#nothing he says has anything to do with that line of thinking

[megumismyhusband]

“how long was the bet supposed to last?”

rin freezes.

your voice is calm. too calm. the kind of calm that feels unnatural, like the quiet before a storm. but there’s no storm in your face—no anger, no hurt, nothing at all. just an empty, unreadable expression that makes his stomach churn.

“who told you?” his voice comes out rough, forced.

you shrug, like it doesn’t even matter. like he doesn’t even matter. “does it make a difference?”

it doesn’t. he knows that. he also knows that this is bad. really bad.

“was it a week? a month?” you tilt your head slightly, staring him down. “or were you just gonna keep going until you got bored?”

his jaw tightens. “it wasn’t like that.”

“really?” you let out a breathy laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “because from where i’m standing, it kinda seems like it was.”

rin clenches his fists, frustration curling in his chest. frustration at himself, at shidou, at the whole stupid situation that never should’ve happened in the first place.

“you weren’t a joke to me,” he says, voice low.

“that’s funny,” you murmur. “because i kinda feel like one.”

he wants to fix this. to reach out, to grab your wrist, to tell you the truth—how the bet stopped meaning anything the second he got to know you, how he tried to find the right moment to come clean but was too much of a coward to risk losing you.

but he waits too long.

“say something, rin,” you say quietly. “anything.”

he opens his mouth. closes it. because nothing he says right now will be enough.

so you nod, like you expected this, like you already knew how this would end.

“got it.”

and then you walk away.

rin lets you. because what else can he do?

—

the next day, your favorite drink is waiting on your desk.

you don’t touch it.

the day after, rin is standing by your locker, holding out your books.

“you don’t have to do this,” you mutter, not even looking at him.

“i know.” but he still shoves them into your arms before walking away.

the day after that, he shows up at practice late because he spent an hour in line getting that stupid pastry you like.

“you think buying me stuff is gonna fix this?” you ask, raising a brow.

“no.” he stares at the bag in your hands. “but i know you like them, so just take it.”

you sigh, but you don’t give it back.

on friday, he carries your bag before you can complain, waits for you after school even though you ignore him the whole walk home, and when you finally snap and ask what the hell he’s doing, he just says, “making it up to you.”

saturday morning, you open your door to find him standing there, hair messy, dark circles under his eyes, holding a stupidly large bag of snacks.

“seriously?” you cross your arms. “you’re still on this?”

“yeah.”

“why?”

he exhales sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “because i’m not giving up on you.”

you blink, caught off guard by how sure he sounds. how raw he looks.

he looks tired. frustrated. desperate.

like this actually means something to him. like you actually mean something to him.

you chew on your lip, eyes flicking between him and the bag in his hands.

“…you got my favorites?”

“obviously.”

“did you get the right drink this time?”

he exhales, shoving it into your hands. “yes.”

you stare at it for a moment. then sigh, stepping aside.

“fine. come in before you start looking even more pathetic.”

rin doesn’t need to be told twice. he steps inside, and for the first time all week, his chest feels a little lighter.

he still has a long way to go—he knows that. but if you’re letting him in, even just a little, then maybe, just maybe, he still has a chance to prove that this was never just a bet to him.

[surielstea]

A Lesson in Lust

Inspired by a request!

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Reader fakes an orgasm Azriel has no choice but to teach her not to lie to him, but not with words.

Warnings: smut | 18+ | pwp | dom!Az / Brat!Reader | Brat tamer/taming | cunnilingus | slight impact | slight breathplay | creampie | p in v | overstim | controlled orgasm | clit sucking | slut shaming | slight dollification | there’s so many ts freaky

Word count: 6.5k

A.Note: Please read the warnings!!! This is nasty, literally all smut, mdni.

I should have known better.

Should have known that Azriel, with all his centuries of honed observation and razor-sharp instincts—his ability to read people down to the slightest flicker of emotion—would notice.

I thought I had hidden it well, that he had been too lost in his own pleasure to realize I hadn't unraveled beneath him the way I usually did. That the tremor in my voice, the sharp edge of my cries, hadn't quite matched the ones before. I told myself he wouldn't catch the fleeting moment where my body had tensed but never truly shattered, where my release had been nothing more than an illusion painted for his sake.

I don't even know why I did it. Azriel had always been so attuned to me, so devoted to my pleasure. Maybe it was the exhaustion weighing down my limbs, the ache of an endlessly long day pressing against my bones. Maybe it was the way he had looked at me tonight—so desperate to bring me over the edge with him. I hadn't wanted to bruise his pride.

But he knows.

He doesn't say anything. Not as he cleans me up with steady, reverent hands, the warm cloth dragging over my skin with the same care he always gives me. Not as he helps me into my nightgown, his touch lingering a little longer than necessary. But I feel it. Feel it in the way his hazel eyes darken, their golden flecks burning as they study me in that quiet, unreadable way.

Still, he says nothing. Not when he turns off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into a cocoon of darkness. Not when I turn to him, pressing a soft kiss against his lips in an attempt to quell the unspoken weight between us.

He kisses me back, slow and deep, but his shadows betray him. They curl tighter around his frame, restless like they are whispering secrets meant only for him—secrets I cannot decipher.

He doesn't say anything for a long while. Holds onto the knowledge, lets it simmer beneath his quiet exterior, tucked away where I almost believe it will stay.

For a moment, I think I've gotten away with it.

But when morning comes, the silence finally fractures.

"Why did you fake it?"

The question lands like a stone in my chest, sending my heart into a frantic rhythm. His voice is steady—too steady. Like he's been awake all night just waiting to ask.

I blink at him tiredly, feigning confusion. "What?"

Azriel doesn't waver. "You didn't come. Why'd you fake it?"

Blunt. Direct. The weight of his stare alone is enough to pin me in place. He's clearly been sitting with this, turning it over in his mind, dissecting it in that way only he can. And now, he wants answers.

"I—I didn't—"

He tilts his head slowly, and my breath catches. Not a word passes his lips, but the movement alone is enough of a warning.

"Try again, love." His shadows swirl around us despite the morning light filtering through the curtains.

I stay silent.

Azriel exhales, his grip on my waist flexing. "I've been up all night trying to figure out why you'd feel the need to fake something like that. Especially with me." His voice is soft, but it cuts through me all the same. "And I can't. So tell me—why?"

"I didn't want you to feel bad," I murmur, barely above a whisper. "You treat me so well, all the time. I didn't want you getting hung up on this one night."

But here we were—doing exactly that.

His jaw tightens, tension carving sharp lines into his face. The early morning light filters through the curtains, soft and golden, but there is nothing soft about the way he's looking at me. Still, his hands find mine, fingers intertwining. The roughness of his scars against my skin is familiar. Comforting.

"Do you think so little of me?" The words are quiet, but no less devastating.

"No." I snap my gaze to his, panic flickering in my chest. "No, never, Az."

His thumb skims over my knuckles before he brings my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss there. "Then why lie?" he asks, the warmth of his breath lingering. "Do you not trust me to take care of you? Do you not want me to?"

His voice dips lower, and my stomach clenches. He truly had to be thinking about this all night to draw up these conclusions.

"I do," I rush to reassure him. "Of course I do. I was just—I was tired, that's all." I lean closer, brushing my lips against his in a gentle kiss.

He doesn't pull away. Doesn't let go of my waist. But when he tilts his head, the look in his eyes shifts into something sharper. Something hungry.

"You tired now?"

His mouth finds mine again, deeper this time. Slow, deliberate, teasing.

I exhale softly. "No."

Azriel mirrors my smile, but there's something different about his. Something sharper. More feral.

"Good."

And before I can react, he's got me beneath him, arms pinned above my head, a wicked gleam in his hazel eyes.

A gasp catches in my throat as Azriel moves, fast and fluid, flipping me beneath him before I can so much as blink. My wrists are pinned above my head, his scarred fingers wrapped firmly around them, the weight of his body pressing me into the mattress.

His wings flare slightly, blocking out the golden slant of morning light, leaving nothing but the two of us in the shadows. His shadows.

They curl around his frame like living threads of darkness, writhing in time with his slow, deliberate breaths. The way he looks at me now—hazel eyes molten, jaw tight, lips slightly parted—sends a shiver down my spine.

"You really thought I wouldn't notice, didn't you?" His voice is low, rough, but not angry. No, the way he says it—the way he watches me squirm beneath him—is something else entirely.

I swallow hard. "Azriel, I—"

"You were exhausted." He hums as if considering my excuse. "Didn't want to hurt my feelings." A soft scoff leaves him, his nose brushing the shell of my ear. "What a sweet little lie."

I shudder, my fingers flexing uselessly beneath his grip. "It wasn't—I just—"

"Didn't think I could handle the truth?" He trails a hand down my side, fingers whispering over the thin fabric of my nightgown, tracing every dip, every curve. "Or did you think I wouldn't take care of you properly?"

I shake my head quickly, but he catches my chin between his fingers, forcing me to look at him.

"You know I don't like being lied to, love," he murmurs, voice silken and dark. "Especially not about this, you forgot though."

His thumb drags over my bottom lip, and my breath hitches. He watches me, eyes burning, gaze sharp enough to cut.

"Let's fix that, yeah?"

His grip on my wrists tightens just as his free hand moves lower, skimming over my stomach, my thighs—slow, teasing, deliberate.

"You're going to be honest with me from now on." A soft kiss, barely there, pressed to my throat. "You're going to let me take care of you the way I always do." Another kiss, lower this time, lingering over my pulse.

"And you, love," he whispers, teeth grazing against my skin, "are going to learn exactly what happens when you try to keep something like that from me."

His shadows coil around my ankles, holding me in place, and then—

I lose the ability to think.

"Az," I breathe, my body arching instinctively beneath him, trying to chase the warmth of his touch. But he holds me still, his fingers barely skimming where I need him most, his shadows curling tighter around my wrists and ankles like they, too, are in on his cruel game.

Azriel hums, amused. "You sound a little desperate, love."

I glare at him, but it's hard to make it convincing when I'm squirming beneath him, my pulse racing, my breath coming too fast. "You're being cruel."

His lips curl at the accusation. "Am I?" His fingers dance along the edge of my nightgown, slipping just beneath it before retreating just as quickly, his touch featherlight. "Seems to me I'm just teaching a valuable lesson."

"You're insufferable."

Azriel chuckles, the sound low and sinful, sending a ripple of heat through me. "You weren't saying that last night."

Heat floods my face. "Maybe because last night, you weren't tormenting me."

His brows lift, feigning innocence. "And yet you didn't come. Seems to me you like the tormenting." He dips his head, kissing a slow, searing path along my collarbone. "But if you'd prefer, I could stop."

A smirk plays at his lips as he starts to pull away as if testing to see just how desperate I really am.

I scowl, tightening my legs around his waist, locking him in place. "Don't you dare."

His laughter is warm against my skin, and the next thing I know, his fingers are on my thighs, tracing slow, torturous circles. "That's more like it," he murmurs approvingly. "Now, tell me, love—" his lips ghost over the shell of my ear, his voice nothing but a delicious rasp, "—you going to fake it again?"

My brows furrow as I peer up at him through my lashes.

"No," Azriel grins, wicked and knowing. "I'm not going to stop until you're too wrecked to even think about faking it again."

A sharp inhale. A rush of heat.

His hands tighten, and his voice drops to a whisper, his words dripping with sinful promise.

His fingers move with calculated precision, unbuttoning my top one slow pop at a time. I help him shed it, my own hands sliding beneath his shirt, mapping the warm, golden skin stretched over taut muscle. The ink of his tattoos shifts under my touch as he pulls the fabric over his head and tosses it aside.

I lean in, capturing his lips, but he meets me halfway, claiming my mouth with a hunger that steals my breath. His tongue sweeps past my lips, exploring greedily, and I moan softly into him.

Then, suddenly, my wrists are pinned to the mattress, bound by the whisper-soft strength of his shadows. A gasp catches in my throat, my body instinctively tugging, but it's futile. Azriel merely smirks, his fingers skating down my sides, toying with the band of my panties, the heat of his touch sending sparks across my skin.

I lift my hips in a silent plea, urging him on, but he only chuckles, slow and deep. "Patience, love," he chastises, his fingers hooking beneath the fabric.

"Please," I whisper, desperate.

Azriel hums in approval but moves achingly slow, peeling the lace from my body like he has all the time in the world. His knuckles brush against my thighs as he drags them down, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake.

"I want you to feel everything," he murmurs, lips ghosting over my collarbone, where a faint mark from last night still lingers. A reminder. A promise.

"Az," I whine, shifting against the restraints, needing more, needing him.

He tsks, dark amusement glittering in his hazel eyes. "I know, I know," he coos, dragging his mouth along my skin, teasing me with every slow, lingering kiss. "But you can be patient can't you?"

I nod, breathless, eyes locked onto his as he trails lower.

