#looks better irl of course but i tried my best to present it well with some digital tweaks to make up for phone camera shenanigans

[flame-shadow]

Quirrel..?

I found some inspiration and a couple grey markers and had some fun making this last night :) Here's the post that inspired this comic:

[id in alt]

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

A good grade.

Pairing: Perv Art Professor!Joel x afab!reader Words count: 4844 Rating: +18, MDNI Summary: You always thought you would have a future in the art world, until you met Mr. Miller, your professor who decided to make your life hell. What are you willing to do for a good grade? Tags: perv!Joel, soft!Joel, power imbalance, degradation, smut, blackmail, reader is described having female genitalia, no other description of her is given, unspecified age gap (in my mind 24/45 but you can imagine whatever, they’re both grown up anyway), unprotected p in v (reader is on the pill but you know, do better irl), oral (f receiving), mention of blowjob, edging, edging with a brush, creampie, pet names, slurs, Joel has a dirty mouth, a lot of swearing, some reader's thoughts marked in italics.

Disclaimers: English is not my first language, very poorly proofread, no beta, it's all my fault and I'm very sorry! I like art but I'm not an expert, I've never taken lessons (well, in high school I did but it was art history and it was only theoretical) and I don't really know how they work, I made it all up so if it doesn't adhere to reality please excuse me. I hope you like it anyway, the other morning I woke up with the idea of ​​Joel painting me as one of his French girls (heheheheh) and I started writing this thing 💀

If anyone wants to be added or removed from the taglist, please let me know. Thanks to anyone who reads, I hope you like it ♥️

You’ve always loved art, since high school it’s always been your favorite subject and drawing and painting your outlet, your way of expressing yourself. Your teachers have always praised you, considering your works not only perfectly executed but significant, mature, full of pathos. Everyone has always told you that you had an eye for recognizing artistic value, you’ve always been the best in your class and you’ve worked hard to get here.

You graduated with excellent grades and were accepted into a prestigious master's program. You would like to become a professional artist or at least an art critic.

You had a bright future ahead of you, until you met Professor Joel Miller.

He has done nothing but criticize you, your skills and your work from the very first day. 

And he always does it deliberately, in front of everyone else. No matter how hard you try, you never get more than F for every work you submit. The disdain with which he treats you makes you feel like a failure and your breath die in your throat every time he lays eyes on you and says the most hateful words you’ve ever heard about yourself. Today it happened again. You spent sleepless nights working on this portrait, begging the model called by Professor Miller to see you after class hours. You even offered to pay her and she was kind, she didn’t ask for an outrageous amount despite the fact that she could have taken much more lucrative jobs instead of posing for you. You’re just a master’s student trying to support herself by working nights in a bar. 

“What is this?” he thundered looking at your painting “You are only getting worse, miss, I have never seen anything like this. It is indecent that a person like you tries to make art, it should be prohibited by law. Look at this, wrong proportions, no harmony, no attention to detail, nothing. This does not even look like the same person I had pose for hours in front of you. You should be ashamed to present a work like this after 6 months of course” 

You won't be able to finish your master's degree unless you get a passing grade in Professor Miller's course, but he doesn't seem at all inclined to give you even a measly D.

It’s a nightmare.

You'd be forced to start all over again, ask your parents for financial help, which is the last thing you want to do when they've already sacrificed so much to help you pay for college, or do the unthinkable and give up on all your dreams, the career you have cultivated with strength and passion throughout your life up until now.

You decide to make a last-ditch effort and try to talk to Mr Miller during his office hours.

You've always avoided it until now because you thought things would get better but it's the third F you get and you can't afford to go on like this. 

The idea of ​​being alone with him doesn't excite you at all, but you hate losing everything you've worked so hard for even more.

You take a deep breath before knocking on the door, terrified of what he might say to you.

Mr Miller is also an established artist and his work has been appreciated abroad so his disapproval could really preclude you from many opportunities. 

“Come in” even from behind closed door his voice sends shivers down your spine.

You walk in muttering “good afternoon” feeling like a complete idiot, you are already convinced that it was a mistake to come to him, nothing will change his mind. 

Joel is sitting behind his desk, frowning as he corrects tests. He looks up from the papers only when you are in front of him “Oh. it's you,” he says in his usual dismissive tone of voice “What do you want miss?” 

You clear your throat and murmur, “I...” his gaze is already back on the tests, he doesn't even look at your face as he fills the paper with red marks and writes a big circled F at the top, the assignment of some other hapless person like you who will find himself failing his class. Incredible anger mounts in your body, you clench your fists and say "excuse me" in a stern voice. 

It infuriates you, it's maddening how he can't even treat you as a human being for a second. 

"What do you want?" he asks annoyed looking back up at you "and be quick about it, you are wasting my time." 

“I'd like to know what I need to do to have you evaluate me favorably” you try to keep your tone as detached and respectful as possible even though you despise the man in front of you with every fiber of your body. 

“Nothing, you can't do anything, I thought you had figured it out by now, are you also stupid besides not having the slightest talent?”

“Actually...fuck, I don't think I am that bad. And I think you are judging me too harshly,” you spit out feeling tears stinging your eyes. You promised yourself to keep calm but the way he is treating you only makes you want to insult him.

“I advise you to moderate your tone if you don't want to be expelled as well as failed in my class.”

He has the upper hand, you can't do anything about it. A sense of frustration and helplessness crackles under your skin as you plead with him, “Please Mr Miller there must be something I can do to change things. Anything...I…I don't want to fail.” 

An evil grin paints on his face “how much do you care about it?” 

“It's the only thing I care about, please, art means everything to me” you look at him feeling your whole essence crumble in front of him, you are desperate and tired of struggling, you just want to find a way to work things out. You have very good grades in all the other courses, he is the only one stopping you from achieving what you want most in the world.

“Actually you could do something to make it better,” Joel suggests, and you cry, ”Please, I'll do anything.” 

“Anything?” he probes ”are you sure?” His smug, dangerous expression unnerves you, maybe you shouldn't have made yourself so vulnerable in front of him, but there's no turning back now. "Yes," you shriek.

He leans against the back of the chair while continuing to sneer under his mustache “Well, then I have an offer for you. I'm working on a series of paintings of women, you could pose for me.” 

“Me?” you ask confused, the last thing you expected was for him to ask you to paint you.  

“Why not, if nothing else you're pretty,” he admits, and it's the first nice thing about you that's ever come out of his mouth. 

You wonder what the scam is behind his proposal, it can't be that easy, he's probably going to ask you to pose with some repulsive animal or in a way that makes you look completely idiotic or he's just pretending that this is the solution but then he's going to blackmail you and make you regret setting foot in his office.

He writes something on a post-it note and hands it to you “Meet me at this address tomorrow night at 8” he orders you “don't be late” 

“I really...” you try to say. 

“What? Is there something more urgent you need to do besides securing good grades?” he raises an eyebrow scrutinizing your astonished face. 

“No it's just that...I'm supposed to be working at that time.” You mutter.

“Well get your shift changed, or ask someone to fill in for you, pretend to be sick, I don't care, just show up.” He barks at you. 

“Okay,” you agree. You can't say no, it's your last resort, either that or total defeat. 

You walk out of his office with the feeling that you have gotten into big trouble. 

_____________________________

You get confirmation of this the next day when you show up at the address written by Professor Joel. It's on a suburban street with little traffic, in front of you is what looks like an abandoned former factory. A blast of cold air makes you shiver as you ring an old intercom near the front door. You huddle in your coat, wondering where the hell you are. Maybe he gave you the wrong address just to make fun of you, you took two buses to get here, at the very least you'll soon find out your professor isn't even here. 

Surprisingly, he answers you instead, his thick voice ordering you to come up. You enter through the doorway into a dusty, bare lobby, only an old freight elevator in front of you. You push the button and the elevator car begins to descend with a sinister, metallic sound. "What the hell is this place?” you ask yourself "my god, I'm going to end up dead and thrown in a dumpster". You get on the elevator with your heart in your throat praying that there isn't a serial killer waiting for you on the other side. 

The doors suddenly open wide onto a large room with concrete columns. You step out and look around, there is a large table in the corner, chock full of artists' materials, tempera, canvases, oil paints, watercolors, all thrown in bulk. Various canvases are resting on pedestals scattered around the room, and others lie leaning against the wall. There is an old leather couch in the corner and a double mattress resting on wooden pallets on the other side. Several rugs are spread on the floor. It's all messy and chaotic, but it definitely has the look of an art studio. 

"Oh, you're here at last," Joel grunts, popping up from behind a pillar holding a dirty brush stained with red tempera. 

He is wearing a pair of frayed jeans and a white T-shirt stained in paint, he is disheveled and barefoot. 

He doesn't even look like your professor; he always wears suits and perfectly ironed shirts at university. 

Two large leaded windows divided into small squares open on the wall in front of you. 

It’s dark by now, so the entire room is softly lit by several lamps and candles scattered around. 

“Where should I stand to pose?” you don't intend to put in more than is necessary; spending time with this obnoxious man is the last thing you want to do today. 

“Sit on the couch,” Joel orders, pointing to the old leather ruin to your right, ”I'll prepare the necessities and we'll get started.” 

You sit, quietly, dreading what lies ahead. 

Joel picks up a blank canvas and places it on a stand, takes a graphite pencil from the table and orders you " Undress" 

You squint your eyes, squeaking “I'm sorry, what?”

“I'm making a series of artistic nudes, didn't I tell you?” he grins 

“No, you don’t” you retort. 

Fucking bastard. 

“Strip” he repeats firmly. 

“But I don't-”

“Look, you're already irritating me, either take off your fucking clothes or get out of here” 

You've seen people pose nude in your art classes before, even in Professor Joel's class, and all you've ever cared about was doing a good job, but now it's different. It's just you and him, in a place in the middle of nowhere, you weren't warned before, and more importantly, he makes you uncomfortable. 

His gaze has done nothing but judge you from the first moment it landed on you. You don't want to lose that last bit of dignity you still preserve and let him see you in your most intimate form. 

“So what have you decided?” Joel presses you. 

With extreme reluctance, you begin to take off your coat, laying it on the couch. What else can you do? By now you have fallen into a trap, either you do this or your grade at the end of the course will be F. 

F for failure.

“Damn asshole,” you think, ”I hope I never see you again in my life after your fucking course is over.” 

The resentment must be clear on your face because Joel mocks you “Oh come on, don't pout like that. There's nothing underneath that I haven't seen a hundred times before. It's just tits and a cunt” he concludes in a dismissive tone, crossing his arms over his chest impatiently.

He rolls his eyes when after some hesitation you slip off the T-shirt you are wearing, revealing a light pink lace bra. 

He curls his lips "cute," he whispers in a lascivious tone " take that off too." 

“But Mr Miller I...” you try to retort

“Go ahead and take it off,” your arms reach for your back, you undo the hooks of your bra and drop it to the floor. You cannot believe this is happening, you are bare-chested in front of your professor. 

"Very well..." he acquiesces, "you see, everything is easier when you cooperate." 

He strokes his beard as he glances at you remove your shoes and pulling down your jeans, the same smug, dangerous smile he had in his office returns to peep across his face.

“Good girl.” 

You feel a knot in your stomach. And you who thought that commitment and talent were enough to get results...poor naive girl. 

You should get out of here and go to the dean and report him for unethical conduct but you suddenly realize that he may be the first, but he won't be the last. 

"Lie down on the couch," Joel whispers to you, his gaze not leaving your body, hungry and demanding. 

You don't want to be here, yet you feel you can't do anything else at this point. 

"Raise your right arm above your head," Joel instructs, "and bend your legs slightly." 

“Like this. Don't move," Joel stands in front of the canvas and begins to trace marks on the surface. His hand moves quickly, his fingers run over the traced lines smudging them. 

You remain still as he ordered you, feeling goosebumps across your body and your nipples harden from the cold. 

You have to admit to yourself that it is fascinating to watch him work; his gaze is alert and sure, his hands move expertly and competently. He is certainly talented. 

Joel observes the work done so far, scratching his chin, adding a few touches here and there as his eyes scan the entire surface of the canvas.

Maybe he really just wants to paint you and you're making a big deal out of nothing, maybe this will end well after all. He moves the easel to one side of the sofa you assume to look at you from another angle until he growls “Spread your legs for me, darling” 

“But I don't-”

“I need more shadows on your  body”

“What?” you glance at him, this sounds like a lame excuse. 

“Spread your legs” he repeats ”come on” 

You do so, feeling his eyes everywhere on you, feeding on every uncovered inch of your skin. And for some reason you cannot explain, you feel your body react under his gaze. You peak at the outline of his cock straining under his jeans, a rush of adrenaline rushes through you, a flush of arousal between your legs. 

No, you can't. 

You cannot crave for him to look at you. He's your professor who lured you here under false pretenses. 

Yet you realize how incredibly handsome he is. So far you had only thought of him as your teacher and had never truly paused to observe him, especially since he always treated you like a dirtbag. 

“Perfect, now stay still like this,” he mutters.

He hums as you do “Such a good girl for me” in a mellifluous and manipulative tone.

You feel his voice penetrate deep into your bones and another thrill of arousal runs through you all, gliding under your skin and straight to your pussy. 

This is so fucked up but on the other hand you are thrilled by the idea of ​​ending up in one of his paintings.

He makes a couple of changes to the sketch and then walks over to you, sitting on the armrest of the couch. He watches you intently, as if he wants to study every tiny detail about you, you still have your panties on but you've never felt more naked than that.

“Hmm, someone is wet.” he observes, gazing at the wet spot on your underwear. “It’s all for me?”

“I…uh…no, absolutely not” You don't want to admit it even to yourself but the situation is turning you on, no matter how wrong it is. 

“Honey, I advise you never to play poker,” he sneers. You look at him puzzled, and he adds, “You're not good at bluffing at all.”

When he reaches out a hand to touch you, you almost tremble, it's as if your body is crying out to him “take me. use me.”

All you ever wanted from the beginning was his approval and now somehow he seems to recognize something in you. You just want to stop arguing, to stop fighting, to stop feeling like you are worth less than nothing, you just want to know that you still have a future that consists of not settling for a job that you don't love and doesn't allow you to feel fulfilled and let you get the results you know you deserve. 

And most of all, you want him to be on your side.

“You're such a pretty little thing, you know that?” his voice gruels as his fingers run from your ankle to your knee and then up to your inner thigh. You stiff, feeling your heart raging up under your ribcage and a fresh flush of arousal dampening your cunt.

How did you never realize how sexy this man is? Now that his gaze has softened you notice the deep brown of his eyes, with some hazel undertones, and how he lights up as he stares at you. 

God, you want him so bad right now. 

You are almost on the verge of grabbing his wrist and placing his big hand on your pussy already, but you decide to let him. 

His fingers move slowly over your skin; instead of touching you where you need it most, his hand stops at your hip, fiddling with the hem of your panties. 

"Can I?" he grunts. 

You nod silently and he demands “I need you to use your words, baby. Speak to me”

“Yes” you breath 

He grins as he places his other hand on your hip and begins to pull down your panties. You lift your pelvis to ease him, and he comments, "mmm, so eager. You’re such a slut, aren’t you?”

You feel your cheeks on fire as you cannot take your eyes off him, desperately in need of his hands, his lips, his tongue and his cock. You want it all, right now. So maybe he’s right, you’re a slut and you don’t even care. 

Joel calmly moves your panties down your legs and brings them to his nose, inhaling your scent. “Sweet. I bet you taste even better.”

He gets up from the couch, tucking your panties into his jeans pocket, and takes a clean brush from a container resting on the table. He sits back right next to you, and grins. 

He caresses the inside of your leg with the brush, the feeling of the bristles flowing over your skin is incredible, soft and intense at the same time, leisurely moving on your inner thigh, raising up closer and closer to your pussy, his eyes set in yours, mesmerized by you.

You are subjugated by him as he fondles you, going up your belly with his brush, deliberately ignoring your pussy, moving deftly over every curve of your body. It is as if he is painting you, as if he has made you his work of art.

The bristles rub over your rib cage, slowly, then your breasts, moving in concentric circles from your areola to your nipples. He passes the brush back and forth over your hard buds and a deep moan escapes from your throat. “Please, Mr Miller” you whine. 

“You can call me Joel, darling” he whispers “what do you need?” 

“I…fuck” You’re dripping wet, your voice is a wail and your body is itching to be touched. 

“Say it.” he orders you, ”I want to hear it.”

“I want - fuck - my pussy” you blather, you are not even able to form a complete sentence right now.

Joel laughs faintly, descending again on your abdomen, very slowly, until he reaches your mound. He rubs the bristles from right to left lingeringly, then lowering again, descending on your outer lips, first one side and then the other. And then again and again. 

When he finally brushes over your clit, you are so pent up and needy that you arch your back, emitting a throaty moan. 

“Oh God! Oh my God”

Joel lowers the brush to your clit, surrounding it with the bristles, pushing and making concentric circles. He stops when he feels you on the edge. 

And then he does it all again, circling and pressing, jerking your bundle of nerves with the brush. And then a third time. 

You’re a crying mess at this point, mind completely numb and your body covered in sweat.

He spreads your folds with his thumbs and sighs, “Look at this pussy, all nice and wet for me, I can’t wait to dip into your sweet honey, babe”

He throws the brush on the floor, it falls with a dull thud bouncing on the carpet. 

“So fucking perfect” 

You squeeze your eyes whining “please" a riot of emotions assail you, your body is so on the edge you could explode just by the way he looks at you, moistening his lips with his tongue.

He puts his arms around your neck, “cling to me,” he whispers. You do as he says, instinctively encircling his waist with your legs, clinging to his body with all your strength as he carries you to the bed and lays you gently on top.

He undresses, staying in his boxers in front of you. 

You can't take your eyes off him, gazing at his wide shoulders, his broad chest, his soft belly with a thin strip of hair running down into his boxers. 

He kneels on the bed, facing you, gently spreading your legs and moving between them. 

He lowers himself on you, placing a kiss on your clit, making you whimper another pathetic "please." 

He sticks his tongue out and runs it flat across your folds, up and down, one hand firmly clinging to your hip, his fingers digging into your skin. 

"I was right, you taste amazing," he murmurs against your skin. 

You are no longer thinking about anything right now, not about your master's degree, evaluations or the fact that he is your teacher. 

You feel his nose hitting on your clit as he eagerly licks your folds, opening them with two fingers to sink his tongue in. 

You bite your lower lip, stifling your moans, burying a hand in his dark curls, pulling him toward you “oh fuck, yes”.

His tongue encircles your hard clit, swirling around, his lips lace over it sucking greedily.

“You don’t need to hold back, you can be as loud as you want in here, no one will hear us. Let me hear you, baby. I wanna know how you sound when you come” 

He doesn't stop sucking and licking until you feel your orgasm mount inside you like a flooding river, invading your body, curving your toes, clenching your fists on the sheet beneath you and rolling your hips on his face, wetting his lips, his chin, dripping onto your inner thigh. 

“Yeah, baby, come apart on my tongue, just like that”

He licks you clean until you calm down, devouring your juices to the last drop and then looks up at you “you have no idea how beautiful you are, starving for my cock” he groans “god, I must have you right now, I must make you mine, you hungry little whore”

You wait for nothing else, it seems your thirst has no way to quench today.

“Please, Joel,”

He pulls off his boxers, throwing them on the floor, his cock springs free and is incredibly hard, you can't stop looking at it. He's big, so big you don't even know how he's going to fit all the way inside you but you don’t care. “Fill me up, Joel, please”

“Yeah? You want this big cock inside you? Want me to fill you up so good baby?” He grumbles.

“Please, Joel, it’s all I need” you whine. 

He lies on top of you, tapping your lips a few times with the tip, running it along your folds and wetting it with your juices, aligning himself with your opening, “I'll give you what you want, then.”

He nudges at your hole a moment before he enters you, just the tip, pressing gently to let you get used to his intrusion. 

You moan feverishly, clinging to his back, bucking your hips toward him “more, please, more” you plea. 

As he plunges inside you, he stares at your face, as if he doesn’t want to miss a single second of your reactions, when he’s ball deep into you you let out an incoherent whine so graveling it doesn’t even sounds like your voice. 

He begins to pump into you as you circle his waist with your legs again, pushing to feel him deeper, your hands roaming in his graying hair. 

“Here you go, taking me so well princess, you’re so good to me” 

When his lips settle on yours you realize that you had not yet kissed until this moment. His lips are soft, demanding, his tongue penetrates your mouth licking eagerly, and you are more than happy to respond, savoring his taste of mint and cigarettes. 

One of his hands kneads your breast, his fingers close on one of your nipples as his cock doesn't stop sinking inside you.

You moan into his mouth feeling like you are on the edge of a cliff, ready to fall into the sinful pit of hell. 

“Where do you want me?” he whispers in your ear, and your voice comes out broken from the back of your throat  ”Inside. please. I'm - fuck - I'm on the pill.” 

You feel him spilling his load inside you a moment later, painting your inner wall with his hot sticky cum. 

You feel delirious and exhausted, guilty for what you just did. Your moral code has just been shattered under the hot weight of his body.

He kisses you again, lingering on your bottom lip. “You’re so much better than I thought,” he chuckles. 

He moves away from you and stands up naked to return to the sketch. He traces a few lines and makes some adjustments as you stare at him in amazement.

“Can you show me?” you ask. “Yes, come here,” he replies. You get up and stand next to him to observe the canvas. Your body is sketched on it and it looks perfect, you have never seen yourself so beautiful.

“You can go if you want, I’m done for today” 

“I- I don’t want to”

“Do you want more?” he sneers “god, you really are a slut.” he comments as he gets closer to you. 

