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entername322 · 2 months

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Like a moth to a flame

Eunbi (ex Izone) X Male Reader ft Yujin (ex Izone, IVE)

Length: 12358 words

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Life fucking sucks doesn't it? Dead father, alcoholic and abusive mom, failing grades, crippling depression, backstabbing friends, violent debt collector. Shit, is there anything going your way? Well at least you don't have drug addiction, kinda suck it took away your brother from you though. “Hey, you're okay?” You felt a tap on your shoulder waking you up from your existential crisis. “I'm fine, just….. thinking”, You look at your friend, Chan, “Yeah, life”, fucking sucks, but he doesn't need to finish that sentence. “Me and the boys are going out for a drink today. You want to come? We can cheer for your brother”, You shake your head, “Come on, drink on me”, You felt a frown forming in your face.

“Don't fucking offer me that shit”, Chan sighed, “Listen, I know you hate it, but it's an appropriate time for it. It's not a pity gesture, okay? I'm just looking out for you”, Thankfully your phone vibrated and took you away from the conversations. “Ohhh? You got another match?” Chan immediately leaned to see your phone screen notification. “It's the same match from last month, she's a piece of art I tell you that much”, A smile forms on your face as you see the mystery girl has texted you. “Come on man, I want to see”, You immediately pull away your phone, “Nuh uh, you gotta respect our privacy here”, Chan frowned at you. “Bro, the chat is already anonymous, come on, let me see”, You sighed, “One picture, that's it”, He smiled again.

You show him a picture the girl has sent you, a picture of her tits. “Bro, how the fuck do you keep getting those milfs. Be honest with me, do you know the admins?” You just shrugged, “Life, uhhh, equalise things”, No family, no money, no academic achievement, but hey at least you keep getting some nice hook ups here and there. “Yeah, such a nice gesture from the universe. Come on, are you going for a drink or not?” You think for a second, your boys or a sexy mysterious milf? “I'll pass for tonight”, Chan grinned at your shamelessness. “I'll remember this, you picked Joe's before bros”, He yelled at you as you walked away.

PurpleBunny: I did it.

You raised your eyebrow, intrigued.

PorkCrackling: Show me, you know I need proof for this type of stuff.

You waited for a few minutes before she sent you a picture. It was a picture of her spread ass cheeks with a butplug in her asshole.

PorkCrackling: That's boring, where's the picture of you wearing it at work

PurpleBunny: How am I supposed to take that picture?

PorkCrackling: Well, you said you work in a private office. So pull down your pants, or pull up your skirt, and show me this picture while you're wearing your office uniform.

PurpleBunny: No way, that's easily tracked back to me.

PorkCrackling: I know you're right, and I hate it. So I'll just take your word for it.

PurpleBunny: Thank you master.

PorkCrackling: How does it feel working with that in your ass?

PurpleBunny: It felt weird, and exciting.

PorkCrackling: Does anyone notice any different behaviour from you?

PurpleBunny: None, I hide it very well.

PorkCrackling: Good girl, should we move to the next step?

PurpleBunny: Yes please, I'm so excited.

PorkCrackling: Which one should we start first? Your anal training? Or your voyeurism?

PurpleBunny: Do I have to do voyeurism? Can I just do anal?

PorkCrackling: Hey, you said it yourself sweetie, you like it when people look at you.

PurpleBunny: I mean yeah, but I don't want to do it at my work. It's too risky.

PorkCrackling: Why is that?

You waited for her answer while looking at the picture she just sent you. Goddamn she has a nice ass, her body is a full package, it makes you wonder how she looks.

PurpleBunny: I work at a university.

PorkCrackling: Oh? A professor?

PurpleBunny: Yeah, you could say that.

PorkCrackling: So, on a daily basis you are being watched by a bunch of thirsty college boys? Must be a fun job huh?

PurpleBunny: Sometimes, it's too much, but yeah I like it when they check me out, although it felt so wrong.

PorkCrackling: Such a slut, fine then, let's do your anal training first. Let's do some simple things first. Buy a lube, use the dildo you bought last week. Send me a video of you using that in your ass.

PurpleBunny: Okay master, I'll get to it as soon as possible 💜💜💜

PorkCrackling: Good girl

PurpleBunny: 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

You laughed seeing her texts, how come someone at her age, probably 20-30s judging from her flawless skin, could be so immature. Why is she even asking this type of thing from you? The website you used is some anonymous hookup website used by a bunch of sex addicts. Yes, Chan is right, you do know one of the admins, he gave you an account to use there. You've had some encounters with a bunch of girls already, a single mother desperate for some relief, a soon to be married woman asking for some advice, a college chick who gave you a surprise threesome with her roommate. It's all fun and games, yet this one really doesn't want to reveal her identity, not even a name. She started texting you as if she's in a confessional booth for satan where she keeps talking about her sexual fantasies.

It was boring honestly, you use the website for a hookup, not kinky chat. Then she sends a picture of her tits, so you can't really pass up such an enticing meal can't you? Maybe, if you keep corrupting her you can eventually convince her to meet up. Your phone vibrates again, checking the notifications, you see that the mystery lady has sent you a video of her masturbating while moaning “master” a few times. “Fucking hell, just give up and hook up with me already”, It's a good video, a decent material for, relaxation.

The next day, you reluctantly went to school, checking on your mom before you leave is a bad idea, “You should've fucking die with your brother. Fucking useless meatbag”, Always pleasant to hear from her. Highschool sucks, the worst part is you know it wasn’t that bad, you just want to make it harder for yourself. “You're 2 hours late to school”, Your homeroom teacher yells at you. “It's history and geography, I'm not sitting in class to hear all that boring stuff”, You can clearly see his frustration. “Listen, I know your bother-” Your hand immediately slammed the table out of instinct, “Don't try to use that on me. If you say he's disappointed in me then you better zip it up”, He sighed and just shook his head.

“You have a future, you know that? It might seem bleak but there's still hope in it, and I hate that you're throwing it all away. I can't say that I know what you're feeling, but I know anger, I know all that pent up rage is eating you from the inside. I know it's hard for me to ask you to change, but can I ask you to try?” Father figures, that's what a rebellious kid like you needed, “How?” Thankfully you're smart enough to know it. “Talk to our counsellors, let's start with that”, That could work, maybe talking to some professional help is better than talking to some random strangers on the internet. “Fine, but I'm not going to detention”, It was a good offer, “Stop whining, go to the detention room”, It was not convincing enough.

You reluctantly left to the detention class, it's always nice when the school rewards you for skipping class by making you skip more classes. Once you get there you see your school pals, Yujin, “What are you doing here?” She smiled the moment she saw you, “I forgot to set the alarm and woke up late, you?” You sat down next to her, “Ahhh you know, making fun of Miss Chaeyeon’s divorce”, Yujin is your friend alright, but that's because she actually spent a lot of time with you at the detention room. She's less self aware about her situation in life. “Sit down and shut up, you two know the rule already”, Your detention teacher, Miss Taeyeon walks in and glared at the two of you.

The detention was fine, boring most of the time, it was unlucky since Miss Taeyeon was the one who got the shift so you can't really do much with Yujin. The lunch came around, just like usual you went to a secluded place near the football field to have some peaceful lunch. This school, it's quite prestigious which means the grade and academic achievement are pretty important here. You, being an idiot rebel, are an outcast. Your only friend, Yujin, is actually pretty popular. She's not an idiot like you, she's actually doing fine with her grades, she's just a sociopath who hates every teacher in the school.

Thankfully you didn't really have to spend your lunch alone, well you do physically, but mentally you're being accompanied by none other than PurpleBunny. It seems she is having a boring day at work and decided to chat with you. It's a nice conversation, although she doesn't want to reveal a single information about her identity she seems to like talking about her feelings and desires. Just as you expected, she is a very uptight woman at work, her life is seemingly perfect, her childhood sounds joyful and peaceful. It's very enviable really, it really made you want to corrupt her even further. Hey, if she's rich you can try to extort her for money, sure your admin friend is gonna hire a hitman on your ass but it's worth it right?

In the end, you just ask her for some pictures to entertain you, it's always nice to see boobs. “Pervert”, It's not nice when someone notices you staring at them, “What are you doing here?” Yujin doesn't answer your question and just looks back at the picture on your phone. “What kind of pervert watches porn in the middle of school?” She sat down next to you. “I'm not watching porn, I'm just, learning biology”, She rolled her eyes at your witty attempt, “Heard about your brother by the way, hope you're doing alright”, Yujin leaned at the wall as she looked to the sky. “Yeah, that's just life you know”, The two of you stay silent for a while, just enjoying the sun.

“So who's tits are those? They're massive”, Right, despite being your pals, you and Yujin aren't exactly close pals. “Some random girl I match up with, no it's not Tinder, it's a website similar to that but it's dedicated solely for hooking up”, Yujin raised her eyebrow. “Ohhh? Here I thought you are too scared with that kind of stuff”, Yujin scoffed at you. “Why on earth would you think that way?” Well, you actually have a clue on why, “Because you never made a move on me dude. I thought you were gay or something”, You slapped her for that.

“I didn't make a move, because you're not my type”, You said blatantly staring at her chest, “Heeh, it's bigger than their look you know”, Yujin proudly groped her own breast. “Are they this big?” You opened your phone again, “Hell no, do I look like a cow to you?” You wish she was. “What? What's with that look? I have other assets to flaunt”, Yujin suddenly stood up in front of you before turning around. “Well, it looks very nice”, You laughed seeing her bent down and show you her ass, it’s an invitation, or a dare. Of course, you took it, both of your hands immediately grabbed her ass and squeezed it, “Very firm too”, You even slapped it before letting go. “See? Ass over boobs. Women are born with their boobs size, but they can train their ass. Judging a girl by their boobs size is like a girl judging a guy by their height”, Yujin turned back around and flicked your nose. “Just because I'm short doesn't mean you can use it for your argument”, Yujin shrugged before pulling you up.

“Come with me after school, my house is empty today”, You should be a little scared or at least cautious of how eager she is, “I have a meeting with the school counsellor after class, so send me your address and I'll ‘visit’ you later”, You're actually scared? Fucking pussy. “Lame, fine, but the longer you keep me waiting the higher my expectations will be”, Yujin check your body out for a second. “Fuck it”, She said under her breath before pushing you to the wall and make out with you. Her hand seemingly enjoys your abs and her tongue is aggressively intruding your mouth. The heated make out ends quite quickly however, Yujin just pulls back as abruptly as how she initiated the kiss.

“You're good”, She licked her lips like a hungry predator, “You're down bad, next class is starting and I'm not going to get another lecture for skipping it so let's move”, Yujin frowned but she walked with you anyway. The two of you separate ways to your respective classes, and thus a boring time falls upon you. As the school ends your homeroom teacher immediately picks you up from your own class to make sure you didn't try to run. “Do you know who our counsellor is?” That's a good question, “No”, Like why would you know that? You barely remember the school's name.

“It's Miss Kwon, our principal, so you better behave because even I can't protect you from her”, Here's a better question actually, why is he so adamant on helping you? “Ahhh you're here, please follow me”, The question can wait, there's a smoking hot lady talking to you. “Who are you?” You felt a sharp pain from your hand due to your homeroom teacher's slap, what is his name anyway? “It’s okay Minho, you can call me Miss Eunbi if you like, your teacher said you'll be having a talk with me”, Hmmmm, she's very hot, how come you never notice her existence in the school. “Nice to meet you ma'am”, Your homeroom teacher slapped his head, “I'm sorry ma'am, he's…… different”, Eunbi just smiled at him before turning her attention back to you. “Well, let's not waste time, please follow me young man”

Eunbi led you to her office, “Please have a seat, make yourself comfortable”, She pointed at the couch, you took her advice and just lay on it. “Okay, so……this is a therapy session?” Eunbi smiled hearing your question before sitting on the couch near yours. “Well, I do have the licence for it, would you like to have one right now? If you do then I'll have to do some paperwork for legal reasons”, A therapy session with this hot chick will be fun. “Is it free?” She laughed at your question, making you frown. “Oh sorry, I didn't mean to make fun of you. Yes it's free, I do some therapy sessions with some of the students here as well”, Is that legal? Or ethical? Isn't there some conflict of interest since she's also your principal? Ahhhhh, don't think about it too much.

“Sure, why not”, Eunbi smiled and took out some paper, then she started saying some stuff about the privacy of the session and you know, all those formalities she had to say in order to start the therapy session. “So, where should we start?” Where should you start actually? “My brother died but too long ago”, Eunbi nods her head, “I've heard, I'm sorry for your loss”, It's either she cares or she's good at acting like she cares because her tone sounds genuine. “I've seen this coming from long ago, it sucks but it's not like I wasn't prepared for it”, How cold, don't you love your brother? “Really? What makes you say that?” Eunbi starts writing her notes. “Because he's a fucking crack addict. He's gonna die either because he took too much or because he tried to steal some crack from his supplier”, Eunbi seems surprised with this information.

“Oh my god I'm so sorry, I didn't know”, There's a hint of guilt and concern in her tone, “Yeah well, like I said, I'm not too bummed out about it”, Eunbi continued scribbling on her notes. “Well, how is your relationship with your brother?” It was a nice session, you don't really have friends who you feel comfortable sharing stuff with, so having someone to talk to like this makes you feel, delighted. Throughout the session you made some not so subtle attempt at checking her out. She's kinda hot, nice body proportions, beautiful face, flawless skin. In fact, being a pervert who likes to undress women with your eyes, you can quickly tell, her body is very similar to PurpleBunny. The baggy and thick sweater she wore made her cup size questionable.

“I guess there's where we will end our session”, She either doesn't realise it or she doesn't care, and if the latter then the chances of her being PurpleBunny would rise significantly. “It's a weird feeling”, She raised her eyebrow hearing you, “Why is that?” If she leans a little closer you might be able to glance down her cleavage. “Nothing, it's the first time I tried this and I didn't know what I expected”, Eunbi smiled at you reassuringly. “Well, I will say it's been a very successful first meeting for us. Would you like to have another soon?” Being close with her can help you itch your curiosity, so you set up another meeting on Friday.

After she lets you go, you immediately check your phone and see Yujin has sent you her address. “What a slut”, She also sent nude pictures asking you to come faster. Although you're very excited to release some stress, your mind was distracted with a text from your anonymous milf.

PurpleBunny: I have the lube, I will send you the video tonight 😘

PorkCrackling: Send me some pics

PurpleBunny: I can't, I'm still at work, I'll send some later master 😉

You walk to Yujin's place, and just as you expected, she's a fucking rich girl. You knock on the door and a housemaid greets you, she leads you through the mansion and leaves you in front of the bedroom door. Walking in you see Yujin is sitting on her bed, her eyes immediately give you some stingy looks, “Fucking hell, what took you so long?” She said before she started undressing. “I was having a deep emotional talk with Miss Eunbi. She's kinda fucking hot you know? I didn't know we had a sexy milf for a principal”, Yujin rolled her eyes. “She's a fucking whore, you know she likes to flaunt her tits to the school? Bet she got turned on being checked on by boys half her age”, That sounds familiar, although you can't really trust Yujin’s judgement regarding older people, teachers specially.