"Good," he praises, but his voice dips into something more commanding. "And you understand I can't reward your bratty behavior?"

"Yes," I whisper.

His brows arch. "Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir."

Azriel's smirk is wicked, his satisfaction rolling off him in waves. "There's my girl," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my stomach before lowering himself further between my thighs. "Now stay still for me, yeah?"

I nod, back arching as I ready myself.

His breath is warm against my skin, teasing, taunting, and when his lips ghost over where I need him most, a helpless whimper spills from my lips. I tip my head back into the pillows, unable to watch, unable to handle the way he's taking his time, savoring the way I fall apart beneath him before he's even truly touched me.

"Sweet girl," he murmurs, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "So needy. Just couldn't get off, could you?"

I shake my head pitifully. "No," I manage, my voice barely above a breath.

He clicks his tongue, pressing a featherlight kiss to my inner thigh. "It's okay, love," he murmurs, and then his grip tightens on my hips, holding me still as he finally, finally drags his tongue through my slick folds.

A choked moan tumbles from my lips, my back arching further off the bed, but his shadows keep me grounded. He hums in approval against me, the vibration sending a fresh wave of heat coiling low in my stomach.

"Azriel," I moan, writhing, tugging uselessly at the darkness binding my wrists. "Please."

He smirks against me but doesn't answer, just hikes one of my legs over his shoulder, deepening his assault. His tongue flicks over my clit with precision, his mouth sealing around the sensitive bundle of nerves, sucking just hard enough to have me keening.

I can't move. Can't grind against him, can't chase the pleasure building inside me—because he's making sure that my release comes entirely from him.

That realization has me spiraling even faster.

"Az—Azriel, please," I gasp, my thighs trembling as the coil tightens, winding impossibly tight.

His grip on my hips bruises, his scarred fingers pressing into my skin as his tongue circles my clit again and again.

"Go ahead, love," he rasps against me, his voice thick with satisfaction. The vibrations of his words against my swollen, aching cunt are all it takes to send me over the edge.

I shatter, a sharp cry tearing from my throat as my orgasm crashes through me, my body locking up before melting into the mattress. My vision whites out, pleasure consuming me in wave after relentless wave.

Azriel doesn't stop. Doesn't let up. He guides me through it, slow and deliberate, savoring every aftershock.

"There it is," he murmurs, his lips pressing a final, lingering kiss to my sensitive folds before glancing up at me, utterly wrecked beneath him. "My girl looks so pretty when she comes."

The flat of his tongue gathers my arousal on his tongue, cleaning me. A soft, broken whimper is the only response I can manage.

But Azriel isn't done. Not yet. Not until I've learned my lesson.

I panted softly, still trembling as he kissed his way back up my body, his mouth hot and unrelenting against my flushed skin. Every inch of me is still humming from the waves of pleasure he's wrung out of me.

His lips trail over my breasts, pressing a kiss to one before he takes the stiff peak into his mouth, his tongue swirling in slow, torturous circles. The same tongue that had just shattered me now teases and soothes in equal measure, and I bow into his touch, a soft gasp spilling from my lips.

"Azriel," I rasp, tugging against my dark restraints.

His shadows hold firm, but he lifts his gaze to me through his lashes, those hazel eyes molten with desire. My breath catches, and I swear I feel the heat of his stare everywhere. His tongue flicks against my nipple, sharp and purposeful, and my thighs instinctively fall back open for him.

He smirks, releasing my breast with a wet pop before kissing his way up, up, until he finds my lips. He swallows my soft whimper as his tongue slides past my lips, letting me taste myself on him. The intimacy of it makes my head spin, and I kiss him back greedily, nipping at his lower lip when he pulls away.

His breath is warm against my mouth as he murmurs, "Inside?"

"Yes," I breathe, my voice barely more than a whisper. "I need you inside me."

His lips quirk up in a lazy, knowing smile. "Yeah? You need it?"

"Please," I whimper, my desperation laid bare.

Azriel hums, kissing me again, slow and deep, before pulling away. The sound of his belt unbuckling, the rustle of fabric as he shoves his pants down—it sends a thrilling pulse of anticipation through me.

I was so attuned to him, his sounds, the feel of him. The heat of him between my thighs, the way he strokes himself once, twice, teasing me with the promise of what's to come.

Then he's there, pressing the thick head of his cock against my slick entrance, and I nearly sob with need.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice dark with satisfaction as he teases me, sliding just the tip inside before pulling back. "So wet, so ready—"

"Az," I whine, my hips tilting, seeking him.

His hand presses down on my stomach, holding me still. "You take what I give you, love. Nothing more."

I moan at his words, at the sheer dominance in his tone, and then he pushes in, stretching me inch by inch until he's seated fully inside me. He takes his time, driving me wild in the process, each slow thrust pulling a desperate sound from my lips. My walls flutter around him, trying to draw him deeper, but he holds himself back, teasing, torturing.

By the time he finally sinks to the hilt, I'm panting, trembling beneath him, my body molded perfectly to his.

A low groan rumbles through his chest, his head dropping to the crook of my neck as he rolls his hips once, dragging a sharp gasp from me. "Fuck," he breathes, his voice wrecked. "So tight. Always so fucking perfect for me."

I whimper, my body adjusting to the delicious burn of being so completely filled, stretched to the limit around him.

Azriel pulls back slowly, almost entirely, before thrusting forward again, his pace agonizingly slow, like he's savoring the way I squeeze around him.

"You feel that?" he murmurs, his lips brushing against my ear, his voice dark, wicked. "How deep I am?"

"Yes," I pant, my wrists straining against my restraints, desperate to touch him, to claw at his back, to do anything other than lie there and take it.

But that's exactly what he wants.

He rolls his hips again, dragging himself against that spot inside me that has my toes curling, my back arching off the bed.

"You lied to me, love," he reminds me, his tone thick with amusement, with something darker, more possessive. "So now I get to decide how long you last."

A whimper slips from my lips, and he chuckles, low and satisfied.

"You'll take what I give you," he murmurs, his fingers digging into my hips, holding me still even as I writhe beneath him. "And you'll thank me for it."

Then he pulls back and thrusts into me hard, setting a punishing rhythm that steals the breath from my lungs.

He grips my thighs, spreading me wider, fucking into me so deep I swear I can feel him everywhere, in my bones, in my blood.

"So good, you're always so good for me," he groans, his voice rough, barely held together. His restraint is a fragile thing, and gods, knowing I could break him with a single plea makes me throb around him.

"So cruel of me," he muses, his thrusts slowing, dragging out my torture, "to come inside this pretty pussy last night without making sure my girl got her release, hm?"

All I can do is whimper, my head tipping back, body trembling as he fucks me slow, deep, each deliberate roll of his hips making me feel every inch of him.

The rhythmic sound of the bed slamming into the wall and his low, guttural grunts fill the room, the air thick with heat, with the wet, obscene sounds of him driving into me. I bite into my lower lip to stop myself from sounding so damned desperate, but we both know—Azriel knows—just how wrecked I am.

The proof of it is between my thighs, soaking his cock, dripping down onto the sheets.

His hand slides down my stomach, his fingertips ghosting over my clit, not quite touching, just enough to make me sob in frustration.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice full of wicked delight. "Fucking dripping for me." His thumb swipes through my slick folds, pressing teasingly just above where I need him most. "So messy, love. So needy."

I whimper, arching into his touch, desperate for relief.

Azriel tuts, shaking his head. "Oh no, sweetheart. You don't get to come yet."

I whine, a broken, desperate sound, and he just chuckles, pulling his hand away entirely.

"You wanted to lie to me," he reminds me, his lips brushing over my jaw as his cock twitches inside me. "Now you get to feel what it's like to be left aching, desperate, needing."

I sob, my head thrashing against the pillow, but he just keeps fucking me, slow and deep, making me take every inch of him without giving me a single ounce of relief.

I fucking love it.

Azriel smirks against my throat, dragging his lips down the column of my neck, his cock still buried deep inside me, thrusting slow, deep, controlled. My body is writhing beneath him, my nails digging uselessly into my palms as his shadows keep me bound.

"Poor thing," he murmurs, nipping at the spot just below my jaw, his tongue soothing over the sting. "You sound so fucking desperate."

I whimper in response, my thighs trembling, my cunt clenching down around him in a futile attempt to pull him deeper, to coax him into fucking me the way I need.

He chuckles, low and dark, dragging his cock out so slow before sinking back in, every inch stretching me open again, every movement meant to drive me insane.

"You said you'd be good for me," he muses, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Said you understood why I had to punish you."

I nod frantically, my breath hitching as he rolls his hips again, the angle perfectly devastating.

"Then why," he murmurs, his lips brushing over my ear, "are you whining like a slut, love?"

A full-body shudder rolls through me at his words, and he laughs—a wicked, pleased sound—because he knows exactly what that does to me.

"Oh?" His grin is evident in his tone. "You like that?"

"Azriel," I rasp, my voice ruined, my body burning.

"Sir," he corrects smoothly, his hand wrapping around my throat, applying just the lightest pressure.

"Sir," I breathe, and fuck—I shouldn't be this turned on, shouldn't be this gone just from the way he's talking to me.

He hums in approval, dragging his nose along my cheek before whispering, "That's my girl."

And then he stops moving.

I let out a cry, bucking my hips, desperate for anything, but his grip on my throat tightens just slightly as a warning.

"Ah, ah," he tuts, shaking his head. "You'll take what I give you, remember?"

"Yes, sir," I whimper, my head falling back.

His thumb brushes over my lower lip. "Such a good girl." He tilts his head, pretending to consider something. "Maybe I should make you beg for it properly."

"I—" My voice catches as he barely rolls his hips, just enough for me to feel him inside me without giving me any real relief.

"I think I will," he murmurs, his thumb pressing against my lips. "Go on, love. Beg."

"Please, sir," I whisper, my voice barely audible.

He tuts, shaking his head. "Oh, sweetheart, you're not even trying. You know you can do better than that."

He pulls out entirely, making me sob in frustration, in unbearable, aching need.

"Again," he commands, his tone all silk and steel.

"Please," I gasp, my back arching, my legs trembling. "Please, sir, I need you so bad, I—fuck—I can't—"

He groans, his cock twitching against my entrance, and finally—finally—he slams back inside me, knocking the breath from my lungs.

"That's it," he praises, setting a brutal, punishing rhythm that has my nails digging into my palms, my mouth falling open on a soundless moan. "That's my fucking girl."

I'm ruined beneath him, my body alight with pleasure, with torment, with the unbearable need to come. And he knows.

His hand drops between us, his fingers finding my clit, and I wail, my body bowing off the bed as he circles the swollen bud with just the right amount of pressure.

"You wanna come, love?" he murmurs, his breath hot against my skin.

"Yes, sir," I sob. "Please, please, please—"

His pace falters, just for a second.

"Fuck," he rasps, his cock twitching inside me. "You sound so pretty when you beg for me."

"Then please," I cry, the pleasure coiling so tight I can't take it anymore.

He presses his forehead against mine, his thrusts turning erratic, desperate.

"Come for me, love," he breathes. "Now."

And fuck—I shatter.

My orgasm crashes over me like a tidal wave, my body seizing, my back arching, my walls fluttering wildly around him as I scream his name.

But Azriel—he doesn't stop.

Not even for a second.

"That's it," he growls, his fingers still working my clit, dragging my pleasure out, making my body shake, making me wail. "Give me another one, sweetheart. I know you can."

My body jerks, as my breath stutters and my thighs tremble violently from the sheer intensity of my release, he just keeps going.

"Too much," I gasp, my body writhing beneath him, every nerve ending alight with unbearable pleasure. "Sir—"

His hand tightens around my waist, his hips still slamming into me, his cock dragging against that spot inside me that makes my vision white out.

I sob, my body tensing as another wave of pleasure builds, impossibly fast, impossibly sharp.

"What's wrong, love?" he murmurs, his lips brushing over the shell of my ear. "You were so eager for it just a moment ago."

His fingers press against my clit, rubbing tight, devastating circles, making my body twitch beneath him.

"I—fuck, I can't—"

Azriel just grins, leaning down to kiss my temple, so mockingly sweet.

"You can," he purrs, his voice dripping with cruel satisfaction. "You were just begging for it, I know you can."

I whimper, my head tossing to the side, my brain too fogged to even process anything beyond the ruthless way he's using me.

"Look at you," he muses, his tone full of wicked amusement. "Fucked so dumb you can't even think straight."

I moan at his words, my legs trembling around his waist.

He laughs, low and mean, his fingers still ruthlessly working my clit, even as my entire body shakes from the overstimulation.

"What was that, love?" His teeth graze my jaw, sending another shudder down my spine. "You like being used like this?"

I sob, my head tossing back, unable to form words, unable to do anything with my hands and ankles bound. I loved it, he knew I loved it.

