#the one they call the Ultimate Despair

[suddenlymicah]

Mukuro Ikusaba, the 16th Student, lying hidden somewhere in this school… the one they call the Ultimate Despair, Watch out for her.

[crescenttm00n]

"you can't hear pictures!"

Meanwhile people who have played Danganronpa:

[yoldels]

Thh crew save me Thh crew....

I wanted to post drawings + some headcannons of all of them at the same time but that's taking too damn long so I'm doing it in parts instead

[sketchyface]

I got this new anime plot. Basically there's this high school girl except shes got huge boobs. I mean some serious honkers. A real set of badonkers. Packin some dobonhonkeros. massive dohoonkabhankoloos. Big old tonhongerekoogers. What happens next?! Transfer student shows up with even bigger bonkhonagahoogs. Humongous hungolomghononoloughongous

[thatoneluckybee]

tyler’s cosplay is coming along really well!

i saw a meme where someone put the junko pic over the “oh look ive been impaled” olaf thing and…. yeah. i’m not sorry about these anymore i need to be more annoying so i am not apologizing for this

[eggs-can-draw]

Tone is all over the place but oh well lol

[hopefulindespair]

"You know, I'm feeling left out of all these things. They say to watch out for Mukuro but what about me? So rude."

[aparticularbandit]

Also. Unrelated. To my previous post.

I've been thinking a lot about the past stuff Kyoko doesn't know about because here's the thing - even if she doesn't know, Junko should - and trying to find the root of this whole knight thing and, uh.

Yeah, at least in backstory terms, this is probably definitely a past ship. Just in terms of this makes sense from what I'm gathering, this is the general scenario I'm seeing.

But it doesn't necessarily need to be that way?

(And I still don't know if Junko was even remotely being legit or if she was just...being Junko. Because like. Matsuda was still very much a thing. I'm definitely already implying that Mikan was a thing. And that's a really quick cycle from one to the other to a third there, especially if Mikan should have been simultaneous to probably both to some extent (and if I remember correctly, DR3 makes that SUPER abusive on Junko's end, and actually coming out of everything with Matsuda, I could see how she ended up there, but that's another theory to think about after I've actually seen DR3). Like there's some layers specifically just to the Junko side of this that I. still want to think through.)

[moonsidesong]

playing mystery games with a friend who is prone to wild speculation is so fun. just got to the end of dr1 chapter 4 and he hears the name mukuro ikusaba and without hesitation makes the assertion that Thats just kyoko's real name, actually. and everyone else in the call just gets to silently snicker about how wrong he is

[charlotte-buff]

The Implications of Cospox

I know literally no one cares, but this idea has been bouncing around inside my head for a while now and I just need to get it out there.

[Spoilers for the entire Danganronpa series ahead. Stop reading, Moji, I swear to God.]

Okay, so.

The big twist of Danganronpa V3 is that all previous installments of the Danganronpa franchise are works of fiction in-universe. V3 is actually the 53rd season of the ongoing Danganronpa TV series which rather confusingly started out as a bunch of video games and animated shows before transitioning into a live-action format where real people really kill each other for real.

Shirogane Tsumugi, who is part of the production staff, proves this to the survivors during the final class trial by cosplaying as a bunch of characters from the first two games, most prominently Enoshima Junko, the franchise’s main villain. Because she has a condition called cospox that doesn’t allow her to cosplay as real people without breaking out in a rash, this supposedly demonstrates that the characters from previous Danganronpas are truly fictional.

Now.

It’d be easy to assume that Tsumugi is just lying about cospox to mess with the others and plunge them into Despair™︎. Considering all the other stuff that doesn’t quite add up – which is most of the stuff – it would in fact be very weird if she wasn’t lying.

So let’s get weird.

I propose that the only part of Tsumugi’s testimony that is 100% accurate and trustworthy is the existence of cospox. By extension, I also propose that all the Danganronpas before V3 are not just fiction, but rather distorted retellings of actual events.

The first clue that this is the case is the people Tsumugi cosplays as. She only cosplays as characters from Trigger Happy Havoc and Goodbye Despair, allegedly because those are the only ones Shūichi and the gang would be familiar with from the Flashback Lights. But why would Team Danganronpa have decided to only reveal the events of those two games to the participants of V3? If their goal was to prove that all of Danganronpa is fake, wouldn’t it have made more sense to have Tsumugi cosplay as everyone?

