spike of arousal that rips through you with all the destructive force of a lightning strike to wreak havoc on you from head to toe. You were far more horrified by that than of what he was offering you. What he was asking you to do, and your lungs painfully hitch with the ragged breath you suck in. 

Your willingness to do it was one thing. Something you could easily overlook as being for his sake. His benefit. His enjoyment. There was no low you weren’t prepared to degrade yourself to as long as it was for him. Always him. But to derive genuine pleasure from an act so demeaning? So inherently disrespectful to you as a woman, and also as a person. As a fellow human being. What was so wrong with you, on a fundamental level, that even such as this would turn you on? 

But, you remind yourself, Suguru was not so much a man as he was a god. Something that existed far above the banalities of humanity no matter how polite or agreeable he might look. 

And he exudes all that and so much more even as he reaches around to smooth a big hand over the swell of one cheek, digging his fingertips in just enough for you to see the dimples it creates in the skin. Showing you exactly how right you’d been about it’s plushy give and further mortifying you in the process. You never would have guessed his build to be this stocky when the usual robes he donned hung so loose and unassuming around him, thoroughly concealing his figure from prying eyes such as yours, but you were sure to never forget now that you’d borne witness to it yourself. The shape of him was forever burned into the backs of your eyelids like a brand. At the very least you were sure to never again know a restful night's sleep for however long you might live. 

“Come now, darling. You won’t get anything done sitting over there, will you?” He purrs, his sly smirk growing when you only sit there, frozen to the spot. A marble statue prostrated at the foot of his altar. “Or have I asked too much of you, hm?” 

Mechanically, you drag your attention up to his face and Suguru immediately chortles at the vacancy staring back at him. 

“My, could it be you simply don’t understand? Shall I spell it out for you then?” 

Your stomach and your pussy both clench in tandem when he purses his lips, cooing at you again, just like before. Belittling condescension oozes from every pore in his body as he tips his head further back, resembling a playful pinup model spread out for a particularly risqué photo shoot and your gaze quickly drops back down to zero in on the savory way he cups his own ass. With a stilted sigh of anticipation he pulls, dragging one cheek from the other until you’re afforded a straight, uninterrupted view of the tight wrinkle of his hole, the gentle curve of his taint directly below it and the silken weight of his ballsack where it’s settled against the cushions. You can’t see his cock like this — can’t tell if he’s hard or flaccid, and you aren’t sure which would have been better worse — but you practically swoon at the thought of it being trapped between his stomach and the pillows he’d laid himself out on. 

He clearly sees the disoriented look of shock on your face yet he pays it no mind. Doesn’t give you a chance to recover, to get your thoughts sorted out as he shifts and draws his splayed knee higher up on the floor. Keeps his body spread open for you when he curls his hand inward and directs your frazzled attention to the pink pucker with a light, almost playful tap of his fingertips. 

“Right here.” He tells you, all sultry smooth and eternally damning. “Your tongue will do quite nicely, I think. It’s certainly better suited to this than starting pointless arguments, anyway.” 

You think he’s probably right about that. He has to be, because he’s Geto Suguru. The man you’ve decided to follow until death do you part, the very light of your life. The apple of your eye. The fire that burns and smolders, even now, in the deepest, darkest recesses of your curling loins. There’s no way someone such as him, with all his hard edges and jagged points thinly concealed under the serene placidity of the Buddha himself — surely someone like that can’t be wrong about anything but least of all this. 

Your arousal, too, cannot be wrong for that reason alone, so you numbly shuffle forward. Drag yourself across the tatami to close the small distance which suddenly feels like a great chasm separating you from him. And Suguru watches on with an inferno that threatens to set you ablaze raging behind his dark irises. You can see the suspense, the twisted excitement curling just under the surface as if it were a living, breathing, all too tangible serpent housed under his skin. So real you could almost reach out and touch it, if you dared. 

You don’t, of course. Not only because you knew better than to be so presumptuous, unworthy as you were, but particularly not after he’d already presented you with your task. A trial to endure in the name of forgiveness. Your penance for saying cruel things to one of the other girls in the congregation out of jealousy and spite. Angry that she might have caught his eye a little too much when you were right there, so much more deserving of his attention than she was. Especially when you were so very unaccustomed to not getting your way. It was an ugly thing, and you knew you’d earned this. 

Suguru may have had a propensity for being cruel in a subtle, needle-pinprick sort of way but he was never, ever unjust. 

Going to your hands and knees now, you lean over his prone body with a strange sense of detached excitement so you can regard him up close. His skin truly is flawless, warm and smooth with sparse curling hair to frame the soft colored hole nestled between his shapely cheeks. He smelled good, too. Like soap and detergent, and the faintest undercurrent of masculine musk that goes straight to your brain, sparking something inside you that makes your cunt squeeze around nothing. There’s no hesitation to do it and he must see that because his smirk inexplicably sharpens, looking like something you could well and truly cut yourself on — but when you swoop down to shove your face into the cradle of his body he stops you with a firm hand abruptly smacked to your forehead. 

Left reeling and disoriented, you allow him to push you back just a smidge. The wry twinkle you find in his gaze when you glance up at him makes you flush red hot, as embarrassed as you are castigated by the gesture. “I - I’m sorry - -“

“Now, now. There’s no rush, is there?” Simpering at you, he drags the tips of his fingers over your temple and down the side of your face so he can deliver a light, mocking tap to the underside of your chin. “You should savor it. Enjoy it. Unless you don’t want to, that is?” 

You shake your head so fast it makes you dizzy. “No, I do! I want to, Geto-sama! Really!” 

The sound he noises is not unlike a purr, and you gratefully lean into the warmth of his hand when he reaches back and curls those long fingers around the curve of your skull so he can pull you back in. “Good. Then take it nice and slow, just like that …”

Under his steady guidance, you lean down much more tentatively than the first time and let him press you into the meat of his ass where you deliver a soft, fleeting kiss to the skin. Suguru hums in appreciative approval at your acquiescence but continues to hold you so you don’t hurry it. So you don’t dive in like some kind of animal. 

Shame at your own behavior chokes you up and you suck in a wet, faltering breath even as you softly peck at the swell of flesh, distantly noting how warm he is as well as the taste of salt on his skin. 

The tickle of fine peach fuzz under your lips and the incomprehensibly pleasant smell that you can taste on the back of your tongue. It’s overwhelmingly easy to get lost in him like this, the act itself far more gratifying than you would have ever thought something such as this could be. Even for all your blind idolization towards the man laid out underneath you, holding you close with your face shoved up against his ass, you still hadn’t expected to feel quite so much satisfaction just from kissing his body. It was all you’d wanted in recent memory, yearning for nothing more than a chance to worship him as you were so certain he deserved to be worshipped, and yet you were still taken aback by it. 

And how could you not be when you were so intimately close, indulging the sort of physical touch you’d never been permitted to share with him until now? You’d fantasized about this — something like this, plenty of times in the past. Rubbed your clit raw and soaked through your panties more frequently than you could even count while you steadily drove yourself mad with wanting. It’s no wonder then that you were so willing to demean yourself when it meant getting the chance to actually touch him like this. The real him, and not the Geto Suguru that exists only in your mind. 

Your pussy gives a muted throb at the soar of vindication that suddenly tears through you, coating the seat of your underwear in sticky slick even as you lean into your work and press so tight against his flesh that it becomes hard to breathe. And of course Suguru allows it, softly cooing at you just as a priest offering comfort to the broken, desperate sinner at death's door might. It sounds like salvation in your ringing ears but you knew it was in all reality the whisper of eternal damnation. The abrasive shuffle of the hangman’s noose around your neck, or perhaps last rites read moments before the swing of the executioner's axe. 

But if this is how you were to die then you would go happily, merrily to that chopping block. 

“Mmm  … that’s it, darling. Nice and easy for me. Haste isn’t going to get you anywhere, now is it?” 

You shake your head with a muffled sound of agreement, basking in the warmth of his skin against yours while you listen to Suguru’s honey dipped voice filter over you. It’s reminiscent of a comfortingly warm mist against your flesh and in your ears. It was the one and only constant in your cotton stuffed head which couldn’t decide what, if anything, it should focus on above all the rest and you desperately latch onto it in search of direction. Cling to it for guidance, and heed its call to you on an exigent summons that you wouldn’t have been able to ignore even if you’d wanted to. 

It was making you crazy. 

He was making you crazy. 

Opening your mouth wide, you eagerly nibble and suck at his skin with rapidly growing urgency, desperate to feel more of him against you. Desperate to take more of him inside of you. He tastes so good, so good, that you can’t even think straight anymore now that you have the flavor of him marinating on your tongue. Your internal frenzy steadily grows while you try to feast on the communion of his body in earnest until he finally reaches down to deliver a sharp flick to your forehead, making you hiss.

“No marks.” 

Blinking back the sting of tears, you let up on the meaty swell of his cheek in favor of kissing the reddened spot you’ve left behind. It’s not enough to bruise, probably; but still regretfully noticeable, and you purse your lips against it in apologetic reverence. You should have known better. Should have asked before doing something of your own volition without his direct order to do it first. The weight of this newest transgression pulls an emotional sniffle out of you, and he mockingly chuckles in response to the sound. 