He fucks you two more times, the first time he makes you get on all fours, licking your pussy from behind and then sinking into you while he holds you by the hips, his cock slamming against your cervix and his balls against your ass. Then you’re too eager to have him in your mouth, to taste your flavor mixed with his, so you offer to give him a blowjob and he fucks your mouth before digging back into your pussy again.

He drives you back to campus. “I may be an asshole, but I won’t let you walk around alone at night,” he says. 

You get out of his car feeling like you’re in a bubble, like everything that happened was just a surreal dream you can’t wake up from. You collapse into your bed after throwing your clothes haphazardly on the floor. When you wake up the next morning you feel like shit. 

You don't know how boldly you will look your classmates in the eye, but you can't skip class, and the thought of seeing Joel again thrills you, no matter how wrong it is. 

When Joel enters the classroom, he ignores you, probably so as not to arouse suspicion; it would be too strange for him to treat you with regard after denigrating you for months.

He begins returning graded tests proceedings slowly as usual, moving between desks and laying down the papers without making any comment. The test that rests on your desk has a circled A at the top.

Tag list: @aurorawritestoescape @baronessvonglitter @lemon-nomel @almostempty @thundermartini @harriedandharassed @pedrostories

[seelestia]

YEEE NPNP!! college was nervewracking ngl (still is), at least when i started last year august iirc? but yeah! do you know what major you want? alas i cannot chill as much as i used to smh

heheh fr tho >:3 i think the fontaine arc was really well written and went into more depth (get it? depth? waters? ok i'll stop now) and because of how much lore we were given since it seems to be more complex ngl. as for myself, i'm sticking albedo and lyney under the microscope so i can understand them both better

especially albedo. i'd very much like to pick his brain the same way i wanna pick my boyfriend's- coughs

HEJSJD THE WAY I STARTED SMILING AFTER READING THE HCS,,needed that ngl cuz i've been stressed a lot. but i think bedo would be the kind of person who'd do that and create an artificial flower and then name it after me hehehe

but hey, who's to say wanderer wouldn't leave you a flower someplace where you can find it? just a small and sweet gesture and will very most likely deny it (and fails) when you tease him for it mwehehhe i can be devious too ya know or maybe even ayato leaves you a little present like a bracelet or hair accessory after a long day of work

AND NOO ITS OK I LOVE LISTENING TO UR RAMBLES TOO /gen /pos

actually yea i do have some new vibedo trivia! we've officially become engaged and he was the one who proposed first <3 that and he has a tendency to call me "sweet violet" since its an actual flower as well hehe. and tysm!! i'm honestly just doing my best to stay happy since my irl bedo is like very complementary to my personality if that makes sense? like he tends to wear darker clothing, i tend to wear a lot of pastels kinda thing. and so far, we're doing rlly good! sure there are some challenges we're dealing with now but im doing my best to stay positive ^^

also me being 20 ew. somehow i'm still being referred as old sheesh

ok im done rambling now im passing the mic to u hehe /lh

ah, truly. the price of education = freedom to chill !!! 😔 but alas, life is a ongoing journey with hurdles (and i happen to not be an athlete /j). currently, i have my eyes on a social science major atm! so i can hopefully pursue psychology :3 but my second choice is english bcs i cannot stray from the path of linguistics and literature no matter how much i tried /pos. ALSOSOSO if you don't mind, can you tell me more abt what you do in your course? i did my research on google but i think it cannot compare to someone with the actual experience™ ++ i'm just a curious cat and want to enable your rambles hehe <3 /lh

THE PUN, HELP. i agree, the fontaine quest deffo made some waves when it ended. OH I SEE!!! at first glance, i thought i could find a similarity between albedo and lyney (finding vi's type: a reality show jkjk we all already know it's albedo /hj) but the longer i looked, the more i questioned myself 😭 i do think that both of them are deeper than what people credit them for tho! albedo with his knowledge of khemia.... and lyney with his burdens as the next 'father'..... ooOOooO. some emphasis for now on lyney bcs of the 4.6 trailer that just dropped! DID YOU SEE IT YET VI 👁️ (but dw, i understand if you had no time / busy with college!) { the comment abt picking your bf's brain LMAO would he let you?? oh, truly, love is blind 🤭 /lh }

always happy to provide you with hcs!!! my brain buzzes with possibilities all the time && one of the things i love most abt selfships is analyzing how different personalities come together to form habits / idiosyncrasies / love languages of their own. like how albedo conjures up an artificial flower bcs he is simply reminded of his sweet violet — that is special and unique to you in a way. it's vv beautiful, i think!!

AND HSHDHWHSH. THE HCS??? vi, i cannot convey how much i appreciate you. i haven't indulged in my selfships for some time since i didn't have time to be active - so this made me SOSOSO happy aaaaaa!!! but wanderer definitely has left some flowers for me before bcs who else? i suggested the possibility of another suitor and he knocked me on the head (softly) YOWCHHH but hey, at least he admitted it was him! :3c and 'yato.... aghhhhh this man. he leaves a hairpin out in the open but tells me “not to touch it until he gets home” just so he can put it on me himself. he derives joy from seeing me hold back from snatching that thing up myself. meanie /j

AWWW THAT'S SO CUTE!! you two are the apt presentation of “opposites attract”. and i'm glad! i only have average experience with relationships but i think everyone agrees that a relationship isn't sunshine and rainbows all the time. that's as natural as our having good days and bad days in a week. i think what matters is how you both deal with them - and i believe in you & your bf! you're a good egg and ik your bf is too, so do what you both know is best <3 (forgive me if i sound like a grandma here /j BUT hooray to vi and irl albedo! my new fav couple yesyesyes)

[benefits1986]

Kobe Beef Kagulo

Trips and food trips make you see that love and hate co-exist.  And so, we resume Japan kilig and kagulo stories featuring my dad and me. LOL. I planned a Kyoto-Kobe trip because I really wanted to get Kobe beef there and go biking, however, dad’s worry levels morphed to 10000000 when the news broke about COVID. I tried to conceal this news but, syempre, super fail kasi nag-message ‘yung good friend ko sa tatay ko mismo na extra ingat pero enjoy pa rin. You see, Japan tourism peeps were able to pacify the worry of the tourists and the locals seem to stay away from the spots where tourists abound.  So, nagtampo na naman ako kasi planado ko na lahat but dad put his foot down, this time around. He won’t be going with me and gaslight mode pa siya na I can go on my own since this is my planned trip naman after all. LOL. Mhie, I cannot.  Plan B. Scout for a decent Kobe beef restaurant near our hotel. Syempre, may baon tayong Plan B even when I was in Manila, pero, I kept this card talaga. Baga, last resort na. :D Lels. Why? Relatively cheaper ‘yung Kobe beef sa Kobe because syempre, andaming competition doon, pero it balances out due to the cost and effort of traveling there. LELS. May point naman ‘yung tatay ko pero kasi naman, ‘yung biking spots doon ay NKKLK. HUHUHUHU. Dad told me na babalik pa naman daw ako, so next time na lang.  Inis na inis na inis ako, kasi one of the things I prioritized is our biking tour. Nung unang sampa niya sa HK biking tour sa city side, tuwang-tuwa siya. HAHAHAHA. Even when that time, I skipped because I can barely move because of my monthly cramps. Uterus did not keep up that time and I have to push dad na kaya naman niya since ang lapit lang nung meeting place nila. He looked at me then, and ayaw na naman umalis. Sabi ko, SHOO. ALIS. Hahahaha. Natatawa pa rin ako IRL whenever I remember this bit. Of all days naman talaga, why now? Uterus said, WHY NOT? Kidding aside, dad super enjoyed that tiny solo trip. Napalaban ang English niya e. And sheer joy talaga siya. Sabi niya, sarap pala mag-bike pag maganda biking lanes.  Even ‘yung well-planned naming Taiwan biking tour, hindi rin natuloy. Bummer kasi we had to adjust the schedule because my pasaway brother asked me to shoot his engagement photos. I did my best to work on specific timelines, pero ending, location and pegs didn’t push through because, why not? LOLOLOL. Dad was sad talaga na ‘di natuloy kasi ganda ng biking lanes and sceneries sa Taiwan lalo sa university where Meteor Garden was shot. HUHUHU.  Sooooo, here we are. Halos maiyak na ako sa inis but, he won. I adjusted. LOL. Kaya naman talaga mag-adjust but I didn’t bother checking out any biking tours in Osaka because manigas siya diyan. LOL. We went by foot to the Kobe beef restaurant and syempre, nanghina siya sa presyo. Ako rin naman, but I remember my ex-boss told me na when I go to Japan, pasubok ko kay dad ‘tong sit down meal na ‘to in Kobe. Binaon ko ‘yung tip niya na ‘yun kahit ayoko talaga ng steak. Ang dali lang kasi iluto to be honest. And pipili ka lang naman ng tamang meat and dapat fresh talaga. But, sige. Curious din ako kasi ‘yung ex-boss (parang tatay ko na rin siya) feels like heaven daw, etc. LOL. Pikit-pikit pa siya when he recounted his first bite. Eme.  It was a full course meal and kami lang Pinoys dun that time. Here’s where the fun part begins. Syempre, appetizers muna. Dad happily wolfed down each plate that arrived. Pikit-pikit din siya. LOL. While I am watching the dynamics of the chef and how he tries to break the language barrier as he brings to life the taste of Japan. Ems. Cooking Master Boy pala saka Food Wars ang peg natin nun. Super simple lang talaga niya pero it was done with so much intention, so much respect. A few plates later, enter sa frame na si Kobe Beef.  The chef bowed and presented it to us. I told myself that you better be friggin’ good kasi ilang araw ko rin pinagpaguran ‘yung panawid dito. Ilang tipid hits at baon din ginawa ko para lang may JaFunds. The chef then cooked the slab of meat and syempre, the aroma kicked in. Salt and pepper lang and may certain way of gentle yet fast technique emerut si chef. Akala mo naman ceremony siya pero, in truth, mala-Food Wars nga minus the crazy prod.  Eto na po. As soon as the steak touched my dad’s plate, he literally ate it all. Mhie, nalingat lang ako. Naubos na niya. HAHAHAHAHAH. Ansarap daw kasi. SHET. I was floored. My jaw dropped and my heart skipped. Sabi pa niya bakit ang tagal ng kanin. TAE. Hahahaha. Shet. Laughtrip talaga. I reminded him na I showed a few YT vids sa kanya as to how to go about The Friggin’ Kobe Beef and need niya i-savor each bite since it’s an experience and ‘yung steak fried rice will of course, come after the steak is cooked and plated.  *My verdict sa Kobe Beef: saks lang. Siya na benchmark ng steak kasi goods talaga, but again, I don’t like steak kaya I rate it saks lang. Sorry. Hassle na tuloy makahanap ng panapat both sa taste and quality of service elsewhere.  Dad stopped dead. Sabi niya, enge daw siya kahit onti sa plate ko. HAHAHAHAHA. Haynakoooooo. Nakooooo. Nakoooo. I gave him a few pieces so parang 3/4 sa kanya, 1/4 sa akin, but niloko ko muna siya na manigas siya diyan. Na-sad. Damot ko raw. Damnnngurrrlll. Then, we ended up laughing over yet another shit gone wild. When the fried rice was served, that’s when he realized that the combo is popping. Kamot ulo na lang ako pero sige. Happy siya, laughtrip pa.  So, there you go. My super simple dad and me. Of course, he egged me to take photos of him, and us. Sayang daw ‘yung ambiance saka para sulit bayad. Nag-sorry siya na not listening na naman siya; but he had a super good time. Next time daw, ‘wag ko na siya isama sa mga ganung spots. Sabi ko, noted. :D 

This is how my dad and I roll, for real. Wala sa amin kung shala o basic ang meals. It’s about the crazy kagulo turned laughtrips na literally, one for the books talaga. When I shared this to my ex-boss, he told me na good job. LOL. Then, asked about how I’ve been doing? Sabi ko naman, getting better, thankfully. Balik na raw ako ulit. LOL. Sabi ko work-life balance talaga ang hanap ko in this era. And that, I will always be in the sidelines cheering on them, and if there’s anything I can do to help, I will try my best, from a distance. He wished me well and that, should I feel the need to go back to agency life, their door is always open.  Dad, dad, dad. Iba ka talaga. LOL. But, this is a legit core memory. Immerse pa kita sa curated content na may impit para next time, mas informed ka na. Also, may this be one of the many food trips natin na one for the books. You never fail to test my patience in the same manner that you keep me grounded. This bit will forever remind me that life is simple. And that no matter how far and wide I go, I will always come back home sa Bronx aka sa lupa.  And as his birthday is nearing, Mang Inasal na lang siguro blowout ko dito. Jusq. Happy kasi siya na more, more rice and Coke with ice. Coke is a no-no at home but when he’s hot-headed, I allow him to get his fix. LOL. Kasi madali rin siya mapaos and sumakit throat. 

[arvandus]

Icarus (Overhaul x F!Reader)

Ah yes, once again so late on this. This one gave me grief because the characters kept deviating from what I had originally planned. >.< But I worked through it, and here we are.

This is for the BNHarem's “On The Job” Collab for May, which you can find here.

Also, don’t judge my super simple title headings for my fics 😂 I always do these late at night when I should be asleep, so generic background with fancy text is the best I got to offer.

Trigger Warnings: 18+ ONLY!  1 instance of aggression/abuse (hair grabbing/pulling - nonsexual), unprotected sex (fun in fiction, dumb IRL), mutual masturbation, overstimulation, bondage via quirk abuse, degradation...

I think that about covers it.  Once again, I’m terrible at TWs so let me know if I missed anything or if anything is inaccurate. 😬 I just kinda write what I want and don’t really think about the labels when I’m doing it.

Pairing: Overhaul x F!Reader

Word Count: 8281

You hadn’t meant to get caught.  Really, you weren’t even sure what had possessed you to do it in the first place. Desperation? Horniness? Stupidity?

 All of the above?

 All you knew was that it was a poor decision brought forth by the gradual culmination of a single annoying, unavoidable fact: you were disgustingly, shamefully, sinfully attracted to Kai Chisaki.

You weren’t exactly sure how or when it started. There was no “aha” moment, no “big bang” of desire.  Instead, it was subtle, gradually coating your unsuspecting mind like layers of sediment. A shiver down your spine when he spoke your name.  The quickening of your pulse at the briefest of eye contact. And the ever-growing presence of intrusive, curious thoughts.

 Like his hands.  You always noticed them, the white of his gloves drawing your attention like a beacon whenever he was within eyesight.  They were dangerous hands, deadly weapons that you’d seen in action firsthand.  They were a thing to be feared and avoided.  But some strange part of you couldn’t help but wonder... what did they feel like?  You imagined they’d be soft and perfectly manicured, oddly delicate for such a violent man; gentle hands packed with destructive power.

 Or his lips.  They were always covered by his mask.  You never, ever saw him without it.  You imagined what your name would look like on them as he spoke, how they’d feel on your skin.  Would his lips also be soft? How about his kisses? Would they be cautious and controlled, or rough and hungry?

 It didn’t help that he was, in his own way, very attractive.  Just like how his dangerous hands were hidden within innocent white gloves, he was the devil hidden behind a pretty face. A sharp, beautiful jawline. Smooth porcelain skin. A crown of auburn red hair, closely cropped, but still long enough to run fingers through.

 You bet that part of him was soft too.

 The one part of him that wasn’t soft were his eyes.  They were beautiful, certainly… as gold as Heaven’s gates and framed in long, perfect lashes.  But they lacked the warmth of Heaven.  Instead, they spoke of cold arrogance. And if you stared into them long enough, you could see a barely contained disgust lurking beneath their haughty exterior.

 The disgust didn’t bother you, not anymore.  Everyone disgusted Chisaki, and everyone in the Shie Hassaikai knew it. He even made his closest confidants, some he’d known since childhood, wear masks so he wouldn’t share the same air with them.  

 He had you wear a mask too, of course. Simple and white, it covered only your lower face, much like his own.  That much you were grateful for, considering some of the masks you’d seen others wearing.  Your only explanation for the slightly less coverage was that your secretarial position made you a frequent point of contact for those outside of the organization.  You handled incoming calls, visitors, and scheduled meetings between Chisaki and his affiliates.  No doubt he wanted to ensure you were making a good impression while still operating within his mysophobic requirements.

 First impressions were everything to Kai.  Even more so since he took the Boss’s place under dubious circumstances. Still, his long-held reputation for extremist thinking and violence preceded him, and not everyone was in support of his unexpected promotion.  As a result, many people within the organization parted ways following Chisaki’s rise to power... and soon after they mysteriously went missing, never to be heard from or located again.  You had no doubt that it was Chisaki tying up loose ends by sealing loose lips.  After all, they say the mouth is the source of disaster.  And Chisaki valued confidentiality above all else.

 The message he sent was clear: adapt or die.  When given such colorful options, the choice on whether to go or stay became a simple one.

 So, you adapted.  As long as you followed orders, kept your eyes down and your mouth shut, you were safe. After all, it was better to be the right hand of the devil than to be in his path.  The only person you really had to fear was Chisaki himself, and you knew him well enough by now to know how to stay on his good side.

 And all in all, it really wasn’t all that bad.  Sure, you had to orchestrate the occasional clean-up when he disposed of someone who displeased him.  But that wasn’t much different than what you’d dealt with when you worked for the Boss, either.  Sure, the aftermath was messier and it happened far more often.  But violence was violence, and when you worked with the Yakuza long enough, you got used to it.  And despite the odd working conditions and ever-present undertone of danger, you remained good at your job. As such, Chisaki brooked no complaint. He tolerated you, and you tolerated him. Interactions were brief, words exchanged were polite and respectful even though they lacked warmth.  But it was just a job, right?  You didn’t need warmth.

 So why did you feel so dissatisfied?  Why did you constantly feel that something was missing, a longing you couldn’t entirely describe?

 The need only ever waned when Chisaki was in your presence, whether it was to discuss upcoming meetings or simply passing by your desk to get to his office. The dissatisfaction would melt away into a warmth that extended deep into your fingertips whenever the cold-hearted man bothered to look you in the eyes. And when he wasn’t looking at you? It was like being thrown into a winter blizzard, the aching cold returning to pull the corners of your mouth down into a silent frown.

 You craved his attention.  It was shameful and pathetic and you could only imagine the scorn he’d give you if he knew, but you didn’t care.  To be graced with the attention of a man who cared for no one brought a different kind of satisfaction.  The rare treats of attention Chisaki did grant you, whether intended or not, scratched an itch that only he could scratch.

 As time passed, the intrusive thoughts became more frequent, evolving from odd curiosities to shameless lust.  They began to occupy your dreams, forcing you awake with a hot ache between your legs. That was when you really began to realize how in deep you were.  It wasn’t just a simple “attraction.”  You wanted him.  At first you tried to deny and ignore, suppress and excuse.  After all, this was Overhaul.  Wanting him was like wanting the sun in your hand, and just as dangerous. Apparently though, it made little difference to your hormone-addled brain.  It didn’t help that the secretive, forbidden thoughts brought their own special addictive flavor of the taboo.  

 You began to act different in front of him.  Nothing too obvious, of course.  After all, you knew Chisaki wasn’t the type to indulge in desperate women. To be honest, you weren’t even sure Chisaki indulged in women at all.  All you did know was that whenever women tried to gain his favor through flirtation, Chisaki quickly and harshly shut it down.

 So, it was little things... the extra second to release a paper from your grip after he’d grabbed it, the lingering of a glance.  You didn’t so much change the style of your attire – skirts and blouses were already the norm for your position – but you changed the colors. A blouse that matched the purple feathery softness of his jacket, golden jewelry that matched his eyes.  Little messages waiting in secret to be picked up, yet subtle enough that they could be excused as nothing more than coincidence. It was risky, but the thrill of the game gave you an outlet for your roiling feelings.  In the end though, it made no difference.  There was nothing about you that seemed important enough to turn Chisaki’s head more than was professionally necessary.

 Which is where the state of things were when you found yourself alone in his office one evening. You had thought he was still working at the time. You’d stepped away to shred some incriminating documents and burn the scraps in the kiln outside.  It was your last task for the day, so you’d entered Chisaki’s office to announce your departure for the evening.  Except when you entered, the space was empty, with all traces of him gone.  No papers remained on his desk.  His gloves and plague mask were gone.  With an annoyed huff you had stood there, bothered that you’d missed him.

 Quietly, you walked to his desk, and gently caressed the mahogany wood.  It was immaculate of course, free of dirt and fingerprints.  You knew it would be because he cleaned his space every evening before he left, and you cleaned it every morning before he arrived.

 You sighed as you retrieved the paper towels and cleaning solution.  No harm in giving it a second scrub to save yourself some time tomorrow morning. It wasn’t like anyone would be foolish enough to enter this space without Chisaki present anyway.

 You should have just left it at that.  But as you walked around his desk to wipe the surface with the damp towel, your bare legs just below your skirt bumped his chair. Soft leather, still warm from where he had sat, greeted your exposed skin.

 That should have been your first clue.

 But your mental alarms never sounded.  Instead, you figured you had just missed him.

 You should have just left, but you didn’t. The warmth on the chair was enticing you. He was gone, right?  Left for the evening.  What harm could it do to indulge just a little bit?  With your heart pounding with excitement, you carefully sat down in the warm leather. Immediately the scent of Chisaki’s body wash and clean clothes cradled you.

 That should have been your second clue.

 But you were already too wrapped up in your enjoyment.  You relished in the sensations, leaning back as you closed your eyes.  It was the closest you’d ever felt to him, as if his very presence was there with you. Your desire purred deep in your gut at receiving its first nibble of satisfaction.  If you closed your eyes, you could pretend he was there, holding you.