Simple. They couldn’t have Tsumugi cosplay as other characters because all those other characters – those introduced in Danganronpa 3, Ultra Despair Girls, and any of the light novels – were actually real people.

So only the following Danganronpa characters are for a fact known to be fictional: Akane, Aoi, Byakuya, Celeste, Chiaki, Chihiro, Fuyuhiko, Gundham, Hajime, Hifumi, Hiyoko, Ibuki, Izuru, Jill, Junko, Kazuichi, Kiyotaka, Kyōko, Leon, Mahiru, Makoto, Mikan, Mondo, Nagito, Nekomaru, Peko, Sakura, Sayaka, Sonia, Teruteru, Tōko, Ultimate Imposter, and Yasuhiro.

You know who this conspicuously doesn’t include, despite visibly being part of Tsumugi’s magical costume vortex? Ikusaba Mukuro, the other half of the original Ultimate Despair.

Why would Tsumugi choose not to cosplay as Mukuro in her Junko disguise even though she already has the appropriate clothes at the ready? Is it simply because Spike Chunsoft has never cared about Mukuro and consistently fucks her over at every opportunity?

Yes, but also no.

It’s because Mukuro was also real.

What does this all mean? Well, we’ve got an Ultimate Despair who is willing to orchestrate a killing game. And Matsuda Yasuke, the Ultimate Neurologist, still exists so erasing the contestants’ memories in preparation would be no problem. Mitarai Ryōta, the Ultimate Animator, also exists so that stupid mind control plot point from Danganronpa 3 is possible to execute as well.

In short: The biggest, most awful, most tragic event in human history actually happened in the V3 continuity, but Mukuro was the sole puppetmaster behind it instead of Junko.

Without the Ultimate Imposter’s positive influence, it probably would have been even easier for her to manipulate Ryōta and use his anime powers to recruit a bunch of random Hope’s Peak students as her underlings. With the exception of Hajime, the reserve course still exists so any one of the students there could have been picked to be the final candidate for the Hope Cultivation Plan in his stead – I’m placing my bets on Kuzuryū Natsumi becoming Kamukura Izuru considering she hated being confined to the reserve course even more than Hajime did – whom Mukuro then made out to be the culprit behind the student council’s mass murder, thus sparking the other reserve course students’ protests. And naturally, Monaca would have been easily available to mass manufacture killer Monokuma robots just like in the prime timeline.

The participants of the Killing School Life at Hope’s Peak Academy were whoever ended up as Mukuro’s pitiable classmates instead of our familiar class #78. While there is no Fujisaki Chihiro to develop Alter Ego, Gekkōgahara Miaya, the Ultimate Therapist, should be enough to still get a Neo World Program rolling. After all, in Danganronpa 2 it is said that programmers were among those who used their talents to spread Despair™︎ during The Tragedy even though the Remnants of Despair didn’t include anyone with programming skills (except maybe Kazuichi?), so someone at Hope’s Peak must have been up for the task regardless. Hell, let’s just say Mukuro told Monaca to develop a strong AI. She’s clearly smart enough.

Without Tōko and Genocide Jill to rely on and no Nagito to mess with the Demon Hunting game from behind the scenes, Komaru probably would have had a much harder time liberating Tōwa City. Maybe she teamed up with Yūta or Kanon or Takemichi or something. I don’t know. Why were all these people imprisoned in Tōwa City despite the reason for their imprisonment – their relationships to the Killing School Life contestants – not existing anymore? I also don’t know. I’ll figure that out another time.

By now you’re perhaps wondering: If all of this makes perfect sense and is definitely canon, why did Tsumugi bother to make up all that other shit? Simply put, because Tsumugi is Tsumugi.

She is absolutely obsessed with The Tragedy, that historic event she missed out on by virtue of being born too late. So she did what every teenager would do in this situation: Write fanfiction.

Junko is Tsumugi’s sparkly, edgy OC created to take the real Mukuro’s spot in her personal retelling of the events surrounding The Tragedy.

Think about it: She’s the secret twin sister of the woman who caused the apocalypse. She is prettier, smarter, bustier and more popular than Mukuro and has such an over-the-top, quirky personality that even the most unhinged individuals around her seem modest and composed in comparison. She is obviously the result of that special kind of flaming hot writing enthusiasm only found in teenage girls who spend way too much time watching anime. That’s why Mukuro ends up dying so early in Tsumugi’s version of the story, usurped by her very special original character who is so much better and cooler than the real deal in every way. That’s why Mukuro is so damn horny for Junko in Danganronpa 3.