“How cute. You want to taste me that badly? I didn’t expect you to be this enthusiastic, sweetheart.” 

You nod, dragging your cheek across his plushy ass, making it pudge under the pressure of your face even as a slow trickling tear dribbles from the corner of your eye. It follows the same line already tracked by the ones that came before it but, rather than finding your chin where it could drip off onto the floor, it spills over where your skin meets his and pools between the two of you. 

Softly, Suguru clicks his tongue at the sensation so you lift your head enough to lick it off of him in apology. The bitter salt is repugnant compared to the subtle, almost airy flavors of his body and you draw a faltering breath as you sedately work your way over the swell of his ass cheek one kitten lick at a time, working your way inward. 

He sighs, ever so softly, while you do it. Relaxes the pressure of his hand on the back of your head in favor of absently caressing his long fingers over your hair, teasing strays and flyaways. The tiny baby hairs on the nape of your neck. This unexpectedly tender touch from him, your savior and executioner wrapped into one, has you shuddering over him, wracked with the relief that comes with his forgiveness. You still had work to do. Still had a much deserved penance to complete, but with his guidance you were on the right path to salvation again. 

Carefully, you kiss a hot trail over the curve of his buttocks and start to work your way down. Nudge yourself even closer so you can lean into him and at last dip your face into the crevice of his body. The lingering scent of soap and male musk grows stronger like this, not at all unpleasant but so incredibly heady that it seems to rush straight to your cunt. You pointedly choose to ignore that though, and instead nuzzle your nose into the space between his cheeks, teasing the puckered hole within. A subdued shiver races through him, slight enough that you wouldn’t have noticed it had you not been pressed in so tight against him. He doesn’t move to stop you though and merely curls his finger around a loose strand of hair on your head as if something like this was a casual encounter, not one that was of any particular concern to him. Nothing to get excited or hasty about. A leisurely pastime he indulged in from time to time, frequently enough that it didn’t demand his full attention and yet not so commonplace that he was bored with it. 

Idly, you wonder who else among the congregants has been blessed with this particular gift. 

Spurned on, you press your face in close and deliver a lingering kiss to the center of his asshole. It weakly twitches under the contact, clenching and then unclenching in a mockery of a reciprocal kiss, returning the favor, and you do it again with a quiet groan. Sink into him until you can scarcely breathe but that is hardly of any consequence to you at this point. Suffocating in him like this did not seem so bad a fate — it was one you would have gladly welcomed, in fact. 

Taking your time with it, you slowly peck your way down the gentle slope of his taint and press your tongue flat against the seam, dragging your mouth up until you feel the wrinkled dip pass under it. You do it again and then again, slobbering all over him with slow, savory licks that come back tasting of salt and copper. His skin is so soft and smooth here, and mostly hairless save a few wispy strands that tickle your lips in silent reminder that what you were doing was by all accounts dirty. Certainly not the sort of degrading act someone of your social standing should be subjecting herself to. 

But you hold a deep, overwhelming love for him in your heart, one that trumps all sense of dignity you may have otherwise possessed. The quiet sigh he eventually issues into the still air only further encourages you to keep going. 

Pausing when your tongue next passes over the center of his hole, you worm it forward to poke and prod at the tight entrance. Circle the rim with just the tip until it relaxes against the wet pressure of your mouth so you can dip inside far enough to truly taste him. Your eyes roll back at the heady flavor and you quickly seal your lips around him, alternating between sucking and licking in order to loosen him up more. You wanted to shove your tongue inside of him as far as it would go, but you couldn’t do that when his body was still so tight. 

Suguru hisses faintly at the suction and untangles his hand from your hair, bringing it down so he can dig the fingers into his topmost cheek. He pulls at it, opening himself up to you. Grants you access to the depths of his person, and you eagerly take the chance to wiggle your tongue inside again, reaching deeper than before. His hips give a little jerk at the sensation before subtly angling upward, tipping towards your face. 

“Mmm, that’s it, darling. Just like that …”

Your breath puffs out of you in a ragged exhale, stuttering and clipped. It’s not hard to tell that your panties are soaked at this point and they wetly cling to you as you burrow deeper into the crevice of his ass with a muted shake of your head. You’re already as close as you can get but that doesn’t stop you from trying, even when your nose registers discomfort at the pressure. You can’t stop though. You’re mad with it, this powerful need to crawl inside of him, if only you could. If only it were possible. 

Groaning at the wild squirming of your tongue, he slowly eases up his hold on the meaty swell of his ass and finally rolls the rest of the way over onto his stomach. Barely audible huffs of pleasure reach your ears now, reverberating inside your skull like the sweetest melody of wind chimes to lull you deeper into your trance. The change of position opens him up further to you, you’re delighted to find, and it is with a great deal of satisfaction that you worm your tongue into that clenching passage where you can finally — finally! Massage at his insides to your pounding hearts content. 

“I knew you were well suited to this task,” He murmurs, breathy and distant. Distracted. “Your mouth was made for this, wasn’t it?” 

You noise a muffled sound of agreement, dizzy and lightheaded. Feeling faint with the weight of it all, but especially the significance behind this act of service and the sharp stab of humiliation that comes with it. Degrading though it may be, you’d never felt closer to this man who presented you with salvation in one hand and damnation in the other. You were practically soaring with it, and that sensation only increases, doubles down, when he pushes back on you in encouragement. 

The lower half of your face is a mess of dribbling saliva, cool and sticky on your red hot skin, but you stamp down the urge to reach up and wipe it away. Instead, you lean somehow further into him, meet the not so subtle roll of his hips, and it doesn’t take long for the two of you to fall into an easy rhythm like this. Rocking together in near perfect unison for a prolonged beat until he seems to grow impatient, pushing himself against you more insistently no matter how you work him over with your tongue. The thought that you weren’t doing a good enough job brings with it a sharp twinge in your chest, so you quickly follow him up when he  at last pushes up to his knees with a disgruntled huff. 

Positioned like this with his ass jutted upward makes it a little easier to tongue fuck him, his passage relaxing open with the pulse of a muscle spasm that shudders through him. You suck in a wet, gasping breath of air as you enthusiastically gum at him with your lips, noting in a far off, dreamy sort of way that the rim of his hole has become more puckered and raised over the last few minutes. It seems to welcome the soft plunge of your tongue now, greedily swallowing it up each time you dip it inside of him. The slow rise of pleasured groans coming from his mouth attests to the fact that he was enjoying this, assuring you and emboldening you at the same time. You wanted to make him feel good more than anything else in that moment �� needed him to feel good — and it is with a great deal of pleasure that you let Suguru drag his ass across your face with a subdued twist of his pelvis, smearing you with sticky spit in the process. 

“Nnghn … yes, darling, yes. Keep that up and you’re going to make me cum … you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Ahnn - a reward for all your hard work, hm?” 

The thought alone is enough to make your whole body seize, pussy clamping tight around nothing so violently that you actually sway on your hands and knees. It was too much. You’d fantasized about just that, about making him shoot hot ropes down your throat more times than you could conceivably count, but you hadn’t thought you’d ever get the chance. It was too good to be true. A once in a lifetime opportunity if there ever was one. 

You’re punch drunk on it as you slip your tongue out of his hole and enthusiastically circle the puffy rim with broad, flat strokes before tracing a wet path down his taint. You pause long enough to deliver a smacking kiss to it before leaning further down, intent on doing the same to his hanging ballsack, but he stops you with a pointed shove of his ass. 

“Stay focused, my love. I already told you where your mouth belongs. Do not overstep my patience with you a second time in one day.” 

Appropriately chastised by that warning, you hurriedly direct your attention back to his waiting hole. He lets out a pleased sigh when you get back to work, lapping at him with renewed vigor and just a pinch of emboldened audacity, but it seems to sufficiently placate him. 

It doesn’t take long for Suguru to relax into it again and he sedately rocks his hips back into the warmth of your mouth, all but basking in the sensation now. You’re glad for it, for his infinitely forgiving nature and his proclivity for giving second, third, even fourth chances to those that loyally followed him. Were he not so kind and magnanimous you probably would have found yourself kicked to the curb long ago. Were he not so understanding of your shortcomings as a mere mortal before his godlike presence you would have surely found yourself booted from the temple, never to return or be seen ever again. 

There was a kindness in his cruelty and you’re reminded of that when he pushes against you, going up on his hands now so he can properly grind himself on your face. You welcome it. Revel in it as you fuck your tongue into him again, delighting in the easy slide of it along his throbbing passage. You had him so obscenely coated in slick that you were sure the insertion of a finger would be a seamless one, but you don’t dare try it. Not without his permission first. Not without the risk of incurring further ire from him and, as if he can sense your thoughts, he twists around to look back at you. 

“Mmm, I’m getting close now … lie back for me, won’t you?” 

You freeze at that, a million questions running through your head all at once, but you give none of them voice as you slowly peel your mouth off him. This time you can’t stop yourself from reaching up to swipe at your wet chin even though it does very little in the way of good. You were soaked in spit from the nose down, something only a good washing could remedy, so you push it to the back of your mind for now and move to obey, hastily laying out flat on your back across the floor. 

