#maybe his frustrations ultimately lie with himself....

[lokh]

LISTEN... for all that shuro is frustrated by him he really Gets who laios is. it's because he understands him so well that he felt bad about being frustrated for so long

[globalrebrand]

How long do you think it would take the reader to actually fall in love with Capitano because they're in an arranged marriage? And the other way around

Starting with Capitano!

Capitano will always uphold the values of marriage and will be a model husband. He is an a generous yet pragmatic provider. Capitano will not spoil you, but he will ensure what you have is more than adequate for your needs. However, above all, Capitano is honest and loyal, he will never lie or attempt to deceive you.

At first this ideal husband behavior is more so because he respects the institution of marriage very highly and not necessarily because of who you are, though Capitano makes an effort to get to know you. He questions you about your habits and hobbies and after a while will think about how to cater to them.

Capitano actually has rather high expectations of his spouse. I imagine Capitano was pushed to marry due to his status and position, so he will want a partner who is independent, intelligent and dutiful. He will expect the same level of respect in the union that he is giving to you. The irony is that while he picked these characteristics to get a lover who will not disturb him, Capitano is deeply attracted to diligent, mindful and clever individuals. So as the reader demonstrates these traits, Capitano begins to fall in love with them, but due to their independent nature they aren't be the most receptive to the ways in which Capitano shows love, namely by being over protective and insisting on doing everything together. He's home so seldom that what little free time he has he would prefer to spend with his spouse. This becomes especially apparent the longer you two are together.

As detailed above, Capitano possesses many admirable traits which on paper make him easy to fall for, however this ignores his blunt, keen and sometimes prideful nature which depending on who you are, could rub you the wrong way at first.

He is an acute observer even without you detailing the quotidian goings on of your daily life, Capitano will start to notice and comment. He isn't necessarily critiquing, just seeing and noting. He will casually tell you about yourself which can be incredibly jarring at first, especially if you're unused to being seen by the people in your life. However...when it comes to himself, he doesn't freely offer information which can be frustrating. He wants to expose all of your inner workings, but is very selective when divulging his own. He begins to share more freely when you earn his trust, which builds slower than his actual affections for you. Capitano will come to love you before he fully trusts you. It's just the nature of the fatui that make him so suspicious and not necessarily you. He wants to trust you but years in his position have made it difficult for him to lower his guard.

Basically, Capitano appreciates a partner who is brave, self-sufficent and above all loyal. Devote yourself to him and Capitano will find his feelings changing rather soon into your union. Ultimately it takes maybe 2-3 months for Capitano to fall for the reader.

The reader in A Lady's Secret is incredibly independent and self-sufficient young woman from a modest background who knows what she wants and doesn't require Capitano's support. She is principled, hardworking, and doesn't meddle in Capitano's affairs. In fact she develops a pretty well rounded life outside of their marriage. She has season tickets to the ballet, successfully convinces Capitano to let her have two dogs (large thick furred beasts who can easily takedown wolves) and walks them around the forest to visit their distant neighbors when the winds aren't too cold.

The reader does these activities alone because she assumes that Capitano wouldn't want to join her but when he quietly questions why she doesn't invite him she starts to incorporate him into these activities. Not all of them. Capitano has no interest in visiting the neighbors, but he can be convinced to attend a quiet night at the ballet and walk the dogs in the forest. And the reader while initially worried she'd find that his company dulled her experiences, is delighted to realize that she actually prefers his accompaniment.

They definitely butted heads in the beginning when Capitano demanded that she inform him every time she left the house. She wasn't too keen on her whereabouts being surveilled, as she was used to coming and going as she pleased. Initially he was more flexible about these things but as he began to get attached he assigned her a personal body guard which had her really annoyed with him. This led to an argument where she called "smothering" and he called her "stubborn."

The difficult part for the reader early on is that she's intensely attracted to Capitano so she starts the sexual part of their relationship right away, but her feelings for him are slower to crystalize and Capitano uses this to his advantage. When you're still arguing with him about a security detail, he'll be withholding until you agree to his terms.

For someone as independent as the reader she struggles with Capitano's desire for control over her. He's not possessive per se but he is very very over protective and unfortunately due to his position he has every right to be. She just resents that she doesn't quite feel like his equal when he frets over her like this.

However, as she comes to appreciate his company, she is more permissive of Capitano's particular brand of affection which is demonstrated through ensuring her safety. Once the reader learns to appreciate Capitano's brand of care she falls for him. He is a supportive partner and an excellent listener. He is stoic and gruff but she knows from his actions that he cares for her deeply. I would say it takes the reader about 5-7 months to reciprocate his feelings in earnest.

[leviathanxprincess]

Introducing The Kings to Your Plushies

me and my bestie have a joke about my faves showing up to my place for sex and i would not realize and just start talking about my plushies based on this dumb post we saw once, thought it'd be funny to turn into an actual scenario lol might do this for the other devils, angels, minhyeok if the ppl are interested lol notes: mildly sexual - not really anything deeply insane, gender neutral reader !!!

Satan

On one hand, he thinks you're really cute. On the other hand, he's here to fuck so.

He's going back and forth so much in his head for a moment he's not even paying attention to you talking oops.

Gets so frustrated and angered from trying to decide what to do it ultimately ends with him just jumping on you.

Cut you off mid word with an incredibly heat filled kiss from rage.

Honestly you might not even 100% be certain what happened but you're not complaining!! You can always talk about the rest of your plushies later!!!

Well. If Satan doesn't fuck you until the point you're resting for the next couple days.

Once he actually pays attention to you talking about them he'll remember some names here and there, but he will get them wrong on purpose to try and see you angry lol.

Mammon

The reality is he probably got you most of these plushies.

He adores seeing how you cherish them and the lore you've decided for them!!

Will remember every single detail you tell him about them!!

He thinks it's super cute and will humor you for the moment.

However, Mammon will get what he wants eventually. But for right now you're so adorable how could he tell you no?

He is DEFINITELY teasing you later once he does get to sleep with you about how cute you are.

This man lives to see you embarrassed and shy from his compliments.

Is probably buying you even MORE plushies now, hope you're prepared for that!

Leviathan

I think it depends at the point in your relationship, if it's early on he might just toss the plushies aside and get to the point of what he wants.

Later on I do think he genuinely listens, even if he's impatient and pretends like he doesn't care. If it's important to you he does care, just doesn't always show it.

Especially if you use the plushies as a form of comfort due to trauma or any other issues.

You won't even realize how much he paid attention until he refers to your plushies by their names if you accidentally leave them laying around.

However he does still get jealous so so easily so maybe try not to spend too much time at once focusing on them rather than him.

He tries so hard but eventually the jealousy will overtake him and he will just get straight to the sex.

For what it's worth, he still found you cute! He just can't help himself.

Beelzebub

I'm not gonna lie, you might be able to successfully distract him for a good bit.

Dude's invested in the names and lore and anything you have created for them!!! He likes hearing about it !!!!

He isn't gonna be able to remember every single bit of these details but he might remember some of it here and there. Either way he likes listening to how you talk about them!

That being said he can only sit still for so long so maybe introduce him a little at a time lmao.

Especially because once he DOES start to get distracted he's gonna remember the original reason he was here.

And well. Yeah just like that it's time to fuck!

Because you successfully distracted him for a bit you might be in store for an extra long session this time so! Good luck!

Lucifer

He listens fully. Wants to hear everything you have to say about them.

He finds the plushies super cute, so he enjoys listening to your ramblings, even if he had certain intentions when he arrived.

But most importantly, he's so endeared, you're so absolutely adorable to him. The way your face lights up when you talk about them, he can't get enough!!!!

So he lets you have your moment.

And when you're finally done is when he's actually gonna fuck you lol. Yeah, that was still happening he had a goal.

And if he's teasing you extra specially tonight, don't even worry about it (whether it be from compliments or degradation who's to say!! just know you're gonna be crying extra hard this time he's so worked up from how cute you are!).

Of course, he remembers every single detail you tell him, he has that shit committed to memory. Asks you questions sometimes to see that adorable look on your face again!

Belphegor

Goodnight.

He tries to pay attention but he's ready to fall asleep apologies.

He showed up for sex and when it wasn't happening his brain turned off.

That being said the second you realize he's asleep and start trying to wake him up he's on you!!

Like okay conversation done we're fucking now right?

It's just easier to give what he wants and lecture him in the process.

It's fine he tries to listen later. That being said if he invites Beleth to listen too don't worry about it. He totally didn't tell him to memorize details for him because he's probably gonna fall asleep again.

Asmodeus

Sorry there's just no way to distract this man from sex.

If he's showing up for sex he's here to for sex !!!!

And he WILL get it!!!

If anything he just starts fucking you while holding up the plushies to you and asking you details about them.

Unfortunately you're kinda too fucked out by that point to truly answer them.

He's a fucking menace apologies.

And he cannot be stopped I fear.

That being said any information he does manage to get out of you he does fully remember!!

It's his own weird way of showing affection, ya know?

[xe-n4]

slow starts

feat. sae note: i just needed some fluff (life is so hard 😢), unedited contains: fluff, possibly ooc total: 727

Before you opened your eyes, you felt his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. Sae laced his fingers with yours and rubbed the back of your hand.

“Mornin’,” he said in his raspy morning voice.

“Shut up,” you groaned. Slowly opening an eye, the sun-illuminated curtains flooded your vision and brightened your bedroom. Mild irritation built within you before you eventually rolled over and pressed yourself against Sae.

He rolled his eyes before kissing your forehead. “It’s morning, y/n.” Sae reached over to the side table for his phone, trying not to jostle you too much. 11:17. He kissed his teeth at the frustration of sleeping in much later than he intended to, which explained why he felt so groggy.

“It’s eleven in the morning, y/n. We—”

“All the more reason to stay in bed.” You placed a finger to his lips. “Stop talking so I can go back to sleep,” you whispered.

“You’ll have to get up eventually.”

You didn’t respond, ignoring everything Sae said to capture any remnants of sleep you had left.

Sae scoffed but relaxed into you. He didn’t want to admit it but felt nice to finally not have to get up at five every morning to train. His muscles weren’t screaming in exhaustion, and he could finally recharge his social battery. The stress of travelling the world for the last 4 months had gotten the best of him. Constant training, games, and interviews, rinse and repeat.

Sae sighed and closed his eyes. Maybe you were right, this is the perfect excuse to lie in even if it was for an extra hour before he forced himself to become human again.

That is until the sound of your stomach growling cut through the air like a hot knife to butter.

“Hey Sae?”

He hummed without opening his eyes.

“I think you might be hungry. And I also think you should make us breakfast.”

“What? That wasn’t me—”

“Oh, you should definitely make waffles,” you sighed, almost salivating at the thought.

“We don’t have a waffle iron.” Sae began to shuffle to the edge of the bed to put his slippers on. “I’ll make pancakes—he stood up—and you’re helping me.”

Before you registered what he’d said, Sae had already thrown you over his shoulder and was carrying you to the kitchen. He put you down and instructed that you get the ingredients from the fridge while he got everything else.

Cooking with Sae was like working a well operated machine. He’d set up stations around the kitchen to avoid bumping into each other, but he just had an air of authority about him, especially when he was concentrating.

After mixing together the pancake batter, you watched his piercing green eyes as they focused on the task at hand, flipping the pancakes. It may not seem like serious business but Sae liked his pancakes to be even on both sides. He was always very proud of himself when he’d manage to pull it off, walking around with a smug smile until his inflated ego was ultimately burst by the fact that pancakes were meant to be eaten, not hung as trophies.

You cleaned up while Sae set the table, bringing out the extortionately expensive maple syrup you only used for special occasions, such as Saturday mornings. It’s Thursday.

When you sat down at the table, you questioned him about it.

“What? I can’t treat my girl?”

You raised an eyebrow before digging in. “Thish ish sho good,” you said with your mouth full.

“Are they? Maybe we should start a business. Pancake restaurant? It’s a very unique idea”

“Shut up and answer my question.”

Sae put down his utensils and cleared his throat which made your ears perk up. “I’m thinking of taking a break from football…not for long, just for a season.”

“Oh. That’s okay.” You leaned back into your seat. “I thought you were gonna tell me something crazy.”

“But this is important, it affects you too.”

“I know, but I also know you’ve been stressed—you put your hand over his—take care of yourself before you start thinking about anyone else, okay?”

He nodded while pressing his lips together in disgust.

Your brows raised in confusion.

Sae gently lifted your hand off of his. “You’re sticky.”

You scoffed before rolling your eyes and continuing your breakfast.

m.list | like & reblog

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Five More Games

Batter Up Chapter 3

Pairing: Baseball player Joel Miller x Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: You haven't seen your boyfriend in over two weeks, your longing for Joel interrupts a FaceTime session. Warnings: smut, baseball talk, FaceTime mutual masturbation, pining, softness, Joel cum's all over his stomach Words: 3,000 A/N: These two have previously appeared together in 18 Seasons and Golden Corral. I wanted to write something super self indulgent to celebrate the month anniversary of posting my first fic Golden Walkway on here. I also want to shout out two people who helped me in this whole writing process. @ohheypedrito for being my steadfast fellow obsessor and idea bouncer offer and @justagalwhowrites for her very sweet response when I asked for words of advice that ultimately made me take the big step to hitting post.

Masterlist Series Masterlist Playlist

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Joel has internally struggled this season:  unhappy with his new team, unhappy with his new city, unhappy with the game he loved. Unfamiliar fans, unfamiliar apartment, unfamiliar restaurants, unfamiliar grocery store. The only familiar thing for Joel is you, taking the train down to the city whenever you can, staying in his aforementioned unfamiliar apartment making it seem more like home. You of course knew you couldn’t go to any of his games and openly root for him, but you were happy to watch the game on his couch in his new home, welcoming him back with a hug, smelling the sweat of the game still on him… Joel always far too impatient to shower at the stadium, too excited to get back to you. 

The two of you stuck together living a secret nobody knew about, the two of you never admitting the love you had for each other was growing into something loud enough that soon everybody would hear. What would your dad think? What would Joel’s old teammates think? What would his agent think? What would your coworkers think? What would Sarah think? 

For eight months you and Joel have done this alone, the only people privy to your relationship is whomever might look over at him placing his hand on your thigh at a restaurant, a couple of close friends of yours, and maybe the doorman of Joel’s apartment building delivering packages addressed to you. No, you didn’t want to live in this lie, but to stay with Joel and know him like you do, all of the struggles were worth it.

When he got off the call letting him know that the Philadelphia Liberties signed him to a one year deal, Joel didn’t call his daughter, he didn’t call his brother… he called you. Playing in Philly meant he would only be an hour and a half train ride away. How many more times could you make empty excuses as to why you needed to fly back home to Texas? He knew the toll it was taking on you personally and professionally, he couldn’t give you up, but he also couldn’t live with himself always seeing how tired you were as you stepped out of the airport and into his car. 

The worst part of all of this… Joel was having one of the best seasons of his career. Articles and reporters all repeating over and over how at his age he was having a banner year. Joel loved a challenge and he loved to take his frustrations to the field, playing harder and more focused than ever. 

He wanted to share his accomplishments with you, publicly. He wanted to see you as a part of the wives and girlfriends group, knowing how much you’d stick out against all of the preened and fancy clothed wives, never understanding why they dressed up the way they did to watch a ball game in the Summer heat. He wanted to see you cheering louder than anyone else as he rounded the bases after hitting a home run. He wanted his teammates to tease him for having a picture of you taped up in his locker. He wanted to see you waiting for him in the tunnel after the game wearing his jersey. He wanted to be able to call you his to anyone who’d listen. 

He hadn’t had a serious girlfriend in almost twenty years. Once Sarah’s mom left, he gave up dating and significant others to focus on the game and being a dad. Maybe there was just never anybody worth it, but you? You were worth it, and he hated that he couldn’t show everyone how much he loved you. 

——

“Next week’s the All Star Game, you still able to head home?” Joel asks as he watches you change into one of his old Capitals shirts you took as a sleep shirt. 

He loves FaceTime. For years he rolled his eyes at the idea of having to look at who’s he’s talking to… until he learned he can watch you go through your nightly routine in your bedroom. Now he gets to watch you apply your face lotion, feeling a bit like a voyeur looking in on your world from your MacBook screen. He especially likes FaceTime when you angle the laptop on the bed to show him your body as you make yourself cum while chanting his name and how much you miss him. 