Speaking of incest, we know that Tsumugi is into it in a major way. So why do you think she came up with Makoto, the big brother of the real-life hero of Tōwa City, and then had her other OC Tōko insist that they’re secretly in love with each other for the entirety of Ultra Despair Girls? Why did she invent Kanon’s cousin Leon just to claim she had a huge crush on him? Frankly it makes too much sense.

Tsumugi took those unprecedented real events that shook the world to its core and used them as the setting for her creative writing endeavors, replacing everyone involved she didn’t particularly care about, deemed too uninteresting or just inexplicably hated with wacky fictional characters like Sakura, Gundham or Genocide Jill.

The daughter of a yakuza boss who is also an artificially enhanced superhuman possessing every ability ever defeated Alter Ego Mukuro with the power of friendship inside a computer simulation? Nah, that’s nice and all but I don’t really like her vibe. What if instead that superhuman was a hot guy with an ahoge whom the Ultimate Gamer with big boobies immediately falls for and also his second identity had really long hair and red, glowing eyes? Let’s just turn that Natsumi chick into a side character who gets killed off-screen by someone whose first name isn’t even recorded because honestly, who gives a shit about her? I’m gonna write her a brother with a cool eyepatch though; that yakuza theme might not be a complete waste and also he can call her “Ultimate Little Sister”.

Is it any wonder then that a person like Tsumugi would eventually end up orchestrating her own killing game where she has full authorial control over every participant’s personality and behaviour from the get-go? This is exactly what she had always yearned for – a Danganronpa that reality cannot interfere with.

One last point I wanted to bring up: You know how Tsumugi insists that the participants of season 53 are nothing but fictional characters? Well, we know for a fact that she doesn’t actually believe that.

Because she broke out in cospox when she tried cosplaying as Kaede.

These people are real to her and not just simple playthings, whether she wants to admit it or not. Which makes how she treats them even more horrifiying.

[enoshima-pilled]

I met this Naegi guy, who apparently I knew? He just got threatened by... the ultimate bodyguard. He threatened to kill Naegi, because I was involved with some sort of massacre with the student counci- WAIT, WHO'S THA-

[gingerninja8-2]

That's... quite a big error.

Daily Danganronpa Fun Fact #273

In the epilogue of THH, the English version lists Makoto as the Ultimate Despair. This is a mistake, the original Japanese game has him correctly labeled as the Super High School Level (Ultimate) Hope.

Home | Previous Fact | Next Fact

[dew-creek]

🐹🦔 Hinadam Day 3 - Sunflowers / Scars

I sat for so long trying to figure out how I wanted to line the last sketch but I just wasn't happy with anything....so you get the messy sketch I guess.

Anyhow, I have a LOT to say about this one actually. It's under the cut.

I have a lot of issues with DR3. Like, a lot. One of my lesser but still important issues however is how they handle the SDR2 cast. In Ch.6 Monokuma-Makoto (Monokoto? Makuma?) details the various ways the remnants mutilated not just others but themselves for the sake of despair. Yet, some how, they all look completely the same once they wake up in DR3. I feel the whole cast should look different, some more than others of course...

At the end of SDR2, we do see Hinata (I do think they shouldn't have done this. They should have left it up to the audience to decide what Hinata's fate was post-SDR2, if he stayed Hinata or woke up as Kamukura....much like how Makoto's handbook calls him the "Ultimate Despair" post final trial, possibly hinting at a darker alternative ending.)

(I got off track...)

Anyhow, we see Hinata, so we can infer, canon-wise, Hinata's body looks mostly the same. Which makes sense. We see Kamukura in his headspace in ch.6 and besides the long hair and red eyes, he basically looks the same.

But everyone else shouldn't, I think. Komaeda we know looks mostly the same sans Junko's arm. But Owari is hinted to have starved herself, which would be pretty impactful on one's looks.

It's even acknowledged by Sonia.

SO anyways...long story short, that's why I feel the cast should look different at least to some extent...

So here's my own piece of my personal vision for Tanaka/Hinata.

I flip between if Hinata is one identity and has merged him and Kamukura, or if they both inhabit the same body. But that's a tangent for another post.