"Fuck," he groans, his thrusts growing erratic, his grip on my wrists bruising. "You're so fucking perfect like this—just my little plaything to fuck as I please."

I wail, my body burning, pleasure suffocating me as another climax threatens to rip through me. The pleasure was wringing me out dry.

His fingers press against my clit, merciless, relentless.

"You gonna give me another one, sweetheart?" His voice is taunting, his lips brushing over my ear. "Gonna come on my cock again, even though it's too much?" He mocks.

I nod frantically, tears slipping down my temples, my body convulsing from the unbearable pleasure.

He smirks, so fucking smug.

"That's what I thought," he murmurs. "My perfect little slut."

I gripe, clenching around him tightly.

Azriel moans, his cock twitching inside me, his thrusts growing sloppier, more frantic.

"One more," he growls, his hand wrapping around my throat, squeezing just right. "Give me one more, love. Be good for me."

I don't even have the breath to scream. And then he snaps his hips forward, his fingers moving faster, and I fucking lose it, another orgasm ripping through me, dragging me under, drowning me in white-hot bliss.

I just shatter, my body breaking apart, my vision going dark at the edges as pleasure obliterates me.

And Azriel—he fucking laughs, still thrusting, still pushing me, ruining me.

"That's my girl," he purrs. "Always so good for me."

Azriel pulls out slowly, almost tenderly, and I slump against the mattress, my body wrecked, trembling with the aftershocks of everything he's done to me. My wrists ache from pulling against the shadows, my legs barely responding to me as I try to catch my breath.

I think—finally. He's done.

But then his hands are on me again, flipping me onto my stomach in one fluid, effortless motion, his strength overpowering.

"Didn't think I was done, did you sweet girl?" he murmurs, his voice like a dark promise as he hauls me up onto my knees.

I barely have a second to process before his hand presses against my back, forcing my chest down, stuffing my face into the pillows.

I gasp, my arms pinned uselessly beneath me, my body still twitching from overstimulation as I feel him behind me—feel the hard press of his cock sliding between my soaked folds, teasing, not yet giving me what I know he's about to.

"Azriel," I mumble, my voice muffled against the pillows, wrecked and pleading.

He tuts at me, his grip tight as he spreads my knees wider, forcing me open for him.

"You think you can take another round?" His voice is full of mockery, his hand running slowly over my hip before gripping me there, holding me in place. "You've been so good for me, taking everything I've given you—you wouldn't let me down now would you?"

"No sir," I moan softly, my body already shuddering with anticipation as he lines himself up, the head of his cock nudging against my entrance.

I barely have time to pant out a desperate, "Sir," before he thrusts inside me, deep, the new angle making me see fucking stars.

I scream, my fingers clenching uselessly into the sheets as he fills me completely, pressing so deep it makes my entire body tremble.

"Fuck, that's better," he groans, his hands sliding up to grip my waist as he pulls out almost entirely before slamming back in, his pace instantly ruthless.

My mouth drops open in a silent moan, my mind blanking as he uses my body, fucking me like he owns me, like he's never going to stop.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he murmurs, his voice dark, smug. "To be bent over like this, my cock so deep inside you, you can't even think?"

I sob against the pillows, my body already climbing toward another release, my overstimulated nerves sparking with unbearable pleasure.

Azriel just laughs, his hands gripping my hips as he forces my legs to stay open, refusing to let me close them, refusing to let me hide from how utterly ruined I am.

"You're so fucking perfect like this," he breathes, leaning down so his chest presses against my back, his teeth grazing my ear. "Taking me so well, love. My perfect slut."

I keen, my walls clamping down around him, my entire body melting under his words, his touch, his fucking torment.

"That's it," he purrs, his fingers sliding down between my legs, finding my clit, rubbing it in cruel little circles. "Come for me again, sweetheart. I want to feel you break on my cock."

He keeps his pace brutal even as I flutter around him, his grip on my hips unrelenting as he fucks me into the mattress, each thrust shoving me deeper into the pillows, like he's trying to mold me to the shape of his cock.

And all I can do is take it. Take the way he ruins me, the way he stretches me open again and again, making me feel so fucking full I can't even think.

"You hear yourself, sweetheart?" he taunts, his voice dark, drenched in amusement as he listens to the wrecked little sobs spilling from my lips. "Crying for me while you drip all over my cock like a good whore."

I sob again, pleasure and overstimulation making my body shake, making my mind fog over with nothing but him.

"F-fuck, Az," I whimper, my fingers clawing uselessly at the sheets.

His hand cracks against my ass, making me jolt forward on a choked-out cry.

"Sir," he corrects again, his tone firm, his free hand sliding up my back, tracing the arch his thrusts are forcing me into.

My walls clench around him so tight it drags a deep, filthy groan from his chest.

"You like that?" he purrs, smug as sin, rolling his hips in slow, torturous circles, making sure I feel every inch of him. "Like knowing I could fill this pretty little cunt up—watch you swell with my seed?"

I whimper, my toes curling at the thought, at the absolute filth pouring from his lips.

And then his hand is sliding down, pressing to my lower stomach—right where he's buried deep inside of me.

A guttural groan rumbles from his chest, his fingers flexing as he feels where he's stretching me open, where he'd fill me up if he let himself go.

"Fuck," he breathes, his grip tightening on my hip as he thrusts again, shoving deeper just to feel the bulge of himself inside me. "So fucking deep, love. You feel that?"

I nod weakly, my eyes rolling back, my body trembling as another broken sob leaves my lips.

He laughs, wicked and cruel.

"Already so fucked out, aren't you?" he taunts, dragging his palm over my stomach, pressing harder just to make me feel how deep he is. "Poor little thing—just a dumb, desperate mess on my cock."

I keen, my legs shaking, my body completely wrecked and at his mercy.

He twitches, my body arching as he presses into a spot that makes my vision go white, my mouth falling open in a pitiful pant. "Sir, feels, so good," I whimpered.

"Yeah? Greedy girl, going to come again?" He taunted, lips brushing against my shoulder, his sweat-slicked chest kissing my bowed back.

"Please—can I?" His pace didn't slow, even if I knew he was getting closer, he grew more and more sloppy but he did not slow.

"Wait f'me, I'm almost there," He whispered into my skin.

I clenched around him, unable to help myself, wanting to help him get there. My arms shook, near to giving out as I panted into the bed sheets, gripping the pristine white cloth in my fist to stop myself from moving up on the bed.

He twitched inside of me again, growing eager. "Inside," I breathe softly. "Fill me," I beg.

"Yeah? Want me to claim this cunt?" He whispered, lips grazing over the shell of my ear.

"Please, sir," I beg, bottom lip wobbling.

"Okay love, come—come f'me," He chokes slightly, consumed by his need for release. I doubted I could hold onto that edge for much longer, and the sound that left me during that final orgasm was louder than the rest, primal in a way. He twitched once more, and as I clenched tightly around him from the cresting of my orgasm, he came too, painting my walls white with his thick release.

He thrust slowly, gently, easing me down from the white-hot high that still had my body trembling. My whimper was soft, and breathless, as he finally pulled from me, his release spilling from me, warm and slick against my thighs. If not for his steady hands cradling me, guiding me down onto the mattress, I might've collapsed completely.

"Not too much?" His voice was hushed, rough around the edges, like he was just as wrecked as I was, despite that Illyrian stamina keeping him upright. A calloused hand brushed through my likely tangled hair, tucking it behind my ear so he could see me clearly.

I tried to form words, but all I could manage was a breathless, "No." A slow inhale, then, "Felt s'good." My voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper, and even that much effort felt like too much.

He hummed softly, pressing a lingering kiss to my temple. "You did so good," he murmured against my skin before slipping his arms beneath me. I barely had time to react before I was in his embrace again, lifted with ease. "Let's get you cleaned up."

I nodded weakly, my limbs boneless, and let him carry me into the bathroom. The cool marble of the counter met the flushed heat of my skin, soothing, grounding. I watched him through heavy-lidded eyes, admiring him in this quiet aftermath. The way his jaw clenched in focus as he wrung out a damp cloth. The tenderness in his touch as he wiped me down, extra careful between my thighs. The contrast of his rough, battle-worn hands moving with such exquisite care.

He combed through my hair next, untangling the knots his fingers had left earlier, his motions steady, unhurried. Every stroke, every pass of his hands over my body, was reverent. Devotional.

He kissed me softly then, tasting of cedar and salt, of something uniquely him. His hands skimmed my sides, his touch a whisper of heat against my skin.

"Six times." His voice was smug, but quiet, like he was half-talking to himself.

I blinked up at him, dazed. "Hm?"

"You came six times." His lips quirked into a knowing smirk, his fingers tracing idle patterns along my thigh.

Heat flooded my already flushed cheeks, my stomach twisting with something like mortification and pride all at once. If he knew so easily, then surely he knew immediately last night when it wasn't real.

"You were counting?"

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Had to make up for last night."

I huffed a small, breathy laugh. "You did."

His smirk softened as he kissed me again. Slow. Deep. A promise.

"How do you know?" I murmured against his lips, pulling back just enough for our noses to brush. "When I come?"

His gaze darkened, and something in his expression made my stomach flip. "You make this pretty face," he said, voice dropping, thumb tracing my bottom lip. "You couldn't fake it if you tried."

I swallowed hard, heat pooling low once more.

"And you always moan my name," he continued, pressing a slow kiss to my throat. "Every single time." His lips dragged over my pulse, felt the way it jumped. "Without fail, it's always my name on your lips."

I could feel my blush creeping lower, my skin burning everywhere he touched.

"You didn't last night," he murmured, voice a lazy drawl like he was enjoying my embarrassment. "Wasn't hard to figure out."

I groaned, dropping my forehead against his shoulder, but I couldn't help but laugh at myself. He chuckled too, the sound a warm rumble against my skin.

I pressed a kiss to his temple, letting my hands roam down his back, enjoying the feel of his muscles beneath my touch.

"So," I mused, still breathless, still utterly spent. "Breakfast?"

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[strwberri-milk]

Good Day dear and I hope this message finds you well; Let me first thank you for the Fanfics and time you dedicated to each one, trust that I read most of your content and feel very grateful for it.

I hope you get to have times of ample rests, roof over your head, heartiest of meals and warm kind-hearted souls come your way.

I am not one to boldly ask but for this once I shall; May you perhaps write and angst for the love and deepspace boys about a reader who has died in line of duty as Tara presents them a burial flag from the Hunter’s Association?

I read your terms prior requesting and hope I was able to abide by it; You may decline should you find it distasteful, if it does make the cut please take your time crafting it should it pique your fancy.

🥹🥹 I love you dear and hope for your best wellbeing.

thank you!! im glad you like mt stuff that much <333 very flattered

He will never forgive himself. Even if he knows logically (Rafayel, Sylus, Zayne) there was nothing he could have done to save you from your death just the fact that he wasn't there will always haunt him. Xavier takes your death hard as well, constantly replaying the day over and over in his mind.

When a flag is presented at his door, Tara's face tearstreaked as she mumbles the softest apology she can manage he definitely feels his knees go weak. He doesn't say anything at all at first, simply staring at the fabric that was meant to be some poor facsimile for you before looking back up at Tara in sheer disbelief.

Denial hits him hard. He can't help plan your funeral or even acknowledge the fact that you've died. Instead, he stays in your bed all day and tries to rationalise the hell he's living in, convincing himself that this is all just a bad dream. The funeral itself is awful for him. He doesn't really respond, staring despondently as they lower your casket into the ground. He can barely speak as people try to offer him their condolences, focused more on just how...cold he feels.

Xavier and Rafayel respond with anger. Xavier shuts down even more, becoming incredibly anti-social and honestly, might just quit being a formal Hunter totally. He doesn't need the team to achieve his goal after all and now he's basically waiting out his days until his body gives in to the strain of life. He hunts Wanderers with a vengeance, totally AWOL as he tries to honour your memory through sweeps of his blade.

Rafayel has always been cold and aloof but after your death even more so. Thomas can't talk to him, people can't even enter his exhibitions - he stops hosting them. He'll just waste away in his home, painting your likeness over and over as he tells Thomas to just leave him alone. He fully isolates himself, devoting his entire being to his goal of saving Lemuria because thinking of you hurts far too much. He almost acts like you've never existed but it's a lie - his entire being burns with need for you and every time he looks at his chest he sobs with the memory that his bond will never light up again.

Zayne and Sylus will never stop mourning. Zayne throws himself back into work, doing nothing but research and surgeries. He casually pulls 72 hour days, not bothering to sleep because whenever he closes his eyes, all he sees is your body being lowered. He seems calm and collected on the outside but his normally immaculate office is a mess, papers strewn about as various pills and drinks meant to help him stay away litter every surface.