“Yeah, so far so good. Can’t believe we’re doing this, especially seeing as you’re in the actual game and we’re letting everybody know the night before. What happens if it’s not good and it affects your g—” 

“I’ll be fine no matter what. It has to be done, I don’t know how many times I can tell Sarah my agent is texting. I think she knows something’s up, she’s too smart, she knows I don’t have friends,” he sighs. “How do you think your parents are gonna take it?”

“I think my mom will be cool with it, she always liked you, especially because of Sarah. My dad? I don’t know, I think he’ll be fine but I also think he’ll have a lot of reservations about us and how it’ll look once everyone finds out. He’s going to drop some business words and worry how it might end up as tabloid fodder amongst baseball people, and I fully understand his issues.” You get into your bed, moving the computer to lay next to you, Joel’s face and broad shoulders taking up most of the screen, it’s such a pitiful replacement to having his warm body next to you. “I don’t know, I wish we could just not do this but be able to do everything like normal people.” 

“There’s nothing normal about this, I’m in a hotel room in Seattle and I just got done eating $45 grilled chicken and brown rice from room service. You just closed your blinds with a remote in your apartment with a view of Central Park. We’re not a normal couple sweetheart,” Joel gives you his reassuring smile, his dimple pressing into his skin, you wish you could touch it. God, you miss him.

“I know, I just wish things could be more simple.” 

“I know baby, me too,” his smile faltering as he hears the longing in your voice. 

“I think I just really miss you… it’s been almost two weeks.”

“It has, we’ll be together soon. Just have to wait six more days.”

“Five more games,” you whisper. 

The two of you always finding it easier to break it down in games. Only 45 innings.  Only five trips for Joel to step on the team bus and head to the ballpark. Only five games worth of you checking your phone for updates.

“Five more games,” Joel’s voice dropping. “You able to watch tomorrow?”

“Don’t think so,” you try not to let the disappointment in your voice show as much as it does. “I have that dinner with the group in from Toronto. I’m hoping I’ll be home around 9, and the game starts at 4 there… I guess I might be able to see maybe the last couple of innings.”

“Mm, pretty sure I’m just DHing tomorrow, so should be in for the whole game.”

“Save your home run for the last inning please.” 

“‘Course,” he smirks. “I’ll swing for the fences.” 

“Joel—“ you whisper out.

“Yeah sweetheart?”

“I wish you were here right now.”

“Me too, your bed’s always so comfortable. Sick of these hotel beds.”

You bring the neck of Joel’s shirt up to your nose and inhale. “Your shirt no longer smells like you, I need a new one.” 

“I’ll have one for you next time baby. I won’t take this one off.” 

“You can take it off now.”

“Yeah? Why do you want me to take it off?” Joel’s eyes get darker. 

“I want to look at you while I touch myself, so take it off.”

“Love how bossy you get.”

“Preaching to the choir.”

“Very funny,” he leans forward, pushing his laptop farther down the desk to give you a better view and removes his shirt. 

The two of you are well versed in the proper set up to have this type of experience over FaceTime. No bright lamp behind you because your body will be blown out by the light. Make sure you angle the screen the right way at the right distance so you can still see each other’s faces and bodies. Joel usually chooses to stay on the couch or in an office chair when he’s in a hotel room, allowing him to sit up and jerk himself off while he can still watch you. You always place your laptop on his side of your bed, laying diagonally across it so he can watch you touch your pussy while staring at the screen. 

You love seeing him shirtless, the way his body fills out in all of the most broad and right places. His shoulders are so wide and muscular, connecting to his toned and strong arms, his muscles never being overbearing and huge, just the perfect size and super capable of hitting a ball over 250 feet. The smattering of hair across his chest trailing down his stomach to the waistband of his shorts. His stomach, you’re obsessed with his stomach, it’s so soft, your favorite feeling on earth is laying your head against it. The perfect amount of softness filling out his athletic midsection. Joel’s body perfectly encompasses him, soft and rugged, broad and safe. 

“You’re staring again sweetheart,” Joel’s voice blinks you out of your daze as you ogle the square of him on your screen. 

“Sorry, I just really like looking at you.”

“I know, and I like looking at you.” Joel leans back, placing one of his arms behind the couch, his other hand resting against his thigh. “Now, let me really see you. Take m’shirt off.” 

You nod and move your laptop to its customary location so Joel can see all of you. You take his shirt off leaving you bare for his eyes to roam across your body from over two thousand miles away.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, wish I could rub my hands all over your soft skin. Wish I could smell your hair, wish I could taste your skin. Miss you so fucking much.”

“What would you do to me if you were here?” Your voice barely above a whisper, your body aching for his touch.

“I’d rub my tongue up and down your neck,” you move your fingers to your neck and begin to trail them across it copying Joel’s words. You close your eyes and pretend instead of hearing Joel’s voice coming from a tinny set of computer speakers you’re hearing him from across the bed before he touches you. 

“I’d move my mouth down to take one of your nipples into my mouth.” Your hand grazes down your body to one of your breasts, grabbing your nipple and pulling at it. 

“Fuck baby, yes, grab your other tit, play with ‘em,” you open your eyes at the gruffness of Joel’s voice. His hand is still behind the couch, the other has moved from his thigh to cup his half hard cock through his shorts. 

You begin to push and pull your tits apart and together, rubbing your nipples as you stare back at Joel holding eye contact through the computer.

“Looks like your pussy is drooling all over your sheets, lemme see how wet you are.”  

Your hand goes down in between your legs, you pet yourself making sure to bite your lip, something you know Joel likes as you touch yourself. A groan spills out of Joel’s mouth as he watches you bring your soaked hand up, spreading your fingers to show him how your wetness stretches across your digits. He angles himself up to pull his shorts down, his cock standing hard and solid, you can’t take your eyes off of it as his hand wraps around his length. He begins to stroke himself, as you put your hand back to play with yourself. 

“Wish you could smear yourself all over me and watch me jerk off, wish you would spit in my hand—,” Joel spits in his hand, “so I could fuck my hand until I cum all over your pretty face.” 

Your back arches as you watch Joel lick a bit of spit up from his bottom lip, his eyebrows wrinkled in concentration as he smears the spit all over his shaft and begins pumping. 

“You’re so pretty, god I miss you. I miss feeling your body pressed against me, I miss sucking your tits, I miss fucking you.” You can’t stop staring at the screen, your fingers paused and resting on your clit. He’s beautiful, the way his muscles in his arms tense as he strokes himself, the way he snarls as he twists his fist around the head, the way he can’t stop staring at you through his laptop screen. “You miss me babygirl?”

He knows what his words do to you, he knows that if he can’t touch you he can at least talk you through it. He’s so thoughtful, not stopping at anything to make you happy, to think about you, to care for you. You hate that you aren’t even close enough to be in the same time zone.

“Yes,” you whisper, if you were any louder you might just start to cry. “So much.”

“I know, I know, fuck,” Joel stops jerking himself off, “I know,” blinking the lust out of his eyes, his big brown concerned eyes planted on his screen. “You okay?”

You didn’t want to do this, you wanted to get off with your boyfriend, shut your laptop lid, and go to sleep. Now? Now you miss him so much you’re naked with your hand still in between your legs and sniffling away tears alone in your bed.

“I am, yeah, I will be. I’m sorry, it just really hit me how long it’s been and I guess I’m just nervous about everything we have to do. I don’t want to lose you…” and at those words and the fear that gets planted inside your heart, you pull your fingers away from your cunt.

“We’re going to figure it out sweetheart. M’not losing you.” Joel follows you and unwraps his hand from around himself. “It has been long, but we’ll have almost a week together next week.”

“Five games?”

“Five games.” The softness of his voice and the reassuring smile he gives makes your stomach twist.

“I’m sorry.” An apology, you’re almost embarrassed by your juvenility, missing your boyfriend so much you almost started to cry.

“Baby, you don’t have to apologize, believe me, I understand.”

“Did you still want to…”

“I’m only happy doing what you want to, sweetheart.”

“I want to show you how much I miss you.” Your hand snakes up your body to start petting the area between your breasts, the place where Joel always like to nuzzle his face in and smell your skin.

“Fuck, okay sweetheart.”

“Five more games until I can feel you inside me.”

“Jesus, getting right back to the point, aren’t we?” He smirks, his eyes follow as you snake your hand down to back in between your legs.

“I’m efficient,” you bend your knee to give Joel a better look as you begin to rub circles along your clit.

“Fuck sweetheart, you look so fucking good,” he groans, wrapping his hand back around his cock. “Fuck yourself with your fingers baby, pretend it’s me.” 

You moan as you stick two fingers in, slowly pushing them in and out, ignoring how poor of a substitute they are for Joel’s cock. 

“Good girl, look at you. My pretty baby, I love you so much.”

His eyes soften as he watches you get lost in fucking yourself. You love how you can tell just how much he loves you by his big, brown eyes, even on your small laptop screen they shine bright. 

“I love you,” you whimper as you reach your other hand down to begin rubbing your clit. Your fingers working overtime inside you and on your clit causing your orgasm to build. 

“Love you baby, so much. Love watching you do this for me,” he grunts as he fucks his fist faster.

“Baaaby,” you breathe out, your heart beginning to rapidly beat, the swirls around your clit quickening. You’re a quivering mess on your bed, staring into your computer screen as you feel your orgasm show. 

“Oh, you’re close, can see it pretty girl, you gonna cum for me? M’gonna cum for you,” he grits out as you watch the hand against his thigh tighten its grip against his skin. He’s close, his jaw going slack, his tongue resting in between his lips, his brows furrowing deeper. It’s a sight you’ve seen so many times now, most of your FaceTime sessions ending like this.

“Cum for me,” you whisper as you orgasm, your pussy squeezes your fingers, your clit pulses against your finger, you fight the urge to shut your eyes because you need to watch Joel as he begins to spurt thick ropes of cum all over his stomach. You love how he looks, biting out swears totally blissed out, his cum pooling against the plush skin of his stomach. 

He swears as he grabs his shirt and cleans himself up, you smile as you watch him, feeling like you’re spying on your own boyfriend. You love FaceTime.

“You’re smilin’ quite big,” he chuckles as he tosses his shirt next to him, and pulls his shorts back up. 

“I like to watch you, that’s all, you’re so handsome.”

“Handsome, hm?”

“Yep, always thought it, and now I get to look at you whenever I want to.”

“Lucky you, huh?”

“Lucky me. Only five more games until I see my handsome boyfriend.”

“Five more games.”

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Series Masterlist

[daisynik7]

OMG I love your party idea it's so cool!! how about "slow down baby" by Christina Aguilar for Eren Yeager 💓💓 one of my favs

Slow Down Baby

Slow down baby and don't act crazy, don't you know you can look all you want but you just can't touch

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~2.4k

cw: modern-day au, mutual masturbation, voyeurism, implications of cheating, cheating, sex toy use (vibrator), dirty talk, pet names (good girl, princess)

Summary: Your boyfriend Jean is working late again, and you can’t help but be suspicious that there’s something nefarious happening behind your back. Pent up from not seeing him this whole week, you take this alone time to treat yourself to some much-needed self-care. 

Eren Jaeger knows that his friend is cheating on you, and he hates it. You don’t deserve it, not one bit. When Jean asks him to do a favor to try to cover up his infidelity, Eren seriously considers telling you the truth, ultimately deciding against it because of “bro code”. But what happens when he walks in on you taking all your sexual frustrations out on a little toy? Can he really keep his mouth shut?

Author’s Note: Thank you for this request @shepnicolo! Love me some Xtina, great song for the y2k karaoke party! This was a fun one for me, so I hope you like it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thank you for reading everyone! MDNI banner designed by @/cafekitsune. Header image from Pinterest.

“Hey babe. Sorry, but I’m going to be at work late again tonight.” It’s already past nine in the evening when Jean calls you, informing you of this last-minute change of plans.

“Again?” He’s had overtime every day since last week. He’s also been leaving early in the mornings so by the time you wake up, he’s gone. It feels like you’ve barely seen him at all. “How about dinner?”

“Yeah, yeah. I already ate.” There’s shuffling in the background. And maybe it’s just your paranoia, but you swear you hear a woman giggling quietly beside him.

You swallow hard, asking, “Is someone with you?”

“Huh?” His tone shifts, as if you’re asking the most ridiculous question. “What do you mean?”

Immediately regretting it, you rephrase, not wanting to sound accusatory. “I was just wondering if anyone else is working overtime with you. That’s all. Didn’t want you to be lonely there.” The last statement is a lie; you sincerely hope he’s alone and not doing what you’re suspicious of.

He clears his throat nervously. “Oh. Well, yeah, there are a few people here with me, so you have nothing to worry about.” 

Too late for that, you think, listening carefully for any more clues. When you can’t hear anything else, you sigh into the phone. “Okay, sweetie. I’ll see you later then.” You wait for him to respond, but he doesn’t. Quickly, you add, “I love you – ” 

He hangs up before you can get it out completely. 

Jean had been pulling away from you for a while now. It didn’t just start with the overtime. It began over a month ago, when you noticed how glued to the phone he was while the two of you watched TV together. When you asked who he was texting, he answered, “It’s my new coworker. She’s asking some questions about work.” At the time, it didn’t raise any alarms in your head, so you dropped it. Every day, he was immersed to the screen, sometimes excusing himself to take a call outside on your balcony. You resisted every urge, every temptation to eavesdrop on his conversations, look through his text messages, interrogate him further. 

You continue to give him the benefit of the doubt. There’s no way Jean would ever cheat on you. While you haven’t been together for that long, you like to think that you know him well enough to be sure he’s a faithful boyfriend. You don’t even have proof of his infidelity. It would be unfair to accuse him of such atrocities over some silly speculation, right?

Since he’s been in the office late this entire week, the two of you haven’t had sex in what seems like forever. Pent up and frustrated, you take this time to care for yourself, since Jean’s not around to do it. It starts with a serving of your favorite dessert, then a warm bath, soothing the tense muscles in your body. You surround yourself in a comfy robe, brushing your teeth with the full intention of falling asleep as soon as you do the one thing you need to make yourself feel better tonight. 

With all the lights off, except for the dim glow of the lampshade on the nightstand, you snuggle into your bed, untying the robe so it’s splayed beneath you. Inside the drawer, you retrieve your favorite vibrator and a small bottle of lube, pouring a tiny bead on the tip. Spreading your legs wide, you smear it on yourself. Using your free hand, you navigate to your favorite dirty audio, playing it out loud. 

~~~

Eren hates this. Absolutely hates it. 

He’s driving towards your apartment with a set of keys in his pocket and a bouquet of roses sitting in the passenger seat. All because your friend is a piece of shit. 

Eren’s known for a while now that Jean is cheating on you. It started with a not-so-subtle comment in the group chat. My new coworker is fucking hot. That alone disgusted him. Connie, of course, laughed it off. Armin didn’t say anything, probably unsure how to respond at such a statement. It only went downhill from there. 

She’s got the best body omg.

 I’m in trouble now.

This is bad guys lol. 

Don’t tell the girls okay? 

Jean has always rubbed Eren the wrong way, ever since they were kids. But at least he respected him. Now, not so much. Not at all, actually. You don’t deserve this, not one bit. No one does, but especially you. And maybe the reason he can’t completely berate Jean is because Eren’s harboring a secret of his own: He’s head-over-heels for you. 

Of course, he’s never acted on it. Bro code, right? Thou shall not hook up with another bro’s girl, or whatever the unofficial rule is. But what if said bro is acting like a total asshole? And what if this bro would treat you the way you deserve and more? Then what?

It’s because of this stupid code that he finds himself in the most ridiculous, aggravating situation. Earlier in the night, Jean texted the group chat. SOS SOS SOS. Armin and Connie were both busy, so didn’t respond, leaving Eren to answer the cry for help.

Jean explains it quickly through the phone, voice all panicky and guilty. “Dude, I need you to do me the hugest favor right now. I would you owe big time if you could help me out.” Basically, he needs Eren to buy a big bouquet of roses and deliver them to your apartment, where you can see them first thing in the morning. 

“Why?” he asks, irritated by this request.

“I think she’s suspicious. So I need to do something to throw her off the scent,” he explains. Eren can already see the cocky, shit-eating grin on his face. Why is he friends with this douchebag? And why did he agree to do this? He’s complicit in this mess now, not only for keeping his friend’s infidelity a secret, but for helping him continue it. He wants so badly to tell you the truth so you can escape this relationship. At the same time, he’s supposed to have his friend’s back no matter what, even if he is being a massive prick. 

So, he decides to help his buddy out, no matter how much it’s killing him. He meets Jean at an unknown address, most likely his side chick’s place. “Dude, seriously. I owe you one,” he says, patting him on the shoulder.

Eren nods silently, not wanting to speak in case he lets his true feelings slip. Jean hands him the spare keys to your apartment. “Just sneak in and set the flowers on the kitchen counter. She won’t suspect a thing.” It takes all of Eren’s willpower not to punch him in the face, so he quickly turns around to get into his car and drive off. 

It’s almost midnight by the time he arrives to your apartment. Surely, you’re asleep by now, still completely unaware that your bastard boyfriend is cheating on you. Still, he shouldn’t meddle in your relationship, even though he wants what’s best for you, which is not Jean.

He unlocks the door quietly, tip-toeing into the kitchen to set the flowers down, as instructed. He notices your bedroom door is ajar, a faint streak of light coming from the inside, and the undeniable sounds of a man growling expletives like, Come for me, slut. Yeah, give it all to me.

His eyes widen, surprised that you’re still awake, even more so that you’re listening to something like this. Curiosity gets the best of him; he stealthily makes his way beside your door, peering through the tiny opening to get a glimpse of you. 

You’re laid out on the bed, bare and exposed, gripping a vibrator to your pussy. The sight alone is enough to put him into a frenzy. Hearing your soft whimpers from your mouth along with the electric buzz from the toy fluttering on your clit sends him into a trance that he can’t snap out of. Before he can think logically, he’s pushing against the door, making his presence known. 