[alltimefail]

I'm sure someone has already shared these three things, but I'm going to as well:

(Source 1, 2, 3)

I am a realist, and I'm telling you all, with the utmost confidence, that there is hope for saving this show so long as we continue to fight. The cast and crew themselves have given, and continue to give, every indication that there is hope for this show.

As we make noise online and advocate for it, the showrunners are given the ammo they need to fight behind the scenes, so DO NOT STOP.

Worst case? You pour a shit ton of love onto a story that is meaningful to you, and onto people who played a role in bringing it to life. Best case, we drum up enough noise that viewership increases (this is already happening), and the show is ultimately saved.

Many shows have been saved. Ours can be, too. There is absolutely no reason to despair. Dead Boy Detectives was released on two "Best-Of" lists just today. The Sun, the Los Angeles Times, Esquire, CNet, and even the goddamn DAILY MAIL are just a few notable publications that revered Dead Boy Detectives and lamented its cancellation THIS WEEK. Dead Boy Detectives has the best audience score of any DC television adaptation to date; the only one that I found that's even in the same league audience-wise is The Penguin which is new and being called a "Hit..." and IT HAS THE SAME AUDIENCE SCORE AS DEAD BOY DETECTIVES (91%).

Dead Boy Detectives even has a better critic and audience score than its parent show, The Sandman, for fucks sake. Its audience score beats out some of the longer-running DC shows by a mile. It is, objectively, a success.

So keep making noise, keep streaming like the actors are still encouraging you to do. I'll tell you this; it's been two months of silence from Netflix, but that's not a bad thing. They dodged THE NEW YORK TIMES who inquired about the Dead Boy Detectives cancellation by choosing not to give a statement. They know this decision wasn't a good one, and all it takes is the right amount of pressure from audiences to get things done.

I've lamented show cancellations in the past and never fought to save a single one because the numbers were bleak, or Netflix was clear with their reasoning, or even the showrunners themselves told us not to fight because it was a lost cause. That is NOT the case with Dead Boy Detectives. The more we dig, the more we find, and new people are watching this show every day because of the noise being drummed up. The more of us that fight, the better chance we have.

So keep making art and fics, keep making noise, keep recommending this show to anyone who will listen, and believe that we can save this show. The only people who benefit from us giving up are the same ones who canceled it, and why should we give them that satisfaction?

[lalunanymph]

MARRY THE TRAITOR ; gojo satoru

⟡ the day you met your demise is the same day you met gojo satoru, your betrothed from a world so different from yours—a cruel prince who is undoubtedly in love with someone else. as the stakes rise and you race against the clock to beat your brutal fate, can you make the ultimate choice between your heart or your happily ever after?

includes: fem!reader, reader is a florist in our world, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, slow burn, yandere!gojo, prince!gojo, princess!reader, reader is in cerena's body, princess cerena is described to have pink hair and feminine features, isekai-ed reader, mentions of death, mentions of blood, assault, injuries, smoking, mentions of terminal illnesses (cancer), language

⟡ masterlist

ACT 1, SCENE 1: MIRI'S REPRIEVE

It was horrifyingly cold tonight. 

Your body seized with bouts of shivers the second you stepped out of your shop, the smell of roses lingering in your hair. The lights are already switched off, the tulips you were shearing just a few seconds ago placed in crystal vases by the shop window to keep them from wilting overnight. 

However, as much as you try to distract yourself, there’s a shake in your hands you cannot ignore.

Pulling out a crumpled cigarette from your jacket pocket, you burn the end of the white stick with your cheap convenience store lighter, watching the flickering flames cast shadows across the wet road as you’re suddenly struck by a thought from a long, long time ago. 

The great Greek philosopher, Plato, once theorized that humans were born whole. 

Each of us, regardless of race, creed, or religion, shared one body, four arms, four legs and two faces fused together on a singular head. 

However, the gods—vain as they were—feared the human’s increasing power and Zeus himself devised to split them into two separate parts, forever condemning mortals to search for their other half in a journey filled with despair, longing and loneliness.  

The first time you heard this in Philosophy 101, a part of you was intrigued, if not a little terrified at the notion. While you weren’t a particularly huge subscriber to the idea of having a soulmate, it did have a sense of appeal for a girl raised on stories of handsome princes saving dainty princesses from their castles of grief and isolation. 