Sylus gets more brutal with his means, not caring what people say or do. There's no more begging for his forgiveness or asking if he'll go easy on you. Nothing in his life matters anymore because you aren't there to hold his hand. He's cold and callous, and nothing is spared from the sadness that leeches his entire being. The N109 Zone is more terrified than ever, knowing that there's nothing sparing anybody from certain death if they come face to face with Sylus.

[hazel-tanthamore22]

Breaking Dishes

Fluff

Manon x katseye!7thmember!freader.

A/n: reader is 23, made on the way out, don't flame me

Sypnosis: Manon was known to be one of the most level headed of the group, but when things get too much for you, she can't help but crash out.

Even though you weren't the leader, you were the oldest and you felt a strange sense of responsibility over the group. Sophia tells you not to sweat it, but as anticipation built for your first official comeback, so did tension and stress.

Producers and instructors were all over the place, Sophia was on the brink of insanity with all the calls from HR, being told to do a thousand things at once and just being the leader as a whole, being a leader was what she signed up for, but not being asked to do things like a dumb machine.

So, you being the eldest, decided it be a good idea to help her out, try to get things back on track. So that how you ended up being yelled at by your dance instructor, having a clipboard thrown at you by a stressed out manager and earning a slap from your vocal instructor.

A lot was going downhill, your right shoulder, where the clipboard hit, was hurting and most likely bruising. Your cheek a bit red from being able to only dodge a small bit of her hand. Going back to the kats house was all you could think about, so that's what you did, forgetting about all that has happened to you in one day.

The second you step into tge house, the members are in tge living room, but you're met with silence. "Hi?" You ask as you lock the door behind you. Manon Immediately speed walks to you, inspecting your face and the faint hand print on your cheek. "Who did this to you" Manon, usually goofy and nonsensical, was being serious, staring at tge mark like someone insulted her family line.

"It's nothing Manz don't worry about it." You respond, trying to get your face out of her grasp. "Who the fuck did this to you Y/n?" Her voice is strength as her she holds your chin to stop you from squirming. The other members soon also gather around you, inspecting the mark.

Megan, wanting to see the mark better but was standing behind you tried to turn you around by holding your shoulder, which causes you to let out a very pained wince and flinch away from her hand. Manon, already mad, aggressively unbutton the top two buttons of your shirt, pushing your collar and sleeve off your shoulder.

She and the others are met with your shoulder, which is red turning purple and looks like it got curb stomped. Manon eye meet your and you can tell she isn't going to let this slide, whether you tell her who it is or not, she will go around every corner of the studio and snuff out who ever the fuck decided to hurt her girlfriend.

To say Manon crashed out would be an understament. Once you and tge kats got to tge studio she was guns blazing, cursing out any producer or instructor who even looked at you too long.

You would think they would retaliate or atleast wouldn't be affected. But, this is Manon we're talking about. Always goofing around, being serious and having a murderous aura around her. (if we're being fr, the Ghanaian genes are kicking in).

None of the kats dared to intervene, if anything, Manon is doing was what all of them wanted to do, better her than them right?

You tried to calm her down, massaging her shoulders, giving her kisses, being clingy, but that didn't stop her, she herself almost hit a producer, you having to hold her back.

During the lunch break the manager approached you 7. "You guys can go home early, it's clear no one is in tgr ight mind right now and it's better if everyone goes home and cools down. And y/n, sorry for your shoulder" He mumbles the apology but it's audible enough for everyone to hear.

You simple nod, but Manon, who has been side eyeing him the whole time finally looks at him. "You threw the clipboard at her?" She asks as she stands up, you immediately stand up behind her, holding her shoulders to make sure your manager doesn't get a matching hand print on the cheek from the Swedish girl.

"Alright let's go home" Sophia speaks before anything else can happen or be said. You nod and practically drag Manon to the van. The ride home is silent, comfortable, the interaction with the manager not spoken about as you hold the Ghaninan girls hand and trace gentle patterns on her thumbs.

Once in the house, you and Manon disappear into your room. She puts ointment on your cheek, to make sure it doesn't hurt for long and cracks the bruise on your shoulder before she immediately clings to you like a koala.

"Why didn't you let me give that asshole a piece of my mind?" She asks, her vouce muffled by your neck. "Because, he's our manager Manz, you cursing everyone out was enough, that could've gotten you in more trouble" You explain as you play with her curls.

"And? He deserved it after throwing a fucking clipboard at you" She murmured, seemingly still annoyed. "Just calm down ok? I'm fine now" you reassure as you place a gentle kiss on her forehead.

She flicks your stomach and you laugh as you both doze off to sleep in the comfort of each other's embrace.

[dismalflo]

Something Nice

remus lupin x reader Who desperately wants to do something nice for remus ✩ 849 words

AN: first ever fic!! had to start with my favourite moony ofc. might be so bad but thats okay.

CW: hurt/comfort, just fluff, no use of y/n

When you and Remus decided to move in together it just made sense. A natural progression forward. What you didn't expect is how unbelievably caring he is without even thinking about it, of course he was before, but now it feels like another level. 

Every morning he brings a coffee into the bedroom to start the day, he cooks your favourites without being asked, he does your laundry when you can’t be bothered. He folds your socks, for god's sake! You could cry if you think about it too much, instead you decided that while he was out with Sirius you’d build the new flatpack bookshelf he was planning to build tonight.

One problem. When the instructions said it was a two person job, they definitely meant it. So instead of being pleased with yourself on the sofa when keys start to turn in the door, you're very precariously lifting a big plank of wood, trying to line it up with the other pieces and make sure nothing gets dropped on your feet. 

‘Dove, what are you doing?’ Remus exclaims making his way over as quickly as possible to relieve your arms and help put it together. 

‘No! No, don't help! I'm trying to do something nice for you.’ you say while trying to speed up your movements before he can get to you.

‘What wouldn't be nice is taking you to A&E, let me help please.’ finally getting his hands on the piece, you relent and let him help put it back on the floor. ‘I thought we said we’d build this when I got home, dovey.’ 

‘You're very dramatic, I wouldn't have needed the hospital.’ suddenly Remus realises you look quite upset, and even though he knows everything about you extremely well this has him stumped. 

‘What’s wrong, lovely? You haven't hurt yourself have you?’ he asks hurriedly. 

And out of nowhere tears are stinging your eyes and the sniffling starts. The look on Remus’ face could only be described as heartbroken as he watched. He feels panicked now, not entirely sure how you got here.

There's a warm hand on your back encouraging you into his chest, you bury your head trying to calm yourself before speaking. One hand is planted across your shoulders, the other is slow and sweeping across your back. There's some relief in it. There's a quick succession of kisses planted to your forehead and quiet murmurings of reassurances and sweet nothings.

You pull away, ‘I just wanted to do something for you. You’re so nice to me and thoughtful and I don't feel like I do nearly enough for you and I don’t want you to start secretly resenting me because I don't do enough.’ you sobbed. Everything seems to be spilling out all at once and you can’t stop it.

Remus feels his heart clench in his chest as he digests your words. He pulls you back into his chest with a tenderness that makes your breath hitch. His hands, warm and steady, resume their sweeping motion on your back.

‘Dove... ‘ he starts ‘You do more than enough for me, every day. You don’t have to do anything at all, being here with me is more than enough.’ 

You shake your head against his chest ready to disagree but Remus continues, his voice soft and sincere. ‘You take care of me in so many ways, like when I’m too stubborn to take care of myself when my hip is playing up.’ he says with a sheepish chuckle. ‘And the things I do for you, I do because I love you. It's not transactional and I don't expect anything in return. You're perfect, dovey.’

You let out a shaky breath, clinging to him as the tears subside and you take in his words. For a moment, there's only the sound of your breathing and the steady sound of his soft reassurance. 

When you finally look up at him, there’s a small smile forming on your lips, fragile but genuine. Remus cups your face in his hands, his thumbs gently brushing away the remnants of your tears. You lift your head higher, chin pointed up, asking for a kiss. Remus indulges you, giving you a kiss that is as soft and sweet as he is.

That sickly sweet kiss continues with him peppering them over your cheeks. ‘I feel so lucky to be with you and show you all the love that you deserve’ he says softly against your cheek.

You nod, sniffling again, but this time in a quieter, more contented way. The weight on your chest feels a little lighter, and though you still feel vulnerable, there’s a warmth between the two of you now.

‘Love you, Remus,’ you whisper, the words a gentle truth as they leave your lips.

After a long pause, you look back at the half-built bookshelf, still in pieces on the living room floor. You offer a small, defeated laugh, and Remus grins.

‘We can finish it together,’ he suggests, his tone light and teasing now, ‘Shall we have a cup of tea first?’

[stoopidpigeonxx]

Hi! Love your works!

Can I ask how tulpar crew will show that they are into you? 👉👈

Like what are their hints that show they have a crush on a reader or what are their moves?

P.S. Have a nice day!

THANK YOU!! and yeah I can do that! You have a nice day too, love <333

Curly -will get more touchy. Pats your back a lot, ruffles your hair, lets his hand linger on your shoulder a bit too long. -starts paying more attention to you when you're talking about something. He's observing you, trying to learn what you like. -Starts calling you more affectionate things, like 'love' or 'honey.' It's meant to be friendly, kinda parental almost? -If you prefer doing something, he'll make sure to take you to it. Like, star gazing.

Jimmy -It's hard to tell. He bottles his emotions up a lot, so it isn't obvious. -He'll get more tolerable of your presence around him, and won't complain if you stick around. -once he's sure he likes you, its a bit more forward. -random shoulder squeezes and off-hand compliments. -"..y'look alright today." -Waits for a while before making a move, like.. trailing a hand down your back or smirking at you. He's creepy but in like.. a charming way. -gets HELLA possessive. He asks Anya if he can do your psych evals instead just for an excuse to talk to you.

Daisuke -he's young. He's cringe. -Will get super fucking nervous around you, flushed face, stuttering, all that. -Despite that, he'll cling to you like a life line. -Yaps your ear off. It doesn't even have to be about anything, he will just talk talk talk. And if you actually listen intently? Ohhh he's smitten. IN LOVE. -Not super touchy, out of fear that he'll break boundaries. But sometimes he can't help himself, and wraps a friendly arm around your shoulder or something. Will freak out and pull away for a moment. -Giggles and kicks his feet while thinking about you when he's alone.

Anya -Subtle as HELL. -Just... treats you sweetly. But she tries to do that with everyone. Just a bit more with you is all. -Maybe checks in on you more often, does psych evals a lot just to check in on you. It's a bit of favoritism that the crew notices, but doesn't say anything about. Let her have a moment of joy. -Small little favors like making you shitty coffee or complimenting your hair. -She's just.. more nice than she was before. -Secretly fawning over you and fangirling you so hard.

Swansea -He's a mean old man who hates everyone, except maybe you. You're just more tolerable. -And sure, you're quite easy on the eyes.. but that has nothing to do with anything. -Makes you help him with mechanical stuff, even if you aren't good at that kind of stuff. He'll teach you, kinda like a dad would. You remind him of his dumb ol' kids. -But.. it's definitely more than just a fatherly feeling.. he's into you. -facing that fact is awkward for him; you weren't even born when he was a young man. How could he like someone so much younger? -He'll try to bond with you, but delivers it terribly. -"Jeez, who taught you howta screw a bolt? Give it 'ere, I'll do it.."

[whatdoidosatoru]

wedding bells

baji keisuke/fem!reader | ao3 baji currently only has one problem: the fact that his girlfriend is too damn pretty in that dress. it's like you've picked out the most tantalizingly gorgeous outfit that he can't touch you in as he listens to takemichi and hina recite their vows. that is, until he spots a cloakroom. pulling you in there might just be the solution to the problem he's hiding in his suit trousers. wc: 2.8k cw: THE GOOD TIMELINE, smut, semi-public sex, creampie 18+ MDNI

“stop fussing with it,” your stern voice commands after another one of baji’s attempts to mess with his tie, “you’re gonna ruin it. again.”

he clicks his tongue, giving up on fighting you on it. it’s not too tight, he’s just being a baby. something you’ve told him countless times today, from the moment when he stepped back with a sharp smirk when you finished tying it in front of the mirror. it should be the other way around, he said, you should be taking it off me, pretty. 

you rolled your eyes then, though the same thought crossed your mind only moments prior, along with an overwhelming desire to just push him on the bed and have your way with him. he looks insanely good in a suit, all dressed up, his long hair brushed and so damn silky, if only you could… no. you would be late.

the word ‘quickie’ doesn’t exist in baji’s vocabulary. you get all or nothing, pretty, he has a habit of saying, especially when you were on a time crunch, but he looked extra good in those scrubs and you just had to press yourself against him in the kitchen, accidentally rubbing your breasts against his back as you reached for the coffee cup in front of him. and he saw through you every time, smirking down at your feigned innocence before caging you in between his strong arms while you stuttered and tried to slip out of getting yet another hickey you’d have to hide before going to classes. 

and you thought sharing an apartment with your boyfriend would make university easier… 

you thank your lucky stars that both of you managed to keep it in your pants, dress, whatever. hina would have killed you if you were late. the ceremony is short enough, but some people still manage to fall asleep during it. baji holds your hand the entire time, brushing his rough thumb over your soft skin while takemichi recites his vows, nearly making hina’s eyes shine with happiness. her dress is beautiful, you have to find mitsuya later to congratulate him on the masterpiece. hina only showed you pieces of it while it was being designed, the whole thing is so much more than you could’ve visualized. it hugs her figure perfectly, the white makes her pink hair pop, the ruffles gracefully fall down the side of the skirt, making her look like a princess. you sigh, she’s so beautiful, and takemichi looks like he’s on the verge of tears as he speaks. so damn happy for them, you think, willing your own tear to stop trying to roll down your cheek.