“Stop looking at me like that and just come here on the bed already, or….. are you scared?” Yujin, already fully naked, is laying on the bed, while you're just judging her silently. “Come on now, turn around, I want to see your ass more than your face”, She clicked her tongue before going on all four facing away from you. “You’re stalling too much dumbass, hurry up before- ahhhhh,”, Yujin didn't get to finish her words as your hand started to rub her pussy. “So fucking wet already? Were you thinking about me this whole time?” You leaned in and whispered in her ears. “You think I'm into dirty talk?” It's always fun playing with a brat doesn't it?

“Fuck, what was that for?” Yujin moaned as she felt a sharp pain on her ass cheek, “You have a nice ass you know? Very tempting to spank”, You raised your hand and spanked her again, “Fuck stop that”, Yujin growled. “Why? You don't like being the sub here?” You spanked her again making her body shivers, “Fuck you”, Yujin moaned as she felt your finger starts to penetrate her. “Goddamn, you have such a nice ass”, You spank her again, but this time you grabbed it and squeezed it hard, “Is that all you can do? Foreplay and dirty talk? What a……. Fuckkkkk”, She can't finish her sentences as you start using your mouth to tease her asshole.

“God, fucking, shit, since when are you, ahhhhhhh…… fuck, since when are you so good”, Yujin, despite her demeanour, is not exactly experienced in this type of stuff. Her previous experiences was mostly with guys whose too scared and intimidated by her so they fuck up a lot. Not you though, you love seeing her like this, hearing the bitchy girl struggle to say anything else other than moans bring a sense of accomplishments inside you. “Goddamnit just fuck me already”, Yujin moaned, “Say please”, You laughed, Yujin clicked her tongue, clearly not enjoying the teasing you had with her. “Fine, can you please for the love of god just give me your cock”, You can barely contain your laughter hearing how goofy it sounds.

Standing up, you immediately lose your outfit, “You got some pills right?” Yujin nodded while she pressed her ass to your erect cock. “Holy fuck”, She moaned before turning around, her eyes locked with your dick. “How is that thing real?” Good is fair after all, he gave you a broken family and an abusive mom, but at least you got a big cock, and plenty of opportunities to use it. “Hehehe, is this your first time?” Yujin frowned upon hearing your question, “You think I'm a virgin? Haaa, unlike you I have guys lining- Haaaaaa”, You suddenly plunge your cock deep and shut her up, “Fuck, you felt like a virgin”, Her walls are so tight you can barely fit half of your cock in.

“Hhhnnnggg, thanksss”, Yujin moaned as her leg started to quiver, “Are you cumming already?” You spanked her ass making her tighten her pussy even more. “Stop…… talking, and….. start moving”, Yujin struggle to stop herself from moaning, “You sure?” This time she start silent for a second. She calms her breathing down for a second before nodding. There's a problem through, she didn't expect you still have more to shove in her so when you start pushing deeper Yujin let out a pained moan, “Fuck, there's more?” She grunted, your hand reached out and caressed her head. “Calm down princess, just relax for a second”, You can feel her pussy tightening again the moment you call her princess. “Ahhhhh, take it slow please”, She said meekly.

You smile feeling victorious, then you start moving slowly, a cacophony of moans keeps pouring out of Yujin's mouth. Once your hips finally meet with hers, Yujin can't contain her orgasm and just starts cumming all over her bed, soaking your thighs. “God, you're even worse than a virgin. I know you've always had a stick up your ass, guess it's just pent up stress isn't it?” You bite her ears as her body starts shaking. “Just fucking shut up already”, She groaned, you raised your hand and just spank her again, this made Yujin let out a protest moan but she doesn't say anything else.

Slowly you start moving, gently pulling back and thrusting forward. Yuji puts her head down as she struggles to make any coherent sound. For a while there were no words exchanged between the two of you, only moans and grunts. Thankfully Yujin doesn't take too long in order to get used to your size. Quite quickly you pick up your pace and start pounding her. No words have been said yet, only moans after moans followed by the sounds of flesh slapping against each other. “Fuck, I'm cumming”, Yujin finally broke the silence as another wave of ecstasy washes over her.

“Are you asking for permission?” You tease her, Yujin glanced back at you with anger. Her looks don't last long as she immediately starts quivering. As the second orgasm passes you can feel her body relaxed even further, making it easy for you to pound her even faster. Watching her ass jiggle every time your hips slam into it has caused your hand to move by itself and spanking her occasionally. Every time your palm delivers a powerful slap her mouth let out a moan and you can feel her pussy tightening around you.

Yujin is slowly losing her mind, she can't even hold herself up as your hand wrapping around her hips is the only thing stopping her from laying flat on the bed. The pounding you gave her only got more aggressive seeing how limp she has become. “Tired princess?” Yujin hates to admit it, but when you call her princess there's this little funny feeling growing in her stomach. She hates it, and she hates how you notice those little feelings. With great determination she pushes her body up, with every last ounce of her strength she moves her hips to match yours, trying to show you she isn't some spoiled princess who can't do anything.

Her struggle is kinda cute for you, out of decency you slow down your pace just enough so she can follow your rhythm. Yujin feels her body is on fire, beads of sweat start dripping down her forehead, pooling down on her pillow that's already stained due to her drooling. “Are you close?” She tried to sound tough, yet those words ended up sounding like a desperate whimper which painted her true feelings. “Maybe? I'll cum sooner if you beg for it”, You grinned seeing Yujin helpless body struggling to continue. “Pleaseeeee, cum inside me, I'm getting close too, if you keep going I might pass out”, She managed to say those words although not having to face you directly greatly helps.

“Come on, one more time”, You leaned forward and kissed her ear, “Fuck, please cum inside me already, fill me up with your thick, warm cum. I need it, please”, Now she actually sounds like a spoiled princess. It works, you can feel your balls tightening ready to shoot your sperm and paints her inside, “Fuck, I'm cumming Yujin”, Yujin was struggling to not pass out, yet the second she felt a sudden warmth feeling up her inside her body went to overdrive as she had her third orgasm. You emptied your load deep inside her as Yujin dropped her head to her pillow and let out a muffled groan.

As you finished filling her up your body slumped down next to her, you were too excited to notice how tiring that sex was. Yujin was glancing at you, there's disdain in her eyes yet she looks so cute that you can't stop yourself from caressing her head. “I always knew you were a princess”, Yujin headbutted you, “Don't you ever call me that again”, It was meant to hurt you, thankfully she didn't break your nose or something like that. “You like it when I call you that, just admit it”, You decided to test your fate by spanking her ass. “I will kill you”, You tested your fate again by laughing at her threat. “This is fun Yujin, we should do this more”, Your hand can't help but caress and massage her butt, “I hate you”, God she's so cute.

“Well, I like you”, You leaned in and kissed her, Yujin felt her body freeze the moment you kissed her. A torrent of emotions flooded her, cracking the wall of her ego. Her hands tried to push you away but she's too weak to do anything, so you grabbed her and pulled her on top of you. Your hand happily playing with her ass while your tongue is fighting for dominance against hers. Being in your arms, having you play with her body because you knew she can't do anything, it really pisses Yujin off. Yet the feeling of being dominated like this is really good. You haven't broken her wall down, but there's enough crack there for you to slither in the future.

As the kiss ended Yujin gasped for air, her body trembling out of ‘rage’ or so she labels, truthfully she felt so excited from your actions. “We should roll together”, Yujin frowned but she can't bring herself to reject that invitation. “I'll do it, only if you treat me like an equal. You're not the Dom in this relationship but you're too proud to admit it. So let's just be an equal”, She's projecting a lot, “Whatever you want princess”, She frowned at you. “And don't call me that”, Perhaps she will soon realise her frowning face is a cute invitation for you to kiss her. “Fuck you can't just kiss me every time you want to shut me-”, You kissed her again. She pulls away and tries to protest but you grab her and kiss her again. This goes on for a while until she finally relent and let you make out with her.

In the end Yujin just lay on her bed, facing away from you but eagerly pushed her body on to yours as you cuddled her from behind. “Is your parents gonna kill me if I stay any longer?” Hopefully her parents are as ignorant about her sex life as your mom is to you. “They're not home, they never do”, For a moment you heard a fragile little girl crying for help, an opportunity to grab her by the neck and make her your toy. “Do you want me to stay the night?” You can try to tease her by kissing her shoulder but maybe that would make her kick you out. Yujin doesn't say anything, she just silently closes her eyes and tries to get some rest.

The two of you fell asleep until late at night, at that point you felt kinda hungry, “No, go out and find your own food”, Yujin wants this to be casual. Having dinner together at her house is not casual, that's romantic, and she's too scared to start that, even if her heart really wants to. “Well then, see you later princess”, Yujin frowned again, it's less out of anger and more of annoyance, she then pushed you away from her bed before getting dressed.

“Yo, where you at”, It's midnight, so there's not many places you can dine in, of course your dumbass group of misfits always wakes up late and explores the city. “We’re eating ramen, come”, Chan said with his mouth full of food, “Bet”, It's a cold and lonely night, the type you love the most. During your walk you check your phone and see PurpleBunny is looking for you. You send her some message saying you're busy with some stuff right now. After chatting with her for a while you know she never wakes up this late, she's a ‘professor’ after all. The night passes by uneventfully, your friends are a bunch of college kids and unemployed bastards so they tend to wake up till morning.

“Fuck so you're gonna introduce her to us or what?” Chan said, you've told your friend about Yujin before, they seem to think you have some romantic attraction towards her. Although it's understandable where that thought came from, it still rubs you the wrong way. “I think she's gonna bring too much chaos to this”, That's a terrible excuse, your group is the most chaotic shit you've ever been a part of. “Alright kiddo, if you're too shy you just say it next time”, You didn't bother entertaining them further and just had your dinner.

Coming back home, you find your mom passed out on the couch. It's an everyday sight for you at this point, and it pisses you a lot. You remember how grand Yujin's house is, and now coming back to this dumpster of a ‘home’ made you curse the world for making you born into this ‘family’. “Haaa, fuck it”, There's no point mourning over things you can't change, you left your mom in the couch, bathed in alcohol and her own vomit to get some rest for the night.

The next day, school goes by like usual, nothing changed, except for Yujin's demeanour around you. “Jesus, can you not breathe so loud? You're fucking annoying you know that?” It causes some of her friends to distance themselves from the two of you. “You're so cute when you're being shy like this”, Yujin blushes for a second before she starts slapping you, “Don't. You. Fucking. Call. Me. That. Again”, Every word laced with pure anger. “Come on princess, I'm not you, I don't have a hidden masochist kink inside me”, Your laugh only made her enraged even more. The ‘assault’ was so bad a teacher had to step in and pull her off.

You find this whole thing to be amusing, Yujin being too enraged to say something to ease the situation makes the teacher think you two are having a genuine fight. “Alright that's it, you two come with me to the teacher's office”, Of course the lovely Miss Taeyeon decides to take this whole comical situation seriously. As you and Yujin walk together you see her glaring at you, “Since when are you so sensitive with words? I thought you always said don't throw any punches if you can't take them”, Pointing out her little hypocrisy almost made her lose her mind. “I'll fucking ruin you”, And just like that you got an invitation to her house again, she's so easy to play with.

Taeyeon brought the two of you to her office, she sat you down in front of her before opening her laptop. “I've had it with you two, why can't you spend one day, just one day without causing any trouble”, Taeyeon shakes her head, for a while the room went silent with nothing but the sounds of her typing on her keyboard. “Explain yourself, Yujin you started this, what happened?” Taeyeon glares at Yujin who just scoffed, “It's not important”, Taeyeon knows there's pretty much all she can get from Yujin so she turns to you. “It was a friendly scuffle, I don't know why everyone suddenly got so worked up”, She looked at you coldly, “Whatever it was, fights are not acceptable in this school. So either you two do a better job at convincing me that it's not a fight or I'll suspend both of you”, You can't say no to some free vacation…… and it seems neither does Yujin.

“I….. really can't with the two of you right now”, Taeyeon rubbed her forehead out of frustration seeing that you and Yujin stayed quiet. “It's personal okay? But I promise you it was not a fight, we were just…..”, You glanced at Yujin who’s ready to maul you, “Joking”, Your return her glare with a smile. “Don't tell me it's a couple's quarrel”, Yujin frowned hearing Taeyeon's words, “Well, not a ‘couple’ just yet so-”, You can't really finish your words because Yujin suddenly slapped your head. “Jesus fucking Christ, the two trouble kids are dating now”, You can hear the frustration grow even more within Taeyeon's voice. “We are not dating”, Yujin stomps her leg to the girls before rudely leaving the room.

Left alone with Taeyeon, you gave her a shrug, “She's kinda shy about it”, Taeyeon shakes her head. “I'll let you off this once, I saw everything and you don't seem to fight back. But for the love of god do not bring your lover’s problem to school”, You nod completely uninterested in her words. “Are you gonna send me home now?” Taeyeon glared at you, “No, go back to class, and after school you will report back to me for another detention”, Well fuck, there goes your plan for the day….. Do you have plans for the day? Anyway, the school went by uneventfully after that, Yujin was nowhere to be seen and you heard she just decided to go home.

Let's move the other person who is having an eventful day, Eunbi. She recognises that this is probably a bad idea, but after yesterday she decided to check on your family situation. She was prepared for the worst, yet when she arrived at your house she realised it was worse than what she expected. You live in the ‘slums’, the place was so bad she felt someone might just kidnap her right there and then. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Thankfully she went with your over caring homeroom teacher, Mister Minho. “I think, I need to at least see for myself how bad it was”, He nodded and knocked on your front door.

There was no answer for a while so he knocked again, and no answer again, so he knocked again and this time the two of them heard a shout from the inside. “Fuck off”, The two exchanged a glance, “Good morning ma'am, we're from your son’s school, can we talk for a moment”, There wasn't any answer but they could hear a bunch of noise from the inside. The door finally opened, the first thing they noticed was the sickening smell of vomit and alcohol, then they saw your mom who looked like she just got out of a trash can. “Who the fuck are you two fancy pants”, Eunbi put on a friendly smile, “Good morning ma'am, sorry to bother you, this is Minho, your son's homeroom teacher and I am Eunbi, the school's principal. Can we talk for a moment?” Your mom looks at her two uninvited guests, “You can talk from here”, Honestly, from the little glimpse they get from the outside, they prefer to not walk inside as well.