 Your kept your eyes closed as your imagination began to take root like weeds in your mind, making your skin feel hot.  Your fingers grazed the inside of your thigh, dipping beneath your skirt while your heart pounded.  What if those were his fingers?  The vision combined with the sensations of touch and smell were delicious, and you wanted more.  You dragged the pads of your fingertips up even higher, your arm starting to push your skirt up with it.  Your legs parted easily, as you let out a shaky breath.

 You shouldn’t be doing this.  Not here of all places.  But there was something so sinfully satisfying about it, the danger only heightening the sensations.  After all, the reward was only as great as the risk it took to earn it.  And this was the highest risk you could take, short of literally throwing yourself at him.  Besides, it wasn’t like your fantasies were ever going to come true. Maybe satisfying yourself - right here, right now – would be enough to finally give you the peace of mind you needed.

 And dear God, did you need it.  You could already feel the heat growing in your loins, the moisture dampening your panties.  Your fingers finally brushed against the warm cotton fabric covering your sex and you let out a soft gasp.

 What Chisaki didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.  He was gone, right?  And you were going to clean up any traces of your little visit before you left.  He’d be none the wiser.

 Your fingers slipped beneath your underwear to meet the hot, slick flesh of your folds, your clit already plump and ready with arousal. You knew it wouldn’t take you long to cum, but you wanted to enjoy this, to savor it as the only opportunity you’d get.  You certainly weren’t going to do this again.

 So, you teased yourself, fingertips softly dragging slow circles around your entrance before dipping in.  A shaky moan left your lips, the quickening of your breaths matching the racing of your heart.  In and out you dragged your fingers, relishing in your sleek, sensitive walls, occasionally breaking your rhythm to spread your juices over your swollen labia. You revisited your clit and stifled your moan with a bite of your lip as you began to slowly massage it with practiced skill.  It felt so fucking good.  The scent of yourself mingled with the scent of Chisaki, and you spread your legs wider, leaning back farther into the seat.  You could feel the surge beginning to swell, and you knew it would be soon. Vivid fantasies danced on the inside of your eyelids, and you were fully enthralled, fingers skimming fast circles over your swollen bud as your other hand began to massage your breast through your blouse.

 “Fuuuuuckk....Kai....” You moaned.

 “What do you think you’re doing?”

 The familiar voice made you jump so hard, you nearly fell out of the chair as your eyes flew wide open.

 There was Kai Chisaki, staring down at you from across the desk – his desk. And there were you, sitting in his chair, spread eagle.

 Your breath was knocked out of you and you felt light-headed with panic.  You caught sight of the shoji screen behind him, wide open to the evening air.

 FUCK. Of course.  You forgot to check outside.  He must have stepped out for some fresh air before returning to his office.

 Shit. Shit, shit, shit.  You hadn’t heard him enter.  How long had he been standing there??

 “I asked you a question.” The man seethed through his plague mask.  His gloved hands were clenched into angry fists, and his eyes... eyes that you’d always craved to see you... well, they saw you now, and you were terrified.

 Immediately, you closed your legs and stood up from his chair. Your mouth babbled soundlessly before your voice finally came, tight and small.

 “I’m sorry.  I’m so so sorry.”

 “I didn’t ask for an apology.” He hissed.

 “I know, I’m sorry.” You blubbered.

 “Come. Here.” Chisaki demanded.

 You obeyed, struggling to adjust your skirt as you approached him from around his desk.

 “I didn’t tell you to touch your clothes.” His tone was quiet and constrained yet sharp as a razor’s edge, each word uttered with meticulous precision.

 You stared at him in shock as you slowly removed your hands from your rumpled clothing.  His eyes raked over you, top to bottom, and left you feeling... exposed.

 “Look at you...” he grumbled.  “Disgusting.”

 His mask was unnerving, blocking the lower half of his face and keeping you from being able to fully read his facial expression.  His gold eyes were threatening – predatory like a wolf.

 He was going to kill you.  You knew it was coming. He’d killed others for far less.  But you weren’t ready for it.  You didn’t want to die.

 You dropped to your knees and bowed low in front of him, shrinking yourself to fit beneath his harsh glare.  “Please, Mr. Chisaki-“

 “Overhaul.”

 “Overhaul!” you corrected, as you bowed your head lower to the ground. “Please forgive me.  I meant no disrespect.”

 “No disrespect?” he sneered.  “You debase yourself in my seat, my place of business, and claim no disrespect??”

 His left hand reached forward at lightning speed and grabbed you by your hair, forcing your head back until you were looking him straight up at him.  You winced against his harsh hold on you, yet clenched your teeth in an effort to keep your silence.  He glared down at you as his next words came out through what you could clearly hear as clenched teeth.  

 “Clean it up.”

 With that, he shoved you away from him. On shaking, clumsy legs you pushed yourself to your feet and made your way back to his desk, your skin hot with shame and your ears ringing.  

 You did as he commanded, grabbing the cleaning solution and spraying his seat before carefully, meticulously, wiping every inch of the rich leather.  Minutes passed in silence as you made sure that no spot went unnoticed, even ensuring that the table was once again cleaned as well. By the time you had finished, Kai’s temper seemed to have dwindled to a simmering flame.  His hands were no longer clenched in fists at his sides. Instead, they were tucked deep into his pockets as he supervised you.  It did little to comfort you though... you knew that Chisaki’s reflexes were faster than you could dodge.  He’d catch you before you even reached the door.

 Not that you’d try to.  You knew better.

 When the chair was finally pristine, you disposed of the last of the soiled paper towels in the wastebin and returned the cleaning solution to its home. The task was done, but you didn’t stop. You picked up the trash can with the intent of disposing of its contents; you knew Chisaki wouldn’t want it sitting in his office.  

 It was all to buy you time. Time to figure out what to say or what do to convince Chisaki to spare your life.  But you didn’t even make it to the door before Chisaki’s voice halted your retreat.

 “Where do you think you’re going?”

 “I... I was just...” you stammered.

 “I didn’t give you permission to leave.”

 You swallowed and set down the trashcan.  He approached you slowly, until he was a mere few inches from you. He was so close that you could smell his cleanliness and see the pupils of his eyes dilate as he stared at you.  Slowly, he grabbed the mask that was covering your mouth and nose and removed it from your head.  You stopped breathing.

 There was something... electric in the air.  You could feel it on your skin, making your hairs stand on end and your flesh tighten with goosebumps.  His eyes peered at you intently, taking in every subtlety of your face.  Your lips, your eyes, your skin... and beneath the weight of his stare, you could feel the fear start to transform, replaced by something else entirely.  Something familiar that’d been plaguing you for months, lighting your veins with fire and threatening to incinerate you if it wasn’t released.  After all, part of his allure was the danger. And he hadn’t killed you yet, which meant... something.

 Chisaki’s gaze began to wander beyond just your face, taking in your still rumpled clothes.  The top couple buttons of your blouse were undone, exposing the skin of your neck and the edges of your bra.  Your skirt was still askew, and although he couldn’t see it, you became acutely aware of your still-damp underwear trapped between your folds from when you had hastily closed your legs earlier.  You stared back at him, waiting for him to do something, say something.

 And that’s when you noticed it... a faint flush across his pale cheeks, peaking out from beneath his mask. His chest was rising and falling with each breath, and it was as if he were contemplating something, silently weighing a decision in his closed-off mind.

 A strange bubbling sensation began to build within your chest, foreign and oddly out of place.

 Hope.

 Finally, Chisaki spoke, his voice unusually calm considering the trouble you were in.  “Follow me.”

 Not one to disobey him, you did as he requested as he made his way over to his desk and sat down in his chair.  Then, with an open hand, he gestured at his desk.

 “Sit.”

 Confusion.

 “W-What??” you stuttered.

 “I said sit.” He replied.

 You did as Chisaki commanded, fitting yourself between his legs and his desk before hopping up slightly onto the surface you’d just cleaned. You were right in front of him now, your hands in your lap and your ankles crossed as you realized just how perfect this arrangement was for him to see directly up your skirt.  You worried your lip between your teeth as you watched him assess you.  His elbow was resting on the armrest of his chair, his fingers supporting his face along the jawline as he stared at you with his head cocked at an angle. If it were any other situation, you’d say he looked almost bored... but the glint in his eyes spoke of something else entirely.

 “Continue.” He stated.

 “What? What do you mean?” you asked.

 His eyes stared at you knowingly.  “You didn’t get to cum, did you?”  You shook your head, stunned at his words.  “Continue.” He repeated.

 “Right here?”

 “Where else?  It was good enough for you earlier.”  His tone dropped slightly as his eyes narrowed.  “Continue.”

 Your heart pounded in your ears as you uncrossed your ankles, and with shaky hands began to trace your fingers up your thighs just as you had done before. Except this time, the experience was entirely different. Instead of closing your eyes like before, you kept them open to stare at your observer, watching for his reaction.  So many times you’d fantasized about this... about his eyes being on you and only you... and you weren’t going to miss a moment of it.

 With your eyes locked on each other, you inched your way up to the space between your thighs, your legs parting to grant you access.  Chisaki didn’t look down.  Not right away, at least.  Instead, he continued to watch your face, his body still and silent.  With the heat of his gaze on you, you finally reached your center where your warmth greeted you.  It was still slick from earlier, your fingers sliding easily along your labia as you began to tease yourself for the second time that evening.  You let out slow, shaky breaths as your fingers rubbed slow, lazy circles over your glossy lips.  

 Chisaki still didn’t break his gaze from your eyes, and a part of you wanted him to.  You wanted him to acknowledge what you were offering him and know that he liked it. A small, devious smirk found itself on your lips as you pulled your fingers away from your pussy to show him the evidence of your arousal stretched across your fingers.  It caught his attention just briefly, eyes flicking to your display, before he watched you lick the glistening strands from your fingertips, the soft sounds of your sucking filling the empty, quiet room.

 Chisaki’s eyes narrowed, and the smirk on your face widened.  Soon your fingers were back between your legs, massaging your clit again as your skin began to feel flush with heat.  Round and round the pads of your fingers went, with painstaking slowness that you drew out just for him.  You wanted to show him how good his presence made you feel.  You wanted him to see how badly you wanted him.  Your lips became more swollen, your clit more sensitive. Already you could start to feel the tension build.  It was almost too easy, your body ready to surrender at the drop of a hat.  But you weren’t going to let it happen, not yet at least.  You wanted to draw this out, to savor it in case it never happened again.

 With half-lidded eyes you stared at him as you parted you folds for him, fully exposing yourself. For the first time, his eyes drifted from your face to stare directly at your desire for him – your tight hole open and waiting, every inch of your swollen cunt drenched in glistening arousal.  Chisaki was captivated and you felt your blood surge.  You needed more. With your fingers still spreading yourself open, you dipped your middle digit into your tight heat.   Pleasure bloomed within you and a soft groan vibrated from the back of your throat. With each draw of your fingers, your breaths quickened, your back arching as the tension began to build.

 You struggled to keep your eyes open, to watch Chisaki as you brought yourself closer to orgasm, but it became increasingly difficult. You were single-focused now, chasing your much-needed release with each plunge of your finger into your soft depths.  Your body accommodated it welcomingly, and so you added a second, once again relishing in the renewed stretch that caressed your inner walls. The faster you pumped your fingers, the better it felt until your nerves were singing that familiar hum.  You flowed seamlessly into the final phase, your wet fingers leaving your entrance in favor of rubbing hard, fast circles over your clit.  The finish line was in sight now as your body sprinted with tense, aching muscles and breathy moans.

 You came with a gasp, back arching and thighs twitching as you rode out your orgasm. As you neared the end of it, you dipped your fingers in one last time as your walls gave one last final spasm of pleasure.  Gradually the wave of your euphoria calmed, returning to the gentle, lapping waters of desire that still moved within you to the rhythm of your heartbeat.

 You opened your eyes to see Chisaki still staring at you silently, his eyes once again locked onto yours. The flush across his cheeks was very much apparent now, yet his posture remained unmoved. Still, out of curiosity, you dared a quick glance down to his lap to see his hand strategically placed over the bulge in his pants.  Was he trying to hide it?  Because he was failing.  Or was he stroking himself through his clothes when you weren’t looking?

 “Again.” He ordered.

 Your eyes bulged.  “Again?”

 He didn’t bother to answer, instead waiting silently.  You were a bird trapped in the golden cage of his eyes as your mind struggled to recover enough from the hazy aftereffects of your orgasm to think straight.  He wanted you to do it again?

 At first you were hesitant. You knew your body was still sensitive from what had just transpired.  But then again… your eyes stared at Chisaki’s crotch again as he waited for you.  No doubt he saw you staring, yet he did nothing, said nothing.  It almost felt like an invitation… or a dare.  Do it again and see what happens.

 Fuck. You’d already gotten under his skin... might as well see how deep you could go.

 Between your orgasm only moments before and the juices still coating your pussy, the sensations of your touch at first felt almost... numb.  Except for your clit.  That part was still sensitive, making your muscles twitch and your breath hitch in your throat as you moved your fingers over it experimentally. You kept your touch gentle at first, careful to give your body time to respond as you reawakened the lust that still lurked in your core.  With dark eyes you began to stroke yourself for him again, pulling soft pleasurable moans from your gently parted lips.  It was definitely more intense this time, and you could already tell that this next orgasm would surpass the one before it.  Still, you drew it out as you watched Chisaki.  Or, more specifically, watched his free hand.

 It didn’t take long... you watched his fingers grip around his hard-on through his pants, his hand slowly moving up and down his restricted length.  You bit your lip at the sight and immediately felt a generous wave of hot arousal bloom between your legs, your nipples hardening achingly.  It wasn’t enough to capsize you into ecstasy, but it certainly pulled a needy whimper from your lips.  

 You dipped your fingers into yourself, feeling your walls flutter as you imagined what it would feel like to have Chisaki inside of you.  With each curl of your fingers the heat grew, like the sun reaching its zenith.  You wanted it.  You wanted to cum so badly.  But you wanted to see him even more.  So, you neglected your puffy clit in favor of unbuttoning your blouse just enough to grant you access to your sensitive breasts.  You pushed aside the cup of your bra to free the plump flesh, the bud at its center tightly puckered.  With deft fingers you massaged the soft skin before rolling the nipple slowly between your fingers, pulling more soft gasps and gentle hums from your lips.  The more you groaned and teased yourself, the more Chisaki stroked himself as he watched you, his eyes glowing with hunger.

 It wasn’t until you began to lose yourself, your eyes beginning to drift closed as you moaned and whined to the ebb and flow of your pleasure, that your patience was finally rewarded.

 You could hear it over the sounds of your lewdity – the ‘click click click’ of a zipper being pulled down.  You opened your eyes, not even attempting to hide your eagerness, as Chisaki freed his cock from his pants.

 It was beautiful just like the rest of him; long with a slight curve, its tip red and shining with precum.  Veins stood out in relief, trailing his length like vines, thick and beautiful. You swallowed at the sight of it, desperately wanting to know what it would feel like to have that in you.

 You hadn’t realized your own movements had frozen until Chisaki’s smooth voice cut through your thoughts.

 “I didn’t tell you to stop.” He said, as cool and professional as ever as if he didn’t currently sit before you with his dick in his hand.  

 He was gloating, you knew it... your stunned silence at the sight of his cock stroked his ego just as much as you touching yourself for him did. And you knew that, above all else, Chisaki loved to have his ego stroked.

 “Y-yes Mr. Chisaki...” you whispered, before your fingers began moving again.

 You continued to stroke and play, penetrate and rub as you watched him take his long cock in his hand and begin long, steady strokes.  Even now, he still kept his gloves on, and somehow that made his every move even hotter.  He was no longer propping his face up with his other hand.  Now, he was sitting up straight, eyes on your needy cunt as you put on your show for him.  You could see it, the tension in his temple that came and went, hear the ragged, quick draws of his breaths through his mask.  Your own arousal grew in response, egged on by him searching for his own sweet relief at the lewd sight of you.  It blossomed like a watered seed as you drank in the man in front of you – his hand pumping, precum dripping.

 It was the push your sensitive body needed.  You came surprisingly fast, your orgasm crashing over your body with greater intensity than the first.  Moans and gasps ripped from your throat as your body spasmed, and you made no effort to quell your cries, too consumed by your own pleasure.  With eyes squeezed shut, your hips rocked as you grinded yourself against your hand, your entire body singing in unbridled bliss.

 You were given no respite.  As soon as the pleasure eased just enough for your hips to still, Chisaki spoke.

 “Again.”

 Your eyes, still closed, flew open to look at him with incredulity.  You weren’t even recovered yet, your cunt still twitching with the aftershocks of pleasure. You knew that touching yourself without some sort of break was going to lead you down a jagged, torturous road of overstimulation.  It made your legs start to close up instinctually in denial.

 Your mouth moved silently before you pushed the words out.  “B-But... I can’t....”

 Chisaki’s eyes narrowed, his brows lowering... and along the edge of his mask, you could see his cheeks lift slightly.  He was smirking at you. Cruelly.  

 “You can, and you will.” He said.  A wave of his fingers told you to reopen your legs for him, and you did, slowly, as if you were a puppet on strings.  “Again.” He repeated.

 Chisaki took a moment to remove the glove from his stroking hand before giving his cock a couple more languid strokes.  You stared at the exposed skin in awe.  It was everything you imagined it’d be... pale, smooth, nails clean and perfectly trimmed.  Between his hard cock and his ungloved hand, you stared in shameless longing as an excited chill coursed down your spine.  Maybe… maybe if you were good…

 You swallowed the dryness in your throat and returned your fingers to your core, flinching as you brushed against your sore, overstimulated clit.  Chisaki returned to pleasuring himself as you performed for him, his hand pumping steadily.  Watching him masturbate to you was delicious.  He didn’t rush, instead opting to taking his time, his hand moving smoothly from base to tip, occasionally pausing to run his precum over the head, the shine glinting in the light.  You subconsciously licked your lips, wondering what it would taste like. Would you lick it from his tip? Or his finger?  Maybe both?

 You matched your pace with his, letting his own strokes guide your hand.  The synchrony made your pussy ache more than ever, even as your body screamed for freedom – a break from the constant wave of stimulation that you were subjecting yourself to.  It made you feel closer to him, more connected - as if he were a part of your pleasure without actually touching you.

 But dear God, you desperately you wanted him to touch you.

 He continued his strokes, slow and easy.  Whether it was for him or for you, you weren’t sure... you weren’t even sure if he was aware that you were pacing yourself with him.  His speed gradually quickened, the muscles of his forearms tensed and twitching as he pumped his hard cock with growing fervor. It was the hottest thing you’d ever seen, his eyes starting to roll back in his head as he began to lose himself to the pleasure, legs twitching slightly as he came close... Your heart pounded with excited anticipation as you dipped your fingers into your core, feeling your walls flutter with need.  It was happening... he was going to cum...

 But he never did.  Instead, his pace began to slow as his eyes refocused on you. That was when you realized….

 Chisaki wasn’t trying to cum yet… he was edging himself.

 Maybe he was waiting for you.  Or maybe he had his own agenda.  But either way, it was clear to you that he was delaying his orgasm.

 The hypocrite.

 Still, you wanted to please him. You wanted to give him want he wanted, because then maybe he could give you what you really wanted.  But no matter how hard you tried, no matter how fucking hot the entire situation was, your own orgasm evaded you.  

 It was more than just the repeated orgasms and overstimulation.  The real issue was that your fingers no longer satisfied. Not after seeing what he had to offer, and certainly not after seeing how horny you made him.  You wanted him to touch you, to put his hands on you, to feel his cock in you... A frustrated whine escaped your lips as you felt your resolve break.

 “Please, Mr. Chisaki...” you begged.  Chisaki’s eyes left your open pussy to lock with yours.  Their golden depths burned holes into you, and you licked your lips under the heat of his stare. “Please touch me...”

 Chisaki froze mid-stroke.  “Touch you?” He said it as if the idea repulsed him, yet his eyes betrayed him as he looked back down between your open legs.

 “Please,” You begged.  “Don’t you want to?”

 His brow was deeply furrowed, and you knew he was having his internal debate, just as he’d had before.  After all, what you were asking was no small order.  You knew how he felt about touch.  No doubt he would have already been balls deep in you had it not been an issue for him.

 But that was why you begged. And pleaded.  And groveled.  Anything to make him set aside his golden rule, even if just for one night.

 “Please...” you whined one last time.  “I’ll do anything.  I need you, Kai...”

 Something about you using his given name did something.  His eyes widened slightly, his flush reaching down to his exposed neck.  Then his eyes narrowed, as he stood from his seat.  You watched with a mix of excitement and trepidation as he carefully removed his jacket and loosened his white tie.  He towered over you, his stare pinning you somewhere between his contempt and his hunger as he undid the cuffs of his black shirt and rolled up his sleeves to the elbows. It made your pussy throb and your heart pound as you stared back at him, completely vulnerable.  He stepped forward slightly, filling the space between your legs with his presence.  Even just the graze of his pants against the inside of your knee was enough to set off fireworks on your skin, causing your breath to hitch in your throat.  His cock was still out and hard, mere inches from your tight, needy cunt, and it took every ounce of willpower not to scoot down and close the gap between you.

 You waited.

 “Touch you...” he muttered through his mask, his voice low.

 Chisaki’s eyes raked over you, taking in every inch of you.  Your trembling, parted lips and large pupils; your exposed breast with its perky, hard nipple; your swollen and glossy cunt framed in ruined underwear that was carelessly shoved aside; the sweat from your thighs coating his desk.

 “So fucking filthy.” He breathed.  The profanity sounded strange on his lips, almost more like a prayer than an insult.

 He stared at one of your thighs as he slowly placed a warm, gloved hand on it. You reacted immediately, gasping at his touch, and his eyes darted to yours.

 “...And needy.” He added.