~~~

“Eren!” You sit up in bed, flinging the toy off to the side, covering yourself with your robe. “What are you doing here?”

He stands before you, a crazed look in his eyes, an obvious bulge protruding from his pants. He stutters, “I’m sorry.”

“What are you doing here?” you repeat, glaring at him. 

His mouth is agape, unable to get the words out. You’re losing patience, watching him struggle to explain why he’s here, inside your home, watching you masturbate. You grab your phone, making sure to exit out of whatever filthy audio that’s still playing, fingers ready to dial your boyfriend’s number when he blurts out, “Jean is cheating on you.”

You freeze on the spot, heart sinking from having your worst fear confirmed. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, staring down at his feet. “I’m so sorry.”

There are no tears in your eyes, surprisingly. Instead, your throat is heavy with emotion as you repeat for a third time, “So, what are you doing here?”

Still avoiding your gaze, he answers, “Jean thought you were catching on to him, so he asked me to bring you flowers to throw you off.” 

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Unbelievable.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you ask, “How long have you known about it?”

“A few weeks.” He looks up at you, saying your name this time. “I’m sorry you had to find out like this.”

After a deep breath, you sigh, relaxing against the headboard. “I’m sorry you’re involved in it.” You smile at him. “And I’m sorry you had to see me…you know.” Embarrassment catches up to you, heat rushing into your cheeks, aware that you’ve just been caught touching yourself with your vibrator, which is still in plain view beside you. 

He steps forward, inching closer towards the end of the bed. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. Jean is a fucking asshole. You don’t deserve this.”

“What do I deserve, Eren?” You peer at him, tears welling in your eyes now, desperate for any ounce of comfort he can give to you in this moment. 

He sits near you on the edge of the bed, keeping his distance. “You deserve to be loved by someone who’s always going to treat you right. Someone who’s going to love you from head to toe.” 

“Someone like you?”

A gentle smile forms on his face. “Yeah. Someone like me.”

No matter how badly you want to close the distance between you, want to feel the love he says he can give to you, guilt holds you back. Sensing your hesitation, he scooches nearer. “Let me help you. Tell me what you want.”

Eren has always been sweet to you. Too sweet, in fact. You’ve always gotten the sense that he cares more for you than he lets on. And maybe it’s because you’re hurt right now, fragile, heartbroken, even a little scornful towards Jean. Whatever it is, it makes you realize you’ve been too busy with the wrong man to notice the right one has been here all along. However, two wrongs don’t make a right. Even with the confirmation of Jean’s adulterous behavior, you’re still his girlfriend until you officially end it, which will be soon. 

In the meantime, you manage to come up with something you can do to take advantage of this moment. 

You let go of your robe, letting it fall to your sides, displaying your nude body to him, arousal wet between your legs from earlier. He watches you carefully, cock straining against his sweatpants, breathing heavily.

“I’m not a cheater like Jean,” you mutter, spreading yourself wider, showing off your glistening cunt.

“I know you’re not,” he whispers, scooting forward, hand drifting to his lap.

Reaching for your vibrator, maintaining your gaze on him, you say, “I’m a good girl.” 

He swallows hard, palming his erection through the fabric. “Fuck. You’re a good girl. Such a good girl.”

“You can look, but you can’t touch. Understand?” Your finger hovers over the button, tip pressed to your throbbing clit.  

He nods erratically, licking his lips. “Yes.”

“Good,” you smirk, turning the toy on, ready to give him a show. “Tell me all the things you want to do to me.”

He shoves his boxers down, cock sprung stiff against his abdomen, the slit shiny with precum, veins bulging on his shaft. It’s the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen, better than what’s-his-face by a longshot, though you might be biased now, given the circumstances. Eren wraps his fist around it, jerking himself off while he watches you tease the tip on your swollen bud. “I want to fuck you into this mattress,” he moans. “Pound this pussy until we break the bed.”

“Yeah?” you purr, pressing the fluttering tip deeper into your clit. “What else?”

“Want to bounce you on this cock, watch you cream all over me,” he huffs, stroking himself faster. “God, this is hot. So fucking hot.”

Pleasure ripples through your body, toes curled from the sensation, so close to your climax with his soothing voice spitting his nasty fantasies at you. “I wish you could fuck me right now,” you confess, limbs quivering from ecstasy, pussy fluttering around nothing, aching to be filled. 

“Me too, princess. Me too. But you’re a good girl. And good girls don’t cheat.” He readjusts himself onto the bed, kneeling in front of you, stroking his hard dick. “I can give you this cum, though. That’s not cheating, right?”

You blindly agree with him, approaching your climax. “Yeah, give it to me. Give it to me, Eren.”

He swears loudly, shooting his load onto you, spilling over your clit, dripping down your pussy. “Fuck,” he groans, marveling at how pretty you look covered in his seed. 

You smile at him, relaxing against your pillows, dipping the tip of your vibrator in his mess. His mouth hangs open, eyes half lidded, watching as you stuff it inside your cunt. 

“Holy fuck,” he whispers, stroking his cock again, eyes fixated on your pussy. 

Do technicalities even matter anymore? All you know is that you want to be loved from head to toe by Eren Jaeger. You set aside the toy, sitting up to close the gap between you, pressing your lips to his. He hesitates before deepening the kiss, tongue slipping inside your mouth, sloppy and eager for more.

When you break apart to catch your breaths, he leans his forehead against yours, whispering, “Are you going to be a bad girl now and take this cock?”

Grinning, you nod, pulling him in for another kiss. 

[malk1ns]

november 8 2024 @ capitals, 4-2 win

the next part in my soulbond series (1, 2, 3, 4). hope you like it!

Sid can feel this season rapidly slipping out of his grasp.

He’d had a lot of talks with Kyle over the summer. Kyle was up-front about his plans for the year, honest and forthright about what he realistically thought the team could do. Their final conversation before Sid signed his extension ended with Kyle telling him, the Penguins are your team, Sidney, but if the direction we’re headed isn’t how you want to finish your career, I understand. It’s up to you.

He’d signed. He’s staying. It wasn’t ever really a choice.

Sid thinks there’s still a part of him that hoped, though. He’s never going to give up on winning, never going to stop chasing the ultimate goal, and the part of his brain that asks his barber to shave down the hair on his temples until the gray is less visible is the same part that clung to the idea of contending.

And, well, anything’s possible. They’re not even a quarter of the way through the season. But.

Worse than the team, though, Sid can feel Geno slipping away.

Geno’s been avoiding him since the Islanders game. After the hellish Carolina blowout, Sid tried to pin him down for a conversation, to actually talk about this bond and how they can fix it, but Geno slipped away, insulated from Sid on the plane by the poker game group and practically running up to his hotel room when they landed in DC.

For a moment Sid even considered going to morning skate to corner him, but Geno’s gameday routine is even more rigid than Sid’s own, and Sid can’t bring himself to mess up Geno’s rhythm, not on a day like today.

Games against Washington always have a little extra importance. Sid takes every game seriously, of course he does, but he won’t lie and say that the Capitals don’t stand out on the calendar more than the rest. Especially now, with records in sight and careers coming to an end.

It’s why he loses his temper and screams on the bench when they blow another lead again in the second.

Losing to an opponent because they’re just better than you is one thing. But what Sid can’t abide, won’t tolerate, is a lack of effort, sloppy play and ignoring the details and fundamentals, making careless mistakes that lead to chances against.

His line is playing well. He can’t say the same for anyone else.

At intermission, Sully stays out of the room at first, and Sid lets loose all his frustrations with the year so far, his anger at the losing streaks and his own struggles, and shouts the team down until they’re properly cowed. And when the coaching staff comes in again, Sid marches up to Sully and tells him to take Geno off the top line.

He says it loud enough for most of the guys to hear, but he doesn’t look over to see what face Geno’s making.

Geno’s been on his wing because of a bond he clearly doesn’t want, and Sid’s been taking advantage of it. If Sid can’t score with the wingers he has, he deserves any failures coming his way.

He spares a thought for his parents, somewhere up in the stands because Sid’s getting close to yet another milestone. Maybe he should tell them to go home.

It was the right decision. Partway through the third, Geno reads a rebound like only he can, breaks the tie, and the Penguins don’t look back.

Winning in Washington always means a lot, but even watching Alex smash his stick and yell at himself on the Capitals’ bench as time ticks down doesn’t make Sid feel better. He keeps his head down when he strips out of his gear, spends entirely too much time on a cooldown bike, and is the last one on the bus, barely making it before Sully would have started yelling about him being late.

At least they have the weekend off.

Sid can feel Geno watching him on the plane. Normally after a road trip like this, Geno would commandeer the window seat next to him, sprawl out and get his legs in Sid’s space, jostling him until Sid relaxed enough to laugh and poke back, the two of them picking at each other until they settled enough to get some sleep.

Nobody takes the empty seat next to Sid this time. He tugs his hat over his eyes and purposely thinks about nothing. At least it’s a short flight.

When they’re deboarding in Pittsburgh, for the first time ever Sid reaches out with the bond on purpose.

The recoil he gets from Geno is enough to send him practically running to his car, racing through the quiet streets to Sewickley faster than he’d normally drive. He feels sick.

Geno might hate him. It was Sid’s lagging production that pulled him into this bond, after all, chained Geno to his side for a week until Sid stopped being selfish and forced them apart again. Geno had been sick, Geno hadn’t been producing, and the second Sid let him free he scored, so… Sid can’t say with confidence that he wouldn’t be furious if their roles were reversed.

He’s so wrapped up in his own self-recriminations that he doesn’t realize Geno’s coming over until he hears a key in his lock, and suddenly Geno’s presence in the back of his mind is inescapable.

“Sid?” Geno calls, and Sid, sitting at his island in his dark kitchen, drops his head into his hands and waits.

When Geno finds him, he swears long and low, a tumble of Russian that Sid would have gotten the gist of even without the bond pulsing concern and guilt his way.

He flinches when Geno flicks the lights on, blinking up at where Geno’s suddenly looming over him.

“We need to talk,” Geno says, and Sid stares at him helplessly, because what is there to say?

Geno shakes his head and sits on the stool next to him, pressing their knees together. Sid feels a wash of relief at the contact so powerful he has to blink away dizzy darkness from the corners of his vision. Geno frowns, the downturned corners of his mouth digging lines into his face. In the harsh overhead lights, he looks haggard, skin pale under the remnants of his summer tan and the bags under his eyes dark and pronounced.

“My fault,” Geno says, holding up one big hand when Sid opens his mouth. “It’s me who starts this, like, after Sochi. I’m think probably I know it’s there and we’re ignore for so long it’s say, no more, has to happen. We have to fix or we’re sick for season.”

Sid shakes his head. “It’s me who made it…whatever,” he says, gesturing. He doesn’t know the right words for what’s happening to them, never read up on bonds because he never expected to have one. “Like, I needed you and made it…this.”

“You needed me,” Geno repeats, and his voice is toneless, but Sid feels a soft bloom of…something in the bond, something that makes him want to reach out and touch.

“I always need you,” Sid mutters, staring at his hands instead of Geno’s face. Almost twenty years together on this team and it shouldn’t feel so strange to admit, of course they need each other, but something about saying it now, out loud…the way he’s feeling, the way he can tell Geno is feeling, makes the words feel fraught.

There’s a long silence, and when Sid looks up, Geno’s biting his lip. “Don’t know what to do,” he admits, and Sid shouldn’t feel relief there, but at least he’s not alone in feeling totally lost.

There’s no real literature for this, not really. They haven’t even been able to have more than a few quick consults with bond specialists since they’ve been on the road.

Sid startles a little when Geno reaches out and covers Sid’s hands with one of his own. His palm is a little damp, but he’s warm, and his hand is big enough to cover both of Sid’s where they’re twisting in his lap.

It’s late. They both should get sleep, even with two full days off from games.

They sit in Sid’s kitchen in silence as night deepens outside.

[ddejavvu]

Hi mei <3 I hope you're doing lovely.

I am absolutely in love with your insecure reader drabble as someone completely insecure because of past experiences and people being very judgmental to anyone who looks different, smells different (from air freshener), etc so it's really hard not to be insecure.

Which got me to think of perhaps an insecure!f!reader who hasn't gotten to shower, because she always showers before they play out of pure fear of Eddie thinking she's gross or something, so when he comes home from works and wants to fool around a bit, mainly just eat her out but anything else would be fine too. And so she's trying not to feel guilty about not freshening up for him and he's asking what's wrong. She explains it's just a really bad day and she's self conscious about her discharge and doesn't want him to feel like he has to do something that gross with her because she knows she hasn't freshened up and so he comforts her - tells her it's completely normal and okay.

pussy is pussy is pussy to this man a day of sweat will not change that.

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Eddie's handsy after you get home from work, he always is. By now you should expect it, but typically he's out at his own shift, giving you time to shower before he gets home. When his van pulls up next to your car and crunches leaves beneath its tires, you try feigning excitement.

"Eddie," You gush, stomach tensing as he squeezes your waist. He knocks his nose into yours, scrunching his eyes in delight.

"Hi, pretty," He croons, hands already wrapping around your waist and sinking lower to squeeze at your ass, "I got off early today. Sooo, that should give us, like, thirty more minutes to-"

"Wash the sheets," You pat his chest, "We need to wash the sheets."

"Let's wash the sheets after we fool around," He's practically giggling like a schoolgirl, "No use in putting fresh ones on just to stain 'em."

There's no wrestling his hands away from your ass now, and you have to admit an orgasm would surely fix some of the pent up frustration you'd been feeling from work. But the thought of Eddie changing his mind once he realizes you aren't as fresh as you usually are is a haunting one, and it strikes fear into your heart.

"Okay," You relent with a sheepish grin, "Okay, you win. We'll fuck. Lemme just pee first, 'kay?"

You're not really in need of the toilet, rather the pack of baby wipes you keep beside it. Maybe if you give yourself a quick wipedown it'll block whatever sweaty scent you're sure is between your thighs.

"Nooo," Eddie whines, keeping his grip tight on your hand, "You're supposed to pee after. Can't you just hold it?"

"I need to pee now," You lie, laughing at his protests, "Can't you just let me take five minutes in there?"

"I'll be quick, baby, like, ten minutes! I just wanna taste you," He pleads, leaning in to kiss your bottom lip in a gesture that ultimately breaks you down.

"I don't think I taste very good right now," You warn, letting him drag you to the bedroom.

"I bet you taste like pussy," Eddie grins wolfishly as he pushes you back over the mattress. You bounce slightly after landing, and before you're fully settled he's already between your thighs, "That's I left work early," He admits, face nestled between your legs and nose pressed to your clothed clit. He lets out a groan, nuzzling his face further into your panties, "So that you wouldn't have time to shower and wash it all away. So fuckin' tired of eating soap," He mouths messily at your cunt, soaking your underwear with his drool, "I want pussy!"

He only drags himself back to tug the waistband of your panties down, nearly ripping them off in his eagerness to get started. He licks a long stripe up your slit, tongue flat and wet to your skin. "And that," He grunts, eyes fluttering shut as he goes back for more, "Is pussy."