“Well it's about your son, yesterday he had skipped some morning classes…..” Minho starts talking about what you did yesterday, then Eunbi follows up about the therapy session she had with you. Eunbi hides everything about the talk but still talks about how you seem to be pretty shaken by your brother's death, although you never admit it. Throughout the talk they notice how uninterested your mom is, she even walks inside at one point and starts drinking some liquor from a half empty bottle. “So? What does this have to do with me?” Your mom said as they finished their stories, “Well, as his councillor I would like to ask, how has he acted around the house? Especially after your oldest son's death”, Eunbi felt like this is a stupid question, “I don't fucking know”, And she stands corrected. “Listen you fucking retards, I don't give a shit about him, so don't fucking come here and waste my time. Fucking comeback if he got expelled or if he died”, She spit on their feet before slamming the door in front of them.

The two stand there silently for a while, “This is disturbing”, Eunbi nods at Minho's words, this is problematic. “This is, worse than what I expected, far worse”, How can she help you with therapy when you're living in this shithole with that ignorant mother of yours. “Should we call the authorities or something?” Eunbi shakes her head, reluctantly, “Unfortunately he's already 18 so the authorities can't do much as he's no longer considered a child. Besides, I think I need to talk to him again to make sure he doesn't find what we're doing here to be, intruding and overbearing”, Minho sighed, why does he care so much about you anyway? “Yeah, let's go back to school”

Eunbi gets back to her office and stresses out over you, she felt, helpless. There's just this thing about you that evokes pity inside her, something that she has understood would make you angry. Unfortunately she can't help you that much, so for now she just prepares a few questions and notes for your next session. Eunbi took a look at her phone to find her chatting with PorkCrackling, it was a little disappointing that he didn't answer her last night, after all she was so excited to show him her experiment last night. Eunbi's mind floated off to last night when she finally tried anal. The weird yet enjoyable feelings of her asshole being intruded by the massive dildo she had bought weeks prior was intoxicating.

She reads back your chats with her, at first it was a little awkward as she started using the website not to find hookups, but a release for her sexual fantasies. Thankfully PorkCrackling seems to find it fun and just goes along the ride. The first thing they did was some sexting, which was super hot for her. Then it starts to grow apparent how dominant the guy really is which made her even more turned on. The two of them quickly find their dynamics, he becomes the master and she becomes the kinky slave. When he first asked for a picture she was reluctant, but her excitement overcame her and so she sent a picture of her boobs. From there it only went downhill, deeper into the abyss of depravity and lust.

It felt arousing, sending pictures like that to him, his compliments and comments about how her pics are a perfect jerk off material made her happy. Even though Eunbi is used to being checked out, just the feeling of sending her private pictures to a total stranger really excites her. Every time she sends him a picture he always replies back with some very dirty messages about all the things he wants to do to her. Slowly her guard is crumbling down, the idea of meeting this mysterious man becomes more and more appealing by the day. As she scrolls down her text she notices that he never really sends any pictures of himself. She never really minds it, after all how could a good slave ask anything from her master. However since the idea of meeting him in person has become a plausible next step of their relationship, Eunbi can't help but feel curious on what to expect. Would he be able to live up the expectations she has set in her mind? Or would he falter and ruin the dream image she has made up? Shaking her head, Eunbi felt determined to ask him for one, even if he wasn't really that impressive, just the conversation alone is fun for her.

As you are busy trying to sneakily play with your phone in the middle of class you find a text from your obedient slave. It was a cute and anxious chat asking for a picture from you as a change. Fuck it just whip out your dick and send it to her? Although, if she is really Eunbi, wouldn't she notice the uniform you're wearing? It would be fun wouldn't it, would she freak out? Would she get consumed by her depravity and get turned on by the idea of having this relationship with her own student?

You're too curious to pass up on such an opportunity, so you quickly went to the bathroom and sent her a text, asking for a picture to get you hard. Eunbi panicked for a second seeing your text, after all she's still not sure of taking a picture in the middle of her office during work time. Thankfully she took quite a lot of them last night when she was experimenting, so she sends all of them to you. Those pictures are enough to make you feel somewhat regretful that you spend the night cuddling with Yujin instead of just sexting. “Goddamnit, now I'm actually hard”, Jerking off in the school bathroom sounds like a bad idea, but fuck it why not.

First you set up the stage, take off your uniform to make sure you didn't ruin them, get in a comfortable position, then you start masturbating. You took a few pictures of your cock, and even sent a video of your ejaculation. Carefully making sure that it doesn't show more than just a glimpse or a little part of your uniform. After you clean up you carefully check the video and pictures before sending it to her and go back to your class as if nothing happened. The moment Eunbi checked them she became mesmerised. No wonder you asked her to get a big dildo, you've been preparing her to take your full length. You weren't being subtle about wanting to meet up with her eventually, it was pretty obvious by your text. Yet the idea of her being corrupted to be your actual sex slave was so hot. All this time you weren't just helping her with her fantasies, you were also preparing her to be a prefect fuck you for you.

Her mind is fogged by arousal, it distracts her from most of her work to the point that she has to leave early and spend the day just masturbating to your cock. That's it, she can't prolong the meeting any longer, she wants you deep inside her, she wants that ‘thing’ to split her apart and ruin her inside. You never really say anything about your identity, Eunbi only knows you're busy during the day with stuff and she doesn't pry into it. Thankfully she spent so long just masturbating that once she's done it's already dark outside, which means you're free.

PurpleBunny: You convince me, let's meet up master.

PorkCrackling: Ohhhh? So eager? I should've send you some pictures from the start if I know it was that easy

PurpleBunny: Maybe you should've master, your cock, is gorgeous

PorkCrackling: Huh, first time I ever heard someone describe it as that.

PurpleBunny: 😚

PorkCrackling: Come on, first show me the videos, those pictures are hot but I want to see you pleasuring yourself with that dildo.

Eunbi then sends the video, it was super scuffed, after all she's trying really hard not to show her face. However, it's also one of the hottest videos you've ever watched.

PorkCrackling: Good girl, but the cinematography is wack, maybe next time you can show yourself? After all, we're meeting up soon.

PurpleBunny: Maybe next time 😉

PorkCrackling: When do you want to meet?

PurpleBunny: Well, tomorrow I have some meetings after work so Saturday is fine.

PorkCrackling: So the meeting, are we talking about getting to know each other meet up or just, straight up sex?

PurpleBunny: I want to have a little talk first before we go back to my place.

PorkCrackling: Oh? A date? Sounds like a pretty big switch up after your ‘full anonymous’ policy.

PurpleBunny: I'm just a little on edge, I need some relief.

PorkCrackling: So desperate, I'll do it if you go to work without underwear tomorrow.

PurpleBunny: Do I have to?

PorkCrackling: Go without underwear, send a few pictures for me tomorrow throughout the day.

PurpleBunny: Okay fine, I'll see you Saturday master 💜💜💜

Seeing her accepting the command made you happy, now you just need to wait for tomorrow when you can match her outfits. However your happiness is short-lived as you come home and find your dead beat of a mother puking in your living room. It's not just the stench but the fact that she never cleaned it made you feel icky. This whole house is now just a ground zero for the next plague that would wipe half of the world population. “You, fucking useless bastard”, It's a rare occasion that she acknowledged your existence, something must've happened while you were gone. “Your fucking retarded teachers fucking come here and ruin my fucking day”, A day she spent productively surely. Although, who came to your house earlier today? And why? Is it your new therapist? Is it your new father figure? “Not my fucking fault”, You left her in the living room as she continue cursing you. The next day, need to come sooner.

“Fuck I feel like such a slut”, The idea of going to work without underwear really does feel hot, so even though Eunbi doesn't like it, her lust side just won her over. She tried to wear some baggy sweater to hide her jugs yet it turns out to be a bad idea since her sweater just rubs against her nipple making her body feel hot. The sweater is very thick so her erect nipple doesn't show through it, but it also means she can't concentrate at all due to the never ending stimulation. Just as promised, she sent a few video and pictures showing you that she is following your command.

Unfortunately you can't check them due to a very pissed off girl. “I hate you so much”, Yujin has dragged you out to the rooftop at lunch to dump all her anger towards you. “Really? So you didn't miss me at all after ghosting me yesterday?” You smiled at her, Yujin grabbed your collar before pushing you to the wall, she's taller than you, well you're pretty short so almost everyone is taller than you. “Fuck you”, It seems one day has made her forgot how dangerous you are, the moment she lock you to the wall you just leaned in and kissed her. The kiss really hit her at the right spot, so despite her hatred Yujin can't help but lower her hand. You did a quick spin and pressed her to the wall this time, your hand slipped inside her shirt and your finger rubbed her nipples through her sports bra. “Fuck, you're such a dick”, She moaned feeling your hand playing with her tits. “Come on Yujin, stop being so edgy all the time, you like me, just admit it”, She looked at you frowning, less angry to you but towards her slow acceptance towards her feelings.

“You said I ghost you? You didn't even bother contacting me after school”, And yes, she's also angry that you ghost her, and she's angry that she felt angry for being ghosted. She has a lot of issues. “I was busy, okay? Sorry, are you free tonight?” You cupped her face in your hand. “Tonight? Meet me after school”, Yujin is trying not to blush but the warmth she feels on her cheeks is making it hard. “I need to do something first, besides I have a therapy session with Miss Eunbi today”, Yujin frowned before slowly nodding, “Now are you gonna fuck me here or what?” You laughed and shook your head, “No, the teacher gonna kill us, besides I'm hungry”, You let go of her, “I'm not eating with you”, Yujin stomps her feet before storming away.

Thankfully she left you alone for the whole day, letting you check the pictures PurpleBunny has sent you. Excitement flows throughout your body, and you quickly make your way to Eunbi's office. Your heart is beating erratically, take a deep breath, calm down for a second. “Yes?” Eunbi said as she heard someone knock on her door, she opened the door to find you, with your usual distant and bored look. “Oh, good afternoon sweetie, what brings you here?” You flinched hearing her call you, “Am I having a therapy session after class?” Your eyes travel around her body, same sweater, in fact with one of the videos providing a little view of the background you easily match it with the bookshelves she had in her office.

“Of course, I'll see you after class okay?” Eunbi smiles, then she notices a sudden change in your gaze, some weird sensation washes over her body as if something is telling her to run. “Okay, I'll see you after class ma'am”, A smile forms on your face before you walk away, trying your best to hide your excitement. PurpleBunny is Eunbi, your own fucking principal, holy fuck isn't it exciting? All this time you thought she had hidden her face because she was ugly or something, but no, it was really just for her identity. Fuck she also lied about being a professor, of course she did, it sounds so much worse if a principal said that she got turned on by her highschool students checking her out. God, the world is so small isn't it? Perhaps the universe does have a sense of humour. Actually, you just realised, Eunbi was wearing a skirt, if she's not wearing panties, then wouldn't you be able to sneak some peek later? You should ask her if she's wearing anything underneath there.

PurpleBunny: I think it's a mistake wearing this sweater.

PorkCrackling: It's too baggy, you should've worn something tight.

PurpleBunny: I'm not ready for that 😔

PorkCrackling: You've only sent the pictures of your upper part, let me see you drenching your pants with how aroused you are.

PurpleBunny: I'm not wearing a pants ☺️

PorkCrackling: Oh? You're wearing a skirt with nothing underneath it?

PurpleBunny: Hehehe

She then sent a video of her dripping wet pussy under her table. You weren't focused on her though, you were checking her skirt and sweater, the exact same as the one Eunbi wore. The glimpse of her office is also another proof that PurpleBunny is Eunbi.

PorkCrackling: You're such a slut

PurpleBunny: 😚 Can't wait to see you soon master. I'm so horny right now I feel like we should do something fun tonight 😉

PorkCrackling: I have some plans for tonight, should I bring you some flowers for tomorrow?

PurpleBunny: Hehehe, no, what if you bring me some pork crackling instead?

PorkCrackling: I'll do it, if you bring me a live purple bunny.

PurpleBunny: That can be arranged, see you later master 😘

Finally, school ends, you immediately run to Eunbi's office, she opens the door, seemingly already waiting for you. “Come in, please take a seat”, You glanced around the hallway, there's some teachers walking around, maybe you should stall until they got home. “So, let's start our second session”, Eunbi sat in front of you, carefully crossing her legs to make sure she didn't reveal anything to you. “First off all I should start first, I'm sorry if I may be too intrusive, but me and your teacher Minho have decided to visit your house yesterday”, So it is her, and that weird guy, who probably wants to groom you or something. “I know, did you puke when you walked in?” Eunbi was surprised seeing how nonchalant you are about it. “No, we didn't come in”, She shook her head remembering how awful it seemed inside.

“Oh, must be mom then”, Hearing you talk like this made her feel sad, and you can see it. “Your mom-”, You can't afford to ruin the mood for now, “Is useless yes I know”, You need to stall without really making her feel down. “Right”, Eunbi sighed thinking you're not ready to talk about your mom yet. “Let's start with something else first then, yesterday I had some talk with my brother's friends”, The goal was to stall for time, the hurdle is the fact that you didn't realise how much you actually got impacted by your brother's death. What was supposed to be a long dragged out story about your experiences with him was slowly turning into a trauma dump session. You didn't cry, but at the end of the stories you were so emotionally exhausted that you might as well cry.

“I see, I'm glad you're brave enough to share this story with me”, Eunbi was listening so attentively that she forgot she wasn't wearing any underwear. Your eyes were fixed on her exposed pussy, she was confused about what you were looking at before it clicked inside her head. “So, that was an invitation?” You smiled, Eunbi who already closed her legs was blushing so hard she couldn't even say anything, “My god, the principal is a pervert”, Eunbi cleared her throat before gaining her composure. “So, that marks the end of our session, is there anything you want to ask me?” Her tone is stern, making sure you know she wants you to forget what you just see. “I have one actually, how do you plan on getting a live purple bunny?”

Eunbi was confused at first, then her eyes widened in disbelief. She stared at you with fear and dumbfounded expression, all this time, was it you? “I… I don't know what you mean”, It was the best she could do. “Come on if you want me to bring some pork crackling you have to bring a purple bunny, a live one”, You smile seeing how much she is in denial right now. Eunbi feels her body is drained of energy and life, all the scary and paranoid thoughts start to invade her mind. All this time, she's been having a sexual relationship with her own students. Wait, no she hasn't had sex yet, so it's not sexual, everything should be fine right? But no, even so just the fact that she's a slut behind closed doors could ruin her reputation. Not just her job but her life can be ruined forever.

“Hey, slut”, Eunbi jumped hearing how close you were, she didn't realise you moved next to her already. “N-n-n-no”, You smile seeing how red she has become, your hand grabs her bare thighs, “You have such nice thighs you know that?” Eunbi wants to push your hand away, wait, does she? Because the sensation of your hand really sends some jolt of ecstasy through her body. Seeing her having an inner struggle made you smile, you leaned closer and bite her ears before whispering into it, “Come on slut, let's do it once, you don't know how much I've been waiting for this moment”, Your breath tickles her ear making her let out a moan. “We shouldn't”, She said with a few moans, “No one would know, come on, you know you want this”, Your hand travelled up her thighs, into her skirt and carefully rubbed her wet pussy.