For better or worse it doesn’t take long for you to figure out what he’s planning to do, and you swallow the lump in your throat as you watch him shuffle around to kneel beside your head. He looks like an elegant, dangerous cat hovering over you, all the more so when he pins you with that serrated edge smile. The faint flush on his cheekbones doesn’t detract from the air of superiority he holds over you, whether natural or by design, and in fact only seems to highlight his almost preternatural beauty. You’d never known someone so pretty, regardless of their gender, and you can’t quite shake the feeling of looking upon a blessed work of art as he gathers the loose fabric of his priest garb in both hands. 

Then, to your surprise, he throws one leg over your chest, straddling you backwards with his front pointed towards your feet, and you suddenly forget how to breathe. You aren’t sure how to react, what to do, so you just lie there, prone and helpless, while he hikes up the back of his robe to expose his ass again. He was still denying you even the pleasure, the simple satisfaction of seeing his cock with your own eyes, but you were under the distinct impression that he must have been straining hard by the way he looks back at you over his shoulder. The simmering heat in his dark eyes gives him away. 

“You don’t mind, do you?” 

Effectively robbed of your voice, all you can do is shake your head. 

He chuckles at that, clearly amused but unconcerned at your lack of a verbal response, and you hold your breath as he starts to lower himself. You think you might really faint, as overwhelmed as you are by the whole thing. Somehow you manage to keep it together though and you groan faintly when he settles on top of you, not quite sitting his full weight down but enough so that you quickly find it hard to breathe. It feels like you really might suffocate in his ass this time, more so when he gives his hips a slight wiggle to get comfortable and make sure his puckered entrance was right where he wanted it. 

“There. That’s nice, isn’t it?” 

Your attempt at a response is horribly muffled and incomprehensible, a mess of gibberish that may not have made much sense at all even if you weren’t currently being smothered. That clearly doesn’t bother him, however, and you whimper when he reaches down to take your hands in his so he can redirect them around his waist and up to the front of his robe. 

“Hold this for me?” 

Numbly, you fist your fingers into the thick material and let him position them as he wanted. You felt silly and inconsequential, a thing and not a person with him seated upon you like this. Just like a king on his impromptu throne. But you were hardly in any position to complain. Even when humiliation cuts through you like a sharp razor blade, even when embarrassed heat floods your face to make you even dizzier than you already were, you still couldn’t find it in you to advocate against this treatment. 

If Geto Suguru wanted to treat you like a chair and nothing more then that was what he would do. 

If he wanted to treat you like an inanimate mastubatory aid then that was his prerogative as well. 

You were his to do with as he saw fit, and you have to make a conscious effort to stop your hands from shaking when he settles more firmly on top of you, puckered hole pressing tight against your mouth until you have no choice but to open it. He moans, very softly, at the sensation before reaching around, presumably to take his cock in hand. The eager clench of his ass tells you the exact moment he gives it a tight, savory squeeze. 

“Don’t forget to use your tongue …” 

He sounds distracted. Thoroughly preoccupied now, but you happily comply without protest as you reach out past teeth and lips to lap at him again. The responding groan is needy, perhaps even a little frazzled, and it slices through you like a hacksaw. You’ve never heard anything like that come out of him before, or anyone else for that matter. It was a heated noise that seemed otherworldly for as beautiful as it was. The kind of sound an seraph might make, if they could or would engage in an act such as this. 

Unbothered by the lack of oxygen you were getting, you dazedly poke your tongue up to dip it into the center of his hole. You were hoping, praying, to catch that sound again but all you get for your trouble is a breathy exhale that seems to waver at the tail end. That’s not nearly enough to discourage you though, and you crane your neck up to attack the center of his body with the same fervor as before, worming your way inside so you can massage along his pulsing guts. 

Suguru twitches on top of you, his breath coming a little quicker now as he slowly thrusts his hips forward and then back. You shudder at the realization that he was fucking into his fist, dragging out the strokes to elongate the pleasure of them while pointedly dragging his asshole across your mouth at the same time. It has you squirming underneath him, pitifully rubbing your thighs together in search of relief, no matter how blithe it might be, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. He was intent on chasing his release now, and you struggle to keep your tongue moving when his motions start to pick up. 

Quicker now, he rocks between your mouth and his hand, letting out soft little huffs and groans while he does it. Nothing quite like that sound he’d first made but these were nice too. They were husky and hot, giving away the true extent of his arousal. You wondered if he was leaking precum all over his knuckles, or if he was using it to lubricate his palm. If he was rubbing over the glans with a blocky, callous worn thumb to stimulate the nerve endings there or if he was more focused on making his fist as tight as possible for him to fuck into. You wished you could see, that you could watch him tug himself to completion, but just getting to be this close to him while he did it seemed enough for now. 

Assuming you didn’t die here on the floor of his private chambers, smothered to death by his ass, you’d have plenty of material for your own mastubatory fantasies to last a lifetime. It was well worth the risk and the price you might potentially pay. 

“Oh, right there, love … deeper, go deeper!” 

You try your best to oblige even when the root of your tongue aches in protest, already stretched to its limit. Gasping and heaving, struggling just to keep from passing out, you forcibly wriggle it into the clenching heat of his body with everything you’ve got, determined to meet his every need. He responds in kind with a fervent thrust of his pelvis, riding your mouth with quickly growing need. You hadn’t expected him to be so affected, so caught up in the pleasure, but you carefully file it all away with what little wherewithal you still possess. It wasn’t much, hardly more than a drop of higher functioning thought left at your disposal, and yet that seemed to be all you needed. You could feel your own excitement growing in tandem with his and your body reacts to each sound, each shifting motion as if you were experiencing the same sensations as he was. 

And when his ass suddenly squeezes down on your tongue in a vice grip your pussy responds in kind, tightening to the point of discomfort. Suguru groans, just as beautifully as before, and it makes your toes curl while he faintly jerks on top of you, stiffly riding out what could only be a powerful orgasm. Elation quickly rushes in to flood your cotton stuffed head as if you’d experienced the same high of relief even as your guts clamp up, left hanging on the precipice indefinitely, but you try to tell yourself that you don’t mind it. His pleasure was your pleasure after all, and you were thankful just for that. 

Gradually, some moments later, he starts to relax on top of you and you suck in a gasping breath of air when he gingerly rocks forward to lift his ass from your face. The sense that everything was spinning around you at an alarming speed only increases as he moves to dismount and you squint against the faint light coming from the lamp in the corner. Even that was too much for your eyes after they’d adjusted to the darkness under his robe, a surprisingly apt metaphor for the malicious spell he had you under, but this too was something that didn’t bother you half as much as it probably should have. 

What does register in your mind as alarm, however, is the creamy white ropes of cum you find staining down the front of your clothes when you lift your head. It made sense, in a way. Where else was he supposed to cum if not on you? Still, you can’t quite keep the shock off your face and he titters quietly at your expression while he makes casual work of straightening out his robes again. 

“That’s quite a face you’re making. Is something wrong?” 

“No.” You practically croak. Stopping long enough to clear your throat, you try again. “No, nothings wrong, Geto-sama.” 

“Good. Now, I hope you’ll think twice before trying to stir up trouble again.” 

You visibly wither at that. “I will. I promise.” 

Drawing a stilted breath that sounds like the swing of a blade in the still air, he leans forward to brace one hand on the floor, looking at you up close. “Do you really? You know I won’t tolerate any lying.” 

“I do! I swear it!” 

The corners of his eyes wrinkle when he smiles, looking fittingly like a sly and powerful fox demon. “Good. I’d hate to have to punish you again for the same thing, but if you and that tongue of yours ever need a reminder don’t hesitate to come see me again. I’ll set you straight as many times as you need.” Then, with a sense of finality, he sits back and moves to stand. “Come. It’s just about time for dinner and I do believe your father will be joining us this evening, isn’t that right?” 

Your stomach sinks. You’d almost completely forgotten. 

No, not almost. 

You really did forget after everything that had happened today. Was it really any wonder though? It seemed like only a few short minutes had come and gone here in the secluded privacy of Suguru’s chamber but it had to have been going on over an hour now since he’d steered you through the door with a mindful hand on the small of your back. 

A shudder races through you at the reminder but you quickly shrug it off, clambering to get on your feet as well. “I’m so sorry for keeping you like this. I’ll change as quickly as I can and - -“

“Ah, ah. That’s not what I told you to do, is it?” The knowing smirk on his face grows, sharpens and slices through you like a knife. You’re wholly mortified at the way your pussy throbs in response to it, drawing attention to the fact that you were soaking into your underwear. It felt like you’d already cum at least twice, but you knew all too well that that was not the case. “If I’d wanted you to get cleaned up first I would have said that, wouldn’t I? Hm? I told you to come. You’re not going to disobey me are you?”

“No, Geto-sama, o - of course not!” 

Chuckling, he turns to make for the door. “Then let’s get a move on. I’d hate to keep your father waiting.” 

You hesitate only a brief moment, slowly glancing over yourself one last time. The threads of sticky semen splattered across your front were quickly drying but not nearly at the rate you would have liked. They were leaving behind wet, globular stains, the darkened patches in the fabric regrettably noticeable by your estimation. Maybe they wouldn’t be as obvious to other people though. Maybe they’d just assume you spilled water or some kind of oil on your clothes. Maybe no one would ask any questions. 