 From your peripheral you could see his other hand grip his cock and begin to pump it. You tried to watch... you wanted to watch.  But the heat of his hand on your thigh made nearly everything else fade away until it was all you cared about.  Your breaths began to come in hot pants as your body trembled beneath him.

 “I didn’t realize that you were so desperate for me.” He said calmly as he continued to stroke himself.  His gloved hand squeezed your soft flesh until you were moaning from the mixture of pleasure and pain. “Pathetic.”

 You were pathetic.  But you didn’t care.  You’d say anything, do anything, just to have him keep touching you.  And if he wanted you to beg?  To cry? To humiliate yourself to earn his cock?  You’d do that too.

 His hand slowly eased its grip as it began to move up, up, up until his thumb nestled in the crook of your thigh, just shy of your sensitive, swollen folds. Your hand immediately made way for his as you laid down completely onto his desk, your world spinning.  A warmth fell over you like a blanket, every fiber of your being pulsing at a low hum; you were a glass vibrating at a frequency just shy of shattering.

 Chisaki’s voice floated through your haze like a faraway song carried on the wind. “You were so eager at first.  So willing to shame yourself – shame me – to get what you wanted.”  He scoffed. “Now you can’t even do as I say.”

 You could feel his thigh twitch against yours as he began to pump himself faster. His cock was so close to your pussy that it was torturous.  It made you want to cry.  You could feel the warmth of fresh juices begin to flow from you, coating your entrance in invitation, as you prayed to all the gods above and below for him to enter you without mercy.

 But it never came.  And his hand never ventured further.  Slowly, your thoughts trickled back ever so slightly, and you realized he was waiting for you to speak.  Slowly, around a heavy tongue, you made clumsy words.  “I... I’m sorry...I’m trying... is hard...”

 Chisaki tsked.  “You’re afraid.  Afraid of pushing past your limits. So now I’m going to help you.”

 His gloved thumb crossed the threshold to your swollen bud, and your world exploded into color as a sharp zing of pleasure erupted from between your legs. You cried out, your body spasming, hips writhing to escape his touch. It was too much...

 “Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded.

 Then he did something you didn’t expect – his bare hand released his cock and slammed down onto the desk.  The surface rippled beneath you, transforming until smooth arches of dark mahogany wrapped themselves over your arms, effectively pinning you down.

 Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, your breaths coming out in quick, panicked gasps.

 “Kai!” you protested.

 He bent over you and grabbed your jaw in his gloved hand, his plague doctor mask inches from your face. “You wanted me to touch you,” he whispered.  “Now you’re going to get what you asked for.”

 The look in his eyes wasn’t as controlled as before.  Sure, the disgust and hunger were still there.  But there were more emotions now, peaking through the cracks of his practiced façade.  Anger, contempt, fear, desire, longing... and something else; something wild and unhinged.

 Something within him was on the verge of breaking, of being set free, and you were the one responsible.

 He straightened himself up and returned his gloved hand to your sopping core, his cock once again in his bare hand.  His thumb found its home again, nestled firmly against your engorged clit.

 He wasn’t gentle, he wasn’t slow.  Instead, his thumb ran swift, relentless circles, the digit igniting every frayed nerve. Each swipe had you crying out as wave after wave of sharp, jagged pleasure assaulted you, without so much as a second of recovery in between.  And as Chisaki raced you towards that inevitable cliff, his own hand pumped himself hard and fast.  His strokes began to become erratic, his composure slowly slipping as you began to unravel before him, your whines and cries luring him to follow you to the point of no return.  You could feel his own legs began to spasm against your inner thighs, his hips beginning to jut forward with each drag of his palm along his hard shaft.  The gap between your two bodies began to close, until you could feel the tip of him brush against your core. In that instant, you came undone beneath him with his name spilling from your drooling lips.

 The temptation was too much.  He entered you as you came, his cock burying itself within your clenching walls with a single thrust.  Your legs wrapped around him instantly as your body exploded into a mess of tears, shrieks, and trembles.  With one hand on your hip and one working your clit, he fucked you through your orgasm as you cried and panted, his own grunts joining your one-person symphony as you felt every fiber of your being shatter with white hot pleasure. It was all-consuming, disorienting.  You weren’t even sure you were a person anymore.  You could feel nothing else, see nothing else except the man inside of you, hovering over you, filling your existence.

 It didn’t stop. Even after you were a blubbering mess, tears streaming down your cheeks, your thighs and cunt sore, Chisaki kept going, his cock reaching new depths as it dragged against your spasming, sensitive walls.  His breaths were heavy, each pant labored until he ripped his mask off his face.  It was like a switch had been flipped, changing Chisaki from a man in control to nearly animalistic.  Teeth bared, sweat beading across his forehead, golden eyes absolutely feral. His thrusts took you past your orgasm, unrelenting, and you cried and babbled for him to stop, it was too much, your body couldn’t take anymore.  But even as your string of incoherent words begged for the end, your body spoke of a different kind of freedom, your legs tightening around Chisaki’s waist in an effort to pull him impossibly deeper into you.

 Chisaki snarled, releasing his hand from your cunt as he continued to fuck you, and removed his remaining glove with his teeth.  Suddenly, the white fabric was being shoved into your mouth, gagging your broken words behind its white cotton that smelled and tasted of you.

 “Shut up.” He growled.

 You could see the hives breaking out across his damp, flushed skin now at the contact, but it no longer seemed to matter to him.  And it didn’t matter to you either.  You were wrapped up delirium, your eyes glossing over and rolling into your head with each drive of Chisaki’s hips. Your hips couldn’t even keep up with his thrusts anymore; his movements were too rough, too fast.  All you could do was lay there and receive him as he pounded you without restraint.  That familiar knot was forming again, a dark beast built from the broken pieces of the last. It was a terrifying thing, a formidable presence that you felt building within yourself that would surely decimate you.

 “This is what you really wanted, isn’t it?” Chisaki grunted through clenched teeth. “You wanted me to fuck you senseless, to ruin this tight pussy of yours like the greedy, selfish bitch you are.”

 His words washed over you and you gave the faintest of nods, your mouth still gagged.

 “So, you’re going to take what I give you. You’re going to cum when I say, as often as I say.”  His cock hit deep as his thumb gave a final press against your clit. “Now.”

 You screamed around the cotton in your mouth, back arching and arms straining against the wood trapping you as the tension finally erupted.  It tore through your veins, making your fluids gush and your pussy clench like a vice around Chisaki’s pumping cock.  Not a moment later, you heard him groan followed by the hot sensation of his cum coating your walls.  It only enhanced the waves of pleasure still wrecking you and your pussy milked him greedily as he emptied himself in you.

 The comedown felt like it would never arrive. Your nerves still sang too loudly, the aches echoed too deep.  But finally, Chisaki’s hips stuttered to a stop and your own body lay limp beneath him. It felt like you were submerged under water, every sense dulled or muted, as you stared hazily at the ceiling.  Chisaki was still in you, his dick twitching sensitively each time your body gave a weak aftershock. You had thought he would pull out, leave you there like the ruined mess you were to go clean himself up.  Now doubt he’d return to his senses any moment and be repulsed by what transpired.

 But he never did.  Instead, he braced himself over you, his heavy, hot breaths coating your exposed skin as he settled through his own comedown while you warmed his cock.  You felt the desk ripple beneath you and suddenly your arms were freed from their restraints, the wooden surface back to its original state.  A moment later, he filled your view as he leaned over you, and you had a brief moment of panic, wondering if you were next. Was he going to overhaul you now? After all, he got what he wanted...

 But he never did that either.  Instead, he removed the glove from your mouth as his eyes traced over your face, marking every feature, every nuance.  Your parted, chapped lips... your glossy, sweat-stained skin... the exhaustion in your eyes...  His thumb came up to wipe away at the tears drying along your cheekbones before running the smooth pad over your lower lip.

 Then he did something you didn’t anticipate, something that surprised you above all else. He bent down and captured your mouth with his, his wet tongue gliding into your stunned, open mouth.  It was strangely slow, uncharacteristically tender, and entirely unexpected.  The fog you’d been swimming in a moment before lifted slightly, and you began to kiss him back, your arm wrapping up around his shoulders before tangling your fingers into his damp, auburn locks at the base of his neck.

 Whatever it was, it was short-lived.  He brought a hand up to grasp the hand you had around his neck, his fingers twining with yours as he placed your hand back down on the desk, pinning you within his hold. He pulled away from the kiss and stared down at you with a dark smirk tugging the corners of his wet lips.  And his eyes... his eyes burned gold like the sun. Not a beautiful, gentle gold that kissed open delicate flowers and melted winter snow.  No, this was a force of unrelenting destruction, the kind that burned deserts, scorched forests... and melted wax wings.

 You were Icarus, fueled by foolishness and arrogance. You’d flown too close, fueled by a false sense of confidence that you could handle whatever it was that lurked within him, that your lust was enough to match his.  But you were quickly learning you couldn’t.  His fire burned too hot, his hunger too deep. He was going to devour you until there was nothing left.  And really, what did you expect from a man who denied himself every human urge in his quest for perfection?  

 The sun could never be controlled.

 And Pandora’s box can never be closed.

 Slowly, he lowered his face next to yours until you could feel his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

 “Again.”

[theodora3022]

Playing tricks with the trickster

Summary: Failed escape attempt from yandere Childe. He lets you play your cards, even playing along, just for his own amusement.

Notes: My first genshin piece yay... I had a sweet and terrible dream of me running from Childe in the woods. Also some inspiration was drawn from @cinnamonest‘s this post, one big virtual hug to her! I hope I did Childe justice, what can I say I love manipulative smiling boys. It has become a pattern as I dash from one fandom to another. This is had turned out to be longer then I expected...Ginger boy demands my time and energy too much omg. Mind the warnings, although there is nothing extreme in this.

Fun fact, I was looping to Nintendo game by Alessia Cara when writing this down. I believe it fits the theme of this fic quite well.

Tagging: @akutaguagua a great friend who patiently beta-read this mess of a horror dream and gave me lots of kind praises! 

(Offical art belongs to miHoYo! This is a cover page of this video, if there is any issues, contact me and I will remove it at once)

Warnings: Implied past abduction,dub-con touching, mild degradation, drugging(not on reader), implied non-con/dub-con at the end, this is not healthy love and I do not condone this irl.

It has been nearly a month since the youngest Fatui Harbinger had “taken you in”. After a few tries, you were too horrified by the punishments to continuously fight him. You learned on the first day that Childe’s smiling, the friendly mask would come off towards you. Your behaviour would decide if that is a curse or a “blessing”.

So you had quieted down, struggling to restrain yourself from yelling or screaming, carefully not to provoke his anger. Despite being compliant to his orders, you never truly showed him any affection either. Sure, you would sit on his lap if he asked, but you never initiated anything intimate with him. No matter how much Tartaglia spoiled you with clothes, books, jewelry or other luxuries, he is still the one who holds the commanding end of your shackles. It’s the best not to get used to all of that when your sight is set on the door.

Although he has taken your freedom away, you are not kept in a windowless room. On the contrary, you have too many outings now. Wherever he goes, you have to be present in a 2m radius, including meetings. Being a Harbinger is no easy job, so he prefers not having to worry about your safetly during buisness hours. The best way to do that is never let you out of his sight.

“Love, no one should witness our little problems. Well, no one alive that is.” Of course you wouldn’t want to put innocent people's lives at stake. You never dared to act out when you two are in public, and no one would bat an eye if a Fatui had taken a lover. 

You had taken an emotionless approach towards him. If Childe wants a kiss on the cheek, you’ll give him a quick light peck. If he wants breakfast, you’ll go make some pancakes with the topping he likes. Luckily, Childe had not done anything too extreme yet. If cuddling to sleep does not count as extreme that is. The only time you slipped up is when he suddenly hugs you from behind when you’re cooking.  

You thought maybe, just maybe, by being as boring and dull as you could, this bastard might just get tired of you and let you go. Childe only loves the fun of it right? Or maybe it could lower his guard.

Oh, how naive you are. You should have known better than to underestimate a Fatui harbinger. See, this is exactly why he needs to keep you around. Yes, unfortunately for you, Childe loves you, so very much. Speaking to him with a monotone voice isn’t going to alter that fact.

You have been devoid of emotions as of late. While Childe does appreciate fewer screams for the sake of his eardrums, this schemer can sense you are up to something. Perhaps this is the peace before your “storm”(he thought of it more like a drizzle)

You want to play a game? Okay, why not? Childe cannot wait to see what tricks you got on those sleeves. Are you ever getting away? Does an amateur ever win when they play a game with a professional trickster? Never.

Still, nothing bites like a cornered rat. You are no airhead, and he is fully aware of that. Just not as cunning and observent as him, that’s all.

The way you just kept your emotions sealed up is impressive, even to someone like him. Even when he got hansy, you did not flinch and just stared at the corner. Childe can only catch faint glimpses of anger when you thought he wasn’t looking.

Hm, when are you pulling your trigger? Tonight, or tomorrow night? Not that Childe is impatient, anything from you is worth waiting. But he would need to dismiss his patrolling underlings in the nearby woods beforehand. No extras would be allowed to disturb this game.

There is no chance during the day, a somewhat mutual understanding for you two. Night time in comparison, is a different story. 

Anyone’s sleeping hours is their most vulnerable time of the day, Childe is no exception. You do not plan to harm him, not that you don’t want to. But you are willing to swallow the pent up frustration towards him if you would never see his face again after this. Maybe beating up some slimes would help with the release?

You somehow managed to slip a mixture of herbs into his tea. Since he would buy cooking ingredients for you from time to time, you had requested a bunch of herbs along with the ingredients of a sleep inducing medicine you remembered. Although Childe does all he can to keep you near him, there are inevitable hours that he needs to be somewhere without you. He cannot jeopardize your safety with troublesome monsters. On a side note, he loves showing you off to anyone, his colleagues, acquaintances, business partners, anyone he does not deem a threat.

Enough time for you to make those herbs into powder and cover it up with a few spoons of milk. Tea with milk has become quite popular in Liyue as of late. Childe has grown to love them, so you have learned how to mix it up. He always let you handle his food and drinks, saying that he “trusts you”. What you do not know is this is one of the openings he exposed on purpose. It’s not like you can aquire anything deadly under his suffocating supervision.

Your plan will work, or so you think. Childe will not wake up when you wiggle out of his grasp, because dreamland will keep him occupied. All you need is a glider and a usable sword from Liyue and you’ll get your life back. Bottling up extreme emotions has certainly taken a toll on your mind, but it will be worth it if that is the prerequisite of being free.

Something about this being so easy sits ill with you. Have you really been with the youngest Fatui Harbinger this whole time? But that was brushed off your shoulders by the sheer excitement of regaining your long lost freedom. You know Liyue is in walking distance, all you need to do is cross these woods and-

The moment you dive into the forest, you think you heard an amused chuckle. 

That smooth voice terrifies you to no end, the same voice you took orders from for the past month.

Oh, how Childe loves seeing you happy. It’s priceless, both literally and figuratively. No matter how many things he buys you, you had not shown him even one small smile. Enjoy your sweet freedom, because it ain’t going to last. You certainly will know your place after this right? If not you are just dumber then he give you credit for.

That glow of relief in your eyes is worth every last bit of this intense dizzying feeling to Childe. To make sure your plan go through, he had drunk the tea without hesitation, quick enough to catch the momentarily excitement you expressed. He knows the game is on, therefore he had given the night patrol guards the entire evening off. Forcing himself to stay concious by digging his nails into his palms, Childe followed you into the woods.

Your potion is quite strong. Excellent, you’ll have to give him the recipe for informational purposes later. Especially how you managed to achieve such effects with a few herbs you had. He never took you to be anything less than a smart girl, but this has exceeded his expectations. Where’s the fun in a game without challenges?

How you storm through the forest wearing that cute terrified expression looks so endearing, it’s surely not his fault if he wants to enjoy this sight to be longer right.

So, each time you feel the slightest at ease due to whatever reason, expect Childe to make some sound to send you running like your life depends on it again. The sadistic man is hunting you down playfully, like a cat chasing a stray mouse to the inevitable corner.

You know he is toying with you. There is nothing you can do to make him shut up though.

“Love, you had scratched your leg. Must hurts by the looks of it.”

“Liyue is that way, you know.”

“Are you tired? If you want to jog in the middle of the night, you should have called me to come along!”

How can he say those things nonchalantly while you are trying to escape from him?  Here he is, daunting you with that signature smile he wears so very often. That is when reality slaps you right in the face. No matter how hard you plan, no matter how fast you run, there is no getting rid of him.

When your stamina runs out, a simple pull and push on your left wrist is enough to let you fall onto the ground panting. Even now, you still refuse to beg for mercy. You would take the cold grounds to the warmth of Childe’s embrace anyday. 

“Aw, burnt out already? Pathetic. Looks like we need to work on your stamina more. But this is not the place for exercise.”

“Look at me.” His slender but forceful fingers tilt your head up, making you look into those ocean blue orbs. There is anger present in his eyes, but those emotions are more a mixture of delight and that. His smile had also been replaced by a mocking smirk. “You, trying to leave me? Your sense of humor is...well, let’s just call it unique. Lucky for you, you amused me nonetheless.”

“I know what you’re thinking. How I’m a selfish jerk and you hate me. Why be so ungrateful? You get to live in luxury thanks to me, you know. I am selfish, yes, but look how stupid you are. I know you added something extra in my evening tea, my beloved.”

“Come now, we are going to do some exercises suited for a night like this once we’re back home. It is our one month milestone, after all. You had already given me your gift, it is only fair for you that I do the same.”

Childe is not making a sarcastic remark. The thrill of that chase was the best fun he had in months. And you are going to love his gift too, maybe not right away, but surely sometimes after. 

You have to mentally prepare yourself for the worst as he dragged you back to the prison, hopefully you’ll still be able to walk properly after whatever Childe got in store.

[glyxy-wvs]

hey if you accept requests can you make a fluffy fanfic about Lucifer and Mammon being close? like that pic that you reblogged?

Hello, Anon! Omg, sorry for the long wait!!! 🥺💖 I was busy with irl stuff but AAAA I have finished the fluffy fic! I'm sorry if it didn't reach your expectations.😓 It was a bit difficult to write 'cause I'm not really used to writing fluff.😂 But I hope you like it!! (Also, I didn't base this fic off to the art that I had reblogged, but it's still a fluff fic!! It's fan art, and I think I need permission to write a fic about it.😅 So here's fluffy fanfic of Lucifer and Mammon being close.) Thanks for being the first person to request me haha. Please enjoy this. _ A Day To Relax. [ 1 & 2 ]

Mammon's back hurts; he did the best he could to organized the library at RAD. Maybe he deserves this, or maybe not. He sighs for the tenth time of the day.

There's nothing he can do about it because this was his light punishment for skipping classes again. Although he hates doing chores for his discipline, he needed to be a good big brother for Asmodeus.

Mammon decided to skip his classes so that he could be there to support his little brother. Everyone was busy at that time, with upcoming exams and projects, not one of the brothers could make time for Asmo. The latter understood. It's not like he could force his brothers to watch the stageplay with his classmates. But when he saw Mammon among the crowd with his D.D.D out, he almost cried while performing on stage.

(He felt a bit guilty when he found out that Mammon, believe it or not, skipped classes to watch him.)

Mammon stretched his back when he felt his phone vibrating. He took it out from his back pocket to receive a message from Asmodeus.

[Hey.

I just wanted to say thanks for supporting me there.

This beautiful brother of yours is going to treat you tomorrow! <3]

His lips cracked a smile. He feels soft and loved. Mammon chuckled as he took his bag, ready to go home. He had finished organizing anyway; he preferred to play on his phone for a while.

He started walking to the hallways; almost all of the demons were back to their places already. Some are doing their part-time jobs, and some are being lazy at home (Preferably Belphegor.)

"Mammon."

In instinct, Mammon quickly turned around. He already knows that deep voice.

"Are ya gonna assign me another chore to do?" Mammon quickly questioned his older brother, who was leaning into the student council's door frame.

Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose, seemingly annoyed already. He pushed back his hair and fixed the wrinkles of his uniform.

"No. Well, if you want to do more. Your choice." With that answer, Mammon crossed his arms, a pout on his face— ready to complain. But Lucifer stopped him.

"Remember that cafe I showed you the other day? Let's go there, my treat." Lucifer stated; he laughed when he saw Mammon froze.

"I don't believe you." His eyes narrowed, looking for a flaw in Lucifer's face and words. "Are ya' truly Lucifer? What if you're a ghost possessing my big bro's body?"

Mammon intentionally loudened his gasp; his eyes were wide, one hand placed on his heart, while the other was grasping on his hair. He paused for a dramatic effect.

Lucifer brought his hand up quickly to pinch his brother's cheek. "You idiot. It's me, of course." He proceeded to ruffles Mammon's hair. "Come on, let's go before I change my mind and give you another chore as punishment. Maybe you could clean up the laboratory next time for a month."

He whispered the last part, but Lucifer knew Mammon could hear him, making the second-born whine.

The two exited the school, taking a detour through the streets.

"I thought yah were gonna give me another punishment." Mammon broke out the silence; Lucifer hummed before replying.

"Why would I? I only gave you a chore for skipping classes, but you being there for Asmodeus? You don't deserve punishment for that."

Mammon stared at the far distance. The cafe they were going to has a nearby sea, and he smiled at his elder brother's words; he enjoyed these simple moments between them. (They're rare. They don't hang out anymore like they used to do in the Celestrial realm. That's why, as much as possible, Mammon cherished these moments.)

Mammon could say that he's close with Lucifer, but not like before— It's weird. Lucifer is his older brother, his family. But as time passed by, Mammon started to get nervous whenever he had done something wrong. He doesn't want to anger and disappoint Lucifer. (But sometimes, he can't help it— he misses his big brother's attention.)