But, tonight, your jumbled mind can’t stay on Plato or distractions for too long. It constantly circles back to your mom.  

The scans she took had came back positive, and the doctor’s bleak voice on the other end of the line read like a death knell to your flimsy hopes that the cancer hadn’t spread further than her stomach. 

Your eyes weighed heavily, the burden of knowing sanding you to the bare bones till you felt close to breaking down on the cold road, screaming and shaking your fist at the night sky; cursing the gods for tearing the only person in the world who still loved you from your side.

Why they did it, you will never know. 

You weren’t exceptionally powerful nor did you pose a threat to the deities above. You were a simple florist in the middle of the city, trying to make ends meet and pay all your bills on time; nothing but a tax-paying citizen and a role model for small business women trying to make it big in a competitive city.

Smoke curls around your figure and you suck on the nicotine, letting it coat the back of your throat and numb the ends of your fingers.

Oblivious to your surroundings, you tread past an alleyway, ignoring the scampering of rats and smell of garbage burning through your nose. You inhale another toxic breath, expelling it out and watching the plume of smoke disappear upwards.

“Hey.” 

Nothing could prepare you for what came next. 

Turning around to appraise the voice calling you from the shadows, white hot pain cracks through your head, leaving you blind from the sudden assault.

Your cigarette falls somewhere at your feet, and you tumble to the gravelly ground on your hands and knees, skinning your palms as your ragged breaths echo in this dilapidated and abandoned alleyway. 

A hand shoots out to grab your purse, and before you can croak a yell or blindly turn to confront your assailant, another blow cracks down your skull, making you collide face first into the dirt-packed ground. 

Pain explodes in your face, white-hot and agonizing. Your breathing and the sound of blood rushing through your ears is the only thing you can hear as you breathe in the smell of dirt and blood, your head feeling like a thousand sparks of pain were going off at once. 

Cracking open your good eye, you catch a sliver of light in the distance; it washes over you, potent and soothing. The light at the end of the alleyway shimmers, and you think this is it—this is the last thing you will see from this world. 

Not your mother’s smile, or your best friend’s laugh. There are no flowers in your hand, no loved ones standing over your sickbed to kiss your cheek one last time before you depart this world.

It’s you, the floor, the blood trickling in your mouth, and your consciousness slowly ebbing away.

The last thing you remember before your world snuffs out like a pathetic candle is seeing the beady eyes of a rat shining in the dark, its long tail curling around its dirty body as it scampers closer and closer to you. 

And then, nothing else remains.

“... care to explain yourself?” 

The world is too bright, much too loud and you cringe back, a loud ringing clanging in your ears like the high-pitched squeal of a thousand nails on a chalkboard. 

What… is this scene? 

Your eyes struggle against the bright light and you wince, throwing your hand up to your face to ward off the glare. 

When your gaze finally focuses, you’re confronted by a pair of ice cold blue eyes, his sneer tearing through your mind like a bloody gash on white canvas. 

“Are you an imbecile?” His chilling tone laced with arrogance and contempt sears through you, leaving you mute and dumbstruck from this stranger’s sudden hostility. “I asked you if you would like to explain the accusations brought against you for hurting Miri.”

A girl with bright red hair and freckles splashed across her cheeks looks up at you with fear in her eyes. You take a step back, assessing her attire and countenance with open horror. Her pale face like the moon, dirt-streaked hands with stubby nails and a uniform splotched with indiscernible stains. 

But, that isn’t what draws your attention: it’s the look of contempt secretly masked under her woeful and pitiful expression. Those green eyes burn through you with the force of a thousand deaths, each one more painful than the last.

“Cerena.” 

Your eyes grow wider when you realize this strange man is speaking to you—calling you by an unknown name. 

As your attention shifts back to him, you’re stunned and breathless. His shock of pure white hair, towering stature and cruel, azure gaze never yields from your expressions, thin lips twisted into a baleful grimace. His attire is one you have never seen before: a regal, embroidered jacket and matching pants in the darkest shade of navy blue. Regalia and military medals drip from the lapels of his jacket like icy tears, each metallic glint striking more fear into your heart as you take in his majestic and imposing demeanor.

“I said, speak, wench!” 

Dexterous and pale fingers, like that of a violinist, grasps your jaw painfully as he jerks your face towards him. Instinctively, you tense and push him away, a petrified look on your face.