“i see you holding it in, sweets.” baji’s quiet voice gently touches your ear as he leans in to whisper those words to you. you turn your head to him slowly, thinking about how it would be a damn shame if your makeup got ruined at the very start of the wedding.

“‘m not holding in anything,” you proudly respond, but even a glimpse of his serious face while he’s wearing that suit is enough to make you question going somewhere so public, “you’re seeing things.”

“mhm, sure,” he chuckles quietly, still brushing his thumb over your knuckles, “and i’m a weak fighter.”

“didn’t think you’d ever admit it.” a smile tugs on your lips, a smile that, paired with that teasing line, puts images in his head.

you know he already sees you lying over his lap, ass cheeks reddened from the amount of smacking his numbing palm is doing, he sees you with tears in your pretty eyes as he folds you in half and fucks you like his life depends on it. he smacks his lips and smirks as he looks down at your dress, the pretty, satin material such a gorgeous dark shade of green that looks like it’s made for you. there’s a delicious slit down your thigh, parting the dress to reveal your smooth skin. the material gathered around your chest catches his eye as he notes that you’re not wearing a bra under it. he lifts your hand, the one he’s been holding the entire ceremony, and kisses your knuckles gently, smiling at the images in his head.

“i love you so much, you know that, right?” his low tone strikes like an arrow to your heart, nearly making you gasp. 

baji’s never been one for grand words like love, he prefers to show his affections in a very baji way, not just repeat words that he’s been told meant a certain thing. he doesn’t believe the depth of his emotions can be contained within such a simple word. love. 

he wakes you up gently because he knows you’re not a morning person and the only way you won’t be cranky is if he kisses your nose and cheeks before rolling out of bed. he brings you coffee to work, takes you out to the park between classes so you can have your lunch together, basking in the sun before carrying your bag back inside. he picks you up and carries you around despite your half-hearted protests, makes you tea in the evenings when you’re tired but insist on studying late, puts on your favorite songs when you’re just relaxing at the apartment. baji believes in actions over words, and hearing him use the word is rare. it’s almost enough to make you release that tear that tried to spill from your eye earlier.

“love you too, dummy.” you reply, unable to contain the smile that cracks your frozen expression.

once hina and takemichi kiss, for the first time as a married couple, the crowd rises to their feet and applauds. you’re reluctant to let go of baji’s hand, but the excitement of the moment requires both of them to loudly clap and cheer along with the rest of the guests. so happy, it crosses your mind, they look as happy as i feel with him. baji turns almost as if he can hear your thoughts and winks at you. he doesn’t ever have to do much to make you into a blushing mess, a wink and a flash of those sharp canines are enough. 

“you don’t know what it’s doing to me…” baji trails after you to reach the courtyard of the reception hall, hand on your hip, his lips right next to your ear. 

“what are you talking about?” you feign ignorance, but the way his eyes slid that long, tight dress off your body during the ceremony didn’t escape your notice. 

“the dress, dummy,” he kisses your temple, pulling you closer to him once you reach the front door, “it’s so pretty but i wanna rip it off you.” 

you’re about to make a snarky comment when he drags you away, pulling you by the arm towards a heavy, polished wooden door that reads cloakroom, staff only.

as soon as the door closes behind him, baji turns and presses you against the wall, knocking a few coats and blazers to the floor. he couldn’t care less, to hell with the fancy fabrics, the pressed garments, expensive shawls. his hands quickly find the slit in your dress, pushing it apart to glide those rough palms over your silky soft skin. one quick pat on the underside of your thigh and you jump up to wrap your legs around his waist. he holds you up, pressing his hips into yours and his face into the crook of your neck. sharp teeth nip at your skin, enough to pull moans from your throat where he grazes it, but not to bruise you. that will have to wait until you’re back home tonight and he doesn’t have to be careful. 

“seeing you so dolled up at the wedding…” baji’s voice is dripping in lust, “just makes me wanna put a ring on your finger as soon as possible.” he dives in, kissing down your neck, having you hold onto his silky hair as his lips and teeth compete in who’s going to touch your skin more. 

“baji…” you sigh, voice light as the petals you threw over the happy couple earlier, “you know we should–”

“mhm, i know, pretty,” he licks up your throat, kissing the tip of your chin, “degree first, wedding second.” cleverly, his fingers bunch up the satin fabric of your lovely dress, hiking it up around your waist to grab onto the flesh of your ass and slide your panties to the side, uncovering your already needy pussy, dripping for him to fit his impatient cock inside it.

a small gasp leaves you when those same clever fingers swipe through your folds, collecting slick to taste like he’s sampling a wedding cake. 

“but i really wanna wife you up soon, gotta… fuck, gotta have you forever.” he sounds like a man addicted, taking a deep breath of you just under your jaw, kissing it fiercely as he busies himself with unzipping those annoying classy trousers he’s wearing. 

it would be way easier if he could’ve worn anything else, not these tailor-made trousers, the type that most of the toman guys are wearing today. he appreciates mitsuya, really, he does, but maybe he should’ve added a secret string that would let baji slide them off easier so he can fuck his girlfriend in the damn cloakroom like god fucking intended. 

you can’t complain, despite waiting for him to one-handedly rid himself of the constraints of the trousers, your eyes have been feasting on the view of him in that suit. it’s been difficult keeping your hands to yourself, not reaching out and smacking his ass when he stepped out to open the car door for you. but now you’re getting impatient, every second he takes is a second you don’t want to spend without him inside you now that he’s made you so damn wet you’re certain there’s a piece of fabric at the bottom of the ocean somewhere that’s drier than your panties. 

baji lets out a sigh of relief when he finally undoes the trousers, freeing his cock from the constraints and immediately pressing it against you, rubbing his tip through your soaked slit once, twice, fuck, three times just to mess with you.

“hmmm but what if I made you beg?” he lowers his voice, leaning against the side of your head where his lips gently brush your ear. “what if I wanted to play a little?” 

he feeds on your little whimpers, pushes his tip inside your sweet, dripping cunt, and pulls it out.

“e-evil… you're sooooo evil.” you pout, batting your lashes at him and his mean teasing.

“naaawwww you love me like this, pretty.” he pushes his tip in again, pulling out just to hear you huff in exasperation.

 he chuckles, finally pushing into you fully, sinking into your tight wet cunt to the hilt. his balls press against you and he lets out a gorgeous moan, leaning down to kiss your exposed collarbones. 

“you’re lucky, my sweet girl…” he makes an experimental thrust, biting your collarbone to get a reaction out of you. one sugary moan and he keeps going, pushing into you almost desperately. “lucky… that i’ve been keeping my dick down the whole ceremony,” baji grunts as his hips snap against your thighs, blessing the fact that you’ve always been good at keeping yourself up by his hips, “because otherwise, hnngh i woulda’ had you dripping from just the tip.” 

and you feel lucky, that he’s giving you his thick cock so desperately when he had the capacity, the habit, to be mean. you feel lucky with each kiss of his tip to your sweet spot. your eyes roll back, lips part, legs go numb as he bullies his way inside your sweet, soft cunt that keeps contracting around his shaft while your throat lets out small, breathless moans. the back of your head meets the wall repeatedly, but you can’t care about any sensation that isn’t baji’s body on yours.

“fuuuck just like that…” you pant, holding onto his long hair with your desperate fingers.

he chuckles at your pleasure, kissing the part of your neck he usually loves to bite. you don’t even realize how much self-control he’s exercising now trying not to bite into you like you’re the juiciest slice of watermelon.

but he’ll be nice, he’ll fuck you until you’re drooling, and then he’ll help you fix your makeup. he’ll hold your hand as you dance and mingle and drink champagne and he’ll give you all the sweetest compliments. that is, until you get home and he can bend you over the table, eating you out until your legs shake so much you can’t stand, and then fucking you until you nearly pass out. for now, though… he’ll be nice.

your whines and whimpers rise in pitch as baji’s hips speed up, rutting into you almost like he’s holding on so he doesn’t fall off the edge of the earth. he grips your hips, still careful not to tug on your dress. that gorgeous, dark green satin that feels so good under his fingertips. that gorgeous dress that got him thinking all kinds of unspeakable things. that dress that’s now bunched up around your waist, uncovering the flesh of your abdomen that he focuses his eyes on. oh how he’s going to sink his teeth into it once he brings you back home. he gets lost in the memories of your skin under his teeth, lifting his eyes to look into your glossy ones. with your lips parted, curses keep spilling from between them, a little bit of drool is gathering in the corner of your lips as he slams into you, grunting as your back meets the wall.

“damn… pretty, i won’t…” he groans, the sight of your fucked out face and the sound of your sugary moans tilt his self control, toppling it over as he attaches his lips to your pulse point. he kisses hard, trying so desperately not to suck or bite, trying to keep you free of his marks until it’s safe. 

“b-baji please…” you drawl into his ear, moans giving way to straight up pleas in a whiny voice. his cock speeds up, pushing against your sweet spot so perfectly angled as you repeatedly contract around him, threatening to fall over the edge at once.

“almost there, sweets, aaaalmost there…” he pushes harder against the wall, stabilizing you to use one hand so he can rub your needy clit in tight circles.

he hits the spot almost immediately, making you gasp out loudly as your tight walls contract around him, squeezing him as the cries from your lips get louder and you finish with a shiver going from the top of your head down to your toes. just as he expects, your cunt squeezes him just right, making his hips stutter against yours and he slowly shoots his release into you, sighing in relief at the sensation as he rests his forehead against yours. 

“mmmphh!” you whine, feeling the warmth of his cum fill you like always.

“ohhh my pretty girl… my sweet, sweet girl…” he coos, coming down from his high, “gonna have to marry you… have to make ya mine…” he presses kiss after sweet kiss to your pout, careful not to swipe any of your lipstick onto your face. 

opening your eyes, you take in the blissed out smile on his pretty face, sharp canines poking out from his lips. he releases you slowly, letting your feet touch the floor before taking his hands off you. a little drop of his cum drips onto the floor, making him chuckle in amusement.

“well… help me then?” you point at the softness of your pussy now filled with his sticky mess. baji takes his sweet time getting a packet of wet wipes from your discarded purse, crouching down to gently wipe you clean before pressing a sweet kiss to your clit. 

shuffling to pull your dress down, smoothing out the fabric that now once again glides down your hips and legs, you take out a small compact mirror from the purse. baji fixes his hair as you wipe the saliva gathered at the corner of your lips, cleaning up the lipstick before pretending nothing happened in the cloakroom, the purse hanging from your shoulder like it did before baji pulled you inside. taking his hand once again, both now visibly more relaxed, you stroll out, thankful that nobody sees you slip from behind the closed door. 

you find emma and draken on the dance floor, swaying to a gentle rhythm that baji and you quickly catch as he places his hands on your waist.

“love you, even if you did just make me have a damn quickie…” he whispers into your ear, placing a kiss under your lobe, “you look incredible.”

you smile and slide your hand from the back of his neck to his cheek, bringing him in for a sweet kiss.

“love you too, baby…” you hesitate, looking down to admire the way he looks in that suit again, “you’re gonna have to wear this more often.”

baji laughs, kissing you once again before resuming his position and continuing swaying with you. the songs change, but the rhythm and your close embrace stay exactly the same.

[reikafanfic]

Random Nsfw Head Canons For Riize Hyung line (with Fem!Reader)

( Includes: Shotaro, Eunseok, Sungchan, Wonbin )

Just my personal thoughts, don't take it too seriously this is just for fun <3

I also don't proofread so get ready for a lot of typos and an absolute bastardization of the English language

Hyung line, Maknae line (coming soon)

♡ ♡ Shotaro ♡ ♡

I know because he's naturally cute and he has a round wholesome face you might be fooled into thinking he's innocent and vanilla WRONG this man is a tried and true SLUT.

I mean, its been said before but it's bears repeating, have you SEEN his old dance videos?

You can't tell me he wasn't the community dick for a while, this mf is ran through.

All in all he has quite a bit of experience and I could see him both loving to be with someone who's just as experienced or teaching someone not as experienced his favourite kinks.