“No, we-, Ahhhhhhh, we can't”, Eunbi moaned again feeling your hands starts to rub her clit, “I don't think you realise, you don't really have an option here”, Eunbi felt her heart drop, she know it's true, if she pisses you off her life can be ruined. Seeing the defeated look on Eunbi's face made you feel even more horny. You started kissing her neck, your hand continue rubbing her clit, “Hhhnnnngggg, fuck, slow down”, Eunbi moaned feeling her body is giving in to her desires. “You’re so wet already, tell me slut, did anyone see your dripping wet pussy today?” You said before you continue biting her neck. “Ahhhh, no”, She moaned, “You sound disappointed”, You pulled down her sweater, exposing her beast. “Hhhmmm, no I'm not”, You laughed before you move in front of her, “You have such a nice tits slut”, Eunbi blushed again, hearing you say those words face to face really hit differently.

You leaned down, grabbing her boobs and pulling it to your mouth, your teeth sinking into her nipple forcing Eunbi to close her mouth in order to muffle her scream. Your hand slips inside her pussy and starts fingering her aggressively. Your mouth moves to the other tits, wrapping your lips around her nipples and sucking as hard as you can like a hungry baby. Moans and whine keep escaping Eunbi's mouth as she desperately uses both of her hands to muffle them as best as she can. Not long you can hear her muffled scream as her pussy tightens around your finger. Her juices sprays to your hand and drip down the couch leaving stains, you slow down a moment waiting for her orgasm to pass.

“That was nice wasn't it?” You can't help but tease her seeing she's out of breath already, Eunbi bites her lips trying her best not to say yes. Standing up, you slowly unbuckled your belt and pulled down your pants, Eunbi's eyes can't seem to leave your bulge. As you drop your pants Eunbi starts moving closer to you, seeing how eager she is you pull her head and press her face to your bulge, letting her feel your cock through the fabric of your underwear. “Come on, you know you want to”, Eunbi can feel your cock throbbing against her cheek, reluctantly she pulls down your boxer and immediately her face was hit by your erect cock. “Suck it”, Her eyes are mesmerised with your dick, her nose is inhaling the musky smell it gives and unconsciously she starts to drool.

Eunbi's hand gently wrapped around your cock, she sticks out her tongue and slowly licks the tip of your cock. All her moves were so sensual and careful as she was too scared to do something wrong. “Don't be too shy now, you've practised for this”, You caressed her cheek making her feel embarrassed and also a little giddy, she nods her head before taking your cock in her mouth. Her tongue swirls around it as her gaze is fixed into your eyes as if she was pleasing for some kind of appreciation. Slowly she lowered her head, taking your cock deeper into her mouth inch by inch. Your precum starts to leak down her tongue, the taste was heavenly for her and she starts to suck on your cock expecting more. Through some great effort she managed to swallow your whole cock down her throat, her tongue continuing licking your shaft, tracing along your veins.

“Good girl”, A look of happiness can be seen in her eyes before she quickly hides it, her head starts to bob up and down slowly. With every passing moment her move got faster and sloppier, her spit drools down her lips and coated your cock making her release some wet sounds every time she slammed her head down your shaft. Her eyes start to water, messing up her mascara as your hips start to follow her rhythm. From time to time she will stop at your tip and hungrily suck on your leaking precum while her hands start to massage your balls trying to milk them out. This is it, this is the slut you've made for the last month and she is perfect. Her eyes never leave yours even for a moment, Eunbi can't tell why, but she just feels like she needs to keep eye contact.

“Ooohhhh fuck, you're so good at this aren't you?” Hearing your compliments made her legs start to squirm as her pussy starts to drip more juices to the couch. Her moral dilemma has become an afterthought as a new idea came to her mind. As long as she can continue pleasuring you then she can make sure you won't tell anyone about this. It was nothing but a pathetic rationalisation of her lust. Yet she doesn't care, now she only needs to focus on pleasuring you, every flinch, every moan, every grunt that you made is sending jolts of excitement throughout her body. “Ahhhh fuck Eunbi, I'm cumming”, The moment she heard that Eunbi immediately pull up her head leaving only the tip of your cock in her mouth. One of her hands starts to jerk your cock furiously while the other one is massaging your balls, feeling your hot sperm swimming around inside it. “Fuck, take it slut”, You grunted as you feel your sperm starts to shoot inside her mouth. The thick and warm cum floods inside her mouth coating every inch of her inner mouth. The taste was addicting to her, she felt desperate for more so her hands jerked you off even faster trying to milk every last drop of your cum.

As your ejaculation passed, Eunbi's mouth was filled to the brim with your sperm, some starts to drip down her lips. You pull your cock away watching her savour the taste of your cum in her mouth. Seeing that she's being watched Eunbi opened her mouth showing you that her tongue is playing around the pool of cum you've made in her mouth. “Drink them slut”, Eunbi closed her eyes as she swallow them, she can feel the thick concoctions travel down her throat leaving a warm sensation through her body. “Hhhnnnngggg”, A moan escaped her lips as her eyes rolled to the back of her skull. You glanced down to see that she's having another orgasm and starts to squirt all over the floor. “Fucking hell, did you got even more pent up ever since you meet me?” Eunbi heard your question but she was too preoccupied with her own orgasm to acknowledge it. As soon as her orgasm passes, her hands start to clean up the sperm down her chin and lick them up hungrily.

When she finishes that she looks at you hoping for more, like a good little slut that she is. “Spread your leg”, You start stroking your cock preparing it for the next round. Eunbi immediately spreads her leg, her hand can't stop from fingering herself seeing your cock is regaining it's might. “Tell me how much you want it”, Eunbi felt her body quiver hearing how demanding you're being. “Please, fuck me already”, She moaned, her hand continue fingering herself while the other is playing with her breast. “Come on, you can do better than that”, You move forward and runs your cock in between her fold, “Master, please give me your big girthy cock, I need you inside me”, Her eyes is looking st you desperately as her body react to your cock rubbing against her pussy.

Without any warning you suddenly plunge your cock deep inside her all the way to the base. The sudden intrusion made her body jerked back in response followed by a pained groan. Her walls tightening around you and enveloping your cock with her warmth. Her body shakes violently as loud cries escape her lips. You immediately took your boxer and shove it to her face to silence her down as she went through yet another orgasm. Eunbi bite down into it as she continue groaning, you didn't bother to let her have her orgasm peacefully and just start fucking her roughly. In Eunbi's mind her lies crumble down, she can't say she's doing all this for her own reputation when her body is screaming in ecstasy like this.

Eunbi throws away her moral dilemma, it doesn't matter anymore, the only thing that's important right now is you. She wants you, so what if you're her student and patient. “Fuck, you're still so tight after all those training I gave you?” You grunted as you continued pounding her, Eunbi felt happiness grow inside her seeing how much you're enjoying her body. “You're so big master, those toys can't compare to you. Fuck me harder, ruin me please”, She moaned before biting down on your boxers again. Her nose keeps inhaling your scent as she falls deeper and deeper into depravity. Your hand grabs her hips and starts to move her body as if she's just a sex doll. Eunbi feels so helpless in your arms and it excites her, she needs to stop herself from screaming from time to time.

Every time your hips crashed on to her you see the impact send a jiggle through her body. Her tits bounce up and down as you continue pounding her even harder. Eunbi who's lost in ecstasy suddenly woke up by the sudden pain on her tits as you slapped it hard. “Ahhhh, master”, She whined, but honestly, she loves it, “I know you like that slut”, And you know it too. Your hand slapped her other tits and she let out another moan. The two of you start to get even louder as every time you slap her Eunbi starts to lose her self control more and more. At one point she let out a loud groan so you grabbed her neck and choked her. “You need to quiet down slut”. At first it was frightening, the pain that suddenly attacked her neck, then she looked at your stern eyes and she couldn't help but to get turned on even more.

“I'm sorry”, She squeal out, but you didn't let go of her neck, in fact you strangle her even harder as you fuck her faster, your other hand move to slap her ass while. This whole thing was too much for, her tongue sticks out of her mouth as her eyes are just rolling to the back of her skull yet again. Her saliva starts to drip down your hand as you see her face start to turn pale. Seeing Eunbi so lost in her own ecstasy from the pain made you feel victorious, made you feel the need to place your flag on this hill. “I'm cumming slut”, Eunbi nodded as tears started to fall down her eyes from happiness. You thrust deep into her, her walls tightened around you, pulsating in a way to milk every last drop of your cum. The ejaculation closes your mind as your hand starts to strangle her for real this time, cutting off her windpipe. Eunbi grabbed into your hands as you let out a groan and unload your sperm inside her. The warmth in her stomach, the stinging pain in her ass and tits alongside the fear of death due to your strangulation send Eunbi to another orgasm. So what if you accidentally choke her out for too long, with all this stimulation she doesn't mind dying in ecstasy.

Thankfully you notice your hand gripping her neck too tight before she passes out. As soon as you let go of your hand Eunbi starts to breathe frantically, her face flushed red as oxygen finally starts to stream back to her brain. “Fuck, I'm sorry”, You said panting hard from the intense orgasm you just had. Eunbi just smiled at you as she coughed, “It's… fine…” It seems like you ruined her throat a little bit. Then you pull out your cock letting your sperm drip down her pussy, you look around her office before throwing some tissues to her. Eunbi who is already drained of energy tries her best to wipe the sperm that's flowing out of her pussy. Meanwhile you're busy cleaning yourself and dressing back up. As you finish sitting in front of her again, Eunbi sees that you're already dressed so she fixes her outfit again and sits up straight at her sofa.

“I'm sorry about that”, You started off, Eunbi doesn't really mind now, but she appreciates the gesture. “I know this relationship is a bad idea, especially since your reputation is on the line”, Eunbi also appreciates that you acknowledge the risk she's having, but she doesn't like where this conversation is going. “So I'll delete all those pictures and videos, we can pretend this, all those chats, let's just forget them and pretend it never happened”, Eunbi felt like a cold water just splashed over her. “Oh, right”, Pretend like this never happened, that's what she wants right? “I thank you for being a counsellor and therapist for me, but if you don't mind can you refer me to a different therapist. After all, this whole thing might affect our therapy session”, Now it felt like a block of ice just pressed on to her body. “I….-” You shake your head, “I say we pretend like this never happened, but there's no way we can loom each other as a normal therapist and patient after this. So please, refer me to another one”, Hearing how adamant you are with this made Eunbi feel deflated. “Of course”, She stutter out, “Then, can I ask for one last thing?” Eunbi nodded as she tried her best to hide her disappointment and sadness.

You leaned closer and kissed her, Eunbi felt her breath stop the moment her lips touch yours. Her body slumps down making you hold her by the shoulder so she wouldn't fall. Eunbi felt your tongue slither into her mouth, her tongue meekly following your lead as she was savouring the taste of your saliva. How does she know what your saliva tastes like? Don't think about it. “Haaaa, Haaaa, Haaaa”, Eunbi panted as you break off the kiss, she looked at you pleading for more. “Just a little souvenir for what we had”, You smile at her before leaving her alone in her office. Eunbi watches you leave, her body is screaming for her to jump and grab your back, to stop you from leaving, but she didn't, she just sat there silently. When you get to the door you look at her one last time, you see a glimmer of hope rise inside her, then you smile and get out of her office, leaving with the memory of her face filled with disappointment and longing. Hook. Line. Sinker.

Left alone in her office, Eunbi felt distraught, seeing you left just like that is just wrong. The moment you two had was short but she can't believe you will just forget it like that. The worst part is she thinks she knows you enough to understand that you're being genuine. The two sessions she had with you make her think you really just disconnected with people that you can just cut her off like that. The unending lust and depravity she has for PorkCrackling is slowly combining with the motherly care and genuine affection she had for you. No, she can't let you cut this off just like that. It doesn't matter if her reputation is on the line, she needs you. She needs your body, your dominance and your sex drive as your slave. She needs to guide you to open up to people, to let you share your burden and get past your traumatic broken household as your therapist. She needs to help you, as much as she needs you to help her.

PurpleBunny: Can we meet up tomorrow?

#kpop fanfic #kpop gg #kpop smut #izone eunbi #kwon eunbi #izone smut #eunbi smut #male reader

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hedgehog-moss · 5 months

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I meant to do some greenhouse cleaning and tidying today because my mum is coming to visit and I don't want to be judged. It involved finally bringing myself to say goodbye to my moribund basil plants (by turning them into pesto) among other things—but my plans were derailed when I took down one of the aquaponics towers and heard a big splash. I thought I'd disturbed a fish that was napping amid the plant roots in the water, but no.... I looked into the fish tank and saw a big frog indignantly swimming away.

I went to get a little dip net and spent a solid half hour trying to fish the frog out—she swam so fast! And was really determined to stay in the fish tank, even when I told her I would put her outside somewhere watery and nice where she could meet frog friends. But I did catch her in the end.

I'd never seen a completely black frog before! When I googled for more info, all I found were photos of the (amazing) African rain frog, which one website compared to an angry avocado.

Back to my tank squatter—she was delicately placed on the edge of the barrel that collects spring water in the pasture and invited to start a new life here, and she morosely sat for quite a while, mulling over her options.

I'm not even lying to you, frog: I found a beautiful toad in the pasture some time ago... I'm moving you from a place of existential alienation (lone frog in fish tank) to a hot spot of batracian life.

I tried to film the moment when the frog accepted her fate and gracefully jumped into the barrel but of course I started filming just a second too late and she refused to come back for a second take. In the meantime, every pasture dweller had noticed that something interesting was happening, and converged towards me. When they found my hands and pockets empty of snacks their reactions ranged from sharp betrayal to distant melancholy.

Pirlouit looked so sad in the rain staring at the horizon, pondering the inherent unfairness of life, I ended up letting him sniff the dip net, like, did you actually WANT to eat a frog?

I know, but this one was too large for you.

Poldine was the only one who didn't resent me for visiting them with a frog and no snacks; she was just happy for the opportunity to kiss someone's cheek.

When I went home and looked at my frog pictures I realised there was an apple floating in the barrel ! which I hadn't seen since I was too focused on the frog. The apple tree has shed nearly all of its fruit by now, it must be one of the last apples of the year... And since entering the pasture with a poor slimy excuse for a snack in my dip net had clearly made a dent in my approval ratings, I decided to go back and offer llamas & donkey the apple along with some vegetable peelings.

Pandolf was intrigued when I fished an apple out of the barrel; he sat down in front of me the way he does to signal that he is a good dog and possibly deserving of good things; but UNLIKE SOME he wasn't disappointed with me when he realised the thing I was holding wasn't meant for him because the world doesn't revolve around him.