Not quite convinced your luck would hold out, you hurry to follow after Suguru just as any devout lamb following their shepherd should. Through heaven or hell, fire or high water, you would let him lead you to any stretch of this earth and back as many times as he saw fit, in whatever condition pleased him. Even now, even after your dehumanizing trial, there was nothing you wouldn’t do to earn his good graces and stay in them. 

Absolutely nothing.

⭐

Crossposted: here

[puhpandas]

I think we were supposed to see technicians and guards before the all staff meeting but Scott wanted to play it safe ig. I don’t even think Gregory was supposed to be a side protagonist in this book because the first description had said nothing about Gregory.

I think this was always supposed to be a Cassie solo book but it’s like Scott remembered he needs to start building up GGY only to realize Cassie can’t know about GGY for the game to work 😭 I feel like if Cassie’s trauma was shaped by the Pizzaplex itself and was stalked by the robots like Tony was during day hours instead of Gregory directing them to attack her in the most pitifully awkward ways ever the themes would’ve landed better. I still don’t really like how these two can somehow waltz into the plex after hours like it’s no big deal and with no guardian supervision at that

Would’ve been really cool if Gregory wasn’t written so obviously off-putting and the two of them were shown bonding / actually seemed like really close friends because then the betrayal would’ve stung even more. The book is just way too in your face about Gregory being the antagonist and it erases any interesting mystery that GGY had.

YES u hit the nail on the head on why this books interp of ggy felt SO bad to me. it misunderstood ggy as a character (who HAS an established character in ggy) and made him seem so cartoonishly in your face evil when the sinister parts of him that felt actually threatening and interesting in ggy were shrouded in mystery. in ggy Tony never actually comes into contact with explicitly ggy as a climax, it's just revealed that he's been here the whole time without anyone knowing. and any dramatic climax ggy could have is implied off screen at the end of the book

ggy has always been so subtle in how he keeps control and twists everything to go his way, which is why he was instantly on Tony when he was crazy enough to dig deeper by using Freddy as a surveillance system. it's even implied that ggy doesn't go "muahaha Tony your investigation ends here.!" during that implied scene after the end of the book, he just kills Tony quietly. this was such an insane misunderstanding of how he acts and sure the actual action of ggy messing with Cassie could fit with his actions in ggy, but ggy never even messed with Tony. he just once again subtly to even the reader strung tony along due to his understanding of him to keep him interested in him so he could keep the cover of having friends. it's literal polar opposites to how he acts with cassie in etp and Tony in ggy

and agreed with the other things too. I think there's clearly something that happened in between this book being already confirmed to be made and development beginning and its release that majorly changed the plot. it sucks because the plot it theoretically changed to ended up barely fitting into the games narritave and ruining/changing a lot of things that have been planned since 2022. in this scenario if it WAS changed that means that sw wouldn't know about it because if they ever did it would have been the original plot. of course we could be wrong and the book could actually have always been like this and sw actually planned the course of the games with this in mind but we have no clue. right now with how it majorly changes the gameverse narritave and how its synopsis strangely changed a great amount in between the first look and release the former seems more likely

desperately want more information on what could have happened to this book lmao

[moobloom-mention]

Making Amends Through the Splinters of My Patience

Summary: Shadow regrets ever accepting Sonic's offer to teach him how to play a video game. The blue hedgehog cheats more than Maria ever had when a sick day was on the line, and he's even better at denying Maddie and Tom's suspicious involvement with G.U.N.

Content Warning(s): Themes of Dehumanization

Word Count: 1629

I wanted to try my hand at writing some Sonic and Shadow interactions. Also, thank Blame for the title, she's been a really good sport about helping me with them lmao

----------

"You're annoying me, hedgehog."

Shadow's eyebrows remain furrowed intensely, his discontent merely half to blame for such a drastic expression. The other half centers entirely on his attempts to focus on the video game before him, the Wachowski's living room television a flash of blinding colors Shadow has only just begun to grow used to.

He'd never seen anything like it back with...well, back at the underground facility. The movies that scientists had managed to sneak past military personnel usually consisted solely of shades of black, grey, and white. Only a handful bared color.

Though even then all the footage still had an odd, grainy look to them. He'd always compared it to a crumpled piece of paper that'd been flattened out once more.

It was still a piece of paper. There was just something...off about it.

The Wachowski's television didn't have the familiar grainy texture, Shadow's character jumping ecstatically to an upper platform. A clearly defined ring of blue light forms beneath its feet as Shadow presses the jump button twice with a satisfying click-click.

Sonic's character zips away from an attack in a flurry of blue shades, and for once Sonic doesn't even offer a knowing smirk toward the very real threat beneath the black hedgehog's words. The threat that says Shadow can and will bury him alive if Sonic doesn't stop trying to "discreetly" jostle the controller from his grasp.

The first time that blue elbows had knocked into his, Shadow had naively passed off the notion that Sonic simply couldn't sit still. It'd made enough sense in the moment- being the fastest thing alive meant Sonic had plenty of energy reserves that needed to be drained constantly. It must have been infuriating trying to stay in one place for so long, even if playing "Smash-something-Ultimate" had been Sonic's idea in the first place.

The second time it happened Shadow had to refrain from instinctively decking Sonic over just how violent his jab had been, black and red quills flared amidst his cold glare. Sonic had only slightly shrunk back at the sight baring a frustratingly innocent expression.

He's starting to regret the fact that he'd forced himself to relax and carry on with the game. He'd figured the subtle bruise to his ego was a small price to pay if it helped to rebuild the fragile bit of trust Sonic's handlers had given him.

It'd already been shocking enough when they agreed to let him into their home. He wouldn't let Sonic's less-than-subtle attempts to rile him up break such a thing.

A few well-timed clicks of his attack button send Sonic's character into the sky in a blaze of grey clouds. It triggers an entourage of frantic clicks from Sonic's controller, the blue mechanical character trying its hardest to scramble back onto the platform.

Maroon eyes flash with triumph. Even if Sonic were to make it and save himself, Shadow would only need a single hit to be declared the game's winner.

His finger barely flicks over the attack button before a warm glove suddenly latches onto his shoulder. His neck aches from how quickly his head twists, his expression contorted in raw confusion.

Sonic's wild grin feels blinding as his canine's flash in the television's light and for a moment Shadow swears the world stops. A part of him, desperate and exasperated, hopes that the hedgehog will simply continue on with a half-assed "congrats" and whiny demand for a rematch. After all, they hadn't bet anything for this round.

The only real thing to accomplish would be the preservation of the winner's pride.

...oh god. He was fucked the moment he let his guard down enough for Sonic to grab him.

The world resumes just in time for Sonic to throw him to the living room floor in a graceless pile of limbs.

Shadow doesn't let himself sulk, a spark of red illuminating the room as he teleports himself back to a standing position. He tenses, fully expectant that Sonic will continue his odd definition of "rough-housing", but Sonic doesn't move from his seat.

In fact, the blue hedgehog remains a perfect image of tranquility, a pleasant smile on his muzzle with that damned controller still clicking away in his hands.

"GAME!"

No. There's no way.

Shadow whirls. The three platforms from the game's arena are gone, replaced with a clip of Sonic's character shooting off into the distance. It stops only after a golden "1" appears to the left of the screen. A less than favorable taunt in the room's dim lighting.

His jaw aches with how harshly he grits his teeth. "I don't know how your handlers haven't given up on you," he bites out. It's petty, he knows it, but under different- more preferable -circumstances, Shadow would've just sent Sonic flying across the room for such a childish stunt.

Even worse, it seems his hesitancy to instigate a proper fight only seems to embolden Sonic, the subtle tension Shadow hadn't even noticed lining the hedgehog's shoulders releasing. Pride stakes its claim on Sonic's voice as he tuts. "For the last time, Shads-"

A low growl rumbles in his throat. And there goes that god-forsaken nickname Sonic refuses to drop.

Sonic's grin widens. "-Tom and Maddie aren't my 'handlers'."

Shadow scoffs, folding his arms across his chest. "You're a terrible liar, hedgehog."

An odd mix between a faux gasp of offense and dejected huff escape Sonic's throat. It certainly doesn't help the blue hedgehog's attempt to look convincing.

When there's no additional commentary Shadow rolls his eyes. He plucks his own controller from the ground, setting it neatly back onto the living room's coffee table. His eyebrows knit only as he focuses on the stage select menu.

They'd only gotten through a handful of games, surely he could goad Sonic into a rematch.

A sharp gust of wind halts Shadow's thought much quicker than he would've liked. His unimpressed glance proves the blue hedgehog to have moved into an upside-down position; definitely suboptimal for video games.

Gloved fingers twiddle themselves on the peach color of Sonic's stomach.

"Hey, Shadow?"

"Hm."

"Why would I have handlers?"

Shadow's ear flicks. Sonic can't be seriously asking why the bright blue alien hedgehog from space might have been given government handlers to watch over him.

His silence must've spoken such because Sonic at least has enough decency to look embarrassed.

"Fine, fine," Sonic huffs. His expression morphs into something amused, a short "pft" of laughter escaping his mouth. "But why would Tom and Maddie be my handlers? They, I dunno, hate G.U.N?"