"We're here," Lucifer said. Mammon followed the latter's gaze and immediately formed star-shaped eyes.

"WOAH!! I didn't expect it to be this cool! I only saw the picture but never expected that it would be this big!"

Mammon kept looking around the newly built cafe. The cafe was a bit massive, with a view of the sea beside it. Its structure is similar to a casino. Mammon could already smell the fresh-baked bread and pies inside, making him giggle.

Mammon had loved the view it was showing; he could eat while staring at the horizon. The cafe was located on top of a hill, not too far from the beach. It looks so nostalgic and therapeutic that Mammon took his time admiring the whole place while Lucifer already entered the cafe.

Mammon wished it wasn't too expensive. He knows that Lucifer would be the one to pay, but he doesn't want to burden him with that kind of responsibility. The second-born tried to grasp the wallet on his bag, but then he hesitated. Mammon recalled that the money in there was a payment to his debt.

Ah, yes. Mammon needed to pay it today but decided it would be better to bond with his brother first.

He sighed, still has a firm grip on his bag. He's feeling unwanted emotions today. He wants to cry, laugh, or do something he doesn't usually do. Mammon was overwhelmed with emotions.

He remembered Levi's words that it's okay to be feeling emotions you usually can't explain. Sometimes, it doesn't have to be a reason.

Mammon's snapped out of his thoughts, thinking that Lucifer was likely waiting for him inside. He turned to see the display of different pastries outside, and Mammon immediately recognized Simeon's art.

Mammon recalled Simeon's word. He said that he's going to work part-time somewhere near the sea. And this made Mammon excited. He had already counted the treats and thinking which one would his brothers choose. After planning, he tried to hurry inside but suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. Mammon looked over to his shoulder to see an unfamiliar demon. Their body is most likely the same size as Beelzebub but with a strict stare present. Mammon felt like he was burning.

"Heya! May I ask—who are you?" Mammon said; his tone wasn't that confident, and it's evident with his form that Mammon's going to run away in any second now.

He felt the grip on his shoulder got tighter, and the demon dragged Mammon into a less crowded area. He knows he's far powerful than this guy; he's one of the princes of Devildom. He's the Avatar of Greed. But man, he entirely wants to relax today. Mammon tried to stand with honor and kept his breathing in control.

The demon startled him. "Where's the money?"

And then Mammon realized.

"Oh!? You must be the brother's witch! Ah, here— give me a minute," Mammon took out his wallet and gave them the money. He doesn't feel that nervous anymore. Okay— he lied, maybe a little bit. Can't a demon have fears too? "Geez, you scared the hell out of me for a second there. The agreement was me and her meeting later." He muttered the last part.

But a dark aura surrounded him, and Mammon quickly backed away. He can't meet the other demon's eyes, but he can feel the rage from him.

Is the money not enough?? It can't be. I perfectly counted this; I also worked hard for this. What else could be missing???

"With all due respect, please don't go any nearer to him."

A voice. It must be Lucifer's. Mammon couldn't stop overthinking. What if Lucifer scolds him after this? What if Lucifer started to regret spending time with Mammon because of this?

Mammon looked up, tears threatening to fall. He saw his elder brother, standing behind them as classy as ever. His composure is straight, yet the glaring eyes are full of terror. Mammon recognized Lucifer's stance. It's for preparing himself to change into his demon form if the rest of his younger brothers are in serious trouble.

When the demon started to get closer to Mammon, the latter only felt a swift wind before realizing that Lucifer was there, in front of him now. "Didn't you hear what I said? What else do you need from him?"

"The money."

"It's not sufficient? Then alright, here." Lucifer took out his wallet to satisfy the demon in front of them. Mammon's full-out panicking now. His older brother saved him from trouble, and now he's going to be a disappointment in Lucifer's eyes.

"There, you got the money. Tell your sister that my brother had paid the debt." Lucifer dragged Mammon out of the other demon's sight. He looked back with sharp eyes.

"And as great as reasonable, if you're looking for Mammon—" He looked back with sharp eyes. "—strictly appear to see me. Thank you."

Both never turned their eyes back again as they entered the shop. Mammon quickly explained the whole situation. "I'm sorry! I'm sure— precisely sure that I had counted that money. And it's exactly the price the witch had been asking. I don't know what he's up to with—" He kept on babbling as they reached their reserved seats. Lucifer sighed.

"Look, stop chattering; it's annoying. I believe you. Can't I have a day where I relax with my little brother under no stress or orders whatsoever? Seeing you outside in that kind of situation is making my blood boil. How dare he waste such time when you and I could have been eating here already."

Mammon snickered, ah yeh— It's been so long that he forgot how dramatic Lucifer could be at times.

"Forget about it, Mammon. You had settled the debt, and the food that I ordered is already here. But make sure whenever you're going to meet someone concerning payment, always inform me. I'm serious. If the shares had been a burden to handle, you are welcome to visit my office anytime."

Lucifer already had bread in his mouth, but his expression is still irritable from the situation earlier. Mammon can feel his tears coming back again. Why am I so emotional today?

"Ah. Uhm, hey—" He called out to his older brother. "Thanks for backing me up earlier. I appreciated it!"

Lucifer munched the donut he was holding and then drank the newly served tea. His gaze was on the view outside, seemingly avoiding eye contact. "Hm? Of course. I'm your big brother after all, in case you forgot about it."

In moments like this, it was a rare scene between him and Lucifer. They usually argue and sometimes making each other's day stressful. But, just them eldest brothers, talking and sharing random topics— Mammon cherished this.

And behind that frown the eldest always wears, Lucifer could say the same too. He loved calm moments like this.

"But ain't Michael my first big brother?" Mammon teased. Lucifer rolled his eyes. "Silence, you have no elder brother other than me. Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, and Belphegor, you all are my baby brothers." And when Lucifer realized what he said, he quickly replaced the topic. "And eat the dessert I ordered for you."

Mammon's eyes turned into stars immediately when he recognized the smell, "Woah, no way?! How did you know this was my favorite?!!! This desert is expensive! Big bro! You do love me."

Then they chatted, random topics or something concerning about their home that needs fixing. Nevertheless, the atmosphere around them is comforting and warming. After a while, they had finished eating, and the moon was already out. Both agreed to go home.

"We should invite the others here too!" Mammon stated as he breathed the cold wind that passed by them.

"Yes, that would be a pleasant bonding time. Just don't be too chaotic, please. It's hard to handle all six of you."

It was a great day, Mammon thought to himself. It was entertaining and soothing to talk with his big brother without insults nor orders. Lucifer treated him today; it was— nostalgic for Mammon. It's like he doesn't want this kind of treatment to end. But of course, as the little mischief, as he is, he asked one more request.

"Lucifer!" Mammon rolled the letter r, a bit of a whining tone. "It's night, and I'm tired, yah know? Can I request a piggyback ride?" He knows Lucifer will reject it immediately. So it wasn't like he meant it, already hoping for the worst.

But then Lucifer looked at him, a contemplating expression, before getting down on one knee.

"Alright, just this once. Hurry up before I regret my decision."

Mammon's eyes were wide; he smirked before quickly hugging Lucifer from behind. He felt himself getting lifted off, and it reminded him of the old times, back in the Celestial Realm.

Lucifer doesn't mind; he also missed this. But not like he's going to say this out loud.

I should start spending time with my little brothers whenever I'm free. That would be nice.

[ichika27]

Mairimashita! Iruma-kun s2 ep19

Nice! It’s a Clara-centric episode with some bonus Azz trying to impress Iruma! I mean I don’t have anything against Ameri and I’m happy she got lots of moments with our protagonist but I just want Azz and Clara to get their chance, too you know?

This episode is fun and cute! Plus there are songs in it, too since it’s about Clara’s family.

Clara’s house! Iruma and Azz are staying over for a while after what happened in the last episode. The Valac residence is located at Gaya-Gaya Forest where lots of strange creatures and plants live! According to Clara, her family knows the place really well.

And I just realized that this is the first time the boys got to visit Clara. It’s just they’ve shown us Clara’s family and this house a lot that it slipped my mind that to Iruma and Azz, this is the first time they’d be seeing it.

The typical welcome in the Valac home! They did chants, too weirding out the boys especially Azz. Urara isn’t home again this time so he’s represented by a drawing. I wonder which school he’s in since it seems theirs isn’t on vacation like Babyls.

Clara’s mom tells the boys to relax and feel at home. She says she’s happy because Clara brought friends home for the first time (and sorta mentions this is a first overall for their family or something). In a way that’s kinda sad that it either meant not many people wanted or thought to visit or Clara just didn’t have anyone to invite before Iruma and Azz.

On the other hand, this is almost the same reaction my own family has whenever I brought home some classmates to do school projects. I don’t have irl friends lol so they’re like “Big sis has friends?!” because my classmates would introduce themselves as friends instead of just classmates.

Iruma and Azz give Clara’s mom some souvenirs from the Walter Park trip as a present (I dunno about everywhere else but this is a Japanese thing if I remember correctly and people here in the Philippines do it to whenever they visit sometimes). Iruma gives a small box of sweets and Azz gives them a huge replica of Walter Park's castle made out of chocolate. The kids immediately crowd at Azz for the chocolate until told to calm down.

I could understand them though. My siblings and I too would do the same cause that seriously looks cool and also it’s chocolate. We could devour that in a few days.

After being let in the house, Clara’s brothers immediately asked the boys which one is their sister’s boyfriend which freaked them out. The brothers think that Azz would be a good catch (cause he is with being good-looking, rich, smart and popular. They don’t even have to know all these things cause Azz just looks it) but remembers that their sister is already interested in a guy named-

Clara promptly cuts them off and drags them away.

We get some glimpses of what’s inside the Valac house and see a lot of strange-looking objects. Clara’s mom explains that those are brought home by her adventurer husband and that they came from those trips.

I wonder what kind of adventures and if any of the items are magical or cursed. I mean this is the Demon World so it’s possible.

The mom finally brings out a photo album! She happily shows the boys Clara’s baby pictures. Azz notes how baby Clara looks like her own baby siblings. The resemblance isn't just with looks but with personality as well! Clara is embarrassed of course but Iruma says the photos are cute which made Clara happy.

That said, she’s still embarrassed letting Iruma see the photos and takes the album away. Her mom immediately brings out another one! In an attempt to stop her mom from embarrassing her any further, she reminds them that it’s shopping day.

Iruma, upon hearing it’s time to buy food, says that he’s hungry so perfect timing. Clara and Azz, upon hearing that Iruma is hungry decides they’d make the food for him. It seems we might get shokugeki part 2!

The idea of shopping at the forest baffled Iruma and Azz as they didn’t think there’s any supermarket here. Clara and her family explain that the so-called “supermarket” is actually what the entire forest basically is. They could get fresh produce from here and there’s so many kinds! The entire family, along with Iruma and Azz go “shopping” and are all armed with baskets to fill.

A song number! As expected from the Valac family lol. I knew there’d be one. The song explains the stuff they could get in the forest and how the place is akin to an actual supermarket. There are many types of food and some which looks like regular food could be found in the unlikeliest of places. I mean, they get their meat from trees. But it’s also dangerous in here so they have to be careful.

When shopping is done, Azz and Clara compare the stuff they got which they’d use for their food battle. Apparently, the stuff Azz got which looks good are actually terrible tasting compared to the weird ones Clara had gotten.

Clara’s mom tells them that there is a creature in the forest that is called Shabu-Shabu which is known as the “Ultimate Ingredient”. It could be found in the Cave of Rewards which is shown in the map up there. Iruma thinks it must be delicious and so Clara and Azz decided they’re gonna get it for him.

The main trio plus Clara’s brothers all go to the cave (Clara’s mom went home cause the babies are asleep) to find this creature. The brothers tell Iruma and Azz that they should stay back as they think they shouldn’t trouble the guests. Clara immediately tells them that Iruma is actually pretty strong as he’s the Hero of Walter Park after all (Azz agrees). Iruma downplays this and says everyone did their best so he’s not the only strong one. 

The brothers are amazed and asked Azz what he did at the Walter Park incident. Azz remembers what had happened with his fight alongside Sabnock and how they had to retreat and with this, he wasn’t able to give them an answer.

The Shabu-Shabu appears! It looks like a chimera composed of shark, pig and lots of vegetables - the complete meal! That's why it's called Ultimate Ingredient lol. Almost everything you’d need in the kitchen all in one large and dangerous package. It even has seaweed mustache. XD

Their prey is also a predator and so the Shabu-Shabu captures Clara’s brothers using his mustaches in order to eat them. Azz tries hitting it with his fireball but it kept deflecting it with a Chinese wok lol. With that not working, Clara uses all the ingredients she got from their shopping trip in order to distract the creature. Once it was busy eating, Azz cuts off the mustaches and frees the brothers.

Azz thinks of what to do next. He wants to defeat this creature for Iruma and it doesn’t have any hostages anymore so he’s free to try but he knows it’s too strong. He remembers the stuff Sabnock told him at the park and decided it’s best to just retreat for now. He summons his familiar to help them escape but he thinks to himself that he’d try and get stronger after this.

As they were leaving, Clara’s mom arrives and instant KOs the Shabu-Shabu for what it did to her kids. The kids are of course, surprised by this.

I’m happy they’re still acknowledging that adults are stronger than the kids. Most other shounen anime would go with the “these kids are special and they could totally win this without much proper training” but this one decided to be a bit on the realistic side. Sure the kids aren’t strong yet but they do realize this themselves one way or another and strive to be better and stronger. If they continue trying to grow then they’d end up really strong, too. It would be fun to see that development especially for the kids of the Abnormal Class who didn’t really think much of themselves before as they’d prove to others and themselves that they are capable of amazing things.

They were able to go home safely and Clara’s mom cooks while Clara watches and Azz takes notes. Oh and they did use the Shabu-Shabu as it’s shown that it’s skull is outside the house haha. Iruma was able to eat a ton of food!

The day ends and it was time for bed. They were tired after the long day so they declines Clara’s invite for a pillow fight. Clara then offered to do a sleeping ritual to them which is something she does for her siblings which always works. They had to lay their heads on her lap though which they immediately decline for obvious reasons. Clara doesn’t pick up on this and pulls Azz down to lay on her lap and he quickly falls asleep in the middle of complaining. Iruma gets pulls down, too and Clara starts singing a lullaby. Her singing sounded really good, too! Iruma falls asleep to this and Clara bids them good night.

Aren’t they cute? It looks so sweet.

The next morning, the Valac family plus Iruma and Azz went out to gather food for their breakfast. While the trio is getting vegetables, Clara’s mom takes a photo to put on another album about her daughter. It’s so cute!

Also, Azz who was weirded out by the events of the day before seems more comfortable now and is happily participating in the stuff the Valac family does.

Overall it was a peaceful time. And then we get this cliffhanger showing us that Ameri’s dad is on his way to the Valac residence for unspecified reasons.

---

That episode was really fun! Its more slice-of-life-y becoming the sort of breather episode after the previously intense battle heavy arc. It also lets us know more about Clara’s family and about Clara herself. I hope Asmodeus gets an episode like this, too.

Despite the episode being a bit more on the relaxing side, it has moments that continues Azz’s development that was happening in the previous episodes. He did take to heart the stuff Sabnock says and decides to be better. I think it’s a fun cycle that Sabnock, the self-proclaimed rival of Iruma, learned to become a better person cause of Iruma himself and taught this same lesson to Asmodeus, the self-proclaimed greatest ally of Iruma. Many shounen anime rivalries like this end up with the person learning the lesson because of their rival to be a bit bitter about it but here, they actually really appreciate it and don’t hold any grudges. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate how it’s done in other stories. All I’m saying is that seeing something different from time-to-time can be nice, too. It shakes things up a little.

I did feel a little bad when Azz couldn’t give an answer when the brothers asked him what he did during the attack on Walter Park, though. But he actually thought about it and didn’t try to lie or anything. He admitted he needed to get stronger and promises himself that he absolutely will.

I went “Aww~!” at the many heartwarming moments in this episode especially when it came to Clara’s mom. Seeing the phot album near the end made me smile so much. The scene where Clara sings to her friends is really nice and sweet, too.

The previews show that the next episode would be Ameri-centric again. This anime has so many ships revolving Iruma that it makes me wonder if this could count as a harem anime (but since that’s not exactly the overall focus of the story, it doesn’t seem like it and I only remember when the show hints that the girls like Iruma). So far Iruma has got Ameri, Clara, Kerori, and Eiko who has blatant crushes on him (with 3 out of 4 admitting it to themselves). If you’re wearing shipping goggles then there’s also Asmodeus and Kiriwo-senpai. But the one who gets the most focus when it comes to romantic development is Ameri. She gets moments and sometimes episodes that gives a spotlight to her feeling for Iruma (and there are moments where Iruma looks like he’s close to feeling the same way).

I’m wondering if this means Ameri would be the official love interest. Like, I guess it makes sense with all the development and I don’t hate it but still... it kinda makes me sad that the ships I do support for Iruma are shot down already haha. Ameri fans are so lucky! I wish Clara and Azz are given this much fighting chance, too cause so far, Iruma only thinks of them as friends.

Alright, this has gone on too long. Thanks for reading!

[filipinoizukuu]

I have the notebook in hand now I beg you for explanation

HSBFNDSJNFVN my dearest snail oh jeez 😭 i have about maybe dozens of stories about accidentally being y/n, so i'm prayin and hopin none of my IRLs see this. Some details hidden for privacy.

LONG story ahed, so be warned.

-

So. End of winter to early spring about a year before COVID-19. I was still a little snot-nosed high schooler hanging out with my friends and generally being a nuisance upon society. For those of you that have never seen me in real life, the first thing you need to know was that I was adorable, female-presenting, and had the appearance of a goody-two-shoes star student down to a T.

Now, the second thing you need to know is about my friend group and how a majority of them were guys.

I'm not talking about like, darling boy-next-doors and fellow star-student nerds. I'm talking about teenage boys. GUYS guys. Rowdy and wrestling in the hallways, getting into fights, and pulling (harmless) pranks on each other kind of guys. The gross type because I love my friends but even I can admit they're kind of gross.

One day after school, we're hanging out in someone's truck on the way to a get-together. There are about four of us just chilling, me being the only girl. Someone's phone goes off and we look to see one of us pick up his phone.

Now, this friend, let's call him S.

S picks up the phone and starts talking to it. We hear bits and pieces of the conversation and he sounds a little nervous. He puts the phone down and looks at us with a weird expression and says he needs to get home.

"What gives, S?" we ask, slouching in our seats and drinking sweet tea, like all other self-respecting teenage hooligans. "Who was that?"

S explains to us very carefully that he just got off the phone with his auntie and that she wants to have a sit-down and dinner with him. We coo and make fun of him a little and acquiesce, driving on over to his place to drop him off and embarrass him in front of his parents as friends do. We tell him as much when S lights up and looks at us like he just got the world's best idea.

(Heads up! It was not.)

"Guys! I have a better idea."

The rest of us look at each other. "Which is...?"

"What if I pretend to have a girlfriend to impress my Aunt?"

Record scratch. Pause. I suddenly remember that I am the only pretty 'ole lady in this small and stuffy truck. In an instant, all eyes on the vehicle are on me.

No, hell no. I think to myself, there's no way I'm ever going to do this. This is how every fanfic starts and I am absolutely not emotionally available enough to do this. And you know what? That's exactly what I should've said.

Instead, what came out of my mouth was this:

"Buy me a tub of ice cream and I'm all yours."

And thus, the devil's deal was sealed.

Minutes later, we're exiting the truck and looking over at S's white picket fence and perfectly maintained garden. S goes with me and I suck it up, bracing myself for the performance of my lifetime. We do not hold hands and our other friend (E) walks behind us while dying of laughter. S opens the door and we are immediately greeted by the sight of his kind-looking Auntie welcoming him with open arms.

S waltzes in.

"Auntie... this is my girlfriend, Codi."

Now, a quick word about me and how I was in real life at the point of this story. I looked the part of an adorable overachieving student, and while my grades did match up, my attitude sure as hell didn't. I'm naturally a very loud and boisterous person. I 'get into fights' and curse just as well as the rest of them. I had a reputation in a few areas for having the knack of making my underclassmen cry. The point being, I wasn't a saint.

But I was a damn good actor.

"Hi Auntie!" I greet with the peppiest and highest voice I could manage. I skip towards her and shake her hand, smiling like a cracked-up cheerleader in a Coca-Cola ad from the '80s when they made it with actual cocaine. "Your nephew S is just about the sweetest thing ever. He's so nice and smart and I'm incredibly lucky to have him!" I lie through my teeth.

In the background, I can hear E on the verge of deranged cackling while S just stands there and coughs into his fist like an emotionally constipated tuberculosis patient.

My Limit of the Day has been reached, so I shoot Auntie S a quick grin when she enthusiastically thanks me for my services and then haul my ass out their door, E hot on my heels. We leave S behind to deal with whatever shitstorm came after and I tried my best to not look back.

The moment the old truck door slams shut behind us, E abso-fucking-lutely loses it, guts busting with how much he's laughing. We high-tail it to the get-together and I make him swear up and down to not mention it for the rest of the day. It's over, at this point, the thing's been done and there's no other damage than my sanity and maybe S's relationship with his aunt. At least, that is what I thought.

Hours later, S texts me.

hey so um. remember that thing earlier?

Odd question, because how could I not?

yeah so. my aunt stayed for dinner and my parents arrived early and they asked me about school so. long story short... my whole family thinks we're dating.

Predictably, I lose my mind. I ask myself how I got into this situation and then imagine the sweet, sweet ice cream waiting for me at the end of this ride. I'm like, okay! This isn't so bad! It's actually really funny if I think about it enough. At least it's contained, right? I say my famous last words. It's not like I'll ever actually meet his family again.