“Who are you?” 

Obviously, it wasn’t a question he was expecting. The princely man gives a dignified scoff, the corners of his lips twisting into a terrifying sneer. 

“Oh, so now you're playing the short term memory loss card? Stop begging for attention, Cerena, and own up to your mistakes.” He moves aside and the maid cowering behind him lifts her teary eyes to him, her pitiful state clearly tugging on his heart strings and his protective instincts. “Miri told me you slapped her when she wouldn’t braid your hair fast enough, and you even threw your tea at her. Pray tell, is that a way how a princess acts, Your Highness?” 

His words drip with venomous sarcasm. You open your mouth and then close it, unsure of how to respond to him—what you could even say in these circumstances.

But inside of you, welling deeply and painfully, is a surge of anger at being falsely accused for something you did not do. You have no idea who he is, who Miri was to him and who even is this woman called ‘Cerena’ he keeps on referring to you as.

What you do know is that he has slighted you with his openly hostile tone and body language, and if years of being a florist in a cutthroat business has taught you, it’s that you should always stand your ground against unruly customers to safeguard your reputation and dignity.

“I have no idea what you are speaking of,” your words come out frostier than you intended. Your sharp gaze sweeps to the other maids observing the spectacle with stony faces. “I wish to go back to my room.” 

Turning on your heel, you take one step forward and realize just how heavy your gown is. Lace and organza with dangling pendants woven through the thick fabric, you move as if walking in a vat of molasses, slow and controlled, when all you want to do is storm off. 

“Hey. I am not done speaking to you—”

It’s easy for him to catch up and grab your arm, impeding you from making your swift exit.

“Is this how you are to treat your subjects when we become wedded, Cerena? I would think that the princess of Kraith herself would have better manners and not behave like a barbarian!” 

His words snap something tight in your chest, and your nostrils flare. You break free from his grasp and spin around, fists clenched to your sides.

“Do not touch me,” your deathly warning stills the entire room. “Do not speak to me like this and if you wish to protect her reputation—”

Your eyes fall on the maid still cowering on the floor, her eyes turned to the ground, but a shadow of a smirk on her face belies her true intentions. 

She was attempting to frame me… or, Cerena. She is trying to get us in trouble with this powerful, spiteful man. 

“—next time, choose someone else who doesn’t make it obvious that this is all a ploy to smear my name.”

mtt fun fact: maids are divided into different tiers according to the nobles they serve. miri is at the bottom tier, and her scope of work mainly focuses on cleaning the hallways and stables

dawn says: it's bit of a shorter chapter, but trust, the drama is gonna hit you like thief-kun when he smashed our heads in yayy <33

!! reblogs and feedback and asks about this series are so beloved and appreciated and will motivate me to update and write faster <3

©️ all rights reserve to lalunanymph. do not copy elements of my story, repost or claim as your own.

[tyunniez]

2... bttm male reader

a/n,, this fic was inspired by this fanfic that u shuld totes check out!! i wrote this a long time ago so,,,, pls give some feedback cs idk how to feel abt this one

You hated the number two. 

To other people, it was just your everyday number but to you, it reminded you of your failures. Of how you always ended up number two no matter what.

Always second to him.

Aone Kashimoto. Someone you considered your ultimate rival.

 Back in middle school you were the number one in your class. Number one in the whole school. Yet when the new kid came, everything just started falling apart.

 Now instead of you, he was always at the top. 

 No matter how hard you tried. The countless nights of you studying your ass off, pulling all nighters after all nighters. Only to end up as second.

 Even when you tried to run for the student council president in your final year of highschool you still somehow ended up second. As the vice-president for Aone.

 And what was more frustrating was that he knew. He knew how pathetic you felt when you first saw your name dropped down one spot. He knew how hard you have been trying to beat him. Yet, he knows you will never ever surpass him.

 Why? Because he's better than you. In every aspect. Be it academics, sports, or even popularity. Where you lacked he made up for it times a hundred.

 And oh, he loves seeing that look of despair wash over you. The feeling of superiority he has over you. God, he always checks your reaction first before even looking at his own score on the scoreboard just to see the disappointment on your face.

⊹₊⋆

 Students gather around the scoreboard, excitement and dread filling the corridor. 

 "Hey, who do you think is first this semester?" a distant voice whispered. "Are you dumb? Of course it's Aone! And then y/n will come second like he usually does." The two voices snickered as they searched for their own name on the board.