They certainly didn't seem like they hated G.U.N. enough to stop Sonic or his companions from being sent to Tokyo.

"They monitor you."

Blue eyebrows draw themselves downcast. "I mean, yeah, but not in a creepy government way. They just make sure I'm safe."

"But they track you."

"You make it sound gross," Sonic complains loudly. "Having Life360 isn't some government ploy to keep me contained. 'Sides, Maddie and Tom let me leave Green Hills whenever I want. Don't think that sounds like 'handler behavior', pal."

Begrudgingly Shadow gives a curt nod. It certainly isn't handler behavior he's familiar with, though it wouldn't be surprising if some handlers decided to take more liberties than others.

The important part was that the asset was where it needed to be when necessary. A part that the Wachowskis had previously played swimmingly for G.U.N.

"You have your own medical personnel," Shadow offers instead. "And someone who works directly in law enforcement."

"Y'know, we call those 'careers' around here," Sonic snarks. "Tom and Maddie had their jobs long before they met me. And they haven't changed even after G.U.N. became involved."

"Hmm."

The air feels stifling as an oddly charged spout of silence finally filters into the atmosphere. Shadow hadn't thought Sonic would be so defensive about such a subject.

Denial? He wonders.

Shadow stares as blue ears suddenly flatten against Sonic's head, green eyes looking pointedly toward the ground before he takes a sharp breath. He looks nervous. No, uncertain.

"...was Maria your handler?"

Something ugly curls within his throat, Shadow's expression hardening for reasons he isn't quite sure of. If anyone had been his handler under G.U.N. it had been the Professor, an arrangement that Shadow still looks back on quite fondly. There shouldn't be a negative connotation there.

And yet...

His fists clench.

And yet Maria never would've- even if she had been old enough, she would've refused such a title.

Black quills slowly flatten themselves.

"No," Shadow finally admits softly. "She... was a friend. Someone more than just a too-friendly face to track my whereabouts."

Despite the somber tone Sonic brightens immediately. He zips onto his feet, pumping his fist into the air in celebration of something Shadow isn't quite sure of.

"Oh-ho! That's the one! Tom and Maddie are friends. Er, well, parental figures? I dunno, I'm still not sure how my answer will affect canon."

Shadow blinks. Once. Twice.

Oh. Oh.

He's not quite prepared to address Sonic's implication that humans are capable of taking a more... parental role for beings outside of their species. It would rewrite much of his time in the facility under a new light.

A light that ignites an odd spout of jealousy to swell within his chest.

"...interesting."

The word doesn't nearly encompass the world of uncertainty Sonic's awakened, but it's all he manages to mutter amidst the crashing waves of his own thoughts.

"I try not to think too hard about it," Sonic admits with a wink. It's hardly the comforting notion Sonic must think it is. "But whaddaya say to another game of Smash, Shads?"

"That sounds..."

Like trouble? Like it'll end in even more demands for a rematch?

"...nice. That sounds nice."

[kingdomoftyto]

Hi, happy spooky month, I have a ✨manga rec✨!! And in the spirit of the season, it's a horror story! >:3c

I want to spoil as little as possible because I went into this manga essentially COMPLETELY blind and, honestly, imho, I imagine it's the ideal way to experience the story. I literally first heard about it from a random youtube comment on a video about an entirely different manga--one which, mind you, had VERY different themes, which colored my preconceptions and added to the surprises for me later on!

ANYWAY, what I mean by all that is I'm going to start with the simplest possible summary of the premise, and if that's intriguing enough for you to give it a shot, then I recommend diving right in!! But, if you still need more of an in-depth, slightly spoilery rec? Then I'll gush a bit more under a cut to see if I can hook your attention.

With all that out of the way,

The Summer Hikaru Died is a horror/supernatural story about a high school boy named Yoshiki whose best friend (Hikaru) went missing in the mountains outside of town. What comes back is... something else. It looks, acts, and talks like Hikaru, but it's not him, and Yoshiki is the only one who seems to notice.

The only other thing I knew going in was that the commenter made a brief mention of the "Hikaru"-thing protecting Yoshiki, which seemed odd but intriguing alongside the rest of the premise.

So if that's enough for you (plus the fact that I'm telling you I haven't stopped thinking about this story since I read it two weeks ago), then please check it out! There are only 5 volumes so far!! Suffer through the wait for the rest with meeeeee ಥωಥ

More spoilery extended rec below the cut:

📣THESE MOTHERFUCKERS GAY*!!!📣

📣GOOD📣FOR📣THEM!!!📣

I know what you're thinking, and YES, it appears to be BL between the TIMID HIGH SCHOOL BOY and the ELDRITCH HORROR WEARING THE SKIN OF HIS BEST FRIEND.

And it's SO GOOD.

No SERIOUSLY, for real though, I had NO inkling going into this that it was even in the realm of possibility that it would involve romance

Let alone a nuanced, slow burn, VERY QUEER romance layered with ruminations on grief and identity and one's relationship to society

(ON THIS NOTE, I must advise up front that I DO NOT KNOW if this story will end in tragedy... It's still ongoing, after all! BUT, I think either way it will be an amazing story and... maybe I'm just delusional, and though this may be considered spoilery in itself, the most recent chapters have me optimistic that we might indeed be on track for some sort of happy ending... eventually.)

Anyway, I cannot express enough how incredible it was to uncover this aspect of the story organically without knowing about it beforehand. Born and raised in a rural village, Yoshiki is deep in the closet, and that's reflected in how subtle the hints are at the beginning. Over time, it starts to become clearer and clearer, but always with a layer of plausible deniability, at least if you're not expecting it to take such a queer turn. ("Hikaru" literally makes a ton of "no homo" style jokes early on, which... god don't get me started--)

As you might guess, Yoshiki had feelings for the real Hikaru before his disappearance, and ooh boy does that affect how much the grief and guilt and fear play into things. It's delightfully fucked up.

So yeah. I 100% expected the plot of this manga to revolve around the intrigue of the monster finding out Yoshiki knew its secret, the fear of not knowing when the monster would strike next, etc, but NO! That particular "reveal" happens within the first 10 pages, and then the entity just kind of... lives the life of a high school kid! He's kind of a little shit, but for the most part, he's a nice boy! Yoshiki is the only one who knows who "Hikaru" really is, but much of the tension comes from him having to come to terms with that, rather than the fear itself.

...and also the OTHER horrors and mysteries. There's tension there too, considering it's where the actual plot lies, lmAO. Just because "Hikaru" isn't a totally evil monster doesn't mean there aren't a lot of grotesque and scary things in here. Most of this manga I would classify more in the "supernatural" genre than "horror", but in those moments it DOES delve into horror, it goes pretty damn hard. I remember more than one moment where I felt sharp regret about reading it in the dark at 2 a.m. 💀

Still, if you dare, it's worth the read. I can't recommend it enough.

P.S. I wouldn't say it's a "funny" manga but it does nonetheless have an amazing sense of humor. There are a handful of actual jokes and gags that did have me rolling, but more importantly there's an unspoken, implicit acknowledgement of how absurd this all is, in that way only good self-aware horror can achieve. Take the main character Yoshiki for example. The image I used of him up above? The unsettling camera angle, the haunted look in his eyes? That's just how he always looks. The panel after that one shows that all he's looking at on his phone is a text from his sister reminding him to pick up wasabi flakes.

P.P.S. There's apparently an anime adaptation coming out sometime? I'll probably watch it, but I expect something will be lost in translation. We'll see, I suppose.

*- To be precise: Yoshiki is gay. The creature that takes Hikaru's place has a more nuanced (and alien) perspective on sexuality, and... I'll leave it at that.

[frostfires-blog]

What are your top 5 (or top 10) favorite media ever (can be anime/manga, tv series, books, movies, games, etc)? Why love them? Thanks ⭐

[ In all honesty, as I was going through my inbox, I was dreading responding to this ask. Not because the question was awful—it's a great question. The problem is that I'm quite indecisive and tend to overthink things. I'm going to attempt to keep this brief because if I allow myself to ramble, it will take me a month to write this post—and by then I'll have changed my mind. (Spoiler Alert: I failed lmao)

As I've already stated, I typically only consume anime/donghua and manga/manhua/manhwa, so my list will be confined to those. I have conflicting feelings about many of the series I've seen, especially those that have ended recently—because, let's be honest, manga endings have been terrible lately (if you know, you know)...

Another issue is that I've been attempting to restructure my top ten because my entire concept of what constitutes a great series has shifted recently. For a long time, I had subconsciously internalised the notion that shoujo/josei series and non-combat-orientated series were inferior to mainstream battle-focused shounen series.

I subconsciously thought that I would be looked down on for including these series in my top 10 over more respected manga. Although it persists to some extent, I was mostly able to get over this after learning about biases in the anime and manga industries on how shoujo versus shounen series are handled and perceived. ]

✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧

Top 10 Favourite Series:

#10 The Apothecary Diaries

This show has captured my attention even though I have only seen the first season. Although Maomao and Jinshi's dynamic is undeniably my favourite part of the series, its complex themes and political intrigue are not to be understated either. Another aspect I like about the series is its unique incorporation of femisism. It uses its rigidly misogynistic historical setting to highlight the subtle strength, ingenuity, and resolve that women rely on to navigate and endure society. Even amongst a society that devalues women and fosters competition among them, we observe women supporting one another and persevering. In this manner the series provides a refreshing standpoint on female empowerment. The adaptation was perfectly executed, as exemplified by its undeniably captivating aesthetics, music, and ambience. I'm eagerly anticipating season 2 and can't wait to see where the series goes.