[seriousbrat]

you said james changed but did he? no apology in sight... still tricking lily and going behind her back to hex snape.. leaving his wife and newborn alone in their secret hiding spot to mess with muggles..

genuinely lol what is this 'leaving their hiding spot to mess with muggles' thing, I think you're the second anon who has claimed something like that recently and it's like.... where lmao. when did that happen? who r these muggles? 😭

if you're referring to the prequel, that was almost certainly, like 100% certainly, before harry was born when lily and james were fighting for the Order along with the rest of the Marauders and not in hiding. This is what Lily says, years later, in her letter to Sirius:

James is getting a bit frustrated shut up here, he tries not to show it but I can tell -- also, Dumbledore's still got his Invisibility Cloak, so no chance of little excursions. If you could visit, it would cheer him up so much.

doesn't that imply he wasn't sneaking out? and if he had left the hiding spot in the past it was "little excursions" with Lily's full knowledge and approval, with the safety of the cloak. I don't see the big deal, and it's possible that Lily was leaving the house on occasion too when they had the cloak.

people are so determined to see things in the worst possible light it's kind of funny. It's not enough that James was a dickhead and a bully in canon, he has to be this insidious abusive master manipulator guy who somehow conned Lily "you make me SICK" Evans into marrying her and having a kid with him. Like, no offence but it's just not that deep.

We don't see how he changed because the story isn't about him, it's about his son, but there's plenty of evidence that he did, a BIG example being that a girl who couldn't stand the sight of him and was extremely vocal about the fact ended up marrying him. Something changed, and it's just highly unlikely that James, a fictional character, constructed an elaborate ruse behind the scenes that we see no evidence for to trick Lily, and every other character, into thinking he was an entirely different person. If that had been the author's intent for these characters who, btw, do not exist outside the text we're given, there would be proof of it. Rather, we're given evidence he 'deflated his head' and that lily fell in love with him and that they were happy together.

I've already said it but I don't think James not telling her about fighting with Snape (who, let it be said, at that point was also instigating) is a good thing. Obviously. It's dishonest and he should have told her. But I also think a likely reason he didn't tell her was not wanting to hurt her. That doesn't make it okay, but there can be problems and slip-ups and things to work through in a relationship without it being some big evil insidious manipulation.

Sev hid all sorts of things from her too, important things like "I'm thinking about joining the Death Eaters btw lol". People lie and hide things, especially teens. Maybe the simplest explanation here, rather than this weird jamespiracy thing, is that a seventeen year old boy was kind of shit sometimes but ultimately dedicated his life to protecting others, fought bravely in a war, grew tf up, and sacrificed himself to save his wife and child.

idk like to me it's not that deep, and it's continually bonkers to me that some snape fans will have wildly different standards for their innocent baby boy (idk him) than they do for every other character. bro did way worse stuff than not telling his gf he was getting into fights, james did worse stuff, and yet I still love them both and u wont convince me not to

[magi-the-writer]

‘How long has it been?’

I couldn’t help but ask myself, staring blankly at the ceiling like the many times before.

The room was dark, done so purposefully—with both the bedroom and bathroom door closed tightly. The thick curtains were drawn and even the shutters were brought down. All in an attempt to keep me in the dark.

But it wasn’t entirely pitch black.

The warm glow of the light within the hallway leaked in through the edges of the doorframe. Lighting that part of the hall in a dim warmth.

‘Maybe he feels bad?’

That is a question I know is a lie.

But the dim glow truthfully wasn’t enough for me to keep myself entertained by tracing over each expensive painting that hung on the walls.

Going over every line like I had painted it myself—guessing how and which stroke of the brush was done and came first. Or how—after getting bored from that, I’d move on to watching the small bugs that zip around the ceiling light.

Only to die and fall by the small jumping spiders that like to live within the fancy glass.

I was left in here by that man to stare at the dark. Mostly to,

're-think my resent behaviour,’

and

‘come up with a suitable apology for my childish act.’

‘Honestly, it was so stupid.’ I couldn’t help but remark to myself. Whether it truly was a reflection of my actions, or a statement in regards to something else.

What else could it be—at this point, it could honestly be anything.

My teeth chewed at the inner-side of my cheeks, having nothing else to do but that small act of self-mutilation.

I knew there wasn’t much point in wriggling about this bed like a worm. Even when I’ve crinkled the god-awful satin sheet, somehow nudging the thick duvets to the floor and pulled up the matching fitted sheet with nothing but my exposed toes.

In the end, all that hard work only gets me encased within the cool fabric that I distain and ultimately exhausted.

And truth be told, it would be satisfying if only to serve as a minor annoyance to the man that dub himself as my lover.

But in reality, all it really does is cause the devil to chuckle a the hilarity of the sight.

He’ll come in when he believes i have learnt my lesson. Lean against that door and say something with amusement, the condescension hidden under his carefully crafted words. Hiding it so well, even I struggle to spot it.

That, and he’ll smile lovingly as if my little act of defiance isn’t a future inconvenience at all.

Just to saunter to my bedside, lanky fingers brushing through my staticy hair. Pulling the strands that hid my face from his view. Reveling my forehead as he'd place a soft kiss upon the crown of my head with his bottom-heavy lips.

Just to leave me like I am now, to wallow in my spite and shiver in regret as he’d turn the AC down just that slightest bit.

To be a petty betty as he’d wear that stupid grin at my pitiful state. Knowing full well there wasn’t a damn thing I could do.

All that I am and would have been, taken. Robbed all in one night; all I have left are memories, memories that have been tainted and ruined in some form of way by him.

‘I have to go and delude myself into thinking I have some semblance of control… but what else am I supposed to do?’ Frowning, the frustrated tears prickled my eyes once again.

Stinging the already puffy and irritated skin that surrounded my eyes.

Other then this, crying is the only thing I can do. And it only frustrates me more.

Outside of my delusions of grandeur, I have nothing. Everything I own either doesn’t belong to me, and the things that I once owned are gone.

Him… him, him, him, him, HIM!

…

God, I hate it. I hate him—and yet, I can’t find it in myself to despise him…

Out of everything he’s done, out of all that he’s shown me… never once did he do something to make me loath him.

‘It’s so fucking sick,’

Disgust.

I am so disgusted with myself.

I can’t find it in my soul to blame him—I know I should. Everything is his fault, but I can’t.

In some twisted way, I place the ounces on myself.

He may have placed the restraints, but I caused the chaffing that now caused my writs to bleed. His soft touches and lingering hugs and sickly-sweet kisses that he gives me… it’s all my fault.

I wouldn’t be dressed and bounded in the one fabric I despised next to felt and velvet if only I stop deluding myself.

And yet, I can’t—I can’t except that nothing will ever be normal with him.

I can’t except that I am a prisoner here and he’s the warden that dictates the show. I can’t except that I’ll never return home again. To be surrounded by my family… and that all of this is just some silly, little nightmare within a dream.

‘If only we lived in a perfect world…’

Closing my eyes, in a perfect world the son of Lucifer would have never grown possessed. Never become obsessed—never fell into the false-sunken fallacy that was the idea of being in love with me.

The slow drawn of the door’s hinges had dragged me back to the present. The warm glow of the hallway’s light flooded the room.

Casting the four walls in a faded glow, I didn’t need to guess who it was standing at the door.

His figure blocked some of the light, casting an unintentional elongated silhouette that stretched from the doorway and came right out from my nightmares.

Traveling along the floor, over the bed—shadowing my bounded form and against the wall.

‘I don’t need a paralysis demon when I have him.’ I dryly laughed at the bland joke.

He was akin to a monster from the deepest depths anyways.

Though I doubt I’d ever voice my thoughts about him. So, I remained quiet. My throat unintentionally clenched as my heart started to beat faster within my chest.

I was nervous—no, anxious for what was to come as I always was around him. Especially after punishments. Even though he’s never laid a hand upon me once as a punishment.

‘Well in a non-abusive way anyway’s.’ I noted, recalling the copious number of times when the palm of his hand would roll.

Caressing the sides of my arms, groping my waist and grabbing hips. Ghosting my behind when he’s forced me to sit in his lap… or when that one time. The time where I was the weakest… where I craved some form of comfort.

A time where I nearly begged him to rub my stomach, to place pressure over the cramps that left me feeling feeble in the knees.

How his fingers would brush my cheeks, run through my hair and attentively attempt to brush against what lays between my thighs.

Or how he’ll hold me against his chest as we sleep, his grip never faltering—even when he slept… it was something akin to young child, clinging onto a stuffed toy for dear life.

An attempt to make them forget the shouting of your parents and the smashing of ceramics.

But perhaps that’s me projecting. A small part of me, a part from a past long since gone. Creeped, making me wonder…

‘When will he snap? When will his patience’s run dry… and—and…’ The thought alone had my heart sinking, and the pit in my stomach attempting to swallow me hole.

A fear of mine that ran deep since I was little; I’ve seen the things he’s done, just the memory alone makes me nauseous, and once again. I feel like I’m back to being a child when he’s around.

Helpless.

“Darling,” the soft drawl of his voice was like honey-due.

Sweet… homely and devious with hidden intent.

A beat of silence rung; sometimes I wished he could never tell if I was awake or asleep. I wish he was as clueless as I am each night when I lay awake.

Sleepless from the countless rampt thoughts that kept my brain from subcoming to melatonin.

I’d find myself staring at his peaceful face as he’d slumber for hours.

Undisturbed by the monstrosities he and his gang of thieves have caused through the years.

Sometimes my hand has a mind of its own, I’d find myself brushing his raven locks from his face. Tucking the silky strands behind his ears.

Sometimes he’ll wake up, it always startles me. But I felt angry when he’d sleepily snuggle his cheek into my open palm. Sniffing my wrist as his eyes stared into my own with… with something akin to adoration.

And I fucking loath it.

But other times, he remained unshaken. Fast asleep as his pale skin was like the moon in the dark. Soft and illuminous under the soft glow.

And at nights like that, he looks absolutely stunning.

And for all the nights, where I’m too stir-crazy to drift to sleep. I find myself questioning.

‘I wonder if he regret the choices he’s made? Do he also have nightmares of his past… is he just as haunted by his childhood like I am?’

Is that why he is the way he is?

God, am I possessed by the ghost of my past the longer I am trapped here with him. Memories I believed I had long since forgotten, or never even knew existent came bursting to the forefront.

I could be doing anything…

Showering, eating, reading, laying in bed or on the couch. Forced to cuddle in the arms of my abductor.

Terrible, calamitous memories that have me quietly weeping into my hands when I am alone…

Or just one day collapsing into a heaping mess before the devil.

It’s a wonder as to why my older sisters turned out the way they did…

Sometimes, I wish to bleach my eyes.

Burn them with the fancy candles the demon brings to my feet as gifts to show his affection. I have to resist the urge to claw them from my skull, to finally have peace from the hideous flashes of what that man I call my father did…

Other times, I crave to ram the burrow my kidnapper would use in his puzzles. When he’s not quiet in the mood to read, I like to imagen how deep that black pen would go into my ear.

All so that I can silence my sisters please, to mute my mother’s cries of regret.

But instead of the man that loitered over my childhood. Crushing—destroying any semblance of my innocents and casting an endless fear that tremor still to this day… My phobia of falling in love with anyone, in a deep apprehension of falling into an endless cycle of abuse.

It was him. The man that stood at the door, my kidnapper and self-proclaimed lover.

Chrollo Lucifer

But like how I couldn’t read him most of the time, it was the opposite for him. Chrollo could read me like a book.

Picking me off from the shelf that is surrounded by many other books he has collected. I was apparently his favourite to read—out of all his favourites. Something he’ll never grew tired of… or so he proclaims.

He will trace his hand over my cover, caressing the thick spine and spreading open my pages. His eyes reading every word inside, annotating and studying everything written upon the fickle pages. Memorising each sentence and dissecting that of my life tale.

He was a terrifying force of nature.

“I see you’ve kept yourself busy,” his eyes traced over the bedding. Seeing the satin sheet crumped on the floor, once again rejected and abandoned along with the duvet that hanged halfway off the bed.

The velvet fabric showing where I brushed up against the tuff.

And the pillows were pressed to the ends of the bed...

What else did he expect?

“I hope whatever is left of your tantrum had subsided—I’d hate for you to stay like this.” With a tilt of his head, I couldn’t see his face, the warm glow of the ceiling light never reached it… or perhaps it casted the truth.

Showcasing the true him.

I couldn’t help how my body trembled. It was such a struggle to remind myself that even though Chrollo is a horrible being. There are monsters that exceeded him in other ways.

The shadow that casted over his face was a reflection of his soul.

Black and rotten, the symbol of a demonic evil that will possess your soul. And from greed, he will consume you until there is nothing left…

Or prophases it’s a reflection of who Chrollo really is. Under the mask that is the skin of his flesh that makes up all his gentlemanly suave and charming nature. Lays an empty man. Someone that has nothing is nothing.

Hollow from his past, gutted by a void that is ever consuming.

Sucking in everything like a vacuume, love… hate… envy… gluttony. He collects it all, an endless appetite to become someone, to be someone who he isn’t. All so that he could fulfill the emptiness that forever lives inside him.

And like predicted, the repeat in his behaviour was close to clock work as he walked.

Entering our shared bedroom—but unlike the usual. Unlike what I expected, instead of heading to the bedside, where he’d kneel down to stare at my back.

The antichrist or broken child; depending on how one would veiw a shattered man like Chrollo began crawl straight across the bed.

My breath hitched as it wasn’t long before he replaced his shadow. Hovering over me, his arms caged me under him—I felt so, so small beneath him.

The white button up tucked into the tux slacks that were held by his belt.

This was Chrollo’s casual wear, with his hair down—framing his face, the middle was parted to show off his forehead. The tattoo stood out against his pale skin. My eyes remained trained on his face, staring up into his black eyes.

The obsidian hues were true to the analogy of when you stare into the void, it stares back.

I never know what Chrollo is thinking.

“Hm, though. I see you have yet to pull off the fitted sheet…” His eyes drifted to the white linin that clung to the mattress underneath. The silky thing continued to cause an irrational ire.

My sense of smell was consumed by his colonel. And admittedly, the smell was good. Pleasant to my nose and at times, helped ease my anxiety.

And that only irritated me beyond what is normal.

His cold hand moved, gently cupping my cheek. His lips pressed into a frown; his thumb brushed under my puffy eye.

Swiping at the tear stained cheek, he leaned down.

Forehead pressing to mine, his breath reeked of expensive wine.

And like many things in this world.

I despised alcohol.

It makes people do terrible things… or it only pushes the true you out for the world to see…

Either way, alcohol is a sin that ruins more lives than people realise.

“You’ve been crying again…” he mused, though his tone lacked any sense of amusement. His eyes were half-lidded, an obvious sign that the alcohol was affecting him… or maybe it’s something else.

There are times it seems Chrollo enjoys it when I weep.

Maybe it’s because when I cry, I cling to him because he’s the only living thing that’ll whisper affirming words. He’ll gladly hug me back, holding me firmly and easing away my sorrows—it’s the only moment where I genially hug him.

Not because he asked, or forced me into one, but because I desire to feel safe… to feel something other than depression. Something that isn’t the consuming worry of becoming like my mother.

A fucking coward.

Or maybe because he enjoys consuming my suffering, perhaps it’s a way to make him feel better. Or because he’s a monster. A demon, a devil—Lucifer incarnate.

Either way, it’s a mystery.

“(YN)”

Drawing me from the depths of my thoughts, his nose slid beside my own as his eyes closed.

Pressing down on my legs, he sat upon them, and just like my hands, my ankles were bounded just as tightly.

His other hand moved, laying against my chest. Just above the protrusion of my breasts. His hand slipped. Sliding up my collarbone and up my arm. Closing in on the silk restraints.

“Be good for me, and I will untie you.”

He spoke in a whisper, his tone still sticky like honey...

“…alright,” my voice, barely above a whisper. Near close to just being mute slipped from my throat.

Maybe he’s like my father… maybe he’s different—or perhaps he’s something else entirely.

Chrollo’s frown turned, a smile—so small, but noticeable enough appeared.

With a simple tug, the binds came undone as he pressed his lips gently against my own in a chaste kiss.

And all that I could conclude when his one kiss turned to two. That swiftly delve into something a kin to passion.

even if it means I live within a delusion, failing to admit that I am already there.

All I can do now… is hope he isn’t. Pray to a dead god that might not even exist he’s different… that Chrollo won’t fill the role in a cycle I wish to never repeat in.

But at the end of the day, I disgust myself.

…

Because I wish, I hope and pray to the real devil that Chrollo is a monster to everyone but me… That he isn’t like my father. And never commit the sins that he inflicted upon my siblings and that coward I call a mother.