.... approval ratings skyrocketing 📈

Look at Pirlouit in the background, startled and horrified as he realises he left the scene to soon!

Look at him leaving a cloud of dust behind him as he rushes towards us!

Don't worry Pirou, I saved you a whole half courgette <3 You can drop the tragic misunderstood persecuted look now.

#crawling along

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xxbottlecapx · 8 months

Text

I saw someone talk about this idea (can’t find them now) so-

Steve is walking down the street and he hears the jingling of a dog collar so he turns around to ask to pet their dog but it’s just Eddie.

Steve might have a meltdown. He seriously might. This was the worst day he’s had in a long fucking time.

The day started with a fucking seizure, of all things, when Steve hasn’t had one in months, so he decided to go to the emergency room to get checked up just in case.

The doctors said he was fine, the scans and blood tests came back just as normal, but he ended up missing lunch so he didn’t get to have down time with his best friend Robin, and she was the biggest reason he could manage his anxiety and PTSD.

His mom called him when he was at the hospital, even though she disowned him ten years ago when he was forced out of the closet as bisexual. He thought she wanted to talk but apparently her husband (Steve’s father, unfortunately) was dying and wanted Steve to help with the hospital bills considering apparently their business went under, which Steve hadn’t known about because he hasn’t seen them in ten years. It led to a fight over the phone which triggered another seizure, so he’s had two in one day. Because of his history with seizures, the hospital decided to let him go, which he wasn’t entirely sure would be a good idea, but what else were they supposed to do? It’s not like Steve knew. Besides, he’s pretty sure they were understaffed and maybe they just didn’t have a place for him. They just gave him some painkillers, gave him a form so he wouldn’t have to go to work for a week, and let him go after giving him an IV. Steve would have argued about the work thing, but the doctor was able to convince him that having a bad seizure in front of a bunch of toddlers might be a bad idea, even if they’ve dealt with his smaller ones before.

He decided he would go for a run because that always relaxes him before remembering that he shouldn’t go running after having two seizures, so he decided to go for a walk instead. Of course, this only makes things worse for himself. First, he forgets to take his dog Farrah with him on the walk, and then he realizes that he’s wearing a thick knitted yellow sweater in 86 degree heat, also he lost his glasses somehow?

He must have still had some postictal confusion left because he very quickly got lost and then he couldn’t find wherever the fuck he put his phone, so he couldn’t call Robin to pick him up, and it’s not like his anxiety would let him walk up to some random person and ask.

It was getting dark, so he wasn’t going to approach a woman, which was something Robin had to teach, and Steve was kind of scared of men, which might be stupid because he was a man, and also taller than most men, but anxiety is a bitch so it’s not like he could argue with it.

His heart beating outside his chest, Steve realized he very well could have a third seizure, or a panic attack if he didn’t calm the fuck down, so he went to hide behind a alley which just so happened to be behind a bar.

That was fine.

The music was dampened by the concrete wall and sometimes silence made Steve’s existential dread even worse. He missed his dog. Farrah was a white teacup chihuahua and Pomeranian mix that Steve had adopted from a shelter he had been volunteering at. She kept getting bullied for her size even when they put her in with the other babies, and the shelter asked someone to foster her. It was a foster fail but Steve didn’t regret it.

Steve tried to think of her as he sat down, working on the deep breathing his therapist had told him about. Of course, Steve sat on the floor and got beer and gunk on his jeans, but he was so tired that he was past caring.

A migraine was coming on, all of his bones hurt, and he had white spots dancing in his vision. His hands were shaking. It’s very possible he had a small seizure when he was getting here and he didn’t remember it, that happened sometimes. He really hoped Robin had done okay at school without him. They taught a kindergarten class together. He really should have called to get her an aid but it had slipped his mind and she was going to be pissed.

He would just stay on the floor until he felt better. Then he’d call and apologize.

He did remember to feed Farrah and she had some pads on his living room so she would be okay. When he got home he would give her a lot of treats. Maybe he would make Robin cupcakes.

Steve’s nerves picked up when he heard someone open a door behind him. Luckily for him, he had a switchblade in his pocket (he got it from Max, and who knows where she got it from) so he could use that in case of an emergency if anyone tried to accost him. Then again, this was a bar, maybe they’d just think he was drunk and leave him alone.

The jingling of a dog tag gets Steve’s attention, and suddenly he thinks he might actually cry if he doesn’t get to pet this dog right now.

The person’s heavy footsteps get closer, the dog chain making cute clinking sounds, and Steve readily looks up to ask, even though his face is already red with embarrassment, because what if the person says no?

But then he sees the man’s thick-heeled boots, and then his leather jacket with all the metal spikes on the shoulders, and Steve thinks no, he doesn’t have to ask to pet the guys dog, and then he chokes when he realizes there isn’t any fucking dog. The man is wearing a collar.

Steve tries to quickly shove his head between his legs, curl into a ball so the man might not notice him, but whatever sound he makes is enough to draw the guy's attention. Fuck.

“Hey, what were you going to say? I saw you try to ask something.” The guys crouches down in front of Steve. Steve assumes the guy is going to beat him up for looking at him weird or something, but the man’s voice, while deep, is actually very calm. He has a few more chains hanging from his black jeans, which were absolutely shredded, and the clinking noise still reminds Steve of Farrah but now he’s embarrassed about it. Is he wearing fishnets under his jeans? Oh my god, Robin is going to kill Steve in the morning if this guy doesn’t kill him first.

Steve thinks about answering but his words get clogged in his throat. Sure, he didn’t ask to pet the guy, but he thought about it, and his face burns and Steve wishes he could jump into the dumpster a few feet away.

He must look weird, because the guy, already crouching down to him, gets closer until their knees are touching.

“Hey, you okay?” He asks, very gently putting a heavily ringed hand on Steve’s arm.

“I’m so sorry,” Steve sobbed, finally lifting his head to meet the guy's face. The dude’s hair is long, held up in a ponytail, which shows off the fact that he has an undercut with a pattern shaved on it. This man is absolutely terrifying, oh my God, how is Steve going to get out of this situation without dying?

The guy's eyes widen at the words, but he keeps his movements slow as he places his hands against both of Steve’s trembling arms. Not constricting him, just pressing, just adding a bit of pressure.

“You’re okay, I’m not angry.” The guy says soothingly, “You haven’t done anything. Why- why are you crying?” The guy’s voice goes high pitched, cracking a little. If Steve wasn’t so terrified, maybe he’d find it comforting.

Steve doesn’t know what comes over him. He tells himself he’ll come up with something stupid, but his body hurts and lying takes a mental energy that Steve doesn’t have right now. His head pounds and the sound of his blood rushes past his ears.

“Uh, I heard your collar and I thought you were a dog.” He whispered, putting his head between his knees again. “I was gonna ask to pet you. I’m so sorry.” He sounds absolutely mortified, which is good because he is. Why was he saying this? Steve was about to die and then Farrah would go back to the shelter and Robin would find another teacher and forget about him and no one would be able to teach Dustin to drive because he’s too annoying to keep a normal driving instructor-

“You can pet me, if you want.” The guys interrupt Steve’s spiral. He moves so he’s sitting next to Steve, both their backs to the wall, his chains clinking all the while until their thighs are touching. Steve could briefly feel the dull spikes on the guys jacket pressing Steve’s shoulder.

Steve’s brain completely blanks out.

“…Uh-“ his hands are close to his chest, in fists, but mostly he’s just confused. Why is this guy being so nice to him? Steve thought he was a dog. He was never going to live this down.

“I like petting.” The guy says, a small smirk on his face that brings charming wrinkles to his cheeks. Steve blushes.

“Ca….” He can’t tell if the guy is serious, but the dude quickly pulls his hair out of his ponytail, shaking his head- like a dog.

Maybe it’s just the seizure talking, but Steve tries to call his bluff.

“Can I pet you?” Steve whispers, confusion and uncertainty lacing his shaking voice.

“Yeah.” The dude replies calmly, tilting his head.

Well, Steve realizes, now he kind of has to, doesn’t he? Shit. The guys hair looks really fucking soft. Steve’s allowed to touch it?

Without knowing what else to do, Steve stiffly pats the guys on the head, which makes the guy laugh. Still, he doesn’t attempt to make Steve stop. In fact, he gets closer, until Steve’s arm is wrapped around his shoulder, playing with the hair on the crown of his head. Steve doesn’t really know what to do at first, but the dude smells really minty, but also like weed, and Steve doesn’t hate it as much as he thinks he should. He brushes his fingers through the guy's brown hair until there are no knots, letting his heart settle until the spots in his vision go away.

“So, what are you doing out here?” The guy asks quietly, letting Steve mess with his hair, his eyes are closed almost like he’s enjoying it.

“I got lost.” Steve starts. The guy hums, so Steve continues. “I, uh, I had a few seizures this morning, and I got confused and got lost and I can’t find my phone or my glasses-“ Steve only realizes he’s rambling when the guy gives him a very concerned look.

“Do I need to get you to a hospital?” He asks, clearly trying not to frighten Steve.

“Oh? No, no, it’s okay, I’m sorry,” Steve said, almost absently as he braided a small strand of the guy's hair. He tried to focus on that instead of the raging headache he has crawling up his spine. “I went to the emergency room already, this is normal, it happens a lot, it’s just been a bad day. I’m sorry.”

He can feel the guy nod, his body relaxing slightly. His hand casually moves to touch Steve’s collar with the tips on his fingers, his short nails painted black.

“Your glasses are on your shirt.”

Steve looks down where his glasses were hanging off the collar of his sweater. He blanches.

“Shit, thank you. I’m sorry.” He mumbled, hurriedly putting them on. His face goes hot, and he wants to sink into the floor. He might cry again, he was so embarrassed.

“Can you call someone?” The guy asks, not bringing up the panic on Steve’s face, which Steve is mighty grateful for because bringing it up will make him cry, he thinks.

Steve shakes his head, “I lost my phone. Sorry.” He chokes out.

“Can I call someone?” The guy specifies.

That’s a really good idea. Sure, it’s getting dark, but Robin always has time for him. She’s probably out of work and blowing up his phone trying to contact him. She might even have broken into Steve’s apartment by now.

Steve closes his eyes, trying to push past the fog in his brain. The only thing it does is add pressure to the backs of his eyes.

“I… I can’t remember any numbers right now, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He puts his hand over his mouth to stop himself from speaking.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” The guy delicately pressed his palm to Steve’s shoulder, which draws attention to the fact that Steve’s breathing has sped up again.

Steve gulps, blinking hard to stop himself from tearing up. He feels so fucking stupid.

“Uh, with chronic seizures, there’s this thing, called a- uh, postictal state,” he tries to explain, voice way more breathy than he would like. He’s gripping maybe a bit too firmly to the frayed ends of the guy’s hair but he makes no move to stop him. “Which I like to say just means my brain hasn’t, hasn’t caught up to my body, like it’s, um, still processing.“

The guy nods, taking Steve’s rambling with grace. “Do you like champurrado?” He asks, Steve opens his mouth, closing it, opening it again. The guy nods, hurrying to explain himself.

“We could go to my apartment and I could make you some. You look like you could eat. I made albondigas yesterday. When you can remember, we’ll call someone.”

Steve really shouldn’t. This guy has already been too nice to him. Steve didn’t want to impose. Also, the guy was very kind, yeah, but Robin would kill him if he got hurt following this dude somewhere. But then Steve takes stock of the aches in his body. If he didn’t go with the guy, what would he do? Sit here all night? It was going to get cold and Steve’s anxiety wouldn’t let him sleep outside in the dark in an alleyway behind a bar playing very loud, aggressive metal music.

Steve sighs, defeated. “Yeah, okay, I’m sorry.” He felt like he was doing something wrong.

The guys smile brightly, almost blindingly so. He stands, chains jingling, and holds out a hand for Steve to take it.

“You gotta stop saying sorry, man, you just had what, two seizures? It’s fi- holy shit.”

The man’s hands were soft, which Steve wasn’t expecting, save for a few well placed calluses on his fingers. Steve tried not to think about it as he stood and wiped some gunk off his jeans, staring at the messy floor before figuring out something was wrong. He looked up, and the dude was staring up at Steve with his eyes wide, mouth agape.

“What? What’s wrong?” Steve whispers, folding in on himself a little. What the fuck did he do now?

The music rages on, but now it’s overwhelming. He feels static in his head.

The guy’s heavily tattooed arms were held limply at his sides, “You- you’re really fucking tall.” He says unabashedly.

Steve gulps, trying to shrink a little to make himself smaller, like that may alleviate the problem. Unfortunately, thought he did this often, It did mean he had terrible posture so his neck began to hurt.

“Oh, I’m really sorry.” Steve wouldn’t look at him.

“Why are you apologizing? It’s hot.” The guy says, Steve’s head shoots up to look at him as they stare at each other until the dude realizes what he just said. “Wait, I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” The guy puts his hands up, a nervous huff coming out past his lips as he was the one to start panicking now.

Steve can’t help but let out a small laugh, covering his mouth with his hands. He’s never had someone say he’s hot in such a way, he couldn’t help but be a bit flattered. Steve nods so the dude knows he isn’t upset by the random comment. Steve’s face was already red, and now he couldn’t even tell why.

The guy’s eyes brighten, if that were possible.

“Okay, let’s go. I’m Eddie.” He says, motioning for Steve to follow him. It takes a second for Steve to get the memo, with how slow his brain is working, so Eddie cautiously takes Steve’s arm in the way Steve watches men do in old movies.

“I’m Steve. Thank you.” Steve, honest to God, giggled. Maybe he should be worrying about his dad and the fight he had with his mother, but he tries not to think about it. They’re not his problem, and he has better things to do.

He does have to look down to see Eddie’s face when they’re not sitting, but that’s normal for Steve. He’s a few heads taller than most people he knows, and he works with kids so he’s obviously taller than them. He kind of just forgets, most of the time. No one else has mentioned it. His height was why he was so popular in high school before the seizures and anxiety messed it all up, though Steve is grateful he isn’t a bitch anymore. He’s only about a head and a half taller than Eddie, though.

Eddie laughs, and it’s a cracky, beautiful sound. “You’re welcome, big boy.”

Steve squints at Eddie as he leads him down the street. “Big boy?” He asks. As they get farther from the bar, there are less and less people out on the streets. No one jostles Steve, though, probably on account of the guy next to him, covered head to toe in spikes with black eye makeup.

“Really? Do you not see how large you are?” Eddie continued, looking up at Steve like he was insane as he led him to the left, then the right. “It’s honestly kind of scary.”

“Me?” Steve wasn’t scary, this guy had it wrong. Sure, he was big, but nothing about him was frightening. Steve couldn’t remember the last person he met who actually looked afraid of him. None of his students ever were.

“Yeah, you!”

“I’m not scared.” Steve protested, though he was also smiling. “If anything, you’re scary.”

Eddie throws his head back dramatically, covering his face with his curly hair. The bandana in his back pockets whips around.