#09 Link Click

While at first, it may not seem like much, this show has really developed into something refreshingly brilliant thanks to its unique supernatural abilities and ever-increasing stakes. Aside from its unique art style, compelling twists, and captivating storytelling, all of which are refreshingly good, the music is definitely my favourite part of this show, as it is carefully crafted to complement the narrative. The dynamic between our two leads is incredibly endearing and heartbreaking. The symbolism is incredibly intricate and complex and is intertwined masterfully into every aspect of its production—most notably its character designs, music, and visuals. Every episode leaves you on the most stressful cliffhanger of your life, leaving you eager for more.

#08 Mo Dao Zu Shi

My favourite part of this series is that there are so many different mediums to experience it through, with each one providing a slightly different experience. While the novel and Donghua are my personal favourite adaptations, the C-drama was very entertaining as well. I hope to be able to experience the manga, manhua and audio drama adaptations as well. Its story and characters are so intricate and multi-faceted that trying to describe them in such a short paragraph would be laughable, so I'll refrain from doing so. This series combines action, mystery, and romance with complex themes and vibrant characters. MDZS is unquestionably the most exceptional MXTX novel in the field of world-building. The story is set in an intricately crafted world in which historic customs, mystical abilities, and martial arts intersect, with each setting playing a critical role in the development of the characters and their journeys. This was the first series I watched featuring a canonical M/M main pairing that also possessed a robust and compelling plot beyond the romance, which I greatly appreciated. The heart of the series is its compelling cast of characters. WangXian's dynamic is the foundation of the series and is undeniably one of my favourite aspects of it. Their contrasting personalities are deftly counterbalanced by their similar ideals and shared passion for protecting others. Their relationship is an attestation of the enduring power of love and is centred on the themes of transformation, loyalty, and sacrifice. The series addresses a variety of complex themes, including enduring love, filial piety, vengeance, justice, acceptance, redemption, forgiveness, corruption, morality and perseverance despite adversity. The most apparent themes in the narrative are social prejudices, the interplay between perceptions and actuality as well as the dichotomy between good and evil.

#07 Kimetsu No Yaiba

Inexplicably, this series is both exceedingly popular and heavily criticised. It is generally critiqued for its simplistic story, but I believe it exemplifies how simplicity is the ultimate sophistication. People often fixate on its stunning animation and thrilling battles, overlooking its powerful emotional narratives and seamless integration of complex themes. The series centres around themes such as the importance of family, coping with loss, and maintaining resilience and determination in the face of adversity. That said, my favourite theme in the series is how it highlights the significance of compassion and empathy, even amidst extenuating circumstances. This is a vital lesson that reminds us that we are all capable of demonstrating compassion and empathy to others within reasonable limits. Alongside its compelling narrative and dynamic battles, KNY's eclectic ensemble of well-developed characters stands out—thanks to their distinct designs and motivations—lending depth and complexity to the series.

#06 Akatsuki No Yona

Although YOTD seems like another archetypal historical romance about a princess on the run—there is so much more to this series. YOTD is a masterful blend of romance, adventure, and drama. The series deftly reworks conventional tropes and integrates them into its intricate, fantastical setting. YOTD's multi-layered narrative and its profound character arcs—in addition to the depth of themes it addresses—set it apart from comparable series. The manga incorporates various heavy themes into its narrative—such as betrayal, vengeance, inequality, power struggles, and the connection between privilege and ignorance. It also covers more hopeful themes—such as camaraderie, courage, and the enduring power of love. YOTD's primary strength is its remarkable character development. Each of the series' characters is thoughfully constructed to embody several themes that add to the plot, while every one of their interactions helps to advance other characters.

#05 Boku No Hero Academia

Although this series mostly garnered popularity from its compelling plotline and flashy fight sequences—its greatest assets are its well-developed core cast, significant emotional resonance, and nearly seamless integration of deep and heavy themes. Despite the series' initially light-hearted and hopeful tone, its stakes are deftly heightened by introducing darker symbolism and more intense conflicts. Its later seasons highlight the complex nature of heroism along with the obstacles encountered by both heroes and villains—thereby differentiating it from other series in the superhero genre. Some of my favourite themes that the series highlights are identity/self-discovery, the nature of heroism, power/responsibility, sacrifice/redemption as well as the importance of having bravery in face of adversity. The series' astute use of imagery, metaphors, and narrative subtext enhances thematic and character development, augmenting its symbolic value and rendering it more engaging and captivating.

#04 Fruits Basket

Fruits Basket has an unparalleled charm thanks to its unique blend of drama, humour and romance. This series has become a staple in the shoujo genre due to its profound character depth, compelling narrative, and immense emotional resonance. A web of multilayered character dynamics forms the foundation of Fruits Basket—where characters are not merely utilised as narrative devices, but portray the subtleties of human emotions, relationships, and development. It is precisely because the series' characters reflect real-life issues that we are able to empathesize and relate to them. The series' capacity to engage in meaningful discussions on profound concepts and convey insightful messages is the primary reason it resonates with its fans. The series weaves a variety of profound themes into its narrative, including loss, acceptance, transformation, healing, love, societal expectations, parental alienation, familial connections, and the cyclical nature of life. The series' emotional impact is established by incorporating the aforementioned themes—which not only enhance its complexity but also foster introspection and empathy within its fans.

#03 Naruto + Naruto Shipudden

Regardless of its shortcomings, detractors cannot dispute that the Naruto series has significantly influenced pop culture—evolving the animanga industry and influencing audiences on a global scale. The series' popularity stems from its complex storytelling, emotional depth, large multi-faceted cast and exploration of profound themes. To this day, the Naruto series continues to be relevant, having cemented itself as a cornerstone in the history of the animanga industry. The series has not only inspired numerous creators, but it has also played a significant role in the integration of anime and manga into global mainstream pop culture. The themes addressed in the series add greatly to its narrative depth and resonance—not only enhancing audience engagement but also providing them with valuable lessons. Some typical themes explored by the series are friendship, personal growth, and perserverence admidst adversity. While some of its more profound themes include the vegeance, redemption, the cycle of hatred, the reprecussions of war and conflicting ideals of peace. The series employs these themes to not only enhance its character arcs and layer its narrative—but also to encourage its audience to contemplate their implications within human interactions, historical contexts and the systems of society. The series' continuing relevance as a pivotal reference for analysis and discussion is a direct result of the adept integration and complexity of these themes. Another essential component of the series is its character development which not only drives the narrative but also enables viewers to empathise with its characters. Throughout the series, we encounter an array of compelling characters whose development and interactions significantly contribute to the series' depth and appeal.  Considering that this series was a significant part of my childhood, it will always hold a special place in my heart. I practically grew up alongside its characters, which has made their hardships, conundrums and triumphs all the more personal. Given this was the first anime series I completed, it was the catalyst for my current passion for anime and manga.

#02 Gintama

Let me go off script and say that I know this series' length is off-putting to a lot of people—but I promise it is absolutely worth it... Though I wouldn't reccomend this series for everyone. I myself quit this anime about 4 times despite liking the characters. However, I'm glad that something (cough opening 13 cough) convinced me to stick with it—since it has become my favourite anime now. This series is set in a fictionalised version of Japan's Edo period, where aliens have invaded the nation after having defeated its samurai. This bizarre premise serves as the foundation for the show's quirky characters and absurd happenstances. Gintama has made an everlasting impression on the animanga industry due to its distinctive amalgamation of genres, outstanding character development, and capacity to weave together comedic and serious narratives. Gintama is infamous for its comedy. Its ability to parody various sectors of pop culture, including other animanga, is second to none. The series is able to poke fun at both itself and the animanga industry thanks to its satirical take on classic shonen tropes. The series' unapologetic willingness to take risks has contributed towards it becoming a cornerstone in the animanga industry thereby influencing numerous subsequent works. The series also humorously explores an array of social and cultural issues, not only providing entertaining social commentary but also reflecting society, thereby fostering introspection and discourse on a number of topics. This not only enables it to delve deeper into its complex themes but also to surpass conventional anime archetypes. Unexpectedly Gintama is adept at balancing its comedic elements with its profundity, allowing fans to resonate with the series on a deeper level. The series' core themes include resilience, mental fortitude, honour, loss, camaraderie, platonic bonds, and maintaining optimism when confronted with adversity. Gintama's enduring appeal stems from its distinctive, diverse, and colourful ensemble of characters. Their differing personalities, experiences, and peculiarities add to the series' humour, relatability, and complexity. We witness these characters face many obstacles as they grow and evolve thus deepening our connection with them.