So I go to bed and decidedly Pass Go, Collect $200 on any fanfics or other friendly drama that night.

The next week, I walk into school. I'm going about my normal business when I bump into my friend group. They pounce on me like a hound of dogs, making rounds of congratulations with varying faces of amusement. "What?" I go, like an oblivious idiot.

From like 15 feet down the hall, a familiar figure turns the corner and I lock eyes with him. Something clicks into place and I realize that there were actual witnesses to S's convoluted brownie-points shenanigan that I didn't consider.

"E," I say. "you are so fucking dead."

My friend group, who E had apparently told about my whole schtick as S's Rent-a-Girlfriend, breaks out into laughter and dodges as I power-walked my way to kick E's shins with the fury of a thousand 5'3 suns.

We went about the rest of our day until it hit lunch break, and of course who else to apparently wait for me in front of my class other than S himself.

S grabs me by the wrist and pulls me along throughout the campus. We're lightly conversing the whole time, me weaseling a time and date to my beloved reward tubs of ice cream as promised. Without me realizing it, we end up in front of two very familiar rooms.

Another thing, really quickly, about this whole storyline. S was not just an ordinary friend, you see. He was special, in a way, in such that his two closest friends were my crush (at the time) and his best friend who I'd recently rejected. Now those two have a whole 'nother story on their own which I'd deign to discuss publically, so you'll have to settle for those apt descriptions.

So, those two aforementioned mutual friends of ours walk out of those rooms and turn to make eye contact with us. They laugh, good-naturedly, and I sigh in relief because it seems that of all people, E had not gotten the hot gossip to them just yet.

I beckon the two of them over, being none the wiser and thinking we could take our break together when the final straw hits

S throws his arm over my shoulders and pulls me closer.

"Hey guys, Codi's my girlfriend now!"

... You can guess where the argument fits now in this timeline.

(I got my ice cream very shortly after. We're all friends now and it's all water under the bridge! This was a long story so if you've made it this far, just know that this is all but a funny memory to look back on for me and I've since moved on.)

[nexyra]

Okay so This is just a way to let out some frustration so I can put it out there and stop mulling on it bc I'm bad at this sort of stuff - Feel free to ignore it

I'm putting this under Read More; if your fav past-time is to call anyone who likes Ironwood's character or was disappointed by his V8 turn to villainy a stupid bootlicker who "should have seen the signs he was always a tyrant !!" please don't interact with this post. You're ultimately free to think what you want but honestly I see enough of that in the main tag when left alone, I don't need it on my blog it doesn't make me feel good.

Anyone else... well you can read if you're interested but you don't have to either. Feel free to respectfully disagree though, I'm not that bullheaded that I can't partake in a friendly argument =) I'll just be listing some things about Ironwood's reading by the FNDM who get old or draining as someone who doesn't like the V8-characterization they went with

Can people please stop just... copy/pasting real world issues on a world/characters that have nothing to do with them or a completely different context ?

Like,, I genuinely try to educate myself on real-world issues. I know I'm rather privileged so I try to listen and hear out people who speak out about the issues they live through day by day. I know why the "ACAB" moniker exists. I understand the problem that lies within the american police system (and likely other countries as well). I see why the army, on our blue planet, is criticized & its many failings. Etc, the list can go on...

But I'm sorry to say, Remnant isn't OUR Earth. Their Army's primary job is to fight actual evil soulless monsters, not people. The Ace Opps or Huntsmen are not an organization directly inherited from slave-hunting groups. James Ironwood isn't the US army general bombing Middle East. Clover Ebi isn't the racist cop you want in prison. So WHY are they treated as such by so many people ? Stories are not a 1-1 where you can take everything you know and just apply it to a completely different world.

Has Atlas been presented as a country that suffers from racism & classism ? Certainly. Has it be shown this way ? That's already more debatable since the only racist arguments we got were in Mantle (which is the city we're supposed to be rooting for so that's a weird choice but eh it's whatever). Are the characters, as persons, shown to evoke these issues in a way that deserve our scorn ? Not really.

Is Ironwood depicted as particularly racist for example ? I wouldn't say so seeing as one (or more considering Tortuga) of his Ace-Opps are Faunus & it seems perfectly accepted; and he hates Jacques Schnee's guts. So why does he get to shoulder all of our real-world issues as if he was responsible for them, in a context where (pre V8) his army had most likely never killed anything else than Grimm and was shown to elicit very positive reactions from most of the population (V3) ? (In direct contrast to the polarization that the US army might evoke for example.)

You can totally hate Ironwood because of the feelings he evoke, the trope he stems from or the parallels to be made. That doesn't mean however, that he IS truly guilty of every one of OUR world issues (pre-V8)

Just because classism is prevalent in Atlas society does not make Ironwood the figurehead & leader of this issue.

Is classism an issue in Atlas ? Yes. That's been made clear because of Mantle's state as well as Jacques Schnee entire existence & even Cinder's backstory. Does that mean every single one of Ironwood's decisions reeks of classism ? NO

Trust me, as someone who found Ironwood's V8 characterization not... well-executed & too much; there's nothing more annoying than being assaulted by posts about his fall going "it was so obvious !! look at -" only for them to then list reasons in a really biased way or even headcannons based on (again) irl problems. An exemple...

Reasons his turn was good that I see thrown around : "Ironwood left Mantle behind because he only wanted to save the rich. He's a selfish coward & an asshole !"

What we were actually given : "Ironwood suffers from PTSD, and faced with Salem's imminent arrival, he tried to save what he was CERTAIN to be able to protect aka the flying city and all the people on it including Mantle evacuees. There is absolutely no text backing the idea that he wanted to leave with Atlas because it's rich. We could even suppose that he would have left with the 'poor' Mantle if it was the flying city and rich people were hanging safely on the ground. There is indeed an issue with Atlas & Mantle disparity, but Ironwood isn't directly responsible for it."

Does that make his decision to leave Mantle behind a morally right one ? That's of course NOT what I'm saying. The situation is still very ambiguous. But the classism theme has NO place here.

"Ironwood leads Atlas & Mantle. As such, he inherently holds responsability for the issues plaguing it." THIS is an acceptable reading according to me. I would probably argue that even if Ironwood's the only Atlas leader we're shown; he actually only oversees the military & academy (where we haven't ever seen classism issues), so putting Atlas' classism issues on him still doesn't sound fair to me. However the idea & argument is sound.

Acknowledging only how his actions look/the tyrannical surface reading and not the reasonnable justifications or glimpses we were given (pre-V7) of Ironwood being more than his trope

I'll probably stop after this one, but the last thing that is both tiring & annoying after too much of it; is seeing people boil down all of Ironwood's character to the most basic summary, inherently written to paint him in a bad line. And then saying that everything led up to his downfall by using these watered-down versions of the show's events to justify it. Or worse (imo), saying that people who are not satisfied with his V8 characterization that THEY don't understand how good a character he is and don't really appreciate him.... All the while only ever highlighting his characters flaws. Please stop this.

"Ironwood brought an army to the peace Olympics why are you surprised he turned out this way ?" ==> Ironwood brought an army to a country where the civilians visibly have no issue with said-army, to protect a peaceful event that he KNOWS to be targeted by foes. It's definitely overzealous & his conviction that threats should be dealt with by blunt force IS one of his flaws; but pretending that he did it for fun or because he's a tyran is just as misplaced.

"Ironwood said he'd shoot Qrow if he were one of his men why are you surprised he shot Oscar ?" ==> Do I really need to flip through every joke in this show and consider it as absolute truth & proof that the character would enact these words if given the occasion; even when we're shown with certainty that they actually don't mean it ? (IW hugging Qrow to welcome him, refusing to attack Qrow when he's certain Qrow IS attacking him...)

"Ironwood has his military all over Mantle, there's a curfew, all of this is tyrannical why are you surprised he's also down for genocide" ==> Damn, it sure is criminal to have Mantle defended from the litteral monsters roaming inside & out, and to make sure with a curfew that the people are not at risk during the night. I wonder if any recent events could make us reconsider our stance on how evil a enforced curfew is. Mhmmm maybe a pandemic ? Nah I must be imagining things. For real though, at what point did Tyrian's framing/lies (IW has his soldiers all over Mantle because of politics/he's a tyran who refuses opposition) became the truth of the situation for the FDNM too ? Again Mantle's situations SUCK, and that's a problem in itself. Making up problematic reasoning for the situation is dishonest though.

To end this, I'll just make clear. I do not condone any of Ironwood's actions post-V7. I don't think he had to be the big hero of the Atlas arc. Nor that he was without faults. I merely think that he'd have been a better antagonist than villain. And that it'd have been nice to keep the ambiguity/morally greyness that surrounds him; the knowledge that he's TRYING hard to do what's best for everyone; that he has good intentions. That he cares about individuals too to a lesser degree, and that he had people who cared about him as a person.

For short... Ironwood as an antagonist with understandable issues, flaws & failures; making questionable choices but with good intentions ? Hell yeah. Ironwood as a villain, more irredeemable than Hazel, willing to kill people for NO reason or even wipe out a city ? I'm not convinced.

[pansunset]

okay time for a theatre hot take about historical musicals. im gonna split this into two posts, one about hamilton and one about six. because while the easiest way to put it is “hamilton bad six good”, there’s a bit more nuance to my opinion on them both than that.

First off, all the cast members are insanely talented, especially Leslie Odom Jr, Daveed Diggs, Christopher Jackson, Phillipa Soo, and Reneé Elise Goldberry. Even though the people they played were varying degrees of assholes, they managed to make them feel compelling. Credit where its due.

anyway, lmm is a good songwriter, the issues with hamilton come from the glorification of the historical figures portrayed. if hamilton was more critical of these individuals, it might not have been such a... yeah.

the hardest hitting songs are the songs that delve into the personal lives of the individuals rather than politics. Satisfied, Wait for It, Helpless, Burn, Dear Theodosia, It’s Quiet Uptown... these are all incredibly emotional and raw. Aaron Burr was a fascinating individual and all of his songs reflect this, honestly. IRL, Burr was actually one of the least scummy of the cast, though because he wasn’t very fond of Hamilton, he is villanized. unsexy. Leslie Odom Jr. has such a powerful voice and does an incredible job as Burr.

some of the songs about the war are also decent works. Stay Alive talks about the actual conditions the American militia put themselves through, and The World Turned Upside Down, while it’s a very patriotic (ew) pov, is still a well written victory anthem. the most interesting one is History Has It’s Eyes on You, and having Washington sing it was a great choice. it’s one of the few songs where a founding father is looked at critically for their failings, and said founding father point blank says that those who come next will judge whatever you do. Christopher Jackson is an amazing vocalist and he actually has talked about his struggle to play Washington despite Washington being a dick.

the songs about politics tend to fall flat because they oversimplify the actual views of the main character and paint everyone around him as either a villain or ally based on whether they liked Hamilton. the cabinet battles especially are pretty cringe. there are a couple exceptions that I’ll discuss in a moment, but first, a character analysis tangent.

Thomas Jefferson is... an interesting case. Irl, the man was a disaster of a person. He came down with migraines from talking to women, was generally considered a weirdo, and was the original “rich person who buys expensive versions of the ugliest clothes and acts like he’s presentable”. Yet aside from one line in It Must Be Nice, he’s portrayed as a extravagant, dramatic, yet mildly charming asshole. His costume is bright purple, he carries a fancy cane. Like, ignoring the fact that its inappropriate to ever make Thomas Jefferson seem charming, this isn’t even accurate to who he was as a person. He was less sociable than Isaac Newton for fucks sake. The only accurate thing is being a france weeb and being a worse debater than Hamilton.

Anyway, speaking of It Must Be Nice, its one of the few good political songs. It’s critical of Hamilton and it explains why the Madison and Jefferson hate his guts (though for stupid reasons). Furthermore, it also explains the political climate of the day better than other political songs in the musical. The other two good ones are, of course, The Room Where it Happens and Your Obedient Servant.

The Room Where It Happens is not only an amazing breaking point for Burr to stop waiting around, it’s the one time in the musical where the real Alexander Hamilton is best represented. (Hamilton in yellow, Burr in blue)

“Or did you know even then it doesn't matter where you put the U.S. capital?

Cause we'll have the banks, we're in the same spot

You got more than you gave

And I wanted what I got

When you got skin in the game, you stay in the game

But you don't get a win unless you play in the game

Oh, you get love for it, you get hate for it

But you get nothing if you wait for it

God help and forgive me

I wanna build something that's gonna outlive me.”

This is the real Hamilton. The facade of caring about ideals is gone, and the truth is bared; Alexander Hamilton was a smooth talker who only did things when he saw it could benefit him in some way. The man was obsessed with his legacy, and anything that got in the way of him building one was just collateral. Yes he was crass and loud, but guess what? That usually meant he was heard over everyone else. Burr only just realized that the whole “scrappy underdog” act was just that; an act

Your Obedient Servant is Burr calling out Hamilton for going back on everything he claimed to believe just to keep Burr from the nomination. Fun fact: the 1800 election was not a landslide victory. It was incredibly close. Hamilton’s endorsement was probably what kept it from being a tie.

Hamilton tries to defend himself by projecting his flaws onto Burr. “I am not the reason no one trusts you, no one knows what you believe” isn’t an accurate depiction of Burr in the slightest. Burr actually quite enjoyed politics and debates, and none of his setbacks ever kept him down for long. He cared very little for what his contemporaries thought of him though: He relied on the merits of his points. A lot of his correspondence was left to his daughter, Theodosia, and was lost on the shipwreck that killed her, so theres a lot we don’t know about him. But the musical depiction of him is not really accurate.

The problem with Hamilton isnt that it’s a musical about the founding fathers. Its that it grossly misrepresents those founding fathers. It never considers the thoughts of the slaves of any of the main characters. It never considers the Native American perspective on the Revolutionary War. It mocks John Adams, despite him being one of the few founding fathers who not only didn’t own slaves, but publicly berated his contemporaries for relying on slavery. It does a great deal of injustice to Burr. It woobifies the Schylers. For fucks sake, it forgot Benedict Arnold. Ya know, one of the most famous spies? Who almost cost America the War?

Its impact on modern political discussion and internet culture is also kind of a net negative, save for the production “The Haunting of LMM”. Its status as a fucking joke these days is earned. Though it has some good songs, and the fact that it got an official recording means good things for the future of Broadway accessibility, it’s a hot mess and is an example of how not to do a historical musical.

[randombtsprincessa]

Bankshot

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Min Yoongi x Reader (2nd POV)

Words: 3.3k

Genre: Smut

Summary: Smut drabble for basketball player Yoongi because I’m weak. There’s a plot I swear.

Warning: Basketball player Yoongi, CUTE Yoongles, Giggly and blushing mess of Goongi because yeah, mentions of drunken sex, Yoongi is somewhat subby?, handjob, riding, fingering, protected sex.

A/N: This Yoongi is true to heart irl Yoongi. Fight me.

The senior league of BH basketball was one of the most prestigious, if not slightly overrated college competitions ever, in your opinion. It hosted a number of colleges, both big and small, challenging them into a championship that usually awarded the team with one giant trophy, a photo in the college and town newspaper and then…nada – except maybe something to add to a resume.

However, aside from your own apprehensions and less than pleasant thoughts on the subject, you dutifully went to support your team to each game, shouting and booing whenever necessary. It was a matter of pride, watching the red and white uniforms score a basket and the subsequent cheering.

You also went because if you didn’t, you would never hear the end of it from a certain Min Yoona. Not that she had any personal attachment to the game; it was more of a point of correlation. Her brother, Min Yoongi was the gem of the BH Basketball team and she always went to support her brother.

So, why did you have to go?

Well, because…

The team had won. Naturally, no one was very surprised. It was bound to happen, especially since the last ball had been passed to Yoongi and he had a perfect advantage.

Bank shot…his expertise…

You had dutifully sat next to Yoona as you watched her brother run across the gleaming wood, his shoes squeaking, adjusting his stance and then he was flying up. His powerful legs bent, lifting off and his arms shot straight forward, face intense as he, his team, the audience watched the ball sail, slicing through the air, missing an opponent’s fingers and slam into the backboard, before toppling right through the basket.

The crowd erupted.

Yoongi jumped again, his fist pumping in the air while his team swarmed around him. Hard slaps that echoed through the hall landed on his back and you politely followed Yoona, standing as she squealed loudly, bouncing in her boots.

“That was amazing, wasn’t it?” She asked later, leading you over to the after party, filled with the team and the opposition, celebrating together to show they had no hard feelings.

“Yeah, sure,” You spied a few members of the team hanging about, booze – duh – in their hands and some groupies – also, duh – hanging off of them.

“I can’t wait to see Yoongi, he was brilliant.” She squealed yet again and you turned a fond look at your friend. You slung an arm around her shoulder, squeezing slightly, “Let’s go find your brother.” You said, leading the way further in.

Once surrounded by the majority of the party, it wasn’t long before you and Yoona were separated. She was friends with a few other girls who (even though the maximum of them were old time conquests) were actually nice. You were on speaking terms with a few but you preferred hanging out with the team.

“Jungkook,” you called for the youngest, the only one unattached ironically – attention; his head swiveling in your direction. Baby teeth appeared in the front of his mouth as he gave you a beam. “Hey, I didn’t think you’d come.” He said.

“Yoona,” You explained and he nodded, taking a sip of his soda.

“She must be with Yoongi. Boy wouldn’t let any guy hover a mile near her.” He said, eyeing the crowd thoughtfully.

“What about you? Why aren’t you surrounded?” You asked.

He rolled his eyes. “Not all of us are like that, Y/N.” He confided, lowering his voice conspiratorially before looking at his glass. “I’m going to get another, you want one?”

He departed at the shake of your head, leaving you alone near the curtains as you pulled out your phone, scrolling through twitter and addressing a few social media notifications.

“And what are we doing alone?”

You had to flinch, looking about to see an uncomfortably familiar cheeky grin near about you. You looked back to the front quickly.

“Where’s your sister?” You asked instead.

He hummed, looking over the room before edging closer. “She’s about. I can’t keep an eye on her all the time.”

You scoffed. “Sure,”

Yoongi moved further into your private space. “She’s with Hoseok, Y/N. I left her in good hands and came to find you.” He dipped his head to your ear. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You turned your head barely to look at him, placing a hand to push away. “You’re drunk, Min.”

He whined immediately. “Nope, haven’t touched a drink; don’t want you to give me that bullshit ‘drunk’ excuse again.”

You hissed, turning around to see if anybody heard him. “Can you be any louder?”

Yoongi gave you a glowing grin, sending your heart fluttering for a split second. “Of course I can,” he leaned in conspiratorially. “If I had my way, I’d be shouting about it.”

You stared at him critically for a long moment, long enough for one of his team members to yell over for him and with one last look at you and a ‘think about it’, he was gone.

You didn’t watch him leave, instead slumping against the wall, thinking back to how when you’d first been introduced to Min Yoongi, you’d never thought it would go like that.

Endearingly shy and adorable, Yoongi had been the only player on the team who hadn’t hit on you in the initial stages. He’d grinned genially when Yoona had introduced you two, shaking your hand, looking you over like brothers do their sister’s friends and that had been that.

Cut to the day of Yoona’s birthday party, all purple and pastels and you’d sorely been the only one who had found the sight of Yoongi is a purple cone hat hilarious instead of insulting to his manhood. You’d complimented him, squished his cheeks making him grip your wrists to pull away from your hands and he’d given you a look.

You were drunk, of course you were and maybe it was all in your head but Yoongi’s eyes had had that come hither darkness and soon enough the both of you were crashing through the doors of his bedroom, knocking more than a few things off their rightful places.

He’d pushed you onto the bed, tugged off your clothes and made you feel all sorts of way that even now had you pressing your thighs together, biting your lip and shifting gazes around. What was done in that bedroom could and should never reach his sister, just in case she blurted it out in front of their parents…or the entire college.

Of course, when you’d tried to make it out the room without disturbing a dozing Yoongi, he’d lifted his head, eyeing you concernedly. Concern that was ridiculous on his part; after all, you were just his younger sister’s friend.

So imagine your confusion and dawning awkwardness when Yoongi – slightly miffed from your stupid excuse of being too drunk to realize what you were doing with whom – had forwarded you a condition.

If he helped the team win three consecutive games, you’d agree to at least a date. You didn’t have to be a genius to know he meant a repeat of that night.

Maybe you were too drunk to realize your actions…because you agreed.

Or maybe it was the fact, that he was probably the best sex you’d ever had…

Or maybe Yoongi was cute…or whatever, you know…

Yoongi had won two games, each with the precise banks that he always used to his advantage. You had tried everything, hiding behind Yoona to publicly panicking.

Hiding behind Yoona was unsuccessful, seeing as Yoongi had casually spun a ball on his finger, whistling before yelling out a ‘Hey sis, hey there Y/N!”

You had cursed, avoiding Yoona’s questions about who you were hiding from because of course; it never occurred to her that it was Yoongi.

The next was when you’d hyperventilated and hid in the washrooms just after the second game, one where Yoongi, again lifted to the team shoulders had directly winked in your direction.

By god, he had scored another win tonight.

And he was going to collect the prize.

You stood to one side as the team filed out of the showers, steam following them along with mild chatter that usually is not associated with boys. A few glanced at you in passing, varying degrees of unbothered, mildly curious and blatant shock ranging through their faces as you sought the one you wanted.

Presently, Yoongi walked out as well, a simply white t-shirt covering his torso with jeans, a towel slung over his nape that he was rubbing his hair vigorously with.

“That’s bad for your scalp.” You noted drily, making him halt in his steps, his eyes roving over to yours.