I don't see him as particularly picky in that aspect, he's still a sweetheart, just happy to be there.

Definitely loves head, like it's one of his favourite bedroom activities, both receiving and giving.

If there's something like the opposite of a breeding kink he has it, giving pleasure with no other goal.

There is no baby making, he's on his knees for you because he wants YOU to feel good, and vice versa.

Just straight up sinning for the sake of it, he maybe has some hints of a corruption kink.

Always encouraging you to be demanding and bold with him, take what you want from him he's yours after all.

Shame is not a thing with this guy, always open to try something new.

He's always softly encouraging you, giving you a teasing smile as he asks you to tell him what you wanna try.

"c'mon sweetheart, use your words"

Definitely loves hitting it from the back, hands on your hips as he slams them down on his dick.

He's more of a moaner than a groaner, mainly because he knows how much his pretty voice turns you on.

He definitely leans more dominant but will gladly sub, like I said before he's just happy to be there.

The only times he's every truly being submissive and not putting on a show for your enjoyment is when you tie him up and edge him till he's a mess.

Looking up at you with his big brown eyes, pleading with you.

"I've been so good....fuck please just let me cum I'll do anything"

He's also got aftercare down to a science, taylors what he does based on what you need in the moment.

Whether it's cuddling with you until you both fall asleep or helping you take a shower he's down for whatever.

Super chatty after sex too, pillow talk is his favourite part.

♡ ♡ Eunseok ♡ ♡

I know everyone sees him as a daddy Dom or a "call me sir" type but I honestly think he's more sexually conservative than people think.

Which is to say he likes to "court" you before he fucks you, wants to get to know you before he's bending you over.

He definitely likes to be dominant but that side of him doesn't come out until later, in the beginning he's just trying to figure himself out.

He isn't a virgin but doesn't have nearly as much experience as shotaro which is why he takes it slow.

What's that saying? Slow and steady wins the race?

That's definitely true for him because once he figures out what makes you tick it's OVER for you.

He figures out what your sweet spots are, how you like him to touch you, how you like to be talked to and when he knows all of that he'll be using it against you every chance he gets.

You flirt with the waiter to make him jealous? He's grazing your thigh and whispering into your ear just how you like until you're squirming.

Teases you throughout dinner until you're dripping only to act like nothing happened when you get back to the car .

"Did I forget something? What is it? Use your big girl words, Sir can't read your mind"

Also knows exactly how to edge you to make It feel the most frustrating, smirking as you whine and beg for him to let you cum.

Also loves spanking you, his favourite thing is having you bent over his lap, fingers in your cunt, pulling them out just as you're about to finish and slapping your ass.

Mildly sadistic, but only mildly, the extreme stuff doesn't appeal to him. It's fun to spank you but I think he'd get uncomfortable using a crop, the chances of seriously hurting you are just too high.

Don't let him fool you though, he's still a softy at heart, he can only tease you so much before he's giving in.

Sex always starts out rough but by the end of it he's cooing at you, telling you he loves you as he lets you cum over and over.

"Don't look at me like that...you know it makes me weak"

Gets all mushy towards the end of sex, goes from talking about how much of a slut you are to how much he loves you, is super embarrassed about it after.

Again he isn't as experienced as Shotaro so his aftercare could use some work, he gets a good handle on things after a while though.

Makes sure to clean you up and massage you if you're sore.

Unlike Shotaro he's quiet after sex, just wanted to hold you and run his fingers through your hair, preferably having your head on his chest.

King of forehead kisses.

♡ ♡ Sungchan ♡ ♡

He's similar to Eunseok in the sense that he definitely prefers to be more dominant and likes it rough but he doesn't take himself nearly as seriously.

Even when he's playing a more dominant role he still flashes you his big smile from time to time, he's still your sweet boyfriend after all.

He didn't wait to have sex with you like Eunseok did, he's down to do it whenever you want, he would've fucked you on the first date if you'd asked.

SIZE KINK, he loves how much taller he is than you, constantly wants to compare hand sizes or rest his head on yours.

Loves making you ride him, your smaller frame struggling to take his cock, big eyes looking at him pleadingly.

"Fuck just like that baby, you look so good like this"

Don't forget, just because you're on top doesn't mean he's giving up control, he's still in charge.

He, like Eunseok, is also mostly a Dom but he isn't necessarily as rigged, if you wanna Dom him he'll let you have your fun for a little bit.

He'll eventually get frustrated though, flipping you over to fuck you into next week.

Speaking of size kink, he loves man handling you, you don't need to lift a finger when you're with him because he can just move you himself.

You literally get tossed around like a ragdoll during sex.

Also LOVES being sent Nudes, pretty lingerie is the biggest turn on for him, sending him suggestive pics in a new set you bought while he's working is the fastest way to get your brains fucked out.

Has probably the highest sex drive in riize, he's down to clown anything time anywhere.

Probably the most into semi-public sex, isn't above sneaking off to fuck you in a closet in-between schedules, hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds.

"shh, be a good girl and stay quiet, no-one gets to hear your sweet moans but me."

Probably the most lazy during aftercare, just wants to cuddle up and go to sleep.

Will clean you up if you complain but only does the bare minimum in that regard, he just can't wait to cuddle up with you.

Another chatterbox after sex, will talk your ear off about literally anything and everything.

♡ ♡ Wonbin ♡ ♡

The switchest switch of them all, he doesn't really lean strongly towards subbing or domming he's down either way.

When he's subbing he's definitely a bit of a pillow princess, I mean have you SEEN him?? That's my wife frl.

He loves being tied up and played with. Just use him to your hearts content, he's just your toy, edge him, making him cum over and over, ride him, tease him, he just wants to be good for you.

Your wish is his command, he doesn't get bratty often because he craves you praising him more than anything, all of you have to say is "Be a good boy and _____" and he's doing it.

HOWEVER he definitely has a jealous streak, he only gets disobedient when you're paying attention to someone else more than him, if you hug your guy friend a little too close Infront of him it'll set him off.

"No no just pretend like I don't exist, it's fine, I know how much you love attention"

He does all this just so he can feel you fuck the attitude out of him, probably the most likely to be into pegging.

Wants YOU to manhandle HIM.

His face buried in the pillow and you fuck into him, looking back at you with teary eyes as he whines and moans, a little bit of drool coming out.

"Fuck- I'm sorry- please- please please"

He isn't even sure what he's begging for, he just needs you so bad.

And when he's domming you? He's honestly more of a soft dom, this man is putty in your hands.

He tries to be mean, he really does, and he succeeds for like five minutes, having you tied down and teasing you, almost pushing his cock in but always pulling back before even his tip is inside, making you beg for his cock.

Beg is singular though because he melts at the first "please" you let out, he really can't deny you anything.

Seriously, you look at him pleadingly ONCE and he sighs, giving you whatever you want, you've got him wrapped around your finger.

His aftercare is different depending on of he was domming or not, if he was subbing he's whiny as hell.

Wants to be cleaned up and showered in praise, wrapped up in your arms as you run your fingers through his hair

Will literally bury his face in your boobs and fall asleep, he's not much of a talker.

If he's domming he's honestly a little lazy, will cuddle up with you but won't really do any cleaning unless you insist.

Holds you close to his chest and runs his fingers though your hair until you fall asleep, sneaking in a few pecks.

He does more of his aftercare the morning after, bringing you breakfast in bed or if he isn't feeling particularly up to it he'll order you food.

Ngl I'm very nervous to post this because criticism scares me but I've been wanting to make a blog for a while so here goes, please be nice😞🙏🏼

[uniquethingtastemaker]

Hi Clementine! I found your Jade fic because Sol reblogged it and adytshrgeutrdjghvkguftyfdhgfd)tfhgvjgv!!!!! 💗💗💗💗💗💗 Oh my gosh!! It was just absolutely perfect and I am in love with your writing now!!! 💙💙💙💙💙 Jade is already one of my favorite Twisted Wonderland characters and for you to write something so amazing - like I can’t even right now. This is perfect, you are amazing, and I love you so much for writing such an incredible story with Jade and posting it on here. Thank you so much!

Ahhhhh!! I'm screaming! Thank you for all the compliments! I always love specific ones lol

I looooove Sol too. She's amazing. I've been in her dms talking and discussing ideas. She's helped me a lot

I'm so glad you like my writing! This fanfic for Jade was really fun. I wasn't expecting it to become so good either, but here we are. I love to write stuff in canon, so expect to see more of that

Because you left so much love in my inbox, I'll disclose what I've been working on recently. It brings me joy when I give people some teasers lol... I also have no idea who your fav characters are, so i have no idea if this will interest you. Disclaimer: this is all WIPs, so things are subjected to change lol

I've been writing the "Overblot Slap -- Vil x Reader." That one is going to be a hit. Many people liked my theory if you just slapped Vil, he probably wouldn't overblot, so I'm making it into a fanfic. It will probably end up being 12k too if not a little more. It goes from Vil's "overblot prevention" to marriage, like Jade's

I have it all lined out. However, I'm still talking to @solxamber about Vil's characterization in terms of the man learning emotional processing. I feel like that would be really hard for him because it's not he usually does. It's hard to break habits, but Vil is nothing if not determined.

Like the Jade x Reader fanfic, it has a good variety of scenes and feelings. This one is more fluff, feel good, and wholesome. Unfortunately, no spice scene... so far at least. It doesn't seem necessary. However, there are some huge comedy elements. The Reader is bold as always and occassionally sassy.

I will disclose a little tiny, tiny teaser to get people hyped:

It's a wild move to stomp up to an almost overblotting Vil, slap him, and then say, "Yeah, you're ugly. You've been acting ugly for awhile now. You almost committed murder because of your stupid ego and inferiority complex. Not everything's about you. You don't get to decide you've lost when you haven't even performed. You're shirking your responsibilities as the team leader."

I read that and kinda lose my mind because what a power move. Again, Reader is bold and so done lol

It's so nice to see Vil so happy in this too. The progression is endearing to watch

We got a Rook x Observant Reader. I'm still playing around with it. I'm not sure how their relationship will play out. I have the first meeting and then Reader semi-catching Rook spying on them. It's more like "oh, i'll investigate where I think he was and check for anything that would indicate he was here." Then they realize that might be intimidating or threatening to someone who wants to stay hidden, so they just kinda apologize to air, knowing Rook is somewhere in the area lol

However, it's unclear where I go after that. I know that Vil's going to a problem. It's Chapter 5. What do you expect?

I'd like to write something with Azul (the man was so funny in the Jade x Reader). I'm not 100% how that will look. I have an idea that might turn into a series. Idk if I'm going to fully commit. Basically take characters realizing their sentient and they're kinda in a game. They kinda get one of those isekai systems where it's like "don't let the Reader know you're sentient and you can earn points." So they get to know Reader that way. Then maybe they're about to die and so Azul pulls them into Twisted Wonderland. That's really the only way I can think of a romance happening with Azul.

As someone so guarded and assuming everyone has ulterior motives, I feel like if Azul would be hard to get to. If didn't have the security of like "oh this person doesn't know i can hear them. Therefore, they will just say their true feelings about me because they don't have a reason not to," then it would be a lot harder

This concept would also be fun for an Idia x Reader. The whole "oh my god, i'm in a game" moment is great. He make so many fun anime trope references and whatnot. He's also so sassy and sarcastic. I haven't written for him before but this seems hilarious to me. I can envision it now.

Technically, I think all the overblot students could have a concept like this. Maybe everyone honestly.

This was also inspired by my reaction to Octavinelle revealing Jamil as the mastermind behind the chaos or whatever. I remember screaming in outrage when Jamil hypnotized Azul. Then the cheer that went up after the twist happened was so loud. So I thought it would be funny if Azul could hear the Reader during that section. He doesn't have anyone like that in game, so I thought I would give it to him

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 2/18/2025

much like phil, i feel like i cannot quite ever get physically comfy this week. something is always not quite right.

listening: god save the queens by vienna vienna

reading: love's harvest by peggy j herring

watching: cinderella

playing: pokemon

making: return of the baby blanket

listening

im going to start out a little bit mean and say that this self-described glimmer rock song, God Save The Queens by Vienna Vienna, really shone in the ten-second social media clips i saw of its live version. the actual studio version sucks so much. and even the full version of the live version, i want it to me slightly different but in a way i cannot articulate. i am excited to see if other people start covering this in fun ways and maybe it'll be the rare song where i like the cover much more than the original.

I saw a man out in Hollywood He carried a sign that said he hated me I said, "Please, get in line" He stopped to ask me a question He said, "Do you know Christ?" I told him, "Maybe I do, does she work the nights?" He said, "No, I mean Jesus" I said, "That guy was tight But I'm not living in a city built upon your lies" He tried to save me, but somebody already did last night They said their name was Alex, baby, and they showed me the light

like here's the studio version. give us nothing i guess??? i think if you are going to sell merch with GOD SAVE THE F*GS censored out maybe you should say that in the studio version of your song. this is probably a label decision but i want this song to be about 15% less corporate sponsor of a pride parade than it is. i feel like this song got heavily edited from a first draft and i would have liked to hear that probably much angrier first draft. hell of a hook though.