“Why thank you.” Eddie grins, “Just so you know, flattery works on me.” He continued until they got to what appeared to be Eddie’s apartment building. Steve held on to his arm tighter. Eddie's dramatics calm him a little.

“I have a dog, so you can pet a real one.” Eddie teases, unlocking the door with his free arm. “Her name is Ozzy, she’s a Doberman Great Dane mix, so I hope big dogs don’t scare you. I promise she’s not violent.” There’s something in his voice that tells Steve there’s something else.

Steve smiles softly, “She sounds perfect.”

#steve harrington #steddie #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steveddie #eddie x steve #stranger things #stranger things s4 #robin buckley #steve has seizures #meet cute #or meet ugly #depending #depending on how you look at it #modern au

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chowadoe · 11 days

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so more on that role reversal au...

Shadow (created as a Weapon Against Humanity) who was eventually raised, and exploited, by G.U.N to become Humanity's Ultimate weapon and Sonic, found by Robotnik

some more expanded thoughts below ^_^

SHADOW - G.U.N AGENT

Shadow was initially created with the intention of being a Weapon Against Humanity. after a life-altering incident, G.U.N. takes Shadow into their custody, raising him to become one of their top agents, exploiting him.

he's constantly under government surveillance... inhibitor rings (developed by G.U.N.) are clamped onto him like a shock collar so he is unable to tap into his full power. (Shadow has neither tested nor does he know the extent of his strength.. he has never tried removing them. G.U.N. is the only one who can remove them.)

the hypocritical method in wanting their weapon (cough trained dog) to exercise and develop restraint on his own terms, and yet forcefully acclimating him.

Shadow’s aware of his past. Definitely struggles with Existential dread about why he’s on Earth and what he was made for. he wants to (and feels like he should) do good, but if he was initially made with destructive intent… is he compensating this way? is this what he really wants? no.. he shouldn't think like that.. Maria would want him to be good..

If not to make the world the better a place, if they still treat his kind as inferior and sometimes, even a threat to the whole human race, does humanity and this planet still deserve its rite for redemption? What is humanity? Is that something he’s capable of, as a weapon of mass destruction?

what is he trying to prove here? His docility? His ability to be obedient and be, by human standards, good? what does that mean in a world that may never accept them, and much less him- a synthetic and all-unnatural organism forged from humanity’s worst and an alien race only capable of Evil and wrongdoing. a being so perfectly suited for any and all forms of persecution. Humankind’s scapegoat. He thinks about Maria.

Maria remains a guiding light. Back then, she would sneak Shadow out to gaze upon the Earth, her former home. She misses it, the lush greenery, the sun, the people. she hopes that Shadow will get to experience what it’s like.

au shadow is emo edgy in a sad wet adult 40yo cat leon kennedy kind of way. au sonic is emo edgy like a 14yo that found out you could buy a tattoo gun on amazon without a license. I know nothing about resident evil

when he's not on a mission, he's usually in his "room" (extremely generous word for containment chamber/training facility.) he's like a hamster in a cage with toys to play with . (treadmills. race tracks. dummy robots. Ak-47s.) He's allowed to freely roam HQ from hours 6am-10pm, and if not, he is usually escorted by a guard, unless its Rouge sneaking him out. But beyond that, it's not like the ultimate lifeform needs that much sleep, and it'd be bad to have their ultimate weapon roaming the halls without supervision. but let's say there's the occasional nocturnal scavenger providing him a bit of nightly mischief that even the most complicated most difficult to navigate ventilation system cannot keep a natural-born burrower out..... (haha)

SONIC - ACCOMPLICE

Robotnik’s “accomplice” (adoptive son?)

Sonic goes along with Robotnik’s schemes but has his own ulterior motives .. after all, working under someone is still infringing on his sense of freedom, independence, and pride.

He only rlly helps out Robotnik out if it helps him… robotnik makes some new tech that tickles his , esp if smth that happens to enhance his existing abilities. sure he’s more than capable of doing things on his own but what’s better than to play with his new toys with his already existing toys (GUN. shadow.)

and if he manages to break them in a day then he’s found an issue that robotnik needs to troubleshoot immediately. eggman should really be Thanking him!

his only known goal atm is to find things that stave off his boredom. from what Shadow's gathered at least. but maybe there's more...

has a very bad No Good Fixation on shadow's inhibitor rings for whatever reason. wonder that could mean.

Still fucking around with roles and nothing's rlly set in stone. Im just kind of giggling kicking rocks and throwing pebbles in the water to see what lands ^q^

Rouge is still there! A contractor for G.U.N. A Recovering/reformed Jewel thief who joins the task force (maybe?)

the gang is also there! still brainstorming roles though. emrmmm

#sonadow #shadow the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #sonic #sth #okay enjoyyy

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gazorninplat · 1 month

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As much as I love Disco Elysium, I think I was not prepared for Sacred and Terrible Air. Of course, I was expecting to know more about the world of Elysium as a whole, and Robert Kurvitz is a very good writer, but the thesis of the novel (and how it makes its points) flash-banged me.

Disco Elysium this is not, and it wasn’t supposed to be, but I think I can understand better now what the team at ZA/UM was getting at with this specific setting, and these specific narrative angles. Kinda messy, because it’s been a week since I finished it, but here are some things I’d like to highlight:

1. The pedophilia. I surely wasn’t expecting this to be such a central theme of the novel, but a lot of its main points revolve around it. The most interesting use of this, as a narrative device, is how the girlfriend of Jesper basically accuses him of being a pedophile because he cannot relate to the adults around him. He’s still obsessed with a girl he met when he was 13 years old, and fetishizes a scrunchie he stole from her bag two decades ago. Yeah, I guess Jesper, well into his thirties, is still in love with a 13 year old girl. His girlfriend is almost half his age, and they started dating when she was 15 years old and a lingerie model (!). Zigi mentions how pedophilia was a bougie disease, and well… That idea went right into my thought cabinet (I call it “Bougie Babies for Sale).

Still processing it.

Now, let’s go back to the rest of the main characters. With all this in mind, a pedophilic overtone covers their interest in these four missing girls, but Jasper is the only one who acts on it, sort of. Khan remains in a sort of arrested development (he still uses a shirt he had when he was 13), foregoing normal adult relationships, and Tereesz joins the police as an investigator with the idea of still finding them some day (essentially letting these eternally prepubescent girls define his entire existence), leading him to a very dark path. I wonder if the brutality they afford to the “actual” pedophiles in the story (Vidkun Hird and the Linoleum Salesman) comes from the realization that they are not that different?

2. Obviously, though, this fetishization of the Lund sisters is also a fetishization of the past. The novel states it in the first few pages; they disappeared twenty years ago, in a time that most conservative people remember as the “good old days”. Basically their version of the American Fifties. Now, being obsessed with the past is a running theme in both SaTA and DE, but the angle here is different.

I already said it: the past is not remembered, is fetishized with an almost sexual yearning by a lot of the male characters of the book. They want to be consumed by it (and lucky them! It will) and do nothing more than serve it. It reminds me of a poem by Yamil Nardil Sadek, which, translated to the best of my ability, goes like:

She awaits me

sitting on the bed,

wearing leather,

and armed to the teeth,

the Memory.

Yeah, that sums up Sacred and Terrible Air pretty well. Everyone is being consumed by the past, bite by bite, and enjoying it. Vidkun Hird, by the mythologized version of his tribe’s history; Sarjan Ambartsumjan, by a miniature ship model that requires constant, devoted thought or else it will disappear, the three main characters by the memory of that summer with the Lund girls. Even the Linoleum Salesman is being haunted and consumed, of sorts, by his sickness and dementia that only sometimes let him take a peek of the past. Beyond that, there are very few characters that do not spend time being followed by relentless ghosts. Literally, in the case of Zigi. Which brings me to…

3. The Pale. It was a really cool concept in Disco Elysium, and it’s an existential nightmare in Sacred and Terrible Air. It always was, really. But here it lets you take a look into it in a way that’s applicable in real life. The Pale is a metaphor for many things, but actually for a single one: A world where our current Capitalist reality facilitates both apathy and yearning for better days, often idealized in our collective pasts.

My favorite scene, one that was incredibly puzzling but so obvious in retrospect, is a beautiful speech by the ghost (?) of Ignus Nilsen to Zigi. I will just paste it here:

“I said terrible things, yes! I stood on a white horse, in a blizzard, and gave speeches. In the mountains, on the construction site… I swung my sword, with silver sunbeams on the hilt. And all around me fluttered white flags, crests of crowned horns made with silver thread, a pentagon between the prongs of the horns, the branches raised to heaven. Everyone who came here with me became happy, Zigi! Communism is powerful! Believe in Communism, it’s a burst of enthusiasm! I promise! It’s beautiful when you believe in a person, but without it…!”

“Without it, there is nothing.”

“Nothing. It was a blizzard, but it was bright, it was morning. Communism is white, it sparkles! Communism is the morning, it is a jubilation!”

The Pale begins to recede dangerously around the entroponaut.

The fucking Pale recedes with talk of Communism! At first it might appear a little heavy handed (yeah, Communism, by itself, could save the world). But then I got into how Communism could be a solution to the antipathy and chronic nostalgia that sustain Capitalism, and then it hit me. Nilsen, a literal ghost from the past, is talking about a future that could have been. That he wanted to accomplish. That people, probably, can still achieve. The Pale is not eternal, it can be pushed back. Because the Pale seems to subsist on the past, it abhors any talk of the future. A better future. That’s how we solve things, and for a central thesis, is not bad at all.

With that being said, and because I’m just rambling here while pretending I’m working, there are also some things that I just didn’t understand, but maybe it was because of the translation. The original novel is written in a very poetic style, and some of that is still here, but I still need to untangle…

1. The Man. It is said that the day the Lund girls disappeared, they were joined by a mysterious Man that nobody seemed to remember correctly. A character even suspects that she was remembering wrong. Now, the Pale erases people and memories retroactively, so maybe it had something to do with it, but… Who was that? Is there any theory about that Man, or I just missed something? Some scenes and narrations were tough to parse for me (my primary language is not English).

2. Was Malin Lund pregnant? That flash with the fetus was sudden and weird.

3. What was the significance of the three meat piroshkis? They mention that it was unusual that the girls bought them (and if you do the math, you can realize early on that they were not planning to get back home. That purchase didn’t leave them enough money for the bus fare back), but that’s it. Were they for the Man? Also, the narration mentions that Lund girls’ picnic basket contained “the kind of things girls like to eat”, so maybe they were planning to see the boys and bring them the kind of things boys eat? I’m overthinking that? The chapter actually titled “Three Meat Piroshkis” just left me even more confused.

4. I don’t understand how Khan’s pen works at all. The one he brought to the school reunion. That was the part I re-read the most. Anyway, even with that, I loved Sacred and Terrible Air. Definitely one of the most enthralling reads I had, with or without the background of Disco Elysium. I’d still like an official translation that could potentially solve the issues I had, but for now, a Top 10 Book for me.

Go for it now.

#disco elysium #sacred and terrible air #robert kurvitz #literary analysis #random thoughts #book quotes

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genericpuff · 1 month

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STAY OFF MY TERRITORY - Time Travel in Lore Olympus (feat. Springlock, our resident time traveller)

AH YES. TIME TRAVEL. BUILDING COFFEE TABLES FROM IKEA. BOTH A MESS, BOTH SOMETHING YOU SHOULD NEVER ATTEMPT EVEN AS A GAG.

THERE WILL BE FASTPASS SPOILERS IN THIS ANALYTICAL DISSECTION OF LORE OLYMPUS' TIME TRAVEL !!!

Let's establish the "time travel" in LO first of all - it's briefly introduced by Hecate, who says that Hades isn't in a 'where' but a 'when' , hahahaha i so love time travel jokes /s THIS ISN'T A LAUGHING MATTER-

We had already covered this in the criticisms that Kronos' 'dream comas' would have been better allocated to his time travel abilities, and it seems now Rachel is trying to make that a reality at the last possible minute. I'm going to completely tear apart that reality to present to you why it doesn't work in LO.

Aw, Kronos' time abilities are finite? Get on my level, sir.

The caveat is the existential toll that time travel takes on the jumper, and the fact that in most cases, it's impossible to perform due to paradoxes. And Lore Olympus' time travel presents a lot of paradoxes. No wonder Kronos went crazy, I'm going crazy just thinking about everything that's wrong with this.

So Hades is trapped 'somewhere' in time. This isn't something I haven't seen before, but the issue it presents is getting someone back to their present time, as it presents the first paradox -

PARADOX #1 - There are no accidents. If someone is to jump into a timeline outside of their own, even if by 'accident', that would still have to be predestined by the timeline itself. This is in line with the grandfather paradox, which I will let the almighty Google define for us all to keep things brief:

You cannot travel back in time 'by accident'. If you were to travel back in time, it would have been written into the script of reality already, so any effects caused by your jumping would be purposeful, even if they seem like 'accidents' to you - such as becoming your own grandfather, Philip J Fry.

Moving on, in the most recent FastPass episode, Melinoe reveals that she was taken from her timeline by Kronos.

PARADOX #2 - Which version of Kronos took her? Was it the present version travelling into the future to take her from her timeline into his present? Or was it some future version of Kronos who has escaped yet again at some point in the future and then travelled back into the past to interfere with the events of the current present, possibly in an attempt to rewrite the script? If it's the latter, this means that Hera and Persephone can't feasibly stop Kronos indefinitely, as to stop Kronos would mean that he wouldn't exist in the future to take Melinoe from her future timeline and thus this present timeline of events would cease to exist. If we want to get even more granular with it, 'present' Kronos is still 'past' Kronos as it's the Kronos from ten years ago who got his hands on a deity to help him mess with people's dreams, and that deity has been revealed to be Melinoe, who would have had to be ripped from some point in their future timeline. This falls in line with a temporal paradox, or as most people know it, the 'kill baby Hitler' paradox, which designates that one cannot go back in time to kill baby Hitler, as killing baby Hitler would remove all the subsequent events that would lead up to you deciding to build a time machine and go back in time to kill baby Hitler.

Melinoe claims she's only been here a few days. That would be all well and good, as time is funny like that - I've done my fair share of jumps into the distant past only to return a few minutes later - but what doesn't line up is the present timeline of events that would only work unless she's actually been trapped for longer than a few days.

PARADOX #3 - So it's only been a few days, but Hades and Persephone have known about this child trapped in Tartarus for weeks, and we know Kronos has had her since the dream diving arc back near the end of S2. So unless Kronos is simply jumping to different points in time to cause shenanigans - which leads to even MORE paradoxes as you feasibly cannot travel to your own past to change it due to it creating a different future - then it can't have only been a 'few days' for Melinoe, it would have been at least a few weeks, giving some wiggle room to the past events of her appearing before Hades in his dreams due to her being the goddess of nightmares. Kronos escaping Tartarus after using Melinoe to put people to sleep and possess them was not something that happened in a pocket dimension, it was very real and very present.