“Y/N,” he frowned in confusion, looking about. “What are you doing here?”

You moved away from the wall towards him, “I wondered when you would collect your reward.” You crossed your arms across your chest.

“My reward,” his brow cleared, a giggle bubbling on his doll like lips. “You make me sound like some kid looking for candy.” He paused before reaching out, latching an arm around your waist and pulling you lightly to him. “Although; I do remember someone tasting better than candy,”

You bat at his chest, not pulling away however. “So, get on with it. I’m not going to wait forever.”

He let you go. “Patience, Y/N; It’s a date; I need to prepare something wow to impress you.” He pocketed his hands.

You tilted your head in acknowledgement before turning to walk away. You stopped near the corridor.

“You don’t need to go overboard to impress anyone Yoongi. Anybody would be lucky to date you.” You said, not looking at him and then vanishing from his sight.

Yoongi had seemed to have heard you. Within the week, you had a text from Yoongi, noting a date and time and a simple ‘dress casual’ for you to mull over. You had been careful to keep it from his sister, subtly asking him about what he had planned when all he did was just wink and ruffle his hair, acting too cute – a bit too cute.

So when you reached the lobby of your small apartment complex, his car already at the front, waiting for you; you were a little bit more that curious.

“I have something good planned, I promise.” He said, first thing, revving the engine and taking off, not uttering a word despite your best attempts.

“A…karaoke bar…?” You gave Yoongi your best side eye, watching his face flush crimson as he parked.

“Yep,” he replied, breezy even if the back of his neck probably burned. “I’m going to show you how it’s done. Prepare to bow down to a king.” He spread his arms in the cramped quarters of the front seat.

“I’m sure, cause’ I’ve never been to one of these.” You rolled your eyes, getting out after him.

You pressed Yoongi to the wall of your bedroom hallway, the small giggle that escaped him at the thud music to your ears; hands skimming over his torso while his lips returned to their place against yours. Your tongue slipped delicately past the seam, barely brushing inside as you drew a breathy moan from him.

This wasn’t in your plans. Bringing a man back to your place after the first date – no matter if you’ve already slept with him once – wasn’t something you partook in usually but this was a special occasion.

Yoongi’s eyes were screwed shut, a crowing sound escaping that doll like mouth as he hit a high note. The artist turned in their grave, weeping to their mothers but you smiled nonetheless, watching him with a hand covering it. You couldn’t let him see, he’d just be so smug.

Ok, so maybe Yoongi was cute.

Or maybe, you liked him as well…or whatever.

He finished the song with the grace of a Grammy winner, a flourish added to his bow while he eyed you wickedly as the scores counted.

He won – even with a singing voice that would’ve scared Lucifer – he was better than you. And that’s when you knew how the rest of your evening was about to go.

“Y/N, baby,” he whined, hands trying to grab at you as you left his mouth, your eyes drawing to where your hands were busy getting familiar with the map you’d traced once before. He allowed you to raise his shirt, warm palms against the cooler skin of his soft belly, the line of his sternum, the collarbones that were oh so sensitive and then off his head, landing in a pool at your feet.

You stepped back, lips dug in by teeth, looking at the sight Min Yoongi presented.

Newly bleached hair stood high, too pale skin painted delectable pink, soft bones visible in places. He was panting, his chest rising and falling quickly while his abs was tight in anticipation.

He was stunning and you swore you were going to make him yours.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He asked, hands fumbling with the steering of his car.

“You’re cute, that’s why,” You answered simply, watching him jerk in surprise before pouting.

“I’m not cute.”

There was a pause before you laughed. “Sure,” you stretched out a hand, a thumb swiping over his lips, parting them. “You are.”

Yoongi slowed the car, till it was sitting in a spot nearest the door – you wondered if it was subconscious. He looked at you, thumb still stroking over his skin with a vulnerability that had you cooing.

“Y/N,” he managed to breathe before you were reaching out for the key, turning off the engine and winking when he stuttered a little.

“Come with me.”

“What do you want Yoongi?” You queried, pressing against him again, everywhere. Your warmth seeped into him and he nearly buckled when you slipped out the button of his jeans.

“I…”

“Hmm?”

He trailed off completely, eyes wide and glazed. His jeans were soon slid off, leaving him to stand there in just his underwear, an almost painful looking bulge very obvious.

“Yoongi…do you want to go to the bedroom?” You prompted and all you got in reply was a whimper. You kissed the tip of his nose, intertwining your fingers to tug him to the door and through it, flinging it shut after his entry.

Your room was modest compared to his, no trophies or certificates decorating the walls and shelves but Yoongi didn’t seem to care about the room. His eyes were fixed solely on you as you led to the bed and with both hands on his shoulders, pressed him to sit.

“Y/N,” He muttered again.

“Yes, Yoongi,”

He shifted, squirming and you smoothed a hand across his head, tilting it up with a soft grip on his hair. “It hurts,” he said and you sighed at his adorable round face.

“Then let me help,” you sank down to the rug at the base of the bed, looking at the problem Yoongi was trying not to palm. “Do you want me to?”

“God yes,” Yoongi threw his head back. “I’ve wanted to do this again for so long, you have no idea.” He raised his hips, hands nearly ripping the underwear off of him. The glorious cock of Min Yoongi stood proud, curving just so at the very tip, head shiny from arousal and flushed deeply.

“Please help. Please touch me.” He whispered, prompting you to wrap a hand around him, right at the head, palm slicking in his lust as you ran over his skin, making the slide easier.

You awed at the image. Yoongi had his head still thrown back, throat working as he bit back groans, while a few slipped past, lewd and turning you on at the same time.

“Undress me, Yoongi.” You said and his eyes opened, meeting yours excitedly. He smiled when you gave a quick turn to your wrist in answer to the silent question and then his hands were on you, legs spreading further to accommodate both your movements.

Eagerly, he undid the halter tie of your top, letting it fall to bare your torso to him. He impatiently bent further to unzip the skirt, loose and blowy and you thanked your stars for the choice when it slid off easily, tossed in some unnamed corner of your room.

You returned to your task with gusto, feeling the atmosphere of the room, the tension seep into your skin, electrifying it as Yoongi wrapped a hand under your breast, flicking over your nipple. Another giggle escaped him, making you look up in confusion.

“What’s so funny?”

“This…just this; I’ve been dreaming about you naked with me ever since that night and like…wow, this is so much better when it’s sober.”

You rolled your eyes, stopping the hand job and getting to your feet. You towered over the man, his eyes once again looking up at you like you held every answer to his every question.

“Why don’t you get comfortable then? I want to ride you.” You said. Yoongi visibly gulped hands confident as he reached for the fabric of your panties, slipping them off your legs and almost reverently let them rest on the floor. He moved back till his legs were straight on the bed and you followed, crawling over to him before you reached into your nightstand for protection.

Throwing your knees on either side of him, your grabbed the headboard over his shoulders as he rolled the condom over his length and lined up with you, allowing you to sink on him, slowly, drawing out the torture for him as he let out – finally – a loud groan of pure pleasure. His eyes fell shut; mouth wide open and his body slumped, lying under you. His hands lay at your thighs, twitching once in a while as you rolled your hips.

Once again, the feeling of having Min Yoongi fill you blinded you. The stretch was perfection, the weight of him, each ridge and vein, everything was hand crafted to fit you. You cupped your own breasts, kneading them to accompany the spikes of pleasure that were supplied by the man below. You close your eyes, tweaking at the hardened buds and stroking over the sides of the sensitive flesh when you felt another hand right there.

Your labia parted, a thumb pressing hard to the nub of nerves that sparked another fire, even more intense. Your eyes flew open, to the man below you. His eyes were on you as well, watching with a hazy fire in his them as he bucked his hips to meet yours.

Slowly, taking all the incentive you could from his gaze, you began to move, your hips rising and crashing down on his.

A sheen of sweat soon collected on both of your bodies, tight coils of emotion knotting in your stomach, matching the harsh grasp he had on your hips, your ankles, wrists, wherever he managed to latch on you to anchor his own pleasure.

You didn’t know how long you continued your love making, exploding once on top of him, again with him next to you and another with his fingers buried deep inside your battered core, as his own bliss made him waddle to the bathroom to dispose of the evidence.

He returned quickly, joining you under the thick duvet with both arms wrapped around you.

“That was some date.” He sighed finally when the slam of a door outside made you both jump, the glow of intimacy jarred.

You waited as footsteps moved about, Yoongi pressed tight to your back and then…

“Y/N, are you in? Whose clothes…”

It was Yoona!

You turned to give Yoongi a shocked stare, his own blinking in contemplation as to how to handle the situation until it was too late because Yoona was quick to scream.

“OH MY GOD YOONGI!”

[legionofpotatoes]

Sci-fi anon here. Appreciate you taking the time to answer my question with such detail! I think you were right about the aesthetic, and the world building structure, but with DA specifically, I think you hit the nail on the head with the idea of the games not being a continuous story about the same character as they were in ME, creating a disconnect in my mind (though Assassin's Creed is one of my fave series, so that alone couldn't be it). I guess I've always thought of DA as just ME but fantasy, which led to me making unfair comparisons between the two.

If you don't mind talking about it more, what aspects about DA do you enjoy more than ME? World building, aesthetic, story, systems?

Hey again anon., no problem.

Honestly DA being ME in fantasy isn’t too unfair, and it def works vice-versa as well, with them being made by the same company and all. The fundamental ways those two series approach worldbuilding, gameplay pillar nesting, and char progression are very, very, very similar. I mean I went to DA Origins after completing the whole ME trilogy, and a few days with was what it took for everything to click and feel familiar. And double that for II.

As for saying what aspects of DA I personally prefer, well, I prefer Mass Effect, so :D I may not be the best to make those arguments. ME stands on a different level for me due to some parts nostalgia and some parts structure; lot of it has to do with the long-form Shepard story across three games, and the general Trekkie fantasy of a mobile mini-hub (read: ship) with all your friends taking you across the universe in search of adventures. That trumps the medieval stronghold skirmishes for me, even though functionally DA games end up doing the same exact thing. But like there’s no accounting for taste, and the texture of it matters to me.

Not what you asked, sorry. World building is just as great in DA, I genuinely think so. Like I said, they have a rich lore that is constructed with the specific aim for the player character to see the pointed moral quandaries peppered within and ultimately engage with them through character-driven story beats. And again on that, your mileage may vary on the quality of writing and authorial intent on said story beats. 

The aesthetic is incredibly well executed, especially I’d say with Inquisition, which paid a lot of attention to in-game art and visual identity of various races, architecture, and other cultural oddities like clothing or customs. On a technical level that really stood out compared to Mass Effect’s alien stuff, but again it was a newer game with a much larger scale than the OT.

I mentioned with the combat that it could be more fun in DA due to its classically structured melee and ranged RPG systems leveraging party makeup and power sets and tactical pause and what have you. That’s true, but the mechanics differ drastically from game to game; the combat framework of Origins may feel outdated much the same way ME1 does compared to the refined locomotion and gunplay of 3, but the moment you go to DAII it’s all immediately faster, more fluid and responsive, and sort-of fat trimmed (this also kinda leads into a ME2 analogy I see). To me Inquisition feels like a perfect marriage of the two - the tactical pause is back, powers have better synergy, but it’s totally playable gung-ho without too much chess pondering.

The story is a Big Topic. There is no unifying immediate overarching threat like the Reapers in DA, and the games don’t all take place within the span of 2 years, but there are similar unexplainable slower-moving world-ending events under threat of coming to pass due to various unstable political meddling or supervillain fuckery. And it always comes down to you and your friendship making skills to assemble the fantasy avengers and make tough choices and pull through. Interesting to note here though, that compared to its bookend games, the initial stakes in DAII are much much lower - it is a game about a refugee trying to survive in an oppressive city, and it pretty much squeezes an incredible amount of juice out of that premise. And yet it still ties intrinsically into the overarching state of the continent and franchise characters.

Similar to Mass Effect’s several trilogy-spanning crucial satellite dilemmas like the Genophage or the Geth, Dragon Age has its own few mega-parables shadowing the story and threading through the series, like the ongoing oppression of Mages who hold unpredictable power by the police force of knights who exist to control them. Bioware tries to do a lot with this premise across the games, pushing some uncomfortable IRL metaphors with varying degrees of success. So that part of the Bioware TouchTM is undoubtedly here if you enjoy it, and again, ties into my earlier argument about how most of the (even deep-seated) worldbuilding that gets introduced will eventually become something you engage with critically throughout the games, and that it’s not all salad dressing and Tolkienesque lore with no visible function - something that may understandably be a frightening prospect.

But again, to bring it all back. I’m more of a Mass Effect guy, but I think Dragon Age is great. If you engage with its story ethos critically it has BIG ole holes, and mechanically Origins is probably too dated to even estimate correctly, but that’s all par for the course with Bioware and nothing you’re looking to avoid I’d reckon. I can’t tell you there’s stuff in DA I enjoy more than in ME, but it’s definitely more of the same-ish stuff in an extremely well put-together package that is diametrically opposite in its aesthetic presentation, and that to me is an extremely alluring, interesting, and compelling deal, if not an outright great one.

[dastardlydandelion]

respice finem

ao3 link

content warnings: referenced violence and abuse

part one link

obligatory irl inspo link

Max keeps pacing up and down the diameter of the room. She stretches her hands over her head and Billy thinks her protective hovering is starting to bug the nurses. They both stayed overnight but Billy’s at least taken a couple breaks. He got himself some Doritos from the vending machine. Borrowed and smoked a cigarette even though he virtually quit a couple years back. Took a short drive to a Kmart up the road and bought Max a change of clothes, supposing he wouldn’t able to get her anything of her own if her home was wrapped in caution tape.

“You wanna go down to the cafeteria, maybe? Get something to eat?”

“Not hungry.”

“Okay…did you know they have a gift shop? Wanna go check it out?”

“No.”

“Do you—“

“I’m not leaving, Billy.” Max’s eyes glitter in a stubborn glower.

“Oh, but maybe you should, sweetheart,” Susan says softly. “You’re getting restless.”

“I’m fine.”

“You should get out of this stuffy room. Go for a stroll, stretch your legs. I would if I could.”

Pure heartbreak flashes across Max’s face and Billy feels his own lurch.

“Oh dear, bad joke.” Susan frowns and flaps her hand, the tube connecting it to the IV pouch swaying gently in the air. “That was in poor taste, I apologize. But I do think you need to get some fresh air, Max. I’ll be fine.”

Max pauses. Her hands come together and she taps her thumbs together as she mulls it over.

“I’d feel better if you stayed here.” Max shifts her gaze to Billy.

“Didn’t plan on going anywhere,” he says honestly. Max is obviously wired and getting more antsy by the minute but Billy is the opposite. He’s wiped out after driving for several hours straight and aching from head to toe after scrapping with his dad.

“…alright,” Max relents after a very long moment. “I’ll be back in fifteen.”

She gently swipes the back of her hand over her mother’s cheek. Susan blinks contentedly and hums in approval as Max trudges off to the door. She leaves. Susan's gaze flickers to Billy and then down. She frowns at the guardrail of the bed and uncertainly pushes at it with her palm.

“What’re you doing, Sue?”

“I don’t need this. I’m not going to roll out of bed.” She continues pushing at the guardrail but her efforts are weak and uncoordinated. Even if she had more power and precision behind her pushes, Billy’s pretty sure these things aren’t designed to be collapsed from the patient’s position.  

“It’s fine, just leave it alone.”

“No,” she refuses, eyes narrowing. “It’s in my way, Billy. It’s separating us.”

Something knocks loose inside his chest. Billy hasn’t seen her in three months. He hadn’t been particularly sure he’d ever see her again.

“Okay, okay, I’ll give it a go. Here.” He sighs out and messes with the thing and after a couple tries and a few silent shrieks from his very sore shoulders, he finally figures out how to get the damn rail lowered, adjusting it accordingly.

“Thank you so much,” Susan breathes. “Now it's easier to do this.”

She stretches out her slender fingers and rests her hand upon his knee. She gives it a couple dulcet pats. Her pinky pokes inside the fraying tear in the denim, soft pad of her fingertip cool against his skin. Billy swallows, wonders how much he is allowed to touch. She wouldn’t be this affectionate with him if she knew.

“It’s my fault Neil found you and Max,” Billy admits, heart pumping guilt like sludge in his veins. “It’s my fault he almost killed you.”

“What?” Susan stares at with owlish eyes.

“I wanted to send Max a gift in the mail,” Billy explains, speaking slowly and plainly. “I hid it under my bed. My dad saw it when he raided my room looking for some shit he thought I stole from him. That’s how he got your address. I tried to stop him, Susan. But I couldn’t…I’m sorry.”

“Oh, Billy.” Susan signs, rubbing her lips together. Her hand travels from his knee to his wrist and she gently pushes up his jacket cuff. Billy doesn’t stop her. He watches her eyes darken at the sight of the bruises.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“You said it was a gift for Max?”

“Yeah…new skateboard.”

“I wish you would’ve just driven over to drop it off. Because if you came over, you would’ve seen how nicely we decorated our little duplex…you could’ve seen my darling little gnomes sipping tea and these delightfully clever novelty magnets Max found for the refrigerator. You could’ve sat on our couch and while it’s a bit worn— we got it secondhand —it’s very comfy. Maybe if you saw how nice everything was and sat in our cushy, comfy couch, you wouldn’t have wanted to leave.”

Billy gapes at her, noncomprehending. He just confessed he’s the reason she almost got killed. That it's his fault his dad literally broke into her home to beat her to death with a wrench. And Susan doesn’t seem angry at all. He knows she's on the good shit, but still. She's not out of it. She heard what he said. Ahd she is frowning but it’s a more fretful expression than anything, dimple between her eyebrows, forehead crinkled in concern.

“I waited for you, Billy.”

Oh.

“We talked about this before you left, Susan,” Billy gently reminds her. “I told you why I chose to stay. Remember?”

“You wanted to protect us,” she murmurs, thumb chary as she rolls it over his bruised wrist. “Me and Max.”

Billy solemnly nods his head.

“Mm…” Susan’s eyes rove the room and then settle back on him as her lips curl into a doleful smile. “How well do you suppose that turned out?”

Billy’s eyes travel along the chest tube to the rectangular drainage unit on the floor, the printed numbers and increments he doesn’t really understand. Glances to her legs elevated on the pillows. The right one was more badly broken. Not badly enough to require surgery, but still too swollen for a hard cast. The swelling in her left went down and Susan got fitted for a cast just a couple hours ago. The dark purple color she picked matches the massive bruise that currently blooms across most of Billy’s back.

“I’m sorry.” He bows again even though it hurts, it hurts, he’s goddamn sore but not as sore as he is sorry. Billy feels the knot tremble in his throat and he is possibly more sorry than he’s ever been anything else in his life. There is a beast in his belly with a thousand guilty eyes and shame in every one of its silent, miserable cries.

“No, no, raise your head. Don’t— it’s not your fault, Billy.” He feels Susan’s hand sweep the fringe from his face in a few quick motions, delicate and deft. “Won’t you look at me?”

Warily, he glances up. Susan’s eyes are misting up as he feels his own stinging again. Shit. Max is going to kill him if he makes her mother cry.

“I am the one who needs to apologize," Susan declares. "For the life of me, I couldn’t convince you to come with us. I failed you.”

“What?” Billy scoffs in disbelief. “No, that’s not on you. I’m stubborn, I’m—“

“I am the adult,” Susan cuts him off, voice sharp even as her hand rests against his cheek lamb gentle. “The real adult, you're barely twenty. You did what you thought was best but I’m older and I knew better, and I couldn’t make you see it. I let you stay, I left you in the lion’s den.”

Billy doesn't really see it that way. He doesn't feel like a child, doesn't want to be treated as one. And he's no longer Neil's legally, albeit he's been nowhere near financially independent. Couldn't work for a long time after that gruesome nightmare turned reality that was the worst fucking Fourth of July ever. Had to fork over all his paychecks to Neil even after he could go back to work— supposedly put toward residual medical bills insurance didn't cover, but hell if Billy truly trusted any excuse Neil could and would hold over his head. In any case, that's not entirely why he stayed with Neil. And staying with Neil wasn't even exactly the same thing as not going with Susan and Max, but abandonment wasn't a factor in the equation at all. He doesn't feel that way, how could Susan think that?

“You left me the address,” Billy pointedly reminds her and he does not let himself crane his face into her touch even though it’s cool and soft and he feels his stomach loosen with this, this featherlight clemency so careful and sweet.

Because of course he knows why he was left the address and it was never so he could mail packages.

“I should’ve grabbed you and dragged you to the car.” Susan doesn’t sound like she’s kidding.

“You could’ve,” Billy breathes and he’s not kidding either. “You’ve seen me get grabbed, Susan. I don’t fight it. Not in the house. Never did…not until he found that address.”

Susan’s thumb brushes away the tear that spills over, unbidden. Billy reaches out and does the same for hers.

“I’m not mad,” he promises in earnest.

“Neither am I. In fact, I’m…” Susan trails off, exhaling heavily as she draws her hand back from his cheek. “I don’t know, Billy. He was going to kill me. Maybe both of us and I could never say that I’m glad that happened because I am not. I am not glad Max had to see and do what she saw and did. I am not glad that at present, I cannot even stand without assistance. But…you’re here. You’re here because of what happened. Because of what happened, Neil…I never have to worry about Neil again. I never, ever have to look over my shoulder worrying about when he will find me because he already did.”

“That’s one way of looking on the bright side, I guess,” Billy mutters, voice hollow.

“Your father has done all the harm he will ever be able to do, to any of us, and now we’re together again. Isn’t there something to be said for that, Billy?”