-

reading

this gay and/or lesbian romance and/or erotica project is turning into a little bit of a slog, so with the gentle encouragement of @sybilius going "what if you read good books you enjoyed?" going forward we are going to try a novel of dubious quality from my shelf and an acclaimed queer novel from history in the hopes that one of them will be tolerable. so next week we have the dubious pairing of a mob girlfriend in WITSEC romantic thriller from my shelf, and Fried Green Tomatoes At The Whistle Stop Cafe has just come off hold.

last week's assigned book was Heart on Fire, which was supposed to be even!! better!!! than Naiad Press's previous bestseller Curious Wine by Katherine V Forrest. so of course we had to detour to Curious Wine, which had a very short hold time.

reader, i did not finish this book. seven (7!) different women are introduced in the first chapter with almost no physical or clothing descriptions. they are all extremely mean to each other in the way older women who are dissatisfied with their life often sabotage all their relationships. i didn't have it in me to make a cheat card for myself with who the fuck each woman was, bc i expected somewhat lighter going in a contemporary romance with no extra genres tacked on top.

i am glad i did not continue bc while reading reviews everyone mentioned the Graphic On-Page Sexual Assault??? and this is still somehow every older lesbian's favorite book??? truly the times have changed.

Deep in the heart of France's majestic wine country, the sun drenched hills and lush vineyards of the Jeton family estate seem like the perfect setting for a passionate affaire de Coeur. But the life of workaholic winemaster, Nicole Jeton, is anything but romantic. From one harvest to the next, she runs the world-renowned winery, cares for her invalid father, and bails her no-good brother out of trouble—never stopping long enough to consider her own needs and desires. Until she meets the lovely Camille Cartier...

thank you girls. Love's Harvest by Peggy J Herring is one of the books acquired by Bella when they bought out part of Naiad Press. originally published in 1997, this 156p book was reprinted in 2007 with no additional changes or author's notes. it is the same quality as all the Bella reprints: a kind of terrible to hold perfect-bound softcover. i am beginning to suspect i simply do not vibe with the naiad and/or bella publishing market. i may not be their intended reader. im not really sure who their intended reader is, except maybe the 1997/2007 version of people who patiently comb through self-published kindle ebooks? what is the point of having a physical press and an editor if you can't make the line breaks and the quotation marks correct?

i couldn't find out much about Herring except that she died last summer and was part of her own tuesdaypost endeavor:

To further enhance communication within the women's community, [WomanSpace San Antonio] newsletter staff initiated a regular event known as Tuesday Night for discussing topics affecting women's lives. Topics ranging from real estate law to rape/incest were prepared for each Tuesday session. As ties to related community resources and events increased, the Tuesday Night events were superseded in 1995 by other events and meetings for the lesbian and gay community.

i did not like this book. such a wild amount of somewhat disjointed events take place during this novel and i really wish it was good. there is a for-real ghost, her great aunt killed by her grandfather and everyone just kind of shrugged about it??? that can dramatically interact with physical objects and STOPS A MURDER??? people are so calm about this ghost as a daily fact of life when there is exorcist level shit going on in the foreground. nicole has to cancel one of their weekend getaways bc the ghost is simply too on one and she can't figure out how to explain the ghost to camille, a presumably more normal outsider who presumably did not grow up with a ghost. the ghost is not the focal point of this book but it is by far the most interesting thing in the book.

this book felt like a barely fleshed outline. they go here. they do this. they see that. here is a great example of a section where i would have loved more elaboration in literally every sentence. the build up to this call and the call itself could have been a full chapter instead of half a page.

the least amount of dialogue i have maybe ever read in a book, and even fewer thoughts or feelings or interiority. the sex scenes read like stage direction. which is crazy bc they start fucking on page 42 and keep fucking every time they meet. they do NOT waste any time which was really refreshing. if only it was hot.

things mostly seem to happen to vineyard owner nicole— taking care of her dad (who dies quite early in the book) and the vineyard, her brother randomly shows up instead of her summoning him back to get some emotional closure (he doesn’t even show up for their father’s funeral), her gay bestie summons camille back after the third act breakup instead of nicole doing any emotional work and reaching out herself. everyone has at maximum one thing going on at a time that is neatly wrapped up before the next thing happens.

i think the 3.3 on goodreads is overly kind, but people seem to really love her other books so what do i know. maybe all these books ended up at the thrift bc their original owner was unlucky enough to somehow pick the worst book from each author and had to unload them.

-

watching

Cinderella (1950, dir. Geronimi, Jackson, and Luske) was on in the background while i was wrangling my bestie's children. probably the least scary (if you are not quite six or not quite two) disney princess movie. the bubble sequence makes me insane in a good way. i think this sort of thing is so easily replicated digitally that it looks unimpressive in 2025 but this shit is 75 years old!!! we were nineteen years away from landing on the fucking moon with a computer outpaced by my current microwave!!!

-

playing

having a real brain time with pokemon. i was gently bullied into playing the app two weeks ago by my best friend's husband after trying and failing multiple times to get into the actual video games, but after getting the 45 wins i needed to get the fanciest current event emblem i went ok great! i won pokemon! i am done with pokemon! and have sort of mentally checked it off in my head. anyway i loved my murkrow/toxicroak combo. loved to flip a coin. loved my darkness deck apparently.

the deck autobuild feature is really great bc i am able to basically hold my own while knowing nothing about pokemon other that what ive culturally osmosed. im assuming this is a pretty fun app if you like this sort of thing and your brain chemicals are balanced without outside assistance.

-

making

the baby i started this mint green baby blanket for is about to turn two in a couple weeks. better late than absolutely never i guess. my original notes called for 10 repeats but i think we're going to up that to 12, just finished the ninth repeat.

[dellamortethelesser]

The Wigmaker Job (Final)

Notes and Thoughts - Part 7

pt1 | pt2 | pt3 | pt4 | pt5 |pt6 | pt7

This is my final installment in my attempt to organize my thoughts nearly line-by-line as I go through and analyze the relationship between Lucanis and Illario. These are my personal opinions and I'm open to discussion about any points I present here. DISCLAIMER: These posts I'm doing are my own analyses and are done with the intentional eye to examine the relationship between Lucanis and Illario. I try to source all my assertions from what the text is giving me. This is not Lucanis critical nor should it be taken as such.

this is going to be a longer post because I'm going to try to cover the last of everything at once. also as my disclaimer says I'm really in this for the relationship analysis which means I'm going to be breezing over a lot of this final fight with Ambrose. okay all of my caveats out of the way lets dive in

Lucanis felt no sympathy. They were, all of them, Venatori supporters, who either knew what Ambrose was doing or chose to turn a blind eye to indulge their own vanity. Ignorance is bliss, not innocence.

hm. okay hang on this is a doozy right off the bat in terms of Lucanis's subjective experience and opinions re: the Venatori when we remember that he is an assassin. a professional who kills people for money. Does Lucanis remember that? or does he think himself better because he's walking into this eyes wide open? so fucking chewy love this.

we can discuss it a little more when we skip down into the scene to where Lucanis and Ambrose are actually exchanging dialogue. wheeeee

"Normally, there's no judgment—only a contract. But for you, Ambrose, I made an exception." The Wigmaker raised a brow. "Oh? What makes me so special?" "You upset my delicate sensibilities." It was Ambrose's turn to laugh. "I thought a Crow could stomach anything—for the right price." Lucanis leveled the Wigmaker with a pointed look. "Not red lyrium." "Morality is not static. Right and wrong are a matter of perspective."

This interaction, to me, is the thesis of Lucanis's character. We can go line by line and pick apart what each one means to get everyone thinking. Come on guys come with meeeeee!

Line 1: Illario has been referring to the contract throughout this entire short story and it's been a point I've hammered in at pretty much every turn: Lucanis is not thinking like an assassin. He's letting his emotions, his morality, take precedence over the job.

Line 2: well. i actually don't have so much to say about what Ambrose says here but it is a good question. what DOES raise Lucanis's hackles so much as to cause a CROW to change their modus operandi?

Line 3: Lucanis is deflecting with a bit of humor here. He's not above the same dry wit that Illario is prone to, though his is usually more internal throughout the story expressed through his narration.

Line 4: Ambrose brings up the same point—they are PAID, HIRED KILLERS. paid money to kill. What about a trained killer implies that they'd blanch at anything? They certainly have a reputation to uphold.

Line 5: I had to go back to look at the red lyrium mention earlier in the story. Quick refresher—Ambrose was using red lyrium to keep his victims drugged and subdued and demon fodder pretty much lol. But Lucanis wasn't necessarily appalled at the use of red lyrium—not like he's been consistently appalled and horrified on behalf of the victims and slaves that fall under Ambrose's shadow. It also makes the previous lack of sympathy to those being killed by the demons interesting—guilty and not worthy of Lucanis's sympathy + vengeance by association, even though Ambrose tramples right over his guests and kills them, too.

Line 6: THIS. It's an excellent point to make to Lucanis specifically; morality is not static. Right and wrong are a matter of perspective. Sure, it means nothing to most people coming from the guy summoning demons and drugging people with red lyrium and killing them. But… let's just compare Lucanis and Illario? The "right" thing to do was different for them—the "right" thing in Illario's eyes was to finish the contract and leave. But the "right" thing to Lucanis—well, it was to get vengeance, pass judgment. Is it not so subjective? Lucanis says that the party guests deserve to die. Someone else might not.

Nothing irritated him more than self-righteous excuses. If you're going to do something terrible, just own it.

I'm really so obsessed with Lucanis and his mentality. Right here I just circled and scribbled the words "you're an assassin" but I suppose the point I wanted to make was that self-righteous excuses could be applied to him too? was that not what he was doing when he was changing up his plans on Illario to get vengeance and free the slaves? If you're going to do something noble, just own it.

You could argue that he did own it, but he just couched it behind the red lyrium excuse.

Hopelessness flooded the mage's eyes. "One day, someone will turn your work against you. Only then will you have some semblance of the emptiness you've made me feel."

I think this is the one good point I gave to Veilguard re: the Lucanis and Illario story-line because I did feel like this was interesting foreshadowing.

Fight ensues. Nothing really more interesting there that I want to dig into? Honorable mention to him talking to the abominations at the end, I guess; "you have your vengeance". Interesting. I don't think all of these abominations are victims, some of them are the high-blood mages that were there at the party, because he mentioned it earlier? Hmm. Thoughts to consider!

Immediately skipping past looking for Illario on their ship to check the CLEANEST TAVERN on the docks. And he's right. really fucking funny that did get me lmfao.

"get that man to stop yelling at me" ← see Illario's skills are useful!!! ok now we're about to get into the meat of the Lucanis&Illario dynamic that everyone loves to reference (even me)

"Yes, yes. I did my good deed for the year." ← Illario does keep his word! Just like Lucanis said.

The back and forth about the wine and bribery does something to me. "I think it makes it taste all the sweeter" from Illario versus Lucanis drinking it and saying that bribery hadn't spoiled the bottle. Obviously it's just saying that it isn't bribed? Or at least that Lucanis doesn't think— it means nothing I think I'm reading into this passage too much

Camille didn't make it and Illario is unfazed; "ah, well, frees me from promises I didn't intend to keep". sorry he's so fucking funny. Interesting that Lucanis chooses to tell him this? Does he think Illario was serious about the flirting? Does he feel bad about her death? Lucanis knew her NAME. Illario had to be reminded by referring to her as the guard-captain.

Illario offers to get a healer for the blood and Lucanis stubbornly refuses. Here we go everyone.

"All right," Illario said, topping off his glass. "We'll just pretend that's wine you're dripping all over the table." "What do you want me to say?" Illario's gaze grew hard. "How long are you going to keep doing this?" "Doing what?" "Caterina's bidding."

Obviously I don't think that Lucanis is thinking—or really wants to think—about how this ends, while Illario understands the game, the politics, the fact that Lucanis is passively letting this happen, and that Lucanis is continiously justifying Caterina's controll.

The wine turned in Lucanis's mouth. "Illario. Stop." "If I was in charge, you wouldn't have to do this anymore," he cajoled. "You could quit."

The main reason why I didn't write this out as an essay was because the very unsatisfying thesis is that you have to decide for yourself whether you think the writing from WMJ is consistent across The Wake & Veilguard. There's no indication from the narrator or from Lucanis whether Illario is being genuine here or not.

But I'm operating on the good faith that he is. Lucanis could quit! He's making an offer. Lucanis wants him to stop bringing Caterina into it, stop thinking ahead, stop making HIM think about where this road leads.