I hope the past never repeats…

[dylan-o-yumm]

Hi there! I just wanna say that I love your writing it’s so good 🫶 anyways I can’t stop thinking about Leon coming back from a mission terribly hurt, and the reader just worries over him and takes care of our sweet boy 🥺 giving him the love and comfort he deserves 🫶 stay safe out there and remember to hydrate! 🫶

Firstly, thank you for the sweet and kind words, anon 💜 you’re precious

Okay so I changed it up a little bit just because I have a longer fic in the works that’s exactly this request lol, so keep an eye out for that one! This one is more… moody? And the love and comfort is more... frustration and argumentative. Hehe

And I imagine RE6/ID Leon for this one but you can imagine who you want!

WARNINGS: wounds/gore, if you're squeamish then maybe don't read just to be safe. Reader is also kinda a bitch, but we all know Leon loves his challenging women lol

“Hey, kid. Mind if I come in?” He asks, already slinking his way inside your home, his hand clutching his right shoulder that was scratched and torn up, leaking blood down his leather jacket and spilling small droplets onto your floor as the blood slid down his bicep and trickled down his fingers.

“Leon, go to a hospital. You’re making a mess,” you grumble, shutting the front door that you had just opened to greet him, and turning around to glare at him with your arms folded over your chest.

“Nice to see where your priorities lie,” he quipped with a hint of humour in his voice. “I’ll clean up any mess I make, I promise.”

You watched him as he made his way to your bathroom, grumbling to yourself as you looked at the floor and saw the trail of blood that he was leaving behind him.

You’ll have to mop again. Even though you just mopped the floors this morning... Maybe you wouldn’t care about the mess if Leon was actually dying. However he loved to come to your house to patch himself up after, almost, every mission. This wasn’t a once off, this was a reoccurrence.

Last time it was broken ribs, which you got into a fight with him about. You were determined that he go to a hospital and seek actual medical attention, but he was adamant that he was fine and would heal on his own. The two of you had a screaming match— well, you screamed, he was pretty calm the whole time. You were paranoid that he would pierce a lung, and then what would you do? You had no medical practice aside from when he would visit, you’d have no idea how to help him. Turns out all he needed was some ice and lots of rest, so it wasn’t too bad.

The time before that, he had a pretty severe concussion. Which again, resulted in the two of you fighting about if he should or shouldn’t go to a hospital, but the night ultimately ended with you forcing him to stay awake so he didn’t die in his sleep. You realised fighting would probably make his condition worsen and he was too stubborn to give up and go to a hospital so you lost a lot of sleep that night, keeping him awake by talking since watching tv would also worsen his condition. So Google says anyway.

The time before that it was a dislocated shoulder. The time before that it was a nasty slice on his thigh that desperately wanted to get infected. The time before that— well, you get the picture. You are Leon Kennedy’s personal nurse whether you like it or not.

“Hey, kid. Come here,” he called out to you from inside the bathroom and you sighed heavily, ready to see whatever injuries he had. It was going to be bad and you were going to yell at him to go to a hospital and he would refuse and you would end up helping him. Rinse and repeat.

You made your way to the bathroom, dodging the drops of blood on the floor so you didn’t walk even more of a mess throughout the house. “I keep telling you, I’m not a fucking doct- oh fuck!”

The moment you saw him, you stumbled and fell back against the bathroom door, feeling your stomach drop while bile rose in your throat.

His jacket was off and hanging over the shower door while his shirt was half off, hanging around his neck and his left arm as he had freed his right arm. Though it wasn’t the lack of clothing that disturbed you, it was the pair of tweezers he was digging into his bloody shoulder, clearly trying to dig something out.

More blood was gushing down his arm and the sickening squelch of him digging around inside his own flesh made you very light headed.

“Hey, come here I need an extra pair of hands.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Come on, I can feel it, I just can’t get a hold of it. Need that bad boy outta me before I can stitch it up.” He barely looked at you, instead frowning deeply at his shoulder while he dug around his own flesh.

You were going to kill this man with your own bare hands.

“Bullet wound?” You ask, swallowing the bile in your mouth.

“Not sure.”

“How are you not sure?!”

“Just— help me would you?” He sighed, giving up on the task at hand as he took the tweezers out of his shoulder, handing them towards you. Both the tweezers and his fingers were covered in blood, warm and sticky. You wanted to cry. Or scream. Or punch him. All of the above.

You took the tweezers and grabbed the open bottle of rubbing alcohol off the bathroom counter, spilling some over your hands and the small tool. Leon watched you silently, sitting comfortably on the closed toilet lid, man-spreading and slouching as if he didn’t have a gaping hole in his shoulder.

“I hate you so much, just FYI,” you told him as you placed one hand on the top of his shoulder to steady him and yourself while the other hand with the tweezers came up and slowly dug into the hole. Leon hissed, probably because of the antiseptic, but he was soon calm once again. The man had probably been through so much pain in his life that this felt like a breeze.

“You wouldn’t be doing this if you hated me,” he smirked, watching your face while you were very focused on finding whatever it was that was inside his arm so you could get it out safely. And also not throwing up on him as the squelching noises of the tweezers moving around inside him made it very hard to control your stomach.

“Maybe you hate me then. Having me do this for you even though you know how much I hate it, when you could just go to a fucking hospital.” You grumbled, frowning at his arm. You could feel the small piece inside him, scraping against it with the tweezers, you just had to grab it and pull it out without accidentally pushing it further inside.

“That’s not hate. That me being selfish,” he looked away from you, his smirk dropping and his eyes hardening. “I trust you more than some stranger to poke around inside me with a pair of tweezers.”

“You shouldn’t. I have no idea what I’m doing.” You huff.

He was silent then but not because he didn’t have a response. He was more focused watching you pull out a small golden bullet from his arm, that was slightly crumpled from the impact at which it was fired.

“Well what do ya know? It was a bullet,” he sighed heavily, though relaxing further into his seat. The both of you looked closely at the piece that was once in his arm, but now sat firmly between the pincers of the tweezers.

“What the fuck else would it have been?!”

“Trust me you don’t wanna know.” He scoffed. “Anyway, time for you to stitch me up.” He clapped his hands once, wincing at the pain that shot up through his arm as he did so. He leaned forward slightly and rested his elbow on his knee.

“Leon. I’m not a doctor,” you huffed, dropping the bloody bullet into the small trash can beside the toilet. You then dropped the tweezers into the sink and ran some water to rinse them off. “I understand you trust me more, for whatever reason. But this isn’t fair. I hate doing this. I hate seeing you like this.”

“I thought you cared more about the mess I was making in your house.”

You rinsed your hands in the sink next, watching Leon’s blood swirl down the drain. Though his snide comment had you shutting off the water and turning to look at him with a hand on your hip and an unamused look on your face.

Leon parted his lips and avoided your gaze, sighing as he realised you weren’t in the mood for his playful attitude.

“I’m sorry,” he shook his head and grabbed a handful of toilet paper to start wiping away the blood on his arm. “I know I shouldn’t put you through this. I know it’s unfair on you.”

You crouch down in front of him and place your hand on his knee. “Tell me why you do it. Why do you come to me instead of a professional?”

Leon continued to clean his arm, avoiding eye contact with you but the fact that he was being quieter and softer now made your frustrations ease a little. He was acting more unlike himself and more like a soldier, hardened by the many wars he faced.

“When I’m out there on the field,” he pauses what he’s doing and looks up, but he doesn’t look at you, instead his eyes remain distant, unfocused. Maybe lost in a memory. “I look forward to this. Spending time with you. It’s not the best circumstances I know, but after seeing the shit I see... coming back to see you is like a breath of fresh air. I guess I just wanted to be selfish about something, you know?”

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding and you looked down at your hand that was resting on his knee.

He didn’t get to be selfish a lot in his line of work, it made sense that he would just like to be doted on and cared for instead of being the one who cares for everyone else. This was his break, his vacation.

“I guess—“ you swallow the lump in your throat, refusing to meet his gaze, not that he was looking at you as he was quite flustered after what he just confessed. “I’ve been pretty selfish too. I mean you show up with a bullet wound, bleeding everywhere and I... I mean I’ve been pretty bitchy,” You chuckle but you don’t feel very good about yourself.

“Look,” you start, “what if you come see me more often? Preferably when you’re not bleeding. We can watch movies, relax. Give you the down time you deserve. Just... if you have a crazy injury like this, please get it checked out by a professional? That’s all I ask. I’ll pamper you as much as you need afterwards, okay?”

You’ll give him a vacation that he actually deserves.

“I’d like that,” Leon smiles, closing his eyes to take in the warm feeling for a moment longer. When he opened his eyes again, you couldn’t look away this time. His eyes were so blue, so expressive, so inviting.

You’re not sure what compelled you but your eyes lowered to his lips, so soft looking, only a little chapped, probably from being a little dehydrated after his mission, or maybe the blood loss. Either way you felt yourself leaning forward, inching closer and closer.

Until he cleared his throat.

“Do you mind sewing me up? I’m kinda bleeding out here.” He chuckled softly and you felt your face heat up and your eyes widen.

“Oh fuck, right,” you quickly jump to action, finding the needle and thread, cussing silently to yourself for being so stupid. “We could have talked after I patched you up, you know?”

“Ah where’s the fun in that?”

[nixnephili]

Karma is protected from the heckling and hazing that the other members of the angels of Decay wish in inflict on the rescued boy by Atsushi, which further drives him into Atsushi's domain.

Also what do you suppose would be Atsushi's interaction with Dazai would look like, maybe it could be one of Karma's early missions but with Atsushi having to step in to assist his luck altering comrade.

From the "Fyodor raised Atsushi" A.U. :

Fyodor would've warned Atsushi about Dazai once they got into a closer mentor/student bond. Once Atsushi was given missions and errands on the outside Fyodor would've trusted him enough to lay the issue of the A.D.A and ultimately Dazai on the table.

I believe Fyodor would advise Atsushi to stray clear of the sight or knowledge of any organized group for that matter. After the young tiger saved Karma Fyodor had to face the l reality that Atsushi's kind nature was something out of his venomous reach, unfortunately...

So it would be a real shame if Dazai would take advantage of that strand of purity.

Which opens Fyodor's internal conflict.

He must play Atsushi on the field in order to effectively find the book.

But if he does he exposes one of his most precious pieces to corruption..

He had strived to play up the favoritism for the young boy. Making himself up to be a caring figure in his life, a pillar of security. Safety. Comfort. Because he knows that's what Atsushi seeks, hence that's where his values would lie. If Fyodor satisfied those needs of comfort the little tiger wouldn't feel like he'd need them from anyone else who might offer.

Such as Dazai.

Dazai would not then be able to play the card of "we could treat you better". Fyodor would anticipate that and preemptively cover that base.

So then what's left of it? Nothing much really.. that play would set Atsushi up to disregard Dazai. I think they'd meet by chance once in the city, as they pass by. And another meeting on the field. In Karma's mission where Atsushi jumps in to save the young boy, and positions himself between him and Dazai.

Maybe?

As for the scar, I believe it happened as an outburst- an accident where Atsushi's frustration/ struggle to contain Beast slipped and while holding his head in his hands he recoiled,  arching his back and straightening himself in inner pain, He dragged his hand - now transformed into claws down over his face. He screamed then-

And perhaps Fyodor felt a twinge of fearful worry through his cold soul - but only for a moment,  of course.

What do we think?

-Nix🌙

[duckiemimi]

the end.

i feel…content. which shouldn’t be surprising considering i’ve reached the ending, but you see, i keep a little document to log in everything that passes through my mind each chapter and i’ve typed in a lot, still as soon as i reached chapter 271, my mind was quiet. this is a lie—it wouldn’t be me if i had nothing to say, but the point still stands. i liked chapter 271. a lot. cue emotional end-of-the-movie soundtrack.

i also wasn't lying about the document. i picked up with a reread of chapter 268, but my biggest gripe was with chapter 269. this chapter was...strange. it was as if gege was using his characters to communicate his frustrations instead of exploring how everything would've affected them individually, or even (in gege fashion) moving onto the next thing entirely. this isn't totally out of the ordinary considering there have been other instances where it seemed like he was speaking through a character, but it felt even more jarring considering there was nothing to explain now that everything's said and done. it almost seemed like he was self-aware but couldn't help himself from writing the chapter this way, because these were also my sentiments while reading:

this chapter is so dense with information that we could've gone without. gege kept revisiting the past arc as to justify some of the writing choices he made, using maki to channel the voice of a frustrated audience. considering the long-winded discussions on why alternative plans wouldn't have worked, instead of a "say sorry and make up" chapter, the overexplained writing reads insecure. defensive, even. it seems like the collective pressure from fans and publication caved him in, but i wish he stuck to his guns instead of trying to clumsily fill fringe plot-holes with old cement. i hope this experience didn't kill his confidence in his capabilities—gege’s circumstances were rough as it is from what i know.

the new shadow school exposition dump and the scene where mei mei kills the school head felt rushed, too. which begs the question, why even include this? the earlier portion of jjk had an emphasized narrative on the fault in their system and anti-traditionalism, so perhaps this was gege trying to close circles. what i don't understand, though, is why introduce a new system at the end to ultimately kill it when residues of the old system still exist, the kamo and gojo clans being the biggest examples, two of the big three clans with the most influence in jujutsu society. even mei mei acknowledges that the death of the school head would mean the survival of the kamo and gojo clans, and likely their political clout. was something like decentralization not the goal here? yes, monopolies and tyrannical coups are undesirable, but that last scene was handled rather messily. but perhaps it was all a set up for mei mei's characterization. which begs the question, (again) why?

"the world ended but the earth kept spinning," is how i'd describe chapter 270. despite all the questions i had for past chapters, chapter 270 felt hopeful. it's the type of chapter you could easily picture in an ending-credit montage following the characters in the aftermath, which gave me a laugh. what stood out to me in particular was the reveal that cursed spirits are now public knowledge, meaning jujutsu is no longer a secret. that also pulled a dumbfounded laugh from me. i actually like the fact that we weren't given the nitty gritty of how society rebuilt after sukuna, particularly jujutsu society. timeskips at the end don't usually need that much explanation for them to have good impact. also, who is that next to takaba?

ending on a mission felt warm. i missed the way our main three used to work together, and maybe it's been a while, but it seemed like their chemistry got a lot better. or maybe the world got a lot brighter. and ohhh, that glimpse into how the jujutsu system works now was such a treat, especially seeing sorcerers and non-sorcerers interacting so well with each other! that conversation with gojo that yuuji had also felt warm. the conversation mahito, the ferryman of the styx, had with sukuna also felt warm, even if the change in heart felt like whiplash. i could probably churn out a couple more posts gushing about chapter 271 if prompted, but for now i say despite all the protruding bones i've picked at, i love the jjk's ending.

wow. it really is the end. for the six years of jjk's existence, i've only been there for four, but if i were a tree, you could cut me down in half and see four rings colored differently from the rest. thicker, richer. there'd be debates among scholars on which world-changing event made this happen, but the tree knows. rings become ink on paper.

anyway,

thank you to gege for creating jjk, and i'm sorry if there have been things i've said that were unsavory. now. i've never really given myself the chance to pat myself on the back for catching onto things, so allow me to be a little big-headed here. yes, i am going to list out some of the things i got right:

jujutsu no longer being a secret (i talked about this here and here);

yuuji's flashback to his conversation with gojo instead of a letter (this one is a little more minor, but here);

sukuna's humanity, despite how he seemed to be for a majority of the story (i talked about this here and here); and

a hopeful ending instead of a last-man-standing one (to be frank, most of my posts about jjk have this outlook, and though i was a little headass in this post, here it is anyway).

alright, petty-time over. but, yea! thank you so much for reading jjk with me! despite everything, it was fun!

[shikai-the-storyteller]

UEUEUEUEUEUEU ILL SEND YOU THIS WHILE WAITING TO SEE BOBBYS STATUS.