He swallows thickly, nodding his head as he places his hand on the bed. Susan’s fingers slide over his and that’s how Max finds them when she returns.

“There you are,” Susan welcomes, smiling warmly. “That was a bit longer than fifteen minutes.”

Max freezes. “Did you need me?”

“No, honey, I’m fine. We’re fine. I’m just happy that you took a good break.”

Max visibly relaxes and shuffles over, lightly squeezing her mother’s upper arm. “I saw Neil.”

Billy exchanges a look of shock with Susan.

“Yeah, he had a new guard today and we talked for a couple minutes. Cool lady with a cool name, like some Greek Goddess name. She gave me a dollar for the vending machine and let me in his room.”

“Are you okay?” Susan frowns, worry crossing her features as her lashes flutter.

“Yeah, Mom. Neil doesn’t scare me anymore.” Max leans in and presses another kiss to the crown of her Susan’s head. Billy’s never seen her more affectionate than this, so doting and tender with her injured mother. “It was actually good. To see Neil like that…to know I did that. It confirms it, I guess? I mean not that I didn’t know, because obviously I know I didn't dream or hallucinate what happened, but…”

“Seeing is believing, perhaps?” Susan tilts her head, mussy red tresses shifting over the pillowcase.

“Yeah, like that. Seeing is believing, I guess. I saw the neck brace and the handcuffs and now I’m…well I’m not gonna turn into a badger every time you want me to take a break.” Max’s mouth quirks, expression sobering when she glances to Billy. “Are you gonna see him?”

“I don’t know,” Billy answers. He keeps thinking about it.

Maybe he’d feel better like Max does. Maybe he’d feel worse. He thinks he’d hate himself if he wound up having some scrap of sympathy. He thinks maybe he’d rip the pillow out from under his father’s head and smother the rest of the life out of him. He thinks he would have the opportunity to say everything he’s ever wanted to say but worries that he would not have the words, worries they may dissolve on his tongue with that stern, steely stare that’s shackled him all his life.

“Not yet,” Billy decides at least.

“You look weird,” Max bluntly blurts, scrunching her nose.

“That’s not nice,” Susan protests in mild reproach.

“It’s not mean,” Max counters, shrugs a shoulder as she looks back to Billy. “You okay? Is it hard being in a hospital again?”

Susan too raises a brow.

Billy reflexively lifts a hand to his chest, curls his jacket in his fist until the button presses uncomfortably into his palm. Few things in his life had been more challenging than his hospital stay and it wasn’t even being in pain or sick or weak, then weaker, then stronger and still in pain— it was sterility. It was being cooped up. It was no privacy whatsoever and never the right noises. It was everything being terrible except Max and Susan even if Max and Susan being around constantly was sometimes terrible but never, ever because they were terrible because they genuinely weren’t and— and now they’re all here again with some of the details rearranged.

Billy realizes that’s the hardest part, maybe, that the details are rearranged. Discovers that maybe it is worse to see someone you care about hurt than hurt yourself. He cannot speak but maybe they know, maybe they can read it in his face because then Susan’s reaching up again, brushing gentle fingertips over his scabbed up knuckles until he relaxes the death grip on the jacket balled into his fist.

“If you decide you want to see Neil, I’ll walk you to the door,” Max offers.

“Thanks,” he manages, terse but sincere.

“And if you want to see him, Mom, I’ll—“

“I don’t,” Susan breaks in, vehement and almost nervous, hand retracting from Billy’s and clasping fast to the opposite above her chest, IV tube swinging again. “I don’t, Max, I really, really don’t.”

“Okay,” Max promises her immediately, gingerly draping an arm around her in a reassuring embrace. The closest to a hug she can manage. “You don’t have to. You never, ever have to see him again, Mom. If you don't want to, you don't have to and that's that. I won't let anyone make you.”

Susan’s eyes dart back and forth as she leans into Max as much as she can, releasing a shaky exhale. Billy’s taken his breaks. They finally got Max to take her break. He thinks maybe Susan needs a break too.

“You wanna see what’s on tv, Sue?” he suggests.

‘No news,’ Max mouths at him above her head. Billy blinks knowingly.

“Sure,” Susan agrees, relaxing and shifting a bit as Max lowers her arm. “Um...maybe the animal channel?”

“Yeah, okay. Let’s see what nature is up to.”

[storiesforallfandoms]

feeling used ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 2105

request?: yes!

@kellysimagines : “I was wondering if you could write a imagine where the reader is a hairdresser and she is best friends with Rook and he introduces her to mgk and they become really close and after a couple of dates they started dating and she goes with him too premieres and shows and stuff and he gives her presents and stuff and people in the media think she is using him for the fame and money and he is on tour and he somehow believes it and we break up and one day he finds out his ex spread the rumor and he comes to my salon and he apoligizes and he proposes there?”

description: when rumors start about the relationship between a super successful rapper and a normal hairdresser, they start to get to colson’s head, and he makes the worst decision

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing

the ex in question i’ll be using is chantel, but i just want everyone to know that i don’t have anything against chantel irl. i don’t even really know her all that well XD

Dating someone famous was as both amazing and tiring at the same time, and you wouldn’t change that for the world.

You were just a normal hair dresser, nothing to extravagant, just a hair dresser in a local salon in downtown LA. Sometimes famous people came in, but the place wasn’t anything that anyone famous was raving about. But you liked it that way, you preferred the smallness of the salon, and of your life. The only big, show business thing in your life was that your best friend was a drummer for some famous rapper that you hadn’t really heard of until your friend started touring with him. And that’s when your life truly got crazy.

Rook introduced you to Colson and it was like love at first sight. You both clicked right away, and after a few dates you decided to make it official. You started joining Colson on red carpets for his movies and to parties for his album releases. He bought you anything and everything you could ever want, and had you spoiled within months of being together. Not that any of that mattered. You were just happy to be with him.

Of course, with a relationship with a famous celebrity came hate. The hate started just a month after your relationship, and at first it was the usual “you don’t deserve to be with him”, “you’re a skank”, “lmao he deserves better” type comments, which were easy to ignore. But within the past month or so, things escalated. People were claiming that you had been using Colson to get publicity. Someone had told the press that ever since you and Colson had started dating, you started getting lots of clients, especially famous ones, and that once you were big enough you were going to dump him.

That couldn't be more wrong. Your clientele stayed the same after you started dating Colson. You never once mentioned that you were a hairdresser or for where in any interviews, not that you really got involved in many of Colson’s interviews anyways. The hate didn’t bug you, however. You were so in love with Colson that you could care less what anyone else thought about you.

You were finishing up a clients hair one day when one of your colleague’s clients stopped to look at you.

“Are you (Y/N)?” she asked. “MGK’s girlfriend?”

“I am,” you said with a smile.

She glared at you and hissed, “Attention whore!” before turning and walking out of the salon. You rolled your eyes. That wasn’t an uncommon occurrence either.

“What was that about?” your client asked. She was a regular, a nice lady in her mid 40s that came in at least once a month to get her hair re-dyed. She was probably one of your favourite clients.

“Just some fangirl of my boyfriend who believes I’m using him for attention,” you told her. “It’s nothing new, I’ve been over it for so long.”

“You really don’t deserve that. You’re such a nice girl!” she told you. You smiled gratefully at her.

“Hey, (Y/N),” called the receptionist of the salon. “Call for you, says it’s your boyfriend.”

“Tell him to give me a minute, I’m just finishing with a client.”

When you finished up and sent your client along her merry way, you almost skipped with happiness over to the phone and answered with a cheery, “Hey baby!”

There was a brief pause. Confused, you repeated, “Colson? You still there?”

“Hey (Y/N),” came his familiar voice. You wanted to smile, talking to Colson always made you smile, but he didn’t sound very happy. You furrowed your brow in worry.

“Are you okay, babe?” you asked him.

“We need to talk.”

The worst four words to hear from anyone. The look on your face must’ve alerted your receptionist that something was wrong as she got up from her chair and offered it to you, saying she was going to “check on something”.

You sat down on the chair. “What’s wrong? Is everything alright?”

“I...I don’t think we should continue our relationship.”

And just like that, your heart ripped in two. You tried not to start crying, since the salon was currently filled with your coworkers and their clients. You took deep breaths to stop yourself from crying.

“Why?” you asked him. “Colson, what’s wrong?”

Colson sighed. “I just...I don’t like this feeling that you’re using me, (Y/N).”

Your eyes widened then. “What? Colson, don’t tell me you believe those rumours. You know I’m not using you for fame! I haven’t gained anything from our relationship other than just getting to be with you. You can even ask my coworkers if you want, I haven’t gotten any new clients or any new publicity.”

“It just doesn’t feel like a relationship,” Colson continued. “We don’t even talk all that much since I’ve been on tour, and I’m always buying you things - “

“You insist on buying me things!” you cut him off. “And I work all day. I text you before work, I text you on my breaks, and we facetime every night. I can’t talk to you all day when we’re both busy, Colson.”

He was silent before simply saying, “Goodbye (Y/N).”

You held the phone to your ear listening to the dial tone for a moment longer. You couldn’t believe that Colson actually believed the rumors! How could he believe you were using him? After all the amazing times you spent together the past year, all the private moments, the kisses, the “I love you”s that you genuinely meant. And he really chose to believe some internet trolls over his own girlfriend.

One of you coworkers noticed your blank stare and come over to ask if you were okay. You merely shook your head. She took the phone from your ear and placed it back on the desk before calling for the receptionist.

“Cancel any other appointments (Y/N) has for today,” she told her. “Put them in any openings she has for the next few days.”

“I can’t just cancel for no reason,” you said, although you felt numb and you knew working like this was a bad idea.

“I don’t know what just happened on the phone but I know it’s hindering your ability to work,” you coworker said. “Go home, get some sleep, cry if you have to. If you want, when I’m off, I’ll grab some wine and come over and we can drink and talk shit.”

You smiled gratefully and stood from the chair. You felt like you were going to pass out, but you powered through it and made it to your car. The minute the door closed, you started crying.

~~~~~~

Weeks came and passed and you hadn’t heard a single word from Colson. But you were seeing plenty about him online. It was as if the day after you broke up he was being seen partying with girls, getting flirty. One tabloid even reported that two days after your breakup he was spotted leaving a party with some girl. You came to the conclusion that this was the real reason he had broken up with you, which hurt even more because it felt like he didn’t even care about you. That the whole year you two had spent together and he really threw it away and started hooking up with other girls in a matter of days.

You decided to throw yourself into your work. You packed your days with as many clients as you could, and when you didn’t have clients you were practising new hairstyles on the mannequins. It kept you busy enough that you didn't think about Colson.

Unfortunately, the breakup also resulted in your friendship with Rook being damaged. You two barely spoke, and when you did it was very obviously awkward. Rook never called or facetimed you like he used to, mainly because he spent basically every moment he was on tour with Colson, and some days you could barely bring yourself to text him because it just reminded you too much of the relationship you had just lost.

As the days turned into weeks, it seemed like getting over Colson was getting easier. You were starting to push every bit of sadness you had out of your mind, and you were doing pretty good at blocking out the memories of you past year together. You were recovering just fine, until the bell over the door at the salon rang one day and a familiar tall man stood there.

You stared at him for a long time as he just stared back, his blue eyes filled with sadness. You rolled your eyes and turned away.

“Do you have an appointment?” the receptionist asked. All your coworkers knew what Colson had done to you, and they were equally as angry at him. In fact, the girls were glaring at him in a way that you were sure he was going to die on the spot.

“No, but I’d like to talk to (Y/N) for a minute,” he said.

“She’s busy,” the receptionist responded. “Booked up solid for about a week. Want to make an appointment for next Friday?”

Colson shook his head and walked right past her. She called after him but he ignored her and walked right up to you. You ignored him for a moment, working on finishing up your clients hair, before turning to glare at him. “What do you want?”

“I want to talk,” he responded.

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, you talked quite enough when you accused me of using you. I’m busy, go away.”

He grabbed your arm, almost causing you to cut a wrong spot on your client’s hair. “What the fuck?!”

“I made a mistake,” he told you. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have listened to any of those rumors. I know you love me, I know what we had was real, I know what you were feeling was real. I was such a damn idiot, please I’m so sorry.”

Angry tears were starting to form in your eyes. You turned fully to face him. “Oh yeah, you seemed really fucking sorry when you were out partying with all those girls, when you were flirting them up, when you went home with one of them! What’s wrong? Did your new plaything dump you?”

Everyone was staring at your both, but no one was making any moves to stop the fighting. They were all too wrapped up watching what was happening to even think about breaking it up.

“No!” Colson snapped. “I never went home with any of those girls, I never even flirted with any of them! I partied to try and get you off my mind, but it never worked. You have to believe me (Y/N), all this time I’ve been thinking about you. I wanted to call or something but, being the idiot I am, I thought you had been using me. I found out recently that it was Chantel that started those rumours. Apparently she told some tabloid that she had witnessed us together in private, that you were very cold and that you obviously didn’t want me. She was trying to break us up thinking I’d go back to her. When I didn’t, she told me everything.”

He took your hands in his. “Baby, I’m really so sorry. I know sorry isn’t enough, I know I hurt you. I know I fucked up so bad. But I can’t be without you. You’re the love of my life, you complete me, as fucking corny as that is. I need you in my life.”

Suddenly he was lowering to one knee. You covered your mouth in shock as he took a ring from his pocket and held it up to you. “You have every right to say no, but I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I want to be able to call you my wife, to start our own family together, to just be happy together in general. (Y/N), will you marry me?”

Before the question was completely out of his mouth, you exclaimed, “Yes! Oh my god, yes!”

You had forgotten that you in the middle of a busy hair salon until your coworkers and their clients cheered with excitement as Colson stood and took you in his arms, placing a loving kiss on your lips. Not that you cared all that much. For the first time in weeks, you felt whole again, and you were beyond happy to be able to spend the rest of your life with Colson.

[chessiesystem]

StEx Appreciation Month, Day 31: Nitpicks

SO, I have a LOT of nitpicks about literally every aspect of the show, like I could go on and on, but then this post would be the embodiment of this gif:

So for today I’m just going to focus on costume nitpicks! Like with everything in the show I have an ideal version of everyone’s costume/wig/makeup, so today I’ll just go over my main nitpicks with the various costumes and post my favorite versions!

Obligatory JapanAus picture because those tours overall had the BEST costume aesthetics.

Let’s get started:

(Also just to go ahead and get this out of the way, this post is almost completely ignoring the 2018 redesigns, like. Those don’t live in my head. I’ll just be focusing on the Broadway/Bochum/tour designs.)

Rusty:

Okay so with Rusty my main nitpick is!!! That stupid empty black space that’s above his chest plate in SO many of the costumes!! Like WHY is that there?! Here’s a good picture of it:

It drives me absolutely insane aljsldf. Luckily Bochum eventually corrected this but that it was ever there drives me up a wall.

Another nitpick is his headband… I can tolerate it when it’s paired with the hat, but I can’t stand it on its own, it just looks ugly to me. And speaking of his hat, I love most versions of it, EXCEPT for the New Starlight Express one where it was styled after a baseball cap. That bothers me on a level I don’t even fully understand alsjflds.

Anyway, I think overall my favorite version of Rusty’s costume is the 2018 version… I think the silhouette looks strange, especially from the side, like kind of too baggy? But overall it’s really cute, I love the colors and the new chest plate design, and the HAT. Also really like the new makeup!! It was looking rough for a minute lmao.

This is Peak Performance (not the Pearl…definitely not the Pearl):

Pearl:

Being as I’m in love with most of Pearl’s costumes I actually don’t have a ton of nitpicks. I think my main one is that I’m not a fan of the salmon/gold tones that were sometimes used for the bodice. For example:

I think moreso than the costumes I’m critical of Pearl’s wigs. I HATE when she has straight wigs… the only exception to this rule is Stephanie Lawrence’s and Nikki Belsher’s because those wigs were also big and fluffy. But that lanky thing Bochum had in the early 2000s? Terrible. Pearl should have big, dramatic curls. Also, this should go without saying but her hair should be PINK. Blonde Pearl actually gives me acid reflux.

Also I don’t think much attention is given to her headpiece, but I really love when they’re big and princess-y. Like, this headpiece with these earrings? I love:

As far as a favorite Pearl costume, that’s really hard because I love so many of them, but I’ll say this one. I think it’s a nice balance of pink and white:

Greaseball:

I don’t have a ton of nitpicks about Greaseball’s costume… like, it fucks pretty hard? I moreso have beef with his makeup. NONE of these men know how to blend and it looks terrible. I get that it might be a stage makeup thing that looks better under stage lights but I still don’t even really buy that because every other character blends?? Also, I don’t like how the makeup is just contouring… I get that it’s to make the actors look more masculine, which does suit Greaseball’s character, but PLEASE give that diesel some character makeup!!

I really stan the Broadway makeup for this reason. Look at this Jareth-looking bitch, he looks amazing! And it’s just SO cool:

Idk even this London makeup is pretty okay imo… anything to make him more visually interesting 😭:

Dinah:

My main gripe with Dinah’s costume will forever and always be the apron lmao. I’m very, very picky about it because it’s SO easy to make look tacky as hell. The 2018 apron is the ugliest its ever been, I’m sorry:

LIKE WHY IS IT SO BIG AND LONG. Also the silver strap around her chest is WAY too high now. I swear they tried to make the 2018 coaches more modest in the ugliest ways possible. But anyway.

I prefer for the apron to only be beneath the belt, but if it also has to be above the belt I can tolerate it if its small, like the Broadway design or the earlier Bochum designs. I also prefer when her leggings are on the more silver/metallic side than just straight up blue. Broadway and Japan-Australia had the right idea with how metallic they made everyone look.

As far as Bochum goes, I feel like the costume’s peak was from like 1997 to 2007:

PERSONALLY, though, my ideal Dinah costume would be Debbie Wake’s from the Japan tours. The color, the leggings, the wig, it’s all so… Peak! I also really love how the top of her skirt is divided into sections?? It’s really cute. The only thing I’d change is I’d remove the part of the apron that reaches above the belt and adjust the color of her wig. But otherwise I love this one so much 🥺🥺🥺:

Electra:

I have a lot of very disjointed thoughts on Electra’s costume, but bottom line is I’m rarely content with it… but my MAIN nitpick is definitely the color scheme. I know that it’s intended to be blue/red/silver but instead it often looks blue/red/white to me and I just CANNOT dissociate that from the American flag/overzealous patriotism alsjdlf, it kind of gives me heartburn. I’ve seen some fan redesigns of the costume that incorporate a blue/red/gold color scheme instead and I think that could REALLY fuck, though I don’t know how it’d translate to the stage/irl. Or just?? Design his palette after the bi flag colors??

Another nitpick is how boxy and bulky his chest box often is. I feel like I can’t criticize this TOO harshly because, in my opinion, this musical should be FIRMLY 80s, and that’s probably what counted as “futuristic” in the 80s, but it’s just a personal preference of mine that I wish his chest piece was more slender and streamlined. I think it’d make the silhouette better and just?? Look better??

I also don’t like most of the mohawk wigs… they just look… VERY cheap and fake to me most of the time. I prefer the looser/wilder wigs because they look softer and more natural.

ANYWAY I’ve found that the costume that actually sates most of these complaints for me is the Japan-Australia costume. The palette actually looks blue, red, and SILVER to me, and the body suit is just?? Sooo shiny and metallic and sparkly?? It’s so pretty. The wig is a perfect balance of the looser/wilder London wigs and the early mohawk wigs, and the MAKEUP is so good, it’s the only time I’ve seen a silvery/metallic base on Electra work and NOT whitewash the fuck out of the actor. Not to mention the base in JapanAus matched the body suit REALLY well and aaaah idk I could wax poetic about this costume all night aljsfld it’s really good and I appreciate it for being the, like, one (1) Electra costume I vibe with 😭.

Again, I’d streamline the chest box if I could but overall? This is peak performance:

CB:

Off the bat I’ll say I hate how big his shoulder boxes have gotten over the years. Like they are just ridiculously massive, it looks kind of awkward when the actors can’t even rest their arms by their sides due to it. They look like little kids wearing arm floats. Also not a fan of how much lower the neckline has gotten, and how much smaller the bandana has gotten?? His chest and neck are SO exposed now when they use to be completely covered and it irks the hell out of me.

Funnily, this one picture pretty clearly displays all three of these nitpicks:

Compare this to back when the neckline was higher/the bandana larger, he’s completely covered. He also isn’t fucking DROWNING in his shoulder boxes:

Also not a fan of the hair piece Bochum has used in recent years. Like it was just so much cuter when the actors used their real hair :^//. And I just Do Not Vibe with how straight and neat the hair piece is, CB has wild, curly hair and I’ll die on that hill.

ALSO, and this is more specific to just one actor, but I kind of hate Dan Ellison’s makeup aljsldf. Like it’s well done but it just has far too much going on. All what CB needs done is his cheeks, his eyes, and his lips— all that extra that Dan does on his jawline and with the laugh lines around his mouth and eyes is just… too much. And it frustrates me so much because he would be SO much cuter if he went with a simpler makeup!! Ugh. But anyway.

This was 100% the makeup at its best, like. Absolutely peak, thank you Thierry Gondet:

And my favorite costume comes from the 1990 Japan tour. I ADORE how this chest box is fitted and designed, and it just looks so shiny and red? Like it was freshly washed and painted 😭. Not to mention the red contour on his temples is kind of a Look:

The only thing I’d adjust is I’d give him the suspenders present in most of his costumes, because they’re honestly adorable. And, of course, he needs his Chessie System sticker. But otherwise? This is Peak Performance.

Okay I was gonna do more but this thing is fuckoff long as it is, so I’ll just stick to the Big Six. If you made it this far you’re a trooper, thank you for taking the time to read my ramblings aljsldfs.