Lucanis stared at his cousin. "I don't want to quit." Illario sat back. The distance between them suddenly felt much wider than a table. "Even if it kills you," Illario whispered.

I actually don't think this was an indictment on Lucanis but an observation that Illario was making. He's not going to quit—even if it's going to kill him. I'm not sure those words were necessarily intended for Lucanis even if he heard them. My opinion though.

"Death is my calling," Lucanis stated, matter-of-fact. "Just as yours is to become First Talon."

I can go either way on this one. Lucanis is either saying that he wants to remain as a mere assasin who doles out death—or truly wants to die trying to avoid Caterina's placement of him as First Talon.

He clearly sees Illario as the one more suited for the task, but he won't tell Caterina that. His refusal to tell her 'no' is justified by how she raised them but it is crazy, man…

He smiled, hoping to ease the tension, but Illario's posture remained taut. "And if Caterina disagrees? If she thinks you're the better man for the job—" "I don't want it, Illario," Lucanis insisted. "But you wouldn't refuse."

Illario already knows that Caterina prefers Lucanis; they discussed this at the beginning. Everyone knows. Even Lucanis.

Lucanis finally answers Illario's question from that early scene! He doesn't want the job! But, no. He won't tell Caterina no, which is the real money question here. He's stuck and can't actually offer a solution to satisfy Illario—in fact, he offers no real solution at all.

"It's impossible to refuse Caterina," Lucanis admitted reluctantly. "Only prolong her, until she sees reason." He knew it wasn't the answer Illario wanted, but it was the truth. And in their line of work, honesty was hard to come by. Illario exhaled and lifted his wineglass in salute. "To reason, then." "To reason," Lucanis echoed."

To reason. [OUGH] I don't have a lot to add to this specific passage that I haven't already covered i just wrote "augh AUGH AUAUUUGHGHGH" all over my paper at this point. To reason! I'd argue Illario's crashout was justified but perhaps not reason. I see his reasoning.

Caterina was never going to see their reasoning. Only her reason matters. Why should she see reason? She has the way of it.

One last thing I want to cover before we part ways, lovelies. Although I will be making my Wake analysis later but that'll just be one long post lol.

Zara paused to marvel at herself. Every feature and proportion were in perfect symmetry. And yet, when she smiled, there was something ugly behind it.

Echoes Illario's description at the start of this story.

Quotes are either paraphrased or taken directly from The Wigmaker Job, written by Courtney Woods.

[ckret2]

Do you think bill has gotten married to at least one of his serious partners (since you stated some of his relationships has lasted centuries) or if he only marries people when it means nothing to him

Possibly, but here's my thinking.

I don't think Bill, in all his trillion years, has ever been able to seriously commit to someone. there's always something he's holding back—vulnerability he refuses to admit, intimacy he refuses to offer. If Bill was zapped by ✨🩷 true love 💕💐 and was sure he'd found 💍💋 the one 💘💏, he'd be too terrified to ask them to marry him (or whatever's equivalent for whatever culture they came from). He's found something perfect, after all, and Bill breaks perfect things.

All his relationships eventually collapse and there's absolutely nothing he can do to prevent it because he's sure that it's not due to any character flaws he has that he has any control over or could possibly change, so it's obviously some inevitability he can't do anything about!

So I don't think he'd marry someone he's passionately in love with. I don't think he'd ever propose in a fit of full-hearted romantic passion.

I think he'd propose to someone he's fallen out of love with.

I think he'd marry someone after he's seen the cracks in the relationship, and knows things are about to fall apart. He'd marry someone who's trying to escape him. He'd use it like a chain. It's just a form of control—another way to possess someone.

What we knows about his canonical marriage habits is that he'll mass-marry hundreds of people at once. He'll start a cult and leave behind an edict for its members to marry themselves to him even when he's no longer there. His spouses aren't his beloveds; they're cattle.

He says handcuffing your happiness to a mortal is glueing yourself to a time bomb.

So when he gets married, he only does it if he thinks his happiness isn't on the line. And that can only happen if he's marrying someone he's objectified to the point that neither their death nor their loathing can hurt him.

[wowowwild]

Wait, I'm going feral about aa4 again, this time particularly about Apollo and how he sees the Gavin brothers.

The line "Never underestimate a Gavin is the lesson here." from Apollo's internal monologue is doing things to me that I don't appreciate. That's so sad. This one line said in response to Klavier turning the case around on him again gives us insight as to how he feels about the Kristoph situation too, but not nearly enough. Did he think Kristoph was up to something but underestimated how nefarious it was? Did he not suspect anything at all and it totally blindsided him? Does this phrasing mean he feels like he should have known better, or that just someone should have? Exactly how much of an impact did this betrayal have on him? Was he more trusting before or was he always this closed off and pessimistic? 'Underestimate' does have a particular connotation of fault but it doesn't have to be used that way. What does it mean?

And then later that case he says "I wish he would stop being so… so cool." About Klavier which we all read as hella gay, bc, well... yeah. But I think he might actually have been referring to cool as in calm, like 'coolest defense in the West' kind of cool. Bc so far literally nothing has bothered him. He's rolling with the punches and twisting everything to make it favorable to his position. Plus the Klavier has done nothing but insult him this whole time so far, idk how he could come out of this situation thinking he's cool as in compliment cool. He's already seen this man be petty about something stupid.

"(I think he already knew… He'd figured out she was the killer a while ago…)" and "(He lost… but I didn't exactly win, either.)" he's beginning to see that maybe... maybe this guy actually helped him? On purpose?

By the start of the next case, I think it's safe to say Apollo doesn't see them as similar at all, considering the seeming disdain he has for his former mentor and how he now sees Klavier: "…he was kind of cool. And I'm kind of envious."

The line "Good pianists are a dying breed, I hear." makes me wonder if he heard that from Kristoph or Wright, either of which has a lot of potential and is very funny. If it was Phoenix, he was saying it being full of shit and he knew it, but if it was Kristoph, he was making a jab at a guy who wasn't even there.

[dykedvonte]

One of my mutuals opinions is the "bro code" thing, that Curly is one of those guys who wouldn't care about the victim because the perpetrator is his friend and I'm really banging my head on the wall like that other anon. I've only played through the game once but Curly's behaviour/reactions etc read completely different from the "bro code" thing and I have to wonder if my mutual and I even played the same game.. like the constant digs at him from Jimmy, his body language in his face reveal and so on like you mentioned in your post. While this game is a little different obviously, it kind of reminded of a point in Alice Madness Returns that makes it very clear that Alice's pain blinded her to the abuse of the other children and her failure to act earlier because of it. Curly is guilty of a similar inaction but it doesn't change the fact he was a victim of Jimmy too. I don't think I can look at it any other way because both of these games have really stuck with me.

I genuinely think it really is the idea that people want a simple easy to blame problem and the idea that the only relatable victims of abuse are those that "surpass" it or do a lot to help others. When it comes to victims, especially those that don't fit the typical demographics, who either accidently perpetuate it, enable it or aren't ideal in some way shape or form, people jump to ignore what they went through as it's easier than dealing with those conflicting sentiments.

The bro-code conversation in Mouthwashing stems from a concept I generally dislike that there had to be something about Curly that made him meet or keep being friends with someone like Jimmy. I think people genuinely underestimate how many like decent and good people just know an asshole or are friends with someone who is really bad outside of their view/established dynamics. The game makes it clear none of the inaction against Jimmy is because of a lack of care, it is a lack of understanding from the privaleged postions they have as men to not have to worry about what Anya does/went through and the type of extremes men like Jimmy will go through to cover it up. They are all too preoccupied in their own strifes.

Another thing I see being oversaturated the idea that you have to be a freak, misanthrope or have a disorder to do the thing Jimmy does. The game is an escalation, it's a spiral that I don't see people comment on that Jimmy was not likely having the mood swings and episodes of rage/frustration we were seeing in the game. This is after they all start experiencing the worst moments in their lives that he got THAT openly bad. Of course, this is just my interpretation but much like in real life, people that go to extremes like that usually live mundane lives. It's a pressure cooker affect to where the stress made them pop. It's self inflicted but still the case.

I really think people need to be more willing to acknowledge that not everything needs to be an extreme or in black and white or easy to understand. It doesn't need to be happy or have an answer or solution, especially in the cases where the abused sadly helps perpetuate what they experience. It's not he should've known better from experience or shouldn't he have known what could've happened because victims tend to not like to think in matters of the worst. Not to mention, especially in cases of abuse where it feels so personally directed that you don't expect to happen to someone else.

[haleigh-sloth]

I’d like to give Isagi some credit and assume what he’s saying here implies he views this way of playing currently as just one of his many options.

For all the dooming and glooming about him this match I feel like people forget that he’s PRETTY damn self-reflective, and has been even in this arc. Like even up until this moment. And he still is. He seems detached and that’s because he’s just accepted that he can’t beat the other team on his own, and it sucks. But to him the way he’s playing right now is a “version”, not his end all be all.

Playing with his friends like Bachi Chigiri and Nagi and even Kunigami back when he was normal wouldn’t drive him to this state of stress, it never has. This is clearly the result of the stressful environment (something that’s been discussed a lot this arc, the environment you’re in and how you’ll use it to make it the right path for you) Rin and Kaiser have thrown him into. Which I think we can all agree is not a good one. There is no camaraderie, encouragement, uplifting of each other. Rin is crazy, Kaiser is crazy (and both of them have been taking it out on Isagi THIS WHOLE TIME BTW), Noa and Loki are self-serving dicks, Kunigami is basically absent from this arc because of the shit he’s dealing with, and Isagi is pretty much on his own.

So the desperation to just end this match (and shut Rin up) is coming out like this.

[makotonaegiunderstander]

something I’ve been thinking abt is how many people think Makoto is immune to despair. I don’t think he is. I think becoming the ultimate Hope was BECAUSE he felt despair. He wouldn’t have fully reached that point without Junko. Makoto becoming such a beacon was his last attempt to avoid completely falling and it wasn’t because he didn’t feel despair, it was because he was too damn stubborn to allow everything to go to waste and he refused to sacrifice his beliefs for someone else’s. His inner monologue tells me he DID experience the same new low the other suvivors did in the final trial, but at the point where he had the choice to give up and die, he looked at the others and he looked at Junko and he couldn’t allow it to happen, not out of self preservation, but because the idea that Junko would have control over their lives made him FURIOUS. and that utter refusal to die kicked in, wether luck or otherwise, and he made the concious effort for one last push while something in him was breaking. He had to be broken in order for the Ultimate Hope to come through so aggressively, bc it could only exist in the face of the Ultimate Despair. He snapped the same way she did, but in the other direction. In what could have been his final moments he chose to embody everything Junko wasn’t, and every single optimistic and luck fueled ideal in him suddenly charged forward and pushed him. It was a combination of the final straw and a choice. Makoto isn’t immune to feeling despair, he’s just too stubborn to fall into it of his own volition. I think that’s why I like that scene in DR3 so much. People were SO SHOCKED Makoto actually fell for the tape, that he actually became despair for a moment. I saw people getting mad or disappointed, saying it was pathetic and Makoto seemed to fall from some sort of pedestal for them. Honestly part of me wonders if that sort of mentality, which clearly people had in universe, affected Makoto a bit. Like he started to see himself as less of a person, subconsciously. Prompting him to take more risks, less self preservation, act way more bold. It seems he has to be reminded a lot not to put himself in danger by his friends, to not do something too reckless. All over the place I would see in regards to that scene either this frivolous ‘oh this was just angst drama with no meaning behind it’ or ‘he can do better than that. he’s so weak’ or ‘come on, there’s no way he’d fall into despair, he’s the Ultimate Hope!’ This kind of mentality, which was kind of ironic considering Ryota was there the entire time saying the same thing and treating Makoto the same way. Like Makoto was superhuman. Like Makoto didn’t feel despair the same way ‘normal people’ did. In a way that was also how Munakata saw Makoto. Makoto stopped being a PERSON to the world when he became Ultimate Hope, he became a concept, a belief system, much the same way Junko ascended beyond herself. But the difference is that treating Makoto that way is the opposite of the reason Makoto became such a representative for hope. He wasn’t doing something no one else could. He was doing something everyone had the chance to, he just… was a little more optimistic, a little more stubborn, a little more ‘gung-ho’ about things. He just took the lead where no one else did, where no one else knew they even COULD in the face of Junko’s unstoppable force. She had overcome the biggest threats and obstacles in the world, what could one person do? And the answer Makoto found was, anything. Everything. It doesn’t all rest on Makoto, he’s just the one that was inspired to try to do what seemed like the impossible. But as evidenced by the change in his friends after that trial, it’s clearly not something only Makoto is capable of. The others pulled out of despair thanks to Makoto, but it was their choice to do so.

“But… this world is so huge, and we’re so small. What can we do…? No, we can probably do anything. Yeah! We can do anything!”