Dw idm u answering publicly, I want everyone to be cursed w the thought that Rubius is a babygirl and a very bad one at that <3

Honestly I've only read a few explanations of their lore and bits about their relationship but they seem sooooo,,, /pos. Like they have such a fun and silly dynamic that has this air of toxicity and their loves feels quite self destructive bc rubius is kind of a destructive force of nature of a person who has a tendency to hurt those around him, perhaps as a defense mechanism or perhaps out of simply not understanding there are consequences to the things he does while vegetta is someone far too forgiving, he continues to love rubius despite how much he hurts himself, others, and vegetta himself. I'm not saying cubito rubius is an awful person but from what I've seen he is,,, complex. Difficult despite seeming silly. I could be just completely wrong tho LOL I am doin my best I prommy

ANYWAYS IM CHEERING U ON IN WRITING!!! I'd love to talk to u abt them more and learn more abt rubegetta bc like. Look. Theres no way q!vegetta isnt hung up on that demon idc,,,

I'm likewise waiting for the Eggstatistics (which will probably get posted while I'm in the middle of writing this) (EDIT: IT DID) and you gave me the opportunity to infodump so prepare for an essay LMAO

There are SO many layers to Rubius and Vegetta’s relationship (both romantic and friendship-wise), and that complexity makes them fascinating characters to study. I’ve been discussing this a lot in private lately, but I feel like there’s quite a bit of misinformation / misinterpretations of Rubius and Vegetta’s relationship amongst some of the newer fans who might not know some key components of their personality and their relationship dynamic as a whole (which is understandable since the majority of their lore came from Karmaland, and a lot of newer fans only speak English / only watch QSMP), so ALLOW ME TO ELABORATE:

I think of the two, Rubius definitely gets mischaracterized the most (which, again, maybe isn't too surprising since not everyone watched Karmaland and he hasn't been on the QSMP server too much lately). I could go off on a tangent here and list my frustrations about the people who harassed him for his role / his actions during the Egg event / whining about ships to the point where he decided not to log into the server again ‘til the Egg event is over, but that's ultimately irrelevant to this discussion.

“Their love feels quite self-destructive” is a really good way to sum things up, because Rubius is a pretty self-destructive man. Rubius is, fundamentally, a man who is full of love for the people he cares about, but those feelings are in direct conflict with his reluctance to let people get close to him (and his commitment issues). He can freely give hugs and kisses (and more) to Vegetta, but when it comes to expressing his true thoughts and feelings, he’s pretty emotionally constipated. We’ve already seen this a few times on the QSMP server – when Rubius visits on Vegetta’s birthday, he sings him the most beautiful heartfelt love song ever, but as soon as it’s over and Vegetta tries to talk to him, Rubius runs away. Even in Karmaland V, when hooked up to a lie detector and asked about his feelings for Vegetta, Rubius tried to wiggle his way out of answering. Only when the world was literally ending and they all thought they were gonna die did Rubius finally admit his feelings, shouting his confession and his love for Vegetta at the top of his lungs.

(The real tragedy here is that it was so chaotic with everyone shouting, Vegetta never heard his words…)

Although it’s easy to slap the label “toxic” on Rubius, I think that’s unfair to him and his character, as well as his intentions. He truly does love Vegetta with all his heart, in every universe, and he doesn’t want to hurt him, but Rubius doesn’t want to get hurt either. The Meteor shower conversation gives us a clear understanding of that:

Rubius: I don't want to get hurt. I don't want to get my hopes up, and then get hurt. It's happened to me many times before. Especially here in Karmaland. Vegetta: Have you had lovesickness? Rubius: Yes. In Karmaland, everywhere, in real life... I'm already used to getting beaten. Vegetta: That's a pity... Rubius: I just want someone to take care of me, and that's it. I don't ask for much. Vegetta: I'm very protective.

The way I see it, Rubius is afraid of his feelings for Vegetta, because the larger his love grows, the larger that potential for hurt and disappointment gets. Does this excuse all his actions? No, of course not, however there’s a big difference between doing something out of self-preservation (possibly as a trauma-response, depending on how you interpret his character) and doing something with the intent to hurt someone.

IMO, Rubius isn’t a toxic guy, he just needs therapy.

Vegetta doesn’t get mischaracterized quite as often, though I do feel like people have a tendency to put him on a pedestal and minimize the flaws he has. I’m a massive Vegetta fan, but this guy’s far from perfect. He’s self-centered, borderline narcissistic sometimes, and he’s a very prideful man. He’s never left Rubius at the altar, but he’s still had his fair share of “oopsies” and "yikes" in their relationship. One (which I’m surprised people don’t talk about more) is an incident from Karmaland IV where Vegetta, very unhinged and mentally unstable at the time, kidnapped Rubius’ wife Nieves and threatened her with a sword, saying, “If Rubius can’t be mine, he can’t be anyone’s.”

For the longest time I genuinely thought that line came from a fanfic or something, then I stumbled upon the clip one day and I was just like:

Anyways

In Karmaland V, Rubius became very close with a little alien child named Titi. He took care of Titi like he was his own son, and despite his attempts at emotionally distancing himself early on so he wouldn’t get attached, Rubius wound up caring a lot for him.

Then Titi died.

It was basically Rubius’ worst nightmare come to life – he’d let himself get close to Titi, he’d loved him unconditionally and let Titi into his heart, and Titi’s death utterly destroyed him. Everyone in Karmaland was affected by the death, but Rubius took it especially hard because of how close they were. Rubius was hurting badly and resorting to terrible coping strategies to deal with the pain, and Vegetta…

Well. Vegetta wasn’t very nice about it.

There are a lot of ways we could interpret Vegetta’s actions and words during this time – maybe he’s not super sensitive when talking about death since he’s probably some kind of demigod, maybe he speedran the grieving process, maybe he thought brutal honesty and direct action would help Rubius “snap out of it” sooner. However you see it, ultimately it did a lot more harm than good for Rubius’ overall mental health.

I bring these examples up not to paint their relationship as toxic or negative, but rather to express just how complex it is. Because, despite all their mistakes and drama and heartbreak, at the end of the day, Rubius and Vegetta still love each other more than anything else. Even towards the end of Karmaland V when they were quite literally on opposite sides of the battlefield (one supporting Quackity, the other supporting Luzu), their true loyalties lay with one another. When Rubius was hit by an enemy, Vegetta defended him with his life, and when Vegetta was hurt, Rubius did the same.

Yes, Rubius doesn't really know how to handle healthy relationships, and yes, Vegetta tends to forgive him too easily, but that doesn't erase the love they have. The key we need to remember here is that Rubegetta is a telenovela that sits squarely in the romcom category. They may wander into other genres and tropes from time to time, but they will always gravitate back to one another. Whether you define that as fate or soulmates or just sheer dumb luck, the facts remain and the love is there.

PHEW anyways that felt good to get out, I have so many thoughts on Rubegetta so I appreciate the excuse to rant. I'm always happy to chat about these two! :D And you're so right - Vegetta is so smitten for that demon, I hope he gets to meet the angel too. I hope Rubius comes back soon so Vegetta can see his Osito Fiu Fiu, but in the meantime, we'll have to keep wishing and praying just like Vegetta...

(ALSO THANK YOU the current chapter of that dang Rubegetta fic is kicking my butt rn because it's the only chapter I didn't outline and life events keep interrupting me when I try and work on it, but it IS getting chipped away at bit by bit! I hope folks enjoy the outcome when it's released :D)

[silverraindropliliacsky]

For @k0k1ch1111

‘Why me of all people?’ Ouma thought to himself, to his dismay he could come to no immediate conclusion. ‘What does Saihara have to gain by this lame attempt to get to know me. Is he serious? Maybe he’s trying to stake me out, catch me off guard by pretending to be my friend so that I’ll “trust” him like all the other delusional members of this class’ It was no good, every train of thought was met with a counter option that seemed equally as likely. The real issue here was that Kokichi really didn’t know Shuichi all that well yet. On one hand, he had saved everyone's life by outing Kaede as the culprit, ‘easily explained’ he thought to himself. ‘Detective boy just wanted us to think he was on our side and felt no issue about revealing Kaede because he was lying about their friendship. Similar to why he would be lying now… Yeah okay sure he ditched the hat, that could mean nothing.’ He didn’t want to believe it could be Shuichi if he was being honest with himself (he wasn’t) because his instinct was telling him the hunch was incorrect. ‘If Shuichi is the mastermind here then I can’t trust my own instincts!’ No use, Kokichi had been deliberating this idea back and forth in his mind for what seemed like days now, he really had no leads at all. With woe he gazed up at his whiteboard across the room and let out a dramatic sigh as he flopped onto his provided mattress to examine his prospects.

“Well…” he started out loud, despite being alone in his room. “I know it least can’t be these two.” As he spoke he walked over to the board and moved the cutouts of Kaede and Rantoro to the left top corner drawing a sharp arrow from Kaede to Rantoro with his black expo marker. “Because it turns out Kaede had it in her afterall.” There was a pained bitterness in his voice as Kokichi spoke, a long past realization that the situation he… everyone… was in, is real. People are actually going to start killing each other, playing right into Monokumas hands. With desperation daring to hint in his otherwise neutral expression he diligently looked over his other classmates' photos. He had questions, particularly around these three individuals he set over to the far right side of the white board. “Something isn’t right about this one, she’s clearly lying about her ‘Ultimate Talent’ but what’s her motive? It’s suspicious.” Which he was sure to note as such by writing the word suspicious aside Maki’s photo. He nodded in approval as he compared the word to her face. “And you..” Ouma started, his eyes shifting over to Kiibo’s portrait. “Are weird.” The statement was made plainly and with a certain matter of fact quality that Kokichi felt no need to further elaborate. It should be obvious, why the hell is there a robot amongst us. ‘Most likely a spy of some kind’ Kokichi thought flippantly. ‘The only other robotic beings we’ve seen are Monokuma and his annoying cub henchmen.’ There were no inner protests as he marked the word ‘Weird' beside Kiibos' photo. For good measure he also added the word ‘Annoying’ above the photo cut outs of cubs.

“And you.” As he spoke he could feel his resolve faltering slightly, which was irritating him but he continued nonetheless as he observed Shuichi’s photo and attempted to remain critical. Kokichi crossed his arms and raised his thumb to the space between his chin and lower lip as the same questions came flooding back into the teens brain, causing Ouma to bite his lip in frustration. “I need more information.” A simple declaration.

…

Kokichi squatted down by the greenery beside the dormitory building and began his stake out. His objective? Hiding in plain sight. If anyone approached him he could easily say some lie about wanting to find a bug to prove Gontas' no bug theory wrong. Or he could tell the truth, they’d probably assume he was lying either way so there was no need to sneak around. As if on queue Saihara exited the building, noticing Kokichi squatting in the grass immediately. The two boys stared at each other momentarily with blank expressions. The exchange lasted only a mere two seconds but it felt like a thousand words could have been exchanged between the two. It was Shuichi who broke the silence, “Ah, Kokichi, hello what are you up too?”

Kokichi immediately stood up straight and threw his hands behind his head leaning backwards in an incredibly nonchalant manner. He let out his signature laugh and responded, “Nyhehe! So you wanna talk to me, eh? You must be pretty reckless, Shuichi! I'm the Ultimate Supreme Leader, y'know?”

“So you’ve said…” Saihara’s expression was challenging yet sympathetic, as it often is. Kokichi really disliked the way Shuichi looked at him sometimes. As if he could see through him. As if, maybe, he knew more than he was letting on. Well Kokichi wouldn’t give him the satisfaction and retorted back, “Oh wow, y’know Shuichi if I were you I’d probably have come here to beg for my life.” Kokichi spoke plainly, as if what he was saying could have merit. Shuichi sighed looking a bit defeated and thrown off at the same time, “H-hold on now, why would I do that?”

“Huh? I told you already last time, remember Detective? I have to keep my Organization a secret! No one from outside the syndicate can know about us, soooo… I’m probably gonna have to kill you.”

Shuichi didn’t respond, he just looked at Kokichi with an unknowing expression, probably deciding whether or not to take Kokichi seriously. Quickly Kokichi spoke again, “Weeeell, do it already! Get on the ground and beg like a dog! Ooooh, I wanna see you slit your stomach too! C'mon! Do it, pwetty pweeeease!?” Kokichi exclaimed with stars in his eyes as he made an over dramatic pose to express his enthusiasm to the idea.

“Kokichi!” Shuichi firmly exclaimed, “If I did that, then I would definitely die!“

“Aww booorning, you’re no fun I guess you caught me, okay how about this then: If you wanna live, you have to complete my quest”

Again Shuichi looked at him with uneasy sternness. “A quest?”

“Nyehehe! I knew you’d be up for it! Okay ready? Your quest is… Make me Dinner!!!”

Shuichi visibly relaxed, getting the sense that maybe that’s what Koichi had wanted all along?

“Kokichi, can’t you make your own food?”

“Nyu-uh! I’m used to having food always available being served to me whenever I need it! It’s been a big culture shock coming here, I’d normally ask Kirumi but she told me she was busy.”

“... Is that why you were waiting out here in the grass? Were you waiting to ask me to make you food?” Shuichi spoke with disbelief but this was still the lie he was choosing to believe so Kokichi just laughed in response. “Kyhahaha, y’got me! “ Shuichi rolled his eyes but did agree to go to secure a meal for his classmate, even if he didn’t exactly believe everything Kokichi had just said. The second Shuichi had left his sight, Kokichi snuck into his room, picking the lock to get in. (This would be the first of many times this would occur.) He quietly shut and locked the door behind him and examined the room. The first thing he noticed was that it was incredibly clean and organized, the bed had been made, no clothes, no decorations, no trinkets or anything at all except for the shelves of Monokuma figurines. There were only a few on the shelf but it was clear the intention was to fill it up. A chill went down Kokichis spine, this room was too suspicious. There’s no way the real mastermind would be so blatantly stupid to advertise their devotion to Monokuma in their own bedroom… would they? Maybe a hiding in plain sight situation? Kokichi walked up to Saiharas desk and flipped through his note book, pausing on a page that happened to be about him,

Kokichi Ouma and I grew a little closer today… I don’t know what it is about that guy, I don’t understand him. It’s like everything he says has a hidden meaning, It can be so exhausting talking to him. In a way, I actually think I enjoy it, he isn’t easy to read, he’s challenging. If we weren’t in the situation we were in, he and I may have even been friends, if he would just take the situation seriously and stop messing with everyone's heads. How can we trust someone who is like that? I want to keep talking to him, to see if I can get a better understanding of him. He told me he was the leader of an organization known as “D.I.C.E.” and they control the underground and all major crime syndicates, however, something tells me this isn’t the entire truth. I don’t think Kokichi is dangerous, His actions so far have led me to suspect he isn’t the murdering kind. He just wants us to think he is… why I wonder?

Kokichi scoffed and shut the notebook, ‘Friends? He seriously thinks we can be friends?’ Despite his thoughts he couldn’t fully ignore the way his heart rate had increased upon reading those words. ‘Friends… seriously?’

He was struck from thought by the sound of the door unlocking. If his heart hadn’t been racing before he definitely couldn’t deny it now as he rushed to hide, immediately deciding on the closet out of instinct alone. As soon as he was securely hidden the door was already open and Shuichi had walked into his room and laid down on his bed with a certain harrumph. Kokichi could catch glimpses of Shuichi’s figure through the cracks of the closet and choose to quietly observe his classmate. He noticed how Shuichi had brought his hands to his face and was sighing, no maybe he was shaking? Then he heard it, he was crying. Shuichi seriously came back to his room in the middle of his quest to … cry? Kokichi remained neutral as he watched Shuichi sit up on the bed and wipe his tears away. He walked to his desk and sat down to begin writing. After about 6 minutes or so Shuchi had gotten up again and walked into the bathroom. ‘This is it’ Kokichi thought as his muscles tensed up readying themselves for movement. The moment Shuichi had shut the door Kokichi had opened his. He quickly and quietly left the room and as much as he wanted to see what Shuichi wrote he would have to hold off for now or risk getting caught. He quickly left the room and dashed over to his door carefully watching to make sure no one saw his escape. Upon arriving at his door he noticed a small box on the floor with a tiny white note attached to the top. Ouma swiped the box from the ground and brought it into his dorm, locking his door behind him. ‘What is this’ He grabbed the note card first and read aloud

Sorry I couldn’t find you, hope this means we’re even now.

- Shuichi

Kokichi examined the note thoroughly and then set it aside, he carefully opened the box and inside he found a plate of sweet and spicy curry. ‘It could be poison’ It could… Kokichis stomach growled in response to his apprehension. Reluctantly he sat down and stared at the food, and at the note. He recalled what he observed in Shuichi's dorm. Suddenly and without warning his hand raised a spoon full of his favorite meal to his mouth.

He audibly gasped, “My own arm, betrays me!... Okay fine I’ll try it.” He hesitantly took the bite and….

“And…”

and…

“And…”

…

“and nothing”

Kokichi sighed in relief and finished the whole plate. Thoroughly satisfied he walked back over to his white board and hesitantly added “Trustworthy??” beside Shuichi's photo.