Hades commits an even bigger sin, however, and the biggest issue with this 'time travel' plotline:

PARADOX #4 - I truly hope 'home' means 'home point in her timeline' and not their literal home. Hades and Persephone cannot take Melinoe, for two reasons: they haven't had their daughter yet, and the future timeline versions of Hades and Persephone need their daughter back. If Hades and Persephone were to adopt this version of Melinoe in their present timeline, it would create a clone paradox, as they would have a duplicate Melinoe from the future, OR it would create the grandfather paradox if they opted not to try for a child knowing they already have Melinoe which would erase the whole sequence of events that led to future Melinoe's birth in the first place.

Ultimately Lore Olympus' time travel suffers from the same issue many time travel stories suffer from - not having consistent rules. It is choosing now , near the finale of the series, to introduce time travel, rather than establishing it back in Season 1 when Kronos was first hinted at. It's also still not clear in what Hades' role is in this, as him being taken to a 'when' could still be read as a dream sequence rather than actual time travel. After all, Kronos supposedly "exhausted" his time travelling powers centuries ago - surely as a way for Rachel to have her cake and cover for the fact that she's had Kronos in the series since S1 and never actually had him do what he's known for - but now she's trying to eat it too by just giving him his time travel powers again for no reason besides rewriting the dream diving finale from S2 but with ambiguous time travel instead.

It's all a huge mess and the best thing I can do for myself is simply not let it keep me up at night. I have enough time travelling problems to worry about as it is. I will be sticking to the Austin Powers method -

youtube

(I am not enjoying myself.)

#keep your hands OFF time travel rachel #you can't even tell a coherent LINEAR story and you think you can do TIME TRAVEL ???#she's deadass just using this as a last minute crutch to make up for her piss poor writing #it's really easy for people to just go “well yknow timey wimey stuff!!!!” to handwave away every single plothole and inconsistency #lore olympus critical #lo critical #anti lore olympus #ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything #Youtube

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strangelittlestories · 1 year

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It was in the 6th year of the Wars of the Real that the anti-magicians and their Realis project (that all should act in accordance with certain physical laws) were truly challenged. This was due in no small part due to a singular invention from a family of forest witches.

Their discovery was as ingenious as it was stupid. And it radically changed what a disparate collective was able to accomplish in the face of both overwhelming force and abstract certainty.

It also caused a truly historic amount of epic shitfuckery.

From “I Fought the Spore and the Spore Won: a history of Realis and Resistance”

- - -

“So, you’re the new recruit, huh?” The woman who spoke wore strange armour that looked like it had been grown out of wood. The helmet alone glinted with metal spikes.

“I … uh, I guess? Sorry, I’m kinda new to this whole ‘magical kingdom’ deal you’ve got going on here…” The recruit in question was wearing dull red overalls and a ‘what-the-fuck’ expression.

“No worries, kid. We put out a multiversal call for aid - so anybody with a latent magical destiny or a strong subconscious hero fantasy got pulled in. Very much a ‘To Whom It May Concern’ type of spell.”

She patted him on the shoulder. Up close he could see that the spikes on her helmet were actually the shards of a broken crown.

“So, uh, do I get any kind of training?”

“You already did, buddy. The spell should’ve planted a ‘potential seed’ inside you. When you’re exposed to trauma, then just in the nick of time it’ll suddenly sprout into the skills you need to survive. Very dramatic.” She paused for a second. “Or you’ll die. Also very dramatic.”

“So … either I’ll be awesome or I’ll die?”

“Well, you would die … unless you have one of these.” She threw him a small vial. He fumbled the catch, but grabbed it on the second try. Inside the vial swirled a glowing grey-green mist. “You catch a mortal wound, drink it. Or smash it on the injury. The fungus inside will patch you up.”

“Fungus?” The man was a pretty even split of horrified and fascinated. He simultaneously wanted to throw the vial away like poison, or guzzle it like forbidden candy.

“Yeah, you ever hear of ‘ophiocordyceps unilateralis’?”

“The weird zombie ant mushroom? Yeah, I saw it on a documentary!”

“Well, a family of witch-mycologists - real wyrd scientist types - they brewed up this variant in their forest. They turned it from a parasite to a symbiote. If it knows who you are, it’ll heal your wounds, get your heart pumping, even move your limbs for you.”

“How do I get it to know who I am?”

“You feed it.” She grinned ghoulishly. “Chuck in some hair, some blood, whatever bits of you are going spare. Anything to sync it up to your DNA. Think of it as your very own cannibal sourdough starter.”

“And people actually use this?”

“Oh yeah. Folks swear by the stuff. They even had an argument over what nickname it should have. The winner was the truly cursed phrase ‘resurrection juice’.”

“...really?”

“Oh yeah. The juice brigade are pretty smug it caught on. Some smart alec tried to give it a mushroom name, but they got one-upped by the juice thing.”

“I’m not sure I’m a fan of sharing my body with a fungus.” He tried to find the right words to articulate the niggling philosophical nuances of the idea and failed. “It feels like, I dunno, a bad idea?”

“Oh, it’s a terrible idea. A real crock of stupid. Pure idiot-fuel. But sometimes, when the world’s against you, the truly bad idea is the only one you have.”

“But, I mean, once the fungus takes over … would I still even be me?” The urge to gobble up the taboo canape had begun to be edged out by the existential dread.

“Look at it this way: you’d be mushroom food anyways, right? Why not let it be mushrooms who think they’re you? I think it’s kinda comforting that when the time comes, I can just relax and let fungus take the wheel.”

The man paused for a second, pondering the nature of life, decay, and resurrection.

“Anyways, they’ll be summoning the portal to pipe us out on our first mission soon. So best get ready.” The princess (for that’s what she was) thought for a second, then asked: “By the way … what did you do before you got sucked up into this particular asscrack, anyhow?”

The man gulped.

“I was a plumber.” He said.

#a long one but hopefully worth it #writing #flash fiction #I realised halfway through writing that this read like a grimdark mario bros fic and I just leant into that #still contains at least two puns for those keeping count

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dadsbongos · 2 months

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i am a sword // i am a shield

word count - 15.8 k // warnings - unhealthy/codependent relationship themes, reader has ego/identity issues, potential dub-con but nothing actually happens, brief mention of animal death, existential crisis, past manipulation/abuse from makima for both of you, also you and denji are both adult-core, and reader is specifically written as a girl, CSM part 2 spoilers!!!

summary - The Rejection Devil gets put on a new mission -- to be Denji's girlfriend so he doesn't blow his cover as a normal guy living a normal life!

In late 1995, you are led into a tall building with a smooth, plain white finish and windows you wouldn’t be able to count even on both hands and feet. You aren’t sure where you were before this, and you can’t be certain why you agreed to trail the red-headed woman downstairs. All you know is that your life - your real life began with that red-headed woman and those winding stairs into the bureau basement. She’s speaking in a voice so silky smooth, you’re compelled to listen even though her words make your head hurt.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be so easy to track down this time. You fight more than this.”

You hug your arms around yourself as the darkness swallows you both whole, a door clicking shut behind your backs and leaving your only route to be following this strange woman. She smells like iron and spoiled milk veiled thinly by cheap vanilla perfume. It makes your nose wrinkle.

“Are you sure I can stay here…?” your eyes drift to the many metal doors lining the cramped basement walkway, “It’s scary down here.”

She giggles, hands clasped behind her back, and doesn’t so much as look at you as she replies, “You’ll be safer here than out there.”

Coming to a delayed pause outside a gaping steel doorway, the woman maintains her straight-lace posture while you hunch into yourself. Coldness wheezes out of the room, and a single twin mattress on the floor with no sheets or pillows laid in the middle, making your arms wind tighter around your midriff. Your beige dress may reach the ankles, but it's still thin - branded together with noncommittal strands that fray at the hem.

“Can I… go home?”

“Where?”

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod silently. Right. There is no home. There is on the mattress she provided, or there is under her mud-stained boot heel. You step into the concrete room - a boxy affair that wouldn’t even hold a bed larger than a twin.

“Good girl,” the woman coos, head tilting sweetly as she lays a hand over the steel door, “And I’ll be back tomorrow to see you again, how does that sound?”

You nod meekly as the door slides shut with a heavy groan and shick.

The woman is not back the next day. Or the one after that. Or even the next five. By the time you see her again and learn her name (Makima, you recall: it tastes like sour cheese coated in sugar on your tongue), there are sixteen shallow tallies on the wall nearest your bed, and blood and rock mix grossly under your index fingernail.

In mid-1998, the debut of Tokyo’s summer showers threatened to kick off overhead.

Swirling, lumpy clouds mask the sun’s golden rays behind a sickly gray - sky darkening as the rumbles of an incoming storm roll under your feet. Yoshida marches ahead of you in confident strides, his familiarity with the building ahead your only savior to navigating Fourth East High School.

“Chainsaw Man really goes here?” you fidget with the unevenly hanging ribbon tied around your collar, “Why? Couldn’t He just avoid high school? I hear it’s terrible…”

“It is,” Yoshida confirms, not so much as looking over his shoulder at you as he guides you to your shoe locker, “But Chainsaw’s supposed to live a normal life now.”

“How would I help with that?” you watch Yoshida’s slender fingers pry open the rectangular metal door to fish out a pair of white lace-up sneakers. He lets them clutter to the floor before tapping the door’s plated number and wandering off to his own cubby, “Isn’t Kishibe His warden now? Why are we getting involved?”

Knowing Kishibe, Chainsaw Man is most likely left to his own devices more often than not. The man called “Mad Dog”, after all, would not be your top choice of fatherly figures, so perhaps Chainsaw Man is better off controlling his own life.

After swapping his own shoes, Yoshida stands where the entrance tile ends and the hall tile begins -- the entrance tiles are slightly darker in shade. Alabaster over pearl. He waits patiently for you to stuff your outside shoes into your locker and slam it shut before continuing down the hall. Teenagers in uniforms just like yours (though, you notice embarrassed, much neater and straighter than yours) are crammed by the walls, clogging staircases, and even looming in open bathroom doorways. So many voices all at once, they hurt your ears when they fight each other over who can draw the most attention. The joke is on them, with so much chatter you can’t pick out even a single conversation.

“Yoshida,” you call timidly from over his shoulder, and he hums - tilting his head just barely in your direction to indicate he’s listening, “How are we helping Him?”

Yoshida pauses in the middle of the corridor and turns to face you, one hand securing the book bag slung over his shoulder and the other in his pants pocket. His cheek meets his shoulder as his eyes flutter from the top of your head to the toe of your shoes, “I’ll show you at lunch. Just know you’re really doing good here.”

“At a high school?”

“For Japan,” he shrugs and turns back around, “Maybe the world.”

You like working with Yoshida more than most other devil hunters. He’s soft-spoken, but not from some unbearable shyness -- and he’s gentle, but not pitying. But even so, Yoshida is as much of a devil hunter as any and that means he selfishly uses what isn’t technically his. Well, technically it is actually.

Your power technically belongs to everybody except you in the name of public safety.

Cringing at your own overuse of the T-word, you slide wordlessly into the seat Yoshida points to as soon as you both enter a classroom. Your new classmates are sparse, and you assume that most of them remain out in the common space to squeeze out as much socializing time as possible. A few eyes follow you, so you flatten the crinkling, wrinkled material of your vest and undershirt with shaking hands. Secretly, you hope the sweat in your palms will slick the material down.

In the desk behind you, Yoshida sits with his cheek resting in his palm. Tired, lidded eyes skip over your withering frame and up to the clock above the teacher’s podium. His foot starts tapping as if he’s already expecting the dismissal bell to ring.

When a gaggle of girls approach and their gaze sticks to you a little longer than you think is appropriate, your hands shiver up to your hair. A terrible fire in your chest urges you to pat and soothe down any untamed strands you may have somehow missed in the mirror. Not that the mirror in your room is one of those great fancy ones you see in movies - the kind that fits the whole wall and never has a bothersome speck - but you think it gets the job done. Apparently, not well enough, you huff bitterly, glaring down at the pleats in your skirt joined by haphazard wrinkles vining down the unfolded sections.

You, still with a hand wound nervously in your hair, twist to look at Yoshida’s lame face, “What’s He like?”

“Hm?” Yoshida drags his dark eyes from the time to your pinched face, “Stupid.”

“Be nice…”

“Well, then he shouldn’t be stupid if he doesn’t want me to call him stupid. And lousy. But pretty. And he likes cats.”

Yoshida grins lazily when you perk up at that, stress lines melting away in favor of raised brows and wide eyes, “Really?”

“Mhm. Has one, too.”

“No way,” you perch both hands on the back of your chair and inch closer, “What’s its name, do you know? Is it black? Or white? Does it have long whiskers?”

“No idea.”

He watches your impressed gape press thinly into a frustrated line, “I thought you knew Him!”

“I do, but I don’t know his cat.”

“Do you think He’ll let me meet His cat?” you lean closer despite your apparent disappointment.

“Definitely,” Yoshida’s grin widens, eyes narrowing up at your buzzing excitement, “Why wouldn’t his girlfriend meet his cat?”

“Huh?” your brows furrow again, but you’re prevented from inquiring further by the attendance bell, your teacher tiredly saddling up to her podium soon after.

You’re going to help Japan (maybe even the world) by being Chainsaw Man’s girlfriend?

The sentiment is so baffling and strange, that you’re almost unable to sit still through class (not that the cause of your distress being sat right behind you helps any).

Yoshida’s standing just after the first ting of the lunch bell, his first curls around the oddly bent collar of your uniform before he’s yanking you up. Your new classmates file out of the room and Yoshida keeps a hand pressed flatly against your spine. He’s practically shoving you down the hall, towards one of the upward staircases.

“Where are we going?”

He sighs quietly into your ear, “Where do you think?”

“What?!” your hands scramble down to where your top is tucked into your skirt waistband, hoping it looks as neat as it did this morning. You trip on one of the step ledges, almost smashing your nose into the floor until Yoshida’s shoving hand grips the back of your vest tightly. He yanks you back into his chest, and you toss your head back to stare into his obsidian eyes, “We’re meeting Him now?!”

“Duh,” he forces you forward once again.

“No way!” you can feel your throat swelling, knees filled with jelly as Yoshida pushes open a heavy metal door. The dark sky greets you above, the rare ribbons of sunlight available reflecting off steel bars.

A lone boy leans against the furthest railing, his hair is tousled and unkempt. A pretty, silky coral that reminds you of the softness of mangoes’ flesh. Long in the back but trimmed at the sides in a way that tells you he might be cutting his own hair. His uniform is unbuttoned, flaps billowing in the wind behind his lax frame.

“Hey, Chainsaw!”