#01 Tian Guan Ci Fu

For those unfamiliar, MDZS (ranked as #8 on this list) and TGCF are written by the same author, MXTX—thus, many of my statements there also apply here. Despite consuming almost every adaptation of this series—the novel, the donghua and the manhua—I have never grown tired of it as every rendition presents a novel perspective on the characters and setting and is enlightening in its own right. This series deftly integrates action, comedy, mystery, horror, fantasy and romance—while also drawing inspiration from Chinese culture and mythology, to create a riveting story that draws you in from its start.  Although I wouldn't want anyone to value this series solely based on its romance—it is undeniably its most captivating aspect with its main couple being the epitome of devotion, longing and enduring love. Similarly to MDZS, the TGCF donghua is heavily censored when it comes to its romantic dipictions under China's censorship regulations. This becomes especially noticeable when comparing it to Japanese animated BL series. Nevertheless, the production team's meticulous attention to detail ensures that the affection between the main couple remains just as apparent as in the novel. In no other series have I paid as much attention to the characters' movements, expressions, and tones as I did with TGCF. HuaLian's affection for one another is palpable through every held glance, melodic sigh, and subtly delicate touch. Consequently, this meticulous attention to detail allows for a steady build-up—resulting in an immensely authentic and sincere romance. The series' amalgamation of its fantastical setting and mystical elements with Chinese traditions and mythology augments its richness and immersiveness. Furthermore, each song in the donghua is flawlessly crafted to complement each scene—creating the ideal ambiance. The series touches on a multitude of heavy topics providing insightful commentary on social expectations—making it worthwhile for those seeking depth and complexity. Among the themes featured are duty, sacrifice, redemption, vengeance, unconditional love, acceptance, perception as opposed to actuality, and the correlation between free will and fate. One understated feature of the series that I appreciate is its deft deployment of motifs and symbolism to represent characters and their growth as well as to hint at impending plot points. Flowers, colours and other celestial symbols are recurring motifs in the series that add depth to the narrative. It is undoubtably the series' complex characters and intricate character relationships that form the core of TGCF—adding substantially to its allure. Our lead characters are incredibly multifaceted and nuanced, possessing distinct motivations and principles—while remaining charming and endearing. In contrast, each side characters in the series adds complexity and intrigue to the narrative—enriching the series without detracting from the main characters' roles while remaining well-rounded.

✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧

[P.S. Were any of you guys who regularly see my posts surprised by this list? I'm willing to address any questions you have regarding these entries, and I hope it encourages anyone who hasn't seen any of these series to do so. Once again I'm sorry for rambling...Hope this answered your question. ]

✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧

[crow-of-paradise]

I finished The Way of Kings and IIII'm feelin' it!!! Yo girl is going THRU it!!!

This book is great for the saps. The Sentimentals. Dare I say cheese-lovers. Moved easily to tears by acts of goodness and humanity. (<- all me) Maybe bc it is so lacking in our real lives - and this from someone fortunate enough to have some amazing people in their life, I still think we can all want to be better for ourselves and others, because it's the right and good thing to do. In the end, it's the heart of the book, imo, that stays with me the most. Kaladin, Dalinar, Bridge Four, struggling to do the right thing, keep hope alive in the face of despair like a small sputtering candle in the dark (or highstorm, as it were). When I finished and was gathering my thoughts, there's a lovely quote by Mr. Rogers that immediately came to mind:

“When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’”

And this book has plenty of both (the scary and the helpers). It’s a very hopeful story at its core, despite realizing some people felt put off by the “depression simulator” (as the first review, of all things, I watched called him!!) that is Kaladin during most of the book, lol. But hey! I'm into that shit! I was deeply moved by his struggles and how he kept finding reasons to care, despite himself, like a wild instinct he’s unable to control. He’s gotta be one of my favorite fictional characters of all time, THE LOVE I HAVE FOR THIS MAN IS INSANE. So I'm hoping that the story continues with its main philosophy and theme centering hope prevailing in the end. I'm locked in, so I guess we'll see soon enough lol.

Also I fucking love beginnings. Some people loathe them - they’re too slow, there’s not enough happening, there’s too much to learn. When it’s done WELL, I eat that shit up, and TWOK does it sooooo well. When I first started reading it, I was constantly praising its accessibility, how easy it was to understand and visualize and keep up, as someone who does NOT read a lot (particularly not a brick like this). That is a constant throughout the rest of the book! I personally really meshed well with Sanderson’s writing style, and that was besides his amazing skill with a large and compelling cast of characters, all of whom have their own subtle arcs and development which were satisfying to read and I value most in the media I enjoy.

I found out about Sanderson in the most random way! I was RPing in Final Fantasy XIV lol (2022/23 was... a time) and I really wanted to work on my combat writing skills. I think I looked up recommendations for this and Brandon Sanderson’s name came up more than once (and yes, this book is a war epic, and the battles are long and brutal, and so captivating to read), along with The Way of Kings being the most recommended, so I filed away his name and the book in the back of my mind. I would see his work out in the wild and pick it up, balk at the size, but it wasn’t until earlier this year when I bought the mass market paperback that I actually decided to try it out - read a few pages, then bought the larger trade paperback bc I am Old and my eyes suck, also there are gorgeous illustrations to appreciate. I just wasn’t vibing with any of my attempted reads at the time (ACOTAR, Emily Wilde tho I do wanna try this one again, among others). I think I was craving something Epic, and I was fresh off season 2 of House of the Dragon and the latest FFXIV expansion and I wanted a book to take to Iceland with me (this massive tome did indeed travel with me lmao, and I didn't get far what with the long exhausting days of that trip, but I did manage a few pages and even more scuffs and dings along the way). So yes, this did largely scratch that itch and then some! I’ve said it 100 times but I’m not a good reader - it’s so hard for me to maintain the focus required for it long enough, though I do try. To me it’s nothing short of a GENUINE ACCOMPLISHMENT that I not only conquered this monster but did it relatively quickly during a stressful time of the year, and LOVED it. Books as a storytelling medium is such a large untapped well for me, so I mourn not being able to devour them like other bookworms do because I know there are some gems out there (audiobooks are worse for my focus to grasp onto funnily enough lol).

In light of that, this book really just feels like a small miracle that happened to me. It means a lot and I’m so grateful. (told you I was a sap!!!) And I'm so sad Words of Radiance is still being shipped to me. But I have another lovely book I'm reading (The Honey Witch by Sydney J. Shields) for book club with my bestie (shoutout to @bisummers I'M STARTING MY PAGES TOMORROW) so I will be occupied until then... and hopefully it gets here soon. :)

[suckishima]

haikyuu rewatch s01e03

let's see if i can make these shorter as we go lol, less walls of text for everyone

suga is so cool, i gave tanaka a lot of (very deserved)love last episode, but suga deserves it too!! so kind and considerate but also like a little sneaky?? lmao and just a loyal homie of course too—he knows tanaka took the keys to help hinata and kageyama w/ early practice and just says nothing to daichi either and then he helps hinata during lunch breaks?? he didnt have to do thaaat, he just wants to help!!

(im aware that daichi does actually approve of all of this in the end anyway and suga probably knows that (tho tanaka might not? lmao) but even so he keeps the secret until the match and thats very cool of him)

yeah im gonna talk about the opening theme some more lmao. i just love all the little ritual volleyballisms in it! the shoes in the cubbies, pulling up the kneepads! drinking water, all the shots of them just doing 'mundane' passing drills. like i get it, its a volleyball show and im a broken record, but the joy is in creating the habits and all these little things showcase that *shrug* i love it

"i'll toss to anyone who i think is essential to winning. right now i dont think youre essential to winning" HARSH lmao,, but also like not entiiirely wrong. he could be way nicer obviously, but hes right, if the ball never goes up bc hinata never receives then theres WAY less chances to spike bc all the receiving is on tanaka, assuming kageyama is always gonna set. so, hes dragging them down by not focusing on receiving. its not quite the same but it reminds me a bit of washijo later on saying he doesnt see the value in hinata without kageyama. its harsh as fuck and rude too, but theyre hard lessons that hinata eventually does need to learn

lmaoo kageyama and tanaka sleeping at their desks

something ive always liked about this little bit where kageyama gets his milk and overhears hinata talking to suga about him is how hinata is essentially complimenting kageyama by talking about how good he is and how his ultimate goal is to defeat him, because then it would mean that hes strong enough not to lose to anyone, but what kageyama takes away from all of that isnt hinata's praise or anything else potentially ego stroking—no, all kageyama focuses on is the parts that he also resonates with, ie not wanting to lose. in this moment he isnt seeing how hinatas skill level differentiates them, but rather is seeing how they are the same, in their drive to always be practicing and always striving to be better. its nice ya know and is a cool subtle way to show that what drives kageyama as a character isnt like glory or something but just the desire to be good enough to keep playing—just like hinata

hinata copying the stretch routine outside bc he isnt allowed in 😭 so cute!

and the animation detail of his bag flopping all over too akjhsak its so good!

also yep, heres kageyama seeking hinata out to practice now, probably bc of what he overheard earlier and can see that hinata is dedicated yep yep v nice

ooo the teast that tsukki and yamaguchi are here!

again with the small details alreadyyy, but we havent even seen yamaguchi and tsukkis faces, and we see the backs of their heads as they bow and introduce themselves and yamaguchi does a much deeper bow than tsukki who really just bows his head and like. its been less than a second and we're already getting characterization, so good!