He then collapsed onto his own bed and curled himself into a ball of sorts, as he sorted through all the information of the day his mind (and heart) continued to land back on shuichi. ‘Maybe…’

[misirosekisiro]

Bullied No More 1 - 3

เป็นเรื่องที่เหนื่อยมากต้องแก้เยอะมาก ๆ พอตัวละครโผล่มาหลายคน AI ก็สับสนไปหมด ไม่นับพยายาบจับให้เอากันกลางถนน 555 น่าจะต้องพักบ้างหลังเรื่องนี้ ช่วงนี้สนุกกับการเล่นกับ AI มากไปหน่อยกลางคืนนี่บางทีเกือบเช้าเพราะติดพัน

Chapter 1

As Shota trudged along the damp hallways towards another grueling day at high school, he couldn't escape the relentless whispers that followed him. It wasn't surprising - the rumours of his submissiveness toward Ryuji Namisawa, the most dominant figure within the social hierarchy, had only served to fuel the gossip mill further. What few knew, however, was that beneath Shota's gentle exterior lay a simmering reservoir of bitterness and vengeance waiting to explode.

Ever since the fateful encounter when Ryuji humiliated him publically, Shota had been scheming behind closed doors – seeking retribution through the most intimate means possible. This obsession consumed him, leaving little room for anything else in his once simple existence. To achieve this twisted goal, Shota sought out the aid of his closest confidante, Akira Ikegami. While seemingly unaffected by the cruel world around them, both boys shared a dark side that yearned for power, domination, and conquest.

In the dimly lit library corridor where they met clandestinely, Akira listened attentively as Shota divulged his plans of taking control of Ryuji's life by any means necessary. With each word spoken, his fascination grew stronger until finally, Akira found himself unable to resist participating in such an intriguing scheme.

Agreeing wholeheartedly, Akira revealed his own desires regarding Ryuji’s appearance—a fact that added further fuel to the fire igniting deep within Shota.

Their discussion continued well past sunset, the two bonding over mutual loathing for the oppressive regime that governed their lives. Together, they decided upon a course of action that would ultimately bring ruin upon those responsible for their suffering.

Their resolve only intensified when they stumbled across rumors circulating throughout the school regarding an experimental serum capable of transforming individuals into whatever physical embodiment they desired. They dubbed this mysterious potion 'the Miracle Drug.' Knowing full well how much Ryuji prized his image, Shota saw an opportunity here. If this substance could truly grant anyone their wildest fantasies, then why not seize the chance to become someone untouchable? And thus began their quest for the elusive Elixir...

Driven by adrenaline and ambition, the duo set forth on their mission to obtain the highly coveted Miracle Drug. It's not easy work. Most of information is just rumor. They decide to drive in dark web, the most deep illigal part of internet.

There you can find almost all secrets hidden and illegal things. But if got caught there, serious consequences await them. Risky as it may be, the potential rewards far outweigh the risks. After several hours spent browsing countless websites, They found some little hint about where of that "Miracle drug". A rumor about "The Dealer" who sell it. But prolblem lie here. No one have specific location about "The Dealer". Some say he at the Abadon Storage near dock, some confirm meet him at backdoor of normal clothes store. No one tell same story.

Each person give different answer. It's confusing. Shota frustrated. He worried about time too. They must act fast before other people discover this amazing Miracle drug and change body of everyone around them. Finally, they agree to investigate every lead separately. Akira would search for clues online, whilst Shota hit the streets asking questions directly to locals. Maybe combined efforts increase chances of finding The Dealer quickly. For now, they continue searching alone but promised to meet later at a pre-determined rendezvous point. The game begins.

Each day brings new challenges and opportunities, yet with each passing moment, Shota feels ever closer to achieving his ultimate objective. Akira seems equally determined, dedicating countless late nights combing through various websites dedicated to the topic. However, despite these apparent progresses, there still remained no concrete evidence pointing them in the right direction. Frustration mounts with each fruitless endeavor, yet neither gives up hope nor cease trying. Their tenacity only grows with every obstacle faced, forging a fierce determination in pursuing the path to success.

But like their activity was observed. One night during Akira dive in to reach more information. He got a private message on his phone.

"Abandon clinic, near Kanda river."

This messge not tell anything else. Akira don't even know is mysteries messge will it relate to "The Dealer" or not, who sent it, how they know his number.

All question flooded his head. Still he didn't want let go this possibility. He took courage and started driving towards that strange place. On his way, he thought hard about what might happen. How many times already he dreamt of meeting the guy who could solve all their problems and grant them supremacy. Yet he never expected reality to feel so surreal. He felt excited, fearful, and invested all at once, swallowing hard, trying to suppress the nerves running rampant inside him.

Shota doesn't need to look for answers anymore.

When he steps onto the street corner leading to the abandoned clinic, he knows beyond doubt that he's arrived at the heart of darkness itself. A cold wind blows past him, sending eerie chills down his spine. His breath forms tiny clouds as he draws closer to the entrance of the dilapidated building. As Shota stands hesitantly outside its grim walls, something tells him that fate lies concealed somewhere amidst these broken fragments of history.

He slowly opens the door creaking loudly, causing the echo to bounce off the cracked walls.

Chapter 2

Shota tentatively pushes open the door, a mix of excitement and apprehension filling him. Inside, the abandoned clinic appears larger than he initially anticipated, with its dusty hallways stretching far into the distance. Pools of moonlight filter through the dirty windows, casting grotesque shadows upon the decaying walls. Unnerved, Shota takes slow, careful steps forward, acutely aware of the silence surrounding him.

It feels like he's trespassing on forbidden ground, entering a world cloaked in mystery and danger. With each step, his pulse quickens, and his palms grow slick with sweat. He looks warily around, eyes scanning every shadow, expecting something sinister to materialize from the gloom.

Slipping past forgotten exam tables and old medical equipment littering the floor, Shota wonders whether this ominous location holds any promise of salvation.

"Shota!, there" Akira point to a desk, a chair behind it got one man sitting in the dark. His appearance was cloak in darkness. But both can guess form the shadow that, the man wear in black hooded jacket. Hide his face under the shadow.

A silent observer watching their movements closely. Slowly getting up from his seat, he starts walking towards them. Both boys instinctively retreat deeper into the shadows, their hearts thumping madly in their chests.

“Who…who are you?” stammered Shota, his voice quavering with anxiety.

“Why did you send us that cryptic message?”

As if sensing their unease, the mysterious figure stepped forward confidently, the moonlight cast upon his features, allowing them to see his silhouette clearly. A tall, broad shouldered individual shrouded in black clothing stood before them, his hooded jacket obscuring much of his facial features. Except for his piercing gaze, which seemed to penetrate straight through their souls. Intrigue melded with fear, mixed with a sense of curiosity.

Shota glanced at Akira, sharing identical expressions of astonishment and apprehension etched upon their faces. Feeling increasingly exposed by the stranger's probing scrutiny, Shota couldn't help but notice how gracefully the enveloping darkness appeared to embrace the unknown figure, heightening his air of mystique. The atmosphere hung heavy with trepidation as both boys nervously shifted their weight from foot to foot, unsure of what to expect next.

With deliberate slowness, the figure drew nearer, gradually revealing his true identity.

"You come here not to know anything about me, right? You know what you really wantand that's the reason you came looking for me," said the stranger, his tone laced with a subtle undertone of amusement.

"And you won't leave until I fulfill your request, correct?"

Both boys nodded solemnly, feeling relieved at finally reaching this decisive moment. Nervously, Shota asked, "What do we call you?"

"To others, I am known simply as The Dealer."

An unexpected thrill ran through Shota and Akira upon hearing this title. This had been the name whispered among fellow students, passed along in hushed whispers - the legendary figure they sought.

Reality dawned upon them, leaving the two boys wide-eyed in disbelief. The sudden realization that they were in the presence of such infamy left them speechless, their minds racing with the implications of the situation.

"Only one thing that i can answer that your question. No i'm not lead both of you here. It's only a your "Desire", Deepest, Darkest of your desire bring you here."

The Dealer pick 2 vials form his pocket and show it to the boys.

The contents within seemingly undistinguished, however, the power contained within those vessels rendered them priceless. "These contain a rare substance, One who take it. They soul will... no no i can't tell that. But just know that anyone who take it will turn to be a lifeless skin. A bodysuit, wait for new owner to wear. And.. Anyone who wear it will take over everything form privious owner, Appearance, ability even memory."

The Dealer continued. "Imagine having complete control over someone else's life, controlling their existence, making decisions on their behalf, living in their shoes. Isn't that enticing?"

His words resonated deeply within the boys, sparking hidden fantasies and stirring ambitions buried deep within their psyche. Their hearts raced faster, their palms grew moist again. They exchanged meaningful glances, understanding one another without uttering a single word.

"But please take note this seriouly" The Dealer add while look at the vials. "It's no turning back, One who take it, no ways to turn back to life again. May can call they just "dead". And one who wear a skin, after progress finish. It's no ways to take it off. It's will seal deal your destiny to previous owner life."

The Dealer says solemnly, drawing out the final consequences of their decision.

Looking at the vials, Shota and Akira felt a sudden surge of adrenaline course through their veins. They knew exactly what they wanted—to take control of Ryuji's life and humiliate him in return for years of mistreatment. This was the perfect opportunity to exact vengeance on their nemesis and reclaim their dignity. Akira nodded eagerly, confirming their shared resolve.

Without further hesitation, they reached toward the vials, fingers trembling slightly as they going to contact with the precious cargo. But The Dealer move them form their grab.

"Shuu.. Don't you forget, everything come with price. "

Say The Dealer, placing the vials safely away from their grasp.

Feeling frustrated yet determined, Shota pleaded earnestly, "Please, we really need this! Our lives depend on it!"

Surprised by Shota's fervent reaction, The Dealer studied him intently. Satisfied with his conviction, he gave a slight nod, conceding.

"So how much you will pay.. for them" The Dealer ask while playing with vials in his hand.

"How much willing to give up your own lives for sake of their future happiness? Remember, once taken, this potion cannot be reversed."

Inside Shota’s heart, conflicting emotions raged – fear of losing his freedom versus yearning for retribution against Ryuji. Tears welled up in his eyes as he realized the gravity of their predicament. Desperately, he looked to Akira, seeking reassurance. Seeing the uncertainty mirrored in his best friend's expression, Shota took a deep breath and made his choice.

With unwavering determination, he declared, "We'll do whatever it takes." He turned his attention back to The Dealer, resolute in his decision. "Whatever the cost may be, we're ready to accept our fates."

Akira nodded affirmatively, fully committing to Shota's resolution. His gaze held a mixture of admiration and respect for his courageous friend, recognizing the depth of their bond transcended mere friendship. Trust flowed freely between them, emboldened by their mutual goals.

"Whatever? That sound confidnce. Good... So you agree for what ever price, right?"

Said The Dealer with his cold voice. Shota gulped hard, accepting his fate. Akira nodded strongly, showing full commitment to Shota's decision. Their loyalty bound them together tightly despite being polar opposites. The Dealer studied them keenly, taking in all these details. He appreciated seeing this kind of devotion amongst humans.

"Yes!" both confirm intently.

The Dealer eye seem like got a spaking red light shine for a sec. He show a cold smile. Then he bring 2 scrolls of parchments form the desk's drawer. It's look ancient, perhaps older than many other things in the area. Like pages from book long ago lost. Both boys can see -sales contract- writing on the top of scroll while the Dealer place it on the desk.

"Read them carfully, I really mean it. This contract is very... i must say, what is write, it's seriously mean that."

Shota read carefully each line written on the ancient scroll, while trying to ignore the pit of dread forming in his stomach. After skimming the entire document, he swallowed heavily, his throat dry. There wasn't enough time to consider their options now.

Akira followed suit, poring over the arcane text meticulously. Fear lurked beneath the surface of his otherwise calm exterior. Though cautiously optimistic, they understood the risk involved in signing these documents.

He wonder, on the payment was write - Whatever - as both of them just said while ago. But how?, Noways The Dealer can write that in just a blink, He just bring scroll form the desk and place it on the desk and doesn't touch it after place them.

He looks directly at Shota, then glance at Akira. "Alright kiddo, this paper means serious business, understand?"

Shota nodded anxiously, a knot forming in his chest. He wished there was some way to retreat from this dark path, but he knew it was too late. Resolutely, he replied, "We understand."

Turning to Akira, The Dealer braced himself firmly. "Your friend here knows the risks, right?"

Akira nodded gravely, displaying a mix of unease and fortitude.

Both boys acknowledged the severity of their choices. Intense concentration filled the silence as they scanned the dense legalese, taking note of the ominous provisions detailed within the scroll. Finally, Shota signed the agreement, marking its completion. A faint trace of apprehension remained visible across his features, underscoring the weightiness of the decision he had just made. He handed the quill back to The Dealer, hoping it would signify closure on this tumultuous journey.

The Dealer checking the both scrolls, before rolls it and keep it in under his jacket.

"Remeber, strick to the contract." The Dealer, whispering add. Then he turn back and walk deep inside a darkness of abadon clinic. He slide the door close behind him. then left nothing but silent.

Akira feel so curious, he dare himself to walk in follow the Dealer. Open the door that the Dealer just closed. He open it, It's just a dark and abadon examination room, no other exit nor windows, but the Dealer gone.

Looking around, Akira notice old equipment scattered throughout the room, likely abandoned when funding dried up. Pieces of broken machinery lay strewn haphazardly about, rust eating away at their metal frames. A solitary skeleton key rested amidst the chaos, hinting at forgotten secrets buried beneath layers of dust.

Shota touch his shoulder form the back, Shota just follow him and look inside the room. His face turn grim.

"Where is him?, this room is dead end" Shota asked in fear.

"I don't know also..."

They both decide just let's it go. This "The Dealer" is also mysteries thing, same to "Miracle drug" that he belongs.

No one seems know anything about them or whereabouts. Even if people want find this person or thing, none could get any reliable information. It's like trying hunt down shadow of yourself or dreams. The only known fact is 'If you can't find 'em, maybe they will find you.'

As they returned home from their ill-fated meeting with The Dealer, Shota start to forget about that "The Dealer", his mind now focus on vials in his hand, while on the bed. He look in the vials, that contain a "Miracle drug".

His fingers were trembling with excitement and trepidation. Was this truly the power he needed to seek vengeance on Ryuji and rewrite his life forever?

Chapter 3

At next moring, Shota and Akira discussing how to work as their plot. It's not possible for now for them to get close to Ryuji, who always got people around. Also Ryuji's family is wealthy family, His Mansion even got guards take care of security. No ways 2 normal boys can breakin. So as a plan, They need help of Ryuji's best friend identity. Hiroki.

Now how to get close to Hiroki and trap him while he alone. And make him take a "Miracle drug"?

Shota thought aloud. The idea seemed plausible since Hiroki was frequently seen alone during breaks, making him easier to approach. However, Akira cautioned that such a strategy might require great tactical planning. And indeed, capturing someone without them knowing proved difficult. Nonetheless, the two teenagers resolved to put their heads together and develop a foolproof plan.

Days passed in meticulous preparation. Shota researched Ryuji's schedule, studying patterns to predict his routine.

Akira observed and analyzed potential locations for ambush, selecting an isolated spot near the school track field. During weekends, Hiroki frequented the park for jogging sessions. Together, they strategized various scenarios for trapping Hiroki alone.

While discussing the logistics, Akira brought up the issue of ensuring his cooperation without raising suspicion. Given the delicate nature of their mission, failure meant exposure of their intentions and jeopardizing the success of their ultimate plans. Hence, persuasion became crucial.

On the morning designated for execution, they arrived early at the park entrance, waiting patiently for Hiroki's arrival. Sneakily concealed among bushes, they closely monitored every passerby, narrowing their focus solely on Hiroki.

Drenched in perspiration due to mounting anticipation, Akira shifted slightly in his hiding spot, causing branches to brush against his bare arms. A sudden breeze rustled through the leaves overhead, casting eerie whispers upon the young conspirators. Nervous energy radiated off both boys, palpable as static electricity in the cool air.

Finally, Hiroki appeared. A warm ray of sunlight filtered through the thick foliage surrounding them, bathing his silhouette in a golden glow.

Hiroki approached the park entrance, looking relaxed and unfettered. Yet unbeknownst to him, danger loomed closer by the second. Unseen eyes watched his movements, calculating the precise moment to strike. Patience and timing would determine whether they achieved victory or suffered defeat.

As Akira continued monitoring the situation, Shota crept out from his hiding spot, approaching Hiroki stealthily. He was determined to carry out their sinister plan, though doubts still plagued him. Would they succeed in getting past the barriers erected by reality?