 The murmurs of the crowd got louder as the two most popular names finally arrived. One seemed relaxed whilst the other not so much.

 Your jaw was tight. You could feel your fingers digging into your own palm. Beside you was Aone with his arm behind his back. He was the complete opposite of you. 

 Deep down you knew that Aone was number one like usual but you can't deny that little sliver of hope, the slim chance that you might have beat him, even by one point. 

 You've poured your all into studying like you usually did. Surely this time you can finally beat him, right..?

 The crowd parted for the two of you as you took a shaky breath to see who secured the top stop. And to no one's surprise, the name Y/N L/N was written with the number two next to it. 

You stared at the name above you, rightfully towering over everyone else's names.

 A soft chuckle broke you out of your despair. "Oh y/n, looks like i won again. Better luck next time, hm?" with a simple pat on your head, you were left alone to stare at the board, gritting your teeth while holding your tears.

 You held back the urge to punch him square in the face.

 Evenings rolled by as you finally returned to your dorm. All extra classes and after-school activities were halted to give the students a break and you couldn't be more grateful for that.

 You silently prayed that he wasn't home as you slowly opened the door to your shared dorm. Yes, out of all the other students inside this school you shared a dorm with your rival Aone. Lady Luck truly hates you.

 You were glad to see that he was not at home so you finally have some alone time.

 You immediately jumped onto your bed, leaving your door a crack open. You grabbed whatever pillow was near you and cuddled it, finally letting the hot tears stream down your face.

 Soon enough, dreamland called upon you as your vision slowly darkened.

 "Hmm, y/n.. How come you're such a mess when I barely touched you?" Aone's fingertips ghosted over your cheeks.

 You whined as tried to grind your ass  over to his dick, trying to get any type of friction going. "Puh-pleasee.. just put it in!" your voice came out squakier than you remembered.

 Aone's low chuckled only made your dick mor erect, your tip blushing madly as you tried ti look back at him. "Say my name then. Come on, yell it out if you want it so bad." His teasing teal eyes stared at you.

 You, cock drunk, of course, obeyed, "Aone! Please just stick it in! I-I need your cock in me!"

 A whistle suddenly woke you up. Your vision still blurry as you tried to focus on who was in front of you.

 "Real good dream you had there." Aone's familiar voice suddenly spoke up. You, still drowsy only tilted your head to the side, failing to notice the hard-on you were sporting.

 You propped yourself up on your elbows, glaring at Aone. "What are you talking about? Why are you even in my room, creep!"

 He only chuckled, shoving his hands into his pockets while looking down at you. "How cute.. but don't act so innocent. You were moaning my name like a bitch in heat earlier."

 A flush of red washed over you. Yeah, you did have that weird dream over him but no way you were actually moaning his name out loud, right?

 "W-what! I don't know what you're talking about, shit head." 

 Aone rolled his eyes as he finally approached you, you frozen in place. He placed his feet on top of your clothes dick, rutting it in place. You choked out a moan, flabbergasted as to what he was doing.

 "Don't play dumb, y/n. You know I hate dumb people." 

 You shook your head trying your best to deny whatever he was accusing, yet low moans kept escaping your mouth from how he was rubbing you using his feet. 

 Just when you were about to reach your climax, he suddenly retreated his foot. You whined out loud over the loss of sensation. "Ugh.."

 He crouched down to your level, his head tilted to the side with that signature smirk on his face.

"Beg for it."

"Go on, I know you can." 

 You were left dumbfounded as to what to do. But a decision was quickly made. You were pent up from just studying that you never took the time for yourself. Who knows when will something like this ever happen again.

 "Aone, please give me your cock.. I-I want it so bad so please fuck me real good..."

 Something snapped inside Aone as he suddenly crawled between you. He immediately held onto both of your wrists with one hand and pinned it on top of you. "Attaboy, never thought there'd come a day where you would beg for me but here we are."

 His lips clashed themselves with your own, his tongue slithering inside your wet mouth to explore. You moaned against him, grinding on him.

He pulled away, leaving a string of saliva connecting the both of you. "Dirty boy, bet you were waiting to get dicked down like this, hm?" 

 "N-no! I-" You tried to defend yourself, only for him to shush you. "Mmh I know you so well y/n. Inside and out. So there's no use lying."

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