hinata wants to have a cool nickname so bad and his attempts are so funny. dont worry my guy, one day, one day

ive always wondered what specifically happened/was said when tsukki and yamaguchi came to that first practice that made tanaka say he didnt like them and suga say theyre more than he expected. i cant imagine either of them being outwardly rude or sarcastic to the upperclassman like they are to hinata and kageyama, especially not on the first day. tanaka and suga also seem worried just about their skill/possibly their height in terms of a matchup against the hinata/kageyama/tanaka team so maybe its just that and im overthinking

wow tsukki really towers of hinata in some of these shots lmao, i know he IS almost a foot taller but sheesh some of the angles make it seem nuts here

tsukki and yamaguchi really do feel like typical condescending bully and his lackey here, and theyre effective at it lol. i dont think i thought much of either of them on first watch, certainly not yamaguchi yet, but even tsukki i felt relatively neutral on. i just expected him to be typical mild villain archetype and thatd be fine. head was literally empty at this point lol (worth noting that my expectations for the show in general still werent sky high yet—even with the first episode raising the bar significantly, i wasnt sure yet if that was a fluke, so i had no expectations for anyone/thing)

huh. literally never thought about this before, but tsukki having seen kageyamas 'king' moment in middle school means that tsukki and yamaguchi's team probably played in that tournament too (assuming tsukki didnt go out of his way to go and watch a volleyball tournament—highly unlikely imo in a post akiteru devastation world). doesnt really matter, but kinda fun to think about that they were all there

aaand just like that kageyama tells hinata 'lets go' and theyre united against a common enemy lol, very nice

if i had a nickel for everytime hinata jumps real high to grab an airborne ball out of the hands of a tall kinda abrasive guy id have two nickels, which isnt a lot but its weird that its happened twice (or will at this point in the show)

aaaand then we get this little after glimpse of yamaguchi asking tsukki whats wrong and we get confirmation that tsukki DID actually get mad from that interaction meeting them and wasnt as unbothered as he pretended to be. 'guys that are intense for no reason get on my nerves.' i dont think i was SUPER paying attention to this my first watch through, i wasnt like tracking tsukkis development until a lot later, but i do remember my ears perking up here and thinking 'oh? so is there going to be more to this later?' and feeling hopeful that the writing would come back around and explore it. SO glad haikyuu is in fact the type of show to do just that, AND consistently lol

this montage of hinata training inter-spliced with him riding his bike to school??? you know i love itttt, i love the bike as a representation of his driveeeee

i never noticed its raining one of these days???

tanaka just singing a happy little song to himself as he jogs in, thinking about shimizu too. hes so positive man i love him

once again the detail of hinatas arms being stained red from all the receivess

man i dont think we talk enough about what kageyama says right here. how hinatas true gift isnt how high he jumps or his natural athleticism, it's his willingness to take one more step when everyone else would give up, his drive to just never give up as long as theres still a chance. in the end that one quality is what pushes hinata over the edge and lets him achieve everything he does. and in this moment kageyama also says that he cant take it lmao, i bet after three years of playing with kunimi—and even kindaichi to an extent—seeing this kid just never stop trying even when kageyama is rude as shit to him, yeah i bet that is overwhelming for you kageyama lmao

................aaaaaaaaaaaaaand after working his ass off, not dropping the ball for at least fifteen whole minutes hinata gets to spike the ball, but what else? hes worked himself so hard that he gets sick and throws up................. i know theyre playing this for comedy here, but girl im not laughing

fun (?) fact about me, barfing is one of my worst fears ✌️

lmao WHY is hinata always running everywhere akshjajs i kinda get it when hes like purposely competeing with kageyama, but just now he was already running full speed before he even saw kageyama??? alshas

guys i love this show so much. is this less notes than before? i thought it was and then i scrolled through it and uhh its still a lot lol oh well

[coldresolve]

fun facts about the torture in moneymakers while were at it. spoilers if you're not caught up

the torture is not done in any attempt to gather reliable intel, induce compliance or as a punishment to deter unwanted behavior, none of which are things that torture can do. instead it is perpetrated for the sadistic gratification of the torturer, and for a profit incentive

except for that one time in pt34 when it was done to induce fear and make conrad's escape physically impossible, under the guise of teaching him a lesson. davin knew what he was doing

conrad complying with demands is always, always under duress. i wouldn't call that obedience, personally

you'll notice that conrad's fear of renee has turned into contempt and disgust, a subtle nod to the fact that torture victims dont typically build a whole lot of positive associations with their torturers

conrad gets more resistant over time, not less. but im sure thats just because he hasn't been beaten into submission yet

davin talks pretty openly about exploiting the media as a way to get attention in that one scene. not only a comment about the media's sensationalism of torture/violence, but also a hint to the fact that it can be exploited lol

theres not a whole lot of talk about sophisticated torture, in fact i think i even wrote a thing where renee admits that it doesnt require a whole lot of finesse to hit people. or maybe im just misremembering. its supposed to be in there tho

speaking of renee, i dont know if you noticed, but he isnt doing so well. could this have something to do with his actions? the world may never know

that part where renee thinks about the way we culturally view perpetrators... he comes to the wrong conclusion and you as a reader are not only expected to realize that on your own, but also think about what thought processes led him to be wrong. but also ive been throwing around ideas as to how i might add another perspective about it in the future so theres that

i have a whole tirade about the concept of being 'broken' coming up. spoilers ig

davin is doing just fine. davin is a machiavellian. davin, get this, also acts as an argument to the fact that the insidious parts of torture aren't in the people who act it out, but in the people who facilitate it. the people who act it out just tend to be useful idiots. sorry for the diss renee ily

anyway yeah so. that whole thing about davin building a strenuous trust with conrad in the beginning by seeming like the lesser of two evils was intentional

something about that darn profit incentive might be meaningful to the theme here but alas this falls beyond the comprehension of my feeble mind (aka spoilers lmao)

[iriswestallenn]

The discourse on Saltburn is so interesting to me because you either choose to take the movie as a fun romp or a movie "that had nothing [new] to say." Or that things happened just for shock value.

While there's definitely an argument to be made that this film had nothing/little to say, (as I am struggling with some themes they seemed to drop halfway through as well,) I just took this movie as a fun romp haha. You have to sit back and remember... they drew curtains back after a major character death and the entire room was RED! They isolate their black family member. They put a deer costume on Oliver during his bday party. A DEER. This movie was never trying to be subtle.

I've seen some crazy takes like "rich people good?" lmao Felix is arguably the 'nicest' family member right? Jacob Elordi and the script honestly do a really good job showing he's just as shitty as his family. After telling Oliver about his life, he asks Oliver, what about you? Cmon, what else? Siblings? ANYTHING interesting about you? Oliver should not have lied... if he didn't though, do you actually believe Felix would have kept talking to him? Felix gathered his family around and told them exactly "what happened" to Olivers mom and dad. No one would DO THAT! Especially if you've invited this person to your home!!

This internet age refuses to accept multiple things can be true at the same time haha when Felix learned from Farleigh that Ollie and Venetia hooked up, Felix STOMPED to the breakfast table. Folded his arms, ignored Ollie, made no eye contact. Then admitted he didn't want Ollie to be with Venetia, he had a problem with THE LAST GUY he brought to their home being with Venetia. They bring a new "poor" person their home every damn Summer. Multiple truths: 1. Felix shouldn't have been friggin killed. 2. Felix was a shitty person. Jesus

I understand the shock value critique. None of the three big scenes came across like shock value to me personally. I think it's because 1. It was all coming from Oliver. Oliver slurped the tub water, he fucked the grave, he put the period blood back in Venetias mouth. I think if everyone in the family was also doing weird fucked up shit, I'd be like, oookay. Now how is everyone here a weirdo? lol but it was just Oliver. 2. I thought this was a cannibalism movie lmao so I was actually expecting worse!

Obviously people can have different opinions but this movie and its discourse have been super interesting to me. I really enjoyed this movie but my main negative is that it does present itself in the beginning of the movie as though it has something to say but it doesn't have much to say? You're also not made aware that Olivers main objective was the house. Or if it wasn't the house at the start, at what point did it become about getting everything from the family?

Remember the friend Ollie had at the school that he later dropped? That friends last words to Ollie were, "he'll [felix] will get bored of you." Or something like that. That was so dumb lmao Venetia says this exact thing later in the movie. Why not make that friends last words to Ollie about status? Tie that into what Farleigh begins to tell Ollie and make Ollies goal clear to the audience even before the "plot twist."

That scene in school with the tutor. Oliver read the whole summer reading list. He came to college ready to go by the rules and succeed. There's no clear turning point imo. When Farleigh gets there late, doesn't care, definitely didn't read the reading list, and the tutor is like, "I knew your hot mom. We weren't friends, I just admired her from afar." I wish there was more focus on Oliver realizing following the rules would get him nowhere he wanted to be.

I ended up enjoying this movie because I'm satisfied with how fun it was, how GORGEOUS it looks, and how great the performances are. Not good, great performances truly. It's so sad that this could have been a 'no plot, just vibes' kinda movie. But instead there is some semblance of a plot lol it's just not fully fleshed out. I still think people are taking it way too seriously and the genuine distain for it is odd but there's a tug and pull here for sure.