Only time would tell. Meanwhile, Shota's heart raced wildly in his chest as he neared Hiroki. Silent footsteps carried him closer to his unsuspecting prey. Each step felt heavier than the last, weighed down by the gravity of his own conscience. Gritting his teeth, he clung onto the conviction that this was necessary for retribution.

Suddenly, Akira signalled him urgently, pointing to the corner of the park ahead. Without hesitation, Shota veered toward his indicated destination.

His breath quickened in anticipation as adrenaline coursed through his veins. Heart racing, he reached the predetermined spot moments later. Ducking low behind a tree trunk, he maintained eye contact with Akira for reassurance. Seeing confirmation, Shota began his maneuvers with calculated precision. Sliding through the leaf-covered ground, he steadied himself and prepared for the final leg of their operation.

Meanwhile, Akira kept watch nearby, alert to any signs of suspicion emanating from Hiroki.

Then it's a time!.

As Hiroki approached the edge of the park entrance, unaware of the perilous game being played above him, Shota and Akira executed his well-rehearsed attack flawlessly. Swiftly emerging from their hiding spot, they swiftly subdued the unsuspecting victim.

In a matter of seconds, they bound Hiroki securely with ropes taken from his bag, rendering him immobile. Panicked yet unable to cry out, Hiroki struggled futilely against his bonds. After see who attack him. He raise his shout in angry.

"How dare you! these 2 maggots!" Hiroki remeber both prey well, as he join Ryoji on bully both of them.

But instead of answer, both boys know well they need to act quick. Even it's no people around here now, but if let's Hiroki shout. Who know what happen. Akira pick a vials form his pocket.

"This should do," he muttered, his voice tinged with apprehension. Both boys help to open Hiroki's mouth wide, he struggle to advoid no matter what this boys try to feed him. But in the end, that mysteries mixture was pour into Hiroki's mouth.

Feeling disoriented and lightheaded, Hiroki started losing consciousness. Unable to resist anymore, he succumbed to the effects of the potion. Within minutes, Hiroki fell limply into the grass below, his senses lost in a sea of oblivion.

Grim satisfaction filled Akira's gaze as he stared down at the helpless figure lying motionless before him. He glanced over at Shota, conveying a mix of triumph and relief via subtle facial expressions.

Now both of them is eye-witness of what effect of "Miracle drug".

It's start with unconcious Hiroki body slowly deflat like a ballon lost its air. His clothes start to loose since it's seem like all Hiroki muscle and bone was slowly disappear.

Seeing this transformation happening right before their eyes was horrifying and surreal. Shota couldn't believe his eyes as the once robust Hiroki transformed into a frail, boneless body – an empty shell. This sickening sight sent shivers down his spine, a combination of horror and fascination taking hold of him. Akira stood there, silent and stoic, observing the unfolding process intently.

His brow furrowed with deep concern as the realization dawned upon him - Hiroki was essentially gone. In their hands lay nothing less than absolute power over human flesh. Overwhelmed by the implications of their newfound abilities, Akira found solace in companionship. Turning towards Shota, he nodded solemnly, acknowledging the weight of their decision.

Despite the undeniably macabre setting, something else stirred within Shota - a sense of empowerment mixed with lustful curiosity.

Now they both pick every Hiroki's clothes, shoes, sock, underwear to Akira's backpack.

They took away everything that represent Hiroki, leaving the empty skin. Both boys feel some kind of shock when seeing this lifeless, emotionless body. It's hard to belive this was same person few hours ago full of spirit and strength. Now he becomes mere husk left behind. For first time, Shota feels sadness and pity about his enemy Ryuji. What had been done to him? How much pain did he experience?. That feeling makes his hatred softens.

Then Akira fold Hiroki's skinsuit, it's seem light in his hand, feel like a leather, thin leather skinsuit.

The silence between them spoke volumes as they contemplated the magnitude of their crime. Both boys were aware of the consequences awaiting them, but they had come too far to falter now. Their thirst for vengeance burned stronger than ever, fueling their determination to bring justice upon those who wronged them. Shota knew that the road ahead was treacherous, marked by deceit, betrayal, and dark desires.

Both boys looking for some hidden place in the park. For Akira will wear Hiroki's skin. Then they foundplace in the corner of the park, shielded by tall trees which provide enough cover for them.

Akira remove Hiroki's belongs form his backpack, also Hiroki's bodysuit.

"Ready?" Akira ask Shota firmly.

Shota respond with affirmative nod.

With steady hands, Akira began peeling off his clothes methodically, revealing his toned physique beneath. Clad only in briefs, he turned to face Shota, challenging him with a fierce expression. Then he take off his briefs. Akira now standing full nake. His face turn red with shy.

Akira now pick the Hiroki's skinsuit in his both and, a figure of Hiroki but flatten like a empty body suit. His finger touch it, it's just feel like tough anyone skin, just empty inside. He checking it where to start. But see no open or zip to open the skinsuit.

Akira confused how does it work?, he looks up to Shota with questioning eyes. "Isn't zippers usually used?" Akira asks, puzzled. Shota tries to recall the details from his research.

Hm may i try this? Akira thought, He move both and to a mouth of Hiroki's skinsuit. then pull it. Wonder what he see, the mouth of suit just open wide as he pull, not see a tear off sign. It's like pull a very elastic rubber.

Akira said surprised about the material of the suit. He pull it wide enough for him to put his leg in. Then he adjust his leg inside, to match with Hiroki's skin suit leg. It's prove need a bit try to fit him in each feet'stoenail.

After some struggling, Akira managed to wiggle his leg into the strange garment. Though initially loose, the fabric soon conformed to the shape of his limbs, allowing movement despite its unusual texture.

As Akira pulled the suit higher along his body, he marvelled at its flexibility. It seemed almost alive, adapting seamlessly to his form. His mind swirling with questions, Shota standing and help Akira to adjust each finger to fit with Hiroki skinsuit's finger.

Finally Akira able to pull the rest of the skinsuit covering his upper body until his shoulder, neck, and finally reaching his head. Now, it's look wried for Shota that look at Akira in Hiroki's skin. Since Hiroki build was bigger and taller. It's like Akira try to fit himself in loose clothes. But then it's happen.

A sudden surge of energy flowed through Akira, A loose skinsuit start to fill in, it's like body of Akira inside was expanding, filling the gap. In no time, no more Alien like figure try to wear human skin in MIB. Standing there is Hiroki, full nake, but it him with Akira full control inside.

While Akira wearing Hiroki's skin, his movements became fluid and precise, mimicking Hiroki's own. Yet, something felt different. An otherworldly essence clung to Akira, hinting at an uneasy alliance between two souls separated by reality. Unnerved by this connection, Akira tried to ignore it, focusing solely on mastering Hiroki's body language.

Looking deeply into Hiroki's eyes, Shota realized that he was witnessing an incredible transformation.

Not only had Akira perfectly replicated Hiroki's physicality, but he had also adopted his mannerisms, manner of speech, and even posture. Stunned, Shota stepped closer to observe Akira in astonishment.

"Unbelievable," he whispered, marveling at the likeness. His initial fear gave way to an eerie admiration. Shota could barely conceal his growing arousal at the sight of Akira dressed in Hiroki's skin.

Watching Akira effortlessly imitate Hiroki's gestures and mannerisms amplified the eroticism tenfold. Feeling the sexual chemistry intensify between them, Shota tentatively approached Akira, gripped by an insatiable urge to explore the boundaries of their relationship.

Eyes locked onto each other, neither wanting to break the momentary spell. As Shota reached out to grasp Akira's waist, their fingers intertwined briefly, heightening the anticipation coursing through their veins.

"Not yet friend" Akira said in Hiroki's voice.

His tone suddenly shifted to mirror Hiroki's playfully teasing attitude.

"We do it later when you as Ryuji, to grant us a prize."

Akira continued in Hiroki's voice, laughing devilishly.

Akira nod, he start to dressing in Hiroki's belongs.

First thing he take is Hiroki's underwear. It's tight fitting black compression pants, made from stretchy fabric designed to hug his legs snuggly. These would be perfect for his mission. Following these, he puts on Hiroki's running shoes, comfortable and durable footwear ideal for training activities. Lastly, he grabs Hiroki's tracksuit bottoms, providing comfort and freedom of movement during strenuous exercises. Finally, he selects Hiroki's track jacket, giving him protection from cold weather conditions whilst maintaining mobility. All these items were carefully chosen based on their functionality and compatibility with Akira's needs.

Standing there, no more Akira, just Hiroki.

Even though his body was inhabited by Akira's consciousness, Shota still struggled to accept this chilling transformation. Trembling slightly, he studied the familiar-looking stranger before him. The resemblance was uncanny, making Shota wonder if he should trust Akira in this new role.

Hiroki, sensing Shota's hesitation, smiled knowingly. "There's no reason to worry, my dear friend.

I won't let anything bad happen to you." Hiroki said, placing a reassuring hand on Shota's shoulder. As Shota looked down, he noticed the striking differences between Hiroki's hands and his own – the calluses on Hiroki's palms, testament to years spent practicing sports.

Intrigued by the contrast, Shota asked curiously, "What are these lines here, around your fingertips?"

Smiling playfully, Hiroki replied, "Oh, those?

Those are called 'calluses'. You develop them when you regularly participate in certain sports, like soccer, for example. When your muscles contract repeatedly, friction occurs between your hands and whatever surface you're pressing against—that creates these small bumps."

As Shota listened intently, fascinated by the explanation, he couldn't help but notice the subtle difference in Hiroki's scent compared to Akira's – a mix of fresh air, perspiration, and underlying hints of masculinity.

Mesmerized by the unique blend, Shota drew closer, attempting to identify the specific components contributing to this enthralling fragrance.

Suddenly, Hiroki suggested, "Why don't we walk around the park a little? I think it might clear our minds, helping us focus better on our plans." Shota nodded eagerly, grateful for the opportunity to spend more time in Hiroki's presence.

"You know, slowly, but constantly I start to remember everything of Hiroki's memory." Akira's add. "It's start to flash in, It's like everything he use to do, i do it experienced it myself. But my memory, feeling, everything also be there untouch."

Akira explained with serious note. "So I can understand why Hiroki likes this place so much. There’s a peaceful calmness here. And I can sense a part of him too."

The wind rustled softly through the leaves overhead, creating a serene ambiance for the duo as they strolled casually through the park. Every step they took brought forth memories and experiences etched deep within Hiroki's soul - a rich tapestry that connected past and present.

While walking side by side, Shota couldn't help but compare the real Hiroki to the impostor wearing his skin. Despite being visibly identical, there remained traces of Akira's individual personality emanating from Hiroki's altered expressions and demeanor. This revelation piqued Shota's curiosity, driving him to delve deeper into understanding their shared psychological bond.

"Let's me say, It's like while i'm Akira, I'm also can act as Hiroki in the same time like i born as Hiroki." Akika smile to his friend.

Shota feel a bit strange, Hiroki who is his tormentor. Smile warmly to him. He know that Akira inside, but it can't be help form what he encounter until now. Akira see Shota and know how he feel, He touch Shota's shoulder.

"Dont' worry, I always be Akira for you even in this skin."

Akira continue to smile, showing his confidence. Looking back towards Shota, he could detect a mixture of relief and surprise on his face. Shota didn't know exactly how to react; however, he understood that it was essential to regain his composure since Akira appeared genuine in expressing his intentions.

As they walked beneath the canopy of trees scattered throughout the park, the sunlight filtered through the branches, casting gentle patterns upon the ground below. The tranquil environment allowed both Shota and Akira to process their complex feelings and emotions surrounding this unexpected situation.

"You know, form what i learn form Hiroki's memory. I think i know how to trap Ryuji for you."

Akira say confidently, grinning maliciously. "He usually hang out at some places. Like cafés and parks near school."

"How can we guarantee he doesn't suspect anything when we interact with him?" Shota inquires skeptically.

"Suspect me! fifty maggot! how Ryuji, my best frind will suspect his dear friend, Hiroki!" Akira act as Hiroki.

"Give me some time, I will see how to lure him out of his group alone. So we can just druged him with "Miracle drug"." Akira say as himself.

Both of them say good bye for today. Akira give him his backpack full with his "Akira's clothes" since he need them no more. Said Shota can thrown it or just keep it, it's up to Shota. Then he come near Shota's ear and whisper in playful Hiroki style. "Got my breifs inside, if you interest", Shota face turn red with shy.

Before saying goodbye, Shota handed Akira his old cellphone number. "Just in case you want to talk privately.

"Oh yes, i forgot you never have Hiroki's number."

Akira laughed softly. "And please remember to avoid Ryuji's company for some days before we strike."

Shota promised solemnly, a determined glint lighting up his eyes. "Don't worry, I got this covered."

Without another word, Akira turned away and New Hiroki start his jogging toward his new home. While Shota also head back to home. 

His heart racing with excitement and nervousness. Thinking about how they going to turn Ryuji into a Bodysuit soon.

Serveral day later, During this time in school. Shota feel a bit alone, His best friend not join Ryuji's group as Hiroki. He can saw them talk, joy, laugh also bully others as everyday. But seem Akira as Hiroki, help to lure Ryuji form bully Shota in various ways, naturally. So even feel alone, but it's first week in Shota's life that can stay in peace without get bully form Ryouji. In that week, teacher ask Shota as closest friend, that he know where is Akira. Since he absent for many days. Teacher also contact his family but it's seem Akira is live alone. So no one know where is he now. Act as worried, he lie to teacher that last time he meet Akira is last weekend. He can't resist to look at Hiroki that sit with another friend, pretent to talking while listening these conversation. Teacher show that he worry that something may happen to Akira but decide to wait longer before do anything.

In the weekend, finally Akira call him. Hiroki's number show on Shota's phone.

Shota hesitated for a moment before answering it."Hey, It's me." Hiroki's voice sounded distant, muffled almost.

"Hey," came Shota's reply, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. "Is everything okay?"

"It's fine, Shota i think, i have a plan for you."

Akira explain excitedly, Shota feel relieved. After many days, they can moving forward with their goal.

"As You know normally Ryuji always stay with his gang. Until he back home, which out of our reach. but tomorrow is special. It's my birthday! ah umm. acutally Hiroki's birthday. It's like a ritual. Every year me.. um i mean Hiroki. Will go hang out together, only Ryuji and me. -Alone-, So no gang, no guard, only me and Ryuji. I always one who suggest where to, so this year, I guess we need a bit special place for me and my best friend Ryuji to hang out.

Akira thought with a devilish grin.

"Where is fit our plan?" Akira asked.

Shota felt his heart race with excitement.

This could be their chance. "Okay. What do you suggest?"

Akira paused for a few moments, contemplating carefully. Finally, he spoke again. "Well, considering how isolated the area is and how rarely people visit, it would definitely offer enough privacy."

Curious, Shota inquired, "Where is this place located?"

"In the woods behind the abandoned factory near the river bank."

Shota tried to recall any such spot nearby.

"That sounds perfect...but aren't there rumors about the abandoned factory?"

Akira dismissively waved off Shota's concern. "There are always stories circulating about creepy places, especially in urban legends. Don't let superstitions stop you from pursuing your objective. Besides, everyone believes those tales anyway."

Pondering Akira's advice, Shota decided to trust his instincts. "Alright, then.

We should prepare well tonight. Gather all necessary items including the 'miracle drug'," Akira advised firmly. "Remember, timing is crucial; we must ensure Ryuji arrives late enough so that we won't miss the window of opportunity."

"At first i think i will take "Miracle drug" form you and mix in his alcohol's glass to let's him drink. While he and me alone there. But i'm not sure is it still effective by mixing alcohol. So my plan is, You follow us and hiding in a brush near by. I will keep feed Ryuji with alcohol, to drunk him. Dont' worry, he always drunk but i will make sure he will not awake when you appear."

Akira reassured Shota, adding a sinister tone to his voice. "Once we have him immobilized, administer the 'miracle drug'. And Kaboom! at last! New Ryuji will born form ash of Trash one." Akira add with Hiroki's play tone.

"Perfect, Hiroki. See you tomorrow night." Shota confirmed enthusiastically.

They follow a bit with some detail, after say goodbye, Akira cut the line. Shota close his phone.

Shota couldn't sleep despite being exhausted; his anticipation of the coming night proved too exhilarating. He lay awake staring at the ceiling, wondering whether this ambitious endeavor would actually succeed. He hoped fervently that his calculations were accurate and precise, because failure meant losing the key to fulfilling his ultimate dream – vengeance against Ryuji.