Lone Boy turns, plum bags hang under drowsy, unimpressed copper eyes. He sticks up a peace sign to acknowledge the call and waits silently as you and Yoshida approach his post. Despite the careless stance, he smells strongly of ashed cigarettes and dog fur unsuccessfully obscured by the plastic mimicry of a floral detergent.

Any polite greeting you’d hoped to muster is trapped in the dry cavern of your mouth. Tongue too heavy to form words. Your hands twitch up to the rail and you press your entire weight onto it to alleviate the wobbling in your knees. Yoshida stands at your side, squeezing your shoulder before speaking,

“I wanted to introduce your girlfriend,” he pitches you like those men in polos talk so passionately about whatever product is hottest in sterile white film studios, “And the best part? When it comes to her, you don’t need to keep any secrets ‘cuz she already knows.”

Denji stands straighter, his slumped leg shooting out in attention, “You know I’m Chainsaw Man?”

You nod skittishly.

He tilts his head, “You a fan?”

“Of course!” you chirp, hands squeezing around the rail so tight it burns, “You’re amazing!”

“Good to hear,” he leans closer, coppery eyes igniting with interest, “How’d you know? When’d you find out? What’d you think when you found out?”

“Oh- I’m- !” you reach up, straightening your bowed ribbon and trying to even the strands, “I’m a devil…” you shake your head, “Not as impressive as You, Chainsaw, just the rejection devil…”

His silence is chilling, and the disgust he must be feeling from your claim is starting to rot your insides. A terrible, agonized rot that no amount of blood could heal.

“Sooo,” he places a hand over his shirt - it has his own chainsaw form’s silvery and orange head on it with bubblegum pink characters lining his name, “You think ‘m a big deal, then?”

“You are a big deal!” you lean into him, at least hoping to lap up his body’s warmth if you can’t get his approval, “Huge!”

“Good, then?” Yoshida gives Chainsaw Man a thumbs up, “I’m sure a devil wasn’t your first choice, but a girlfriend’s a girlfriend and she’s nice. Listens. Easily impressed. Plus your big mouth won’t ruin anything.”

Chainsaw Man ignores Yoshida completely, grinning at you through shark’s teeth, “Name’s Denji. I like girls that like me.”

“I’m a girl!” you beam, bouncing on the balls of your feet, “I like you!” you tug sharply on the black ribbon around your neck, “I think you’re the best!”

Denji nods curtly, visibly smug. His posture curves again, all suave and cocky, “What can I call ya?”

Yoshida steps back when you glance at him uncertainly.

“My name?”

“Uh-huh.”

“My name,” you state blandly, blinking at Denji as you try to cobble together sounds and vowels that sound familiar. Makima had a name. Could you have one, too? Angel just went by, well, Angel. Quanxi had a name. So did Princi. You must have a name, right? “I don’t know…”

Yoshida chips in, both hands in his pockets, “Nobody really calls her. If they do, it's just Rejection.”

Denji glares at Yoshida, “That’s shitty.”

Yoshida shrugs, “She’s enrolled as Yoshida, Reiji.”

“I am?”

Denji wrinkles his nose at that before looking back towards you, “Do you like that name?” you shake your head, just slightly enough so you can deny doing it if the only real Yoshida child gets offended, “What do you like?”

“I like fruit…” you twist your hands around the rail, the metal cooling your flushed skin, “And cats.”

“Peaches?”

“I like peaches.”

“Okay, peachy,” he stands straight, and there’s something sweet about the way he smiles at you -- the way his body jitters, like the thrill of being a boyfriend is jumping out of his veins, “We should go out! After school. Today.”

“Okay! Totally!”

You realized quickly that going on a date with Chainsaw Man (Denji, you correct yourself, Denji) meant that you’d be going out without Yoshida when the boy walked straight past you and out the gates without so much as a goodbye. He didn’t even wait for you to change out your shoes before leaving. How nerve-wracking…

Pacing, you wait for Denji to exit Fourth East and tell you where you’re both going for your first official date. You watch the black slip-ons Yoshida shoved at you this morning crease against the floor with every step. You get so entranced by the sight that you don’t notice Denji’s approach until a hand stops you by the arm.

Jumping under the sudden touch, you gasp at the sight of Denji before awkwardly calling, “Hi!”

“Hey,” he drawls out the vowel, releasing his tender grip on your bicep, “So, where d’ya wanna go?”

“Huh?” you tense up - was that a genuine question? - before gnawing your bottom lip unsurely, “I don’t know. I thought you’d know.”

“Is there anywhere you’d wanna go?” Denji starts walking, book bag hanging limply over his shoulder.

You rush to catch up to him, tightly clutching the straps of your own bag in front of you, “I don’t know!”

“Really?” he turns to stare at you, only to find you watching your feet against the pavement with a soldier’s focus. So he looks back up, glaring when a man in suit and tie doesn’t move to the far side of the sidewalk to avoid knocking shoulders with you. The man glares back at Denji, but relents to dodge you, “Anything you’ve always wanted to do?”

“I don’t know…” your brows draw towards the middle of your face in concentration, “I like… Food?”

“Me too,” he murmurs in solidarity, “What about ice cream? There’s a place nearby, and cheap! You can get two soft creams for three hundred yen!”

“Woah!” you don’t know anything about that or how important it actually is to get two servings for three hundred yen, but Denji is excited and that feels like a good enough reason.

“Right?!” his steps quicken, hand circling yours and pulling you along. His hand is warm with rough calluses blooming around his digits, but it feels nice in yours, “And you can combine any two flavors for no extra charge!”

Upon arrival, you are only a little disappointed, but you suppose you probably shouldn’t be. It isn’t like you were genuinely owed your preference, that’s why it was a preference, right? In the same way, you prefer to have control over the heat to your room in the commission basement but don’t.

“Ah, no mango…”

“You like mango?”

“I’ve never had one,” you admit, albeit confusingly following it up with, “It’s my favorite, though.”

“Oh. Okay,” he nods as if filing the information away for later, and you hesitate to ask if he actually cares, “My favorite is the bubblegum. It makes me sick if I eat it too fast, but it’s really sweet,” you nod this time, slowly, “But you like fruit, so you’ll probably want the strawberry one, right?”

You nod faster.

When neither of you steps towards the patiently smiling vendor, Denji leans forward, “Do you want me to order for both of us?”

“Yes!” when you realize how outright eager you sound, you try to quiet yourself down, “Please, that’d be nice.”

Denji gives you a peace sign before taking charge towards the old man behind the open counter.

Upon his return, Denji holds out the small cardstock paper cup to you, a miniature plastic spoon buried into the soft pink mound. Darker red splotches decorate the scoops, sinking to the bottom the longer you take to grasp the treat.

With unsteady hands, you almost knock the soft serve from his fingers before clumsily clutching it with both palms. Sadly, the spoon could not be saved once rattled from its spot; the plastic unceremoniously clattering onto the pavement. Strawberry sweetness splatters onto the toe of your shoe, staining your laces. Your chest fills with the heaviness of dread, the freeze of the ice cream spreading through your hands and all the way down to your wiggly jelly knees. You look up from the grizzly death scene to Denji’s blank face.

You squeeze the cup, strawberry cream teasing to gush over the lip, “I’m sorry.”

Denji shakes his head, orange peel locks flicking wildly. His coppery eyes gaze up at you through his dark lashes, soft around his stare. Suddenly, the cherries of his cheeks brighten up, balled and red with glee, “‘s fine!”

“It is?”

“I have an idea…” his posture straightens and he reaches for his own cup, scooping out hot pink bubblegum and swallowing down the sugar before offering the utensil to you, “We can share!” you reach for the spoon and Denji creeps closer, anxiously rolling his fist as you use the same spoon, “This is our first indirect kiss.”

He swallows down the other woman that briefly flashes through his mind. Instead, he focuses on the way your tongue swipes over your lips to lap up any excess ice cream. You blink up at him and smile before holding out the spoon with a soft, “Sorry…”

Shaking his head again, Denji feels the sparks of excitement spark little fires down every vertebra of his spine, trailing over the rungs of his ribs when he brushes your fingers, “What’re you sorry for?”

“You have to indirectly kiss me every time you want ice cream…”

Denji raises a brow at you, having a spoonful of his treat before passing the plastic back to you, “You’re kind of a downer, huh?”

“Ah,” you cradle your ice cream closer to your chest, “Sorry.”

“Downer, yeah,” he nods to himself, slipping the spoon from your hand - gentle, warm fingertips pressing into your skin again, “I guess if we were both jumpy, it’d get boring,” catching your downcast stare into your liquidy strawberry ice cream, Denji cranes his neck to force eye contact with you. He says nothing, but slides the spoon into your cup.

He’s honestly just glad to be so close to a girl without her trying to kill him. He’d hoped you’d be glad to be here, too.

His eyes follow as you glumly take the spoonhead over your tongue. Denji is consumed by the need to know your every thought, each tissue’s twinge should be beamed into his brain the second it happens. For a moment, he even finds the idea of knowing each other so well to be comforting. Like warm toast smeared with every jelly he can get his hands on.

You say you like him, but you keep apologizing for indirectly kissing him - it’s confusing. A dull buzz began to ache through his head at the mixed signals. Denji is excited every time his turn for the spoon comes around (even now, his hands are rattling with anticipation as he reaches for it). He can’t separate the taste of your saliva from anything else, but the hint of saccharine strawberries is more than enough. He’d never apologize for greedily sucking at the aftertaste of your ice cream if the roles were reversed.

Does this mean he pushed it with the indirect kiss? Should he have just asked for another spoon? Will you let him have a direct kiss anytime soon?

None of those questions shake Denji in his beat-up shoes, which are tearing at the soles, so he decides that if you really hated it -- then you would’ve told him. Besides, Denji got lucky(????) having his first direct and indirect kiss on the same night and not everybody is so fortunate(????).

The women, however, he grimaces just remembering. So instead of focusing on a fuzzying eyepatch and unrecallable (yet unmistakably soft) voice, or hair like consuming embers and too-tight smiles -- Denji turns to you. To your modest displeasure over the flavor, you’d been stuck with over your apparent favorite.

“Are mangoes really your favorite fruit?”

You shrug, slapping the spoon against your melty cream and watching droplets rocket over the cup’s edge, “Even though I haven’t had one, yes. I like the flavoring best of any other fruit. Do you like mangoes?”

“Haven’t had one either. Haven’t had most fruit,” he looks up and notes that the cloudy weather is inappropriate for an ice cream date, but you haven’t said anything against it so he doesn’t either. Then, as he stares into unfolding skies, blue peeking through clearing patches, he tries to recall any fruit he’s had that isn’t a plain apple or grapes. All the fruit he knows about is through artificial recreations, and for some reason that strikes him as unpleasant, “Do you prefer mango over peach?”

It takes a few prolonged, stiff seconds of silence before you snap to the realization that Denji expects a response.

“Mango is…” you twiddle your thumbs, wondering which answer he would rather hear. You aren’t sure, you don’t know which fruit he likes best. Or if he even likes fruit! So you stab your left thumbnail into the pad of your right thumb and decide to give the answer you truly feel, “‘Mango’ is a weird nickname - peach is fine. Peach is actually… cute.”

Denji nods rapidly, you notice he’s standing a little closer than before, “Okay, peachy. I’ll stick to that.”

Azure whistles overhead, downtrodden weather fading away calmly. You wonder what else is left for people to do on dates -- you’re sure they spend time together, but doing what? Denji took you for ice cream because he likes ice cream, does that mean you get to choose the next activity? When does the date end?

Does it ever end? You two are already boyfriend-girlfriend after all.

“What- “ you’re cut off by the sound of Denji’s voice, “When- “

“Sorry,” you wave him off, “Go, you go first.”

Denji purses his lips before drinking the syrupy remains of his aggressively saccharine bubblegum ice cream, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and stares at the stained base of his cup, “When’d you decide you wanted to be my girlfriend?”

“I didn’t. Yoshida just said I was being reassigned.”

“Oh, so you didn’t know?”

“No.”

You can’t read Denji’s expression at all. It’s all straight except for the smallest downturn of one corner of his lips, “You didn’t know anything about me, did you?”

You shake your head, “I just knew I was going to meet Chainsaw Man. I didn’t know He was you.”

“You’re really only here ‘cuz you knew I was Chainsaw Man?”

Denji shouldn’t be hurt, he knows that was the plan eventually. To catch a fly with honey.

But when you plainly nod, it does hurt. It hurts a lot.

“Well,” you’re itchy all over, uncomfortable because he’s uncomfortable, “I think you’re great.”

“Right…”

Frowning, you hang your head and stare at the floor, “I do.”

You can’t read Denji at all. You’re supposed to placate him and you can’t even do that right. What if he breaks up with you? You’d be far too embarrassed to show your face back at work. The Rejection Devil met a force she could not deflect (seconds later you realize that the irony alone of being rejected as the very devil itself alone might kill you). How humiliating.

Denji’s head flops back limply, the apple of his throat exposed. You’re almost alarmed by the way you want to nibble it. He blinks up at the rolling sky, eyes watering as the sun burns away fitful clouds.

“Denji,” you plea weakly, feeling as small as an ant under his downcast mood, “I like Denji, too.”

His eyes flutter over to you, “You do?”

It feels like an opening - when the battle is at its climax and your opponent’s foolishly left their weak spot unguarded in the adrenaline rush, “Of course, I do. You’re cool when you’re Chainsaw Man, but you’re cool when you’re Denji, too.”

“Really think so?”

“I really do.”

Denji smiles suddenly, and you smile too just because he does, “You free tomorrow after school?”

Of course, you are.

You choose not to point out that keeping him company is what you should be doing after school anyway. Hopefully, he doesn’t consider that fact.

In January of 1996, you meet an imposing man with stitches across his left cheek and a flask tucked haphazardly into his trench coat - the silver glints under sickly fluorescents.

“Timid, but useful, if she can behave without me there,” Makima talks about you like you aren’t standing directly in front of her. She keeps her helix eyes just over your head at all times, “I’m sure she will, but I think you’re the best thing to test her with first.”

The man behind you reeks of booze and womens’ perfume and mold, but somehow it feels less safe than Makima’s more foul stench.

“Quiet one, huh?” as if to begin the ‘test’ early, he pokes you in the back of the neck, “Sure it's a Devil?”

“Positive,” she winks and taps her nose, “I have a good sense about this stuff.”

You don’t want to go anywhere with the man with the stitches. Physical attacks and special abilities from your fellow Devils are things easily deflected by your own power, but Miss Makima has taught you a new lesson:

Words do not bounce off the Rejection Devil.

And the man with the stitches doesn’t smile at you with any kindness.

“Then let’s get to work, yeah?”

You think he’ll actually enjoy finding all the ways around your rejection abilities.

“I thought we were going out today…”

Denji’s been your boyfriend for a measly two days, but he already hates the look of your disappointment. Those glassy eyes and pouting lips, they make him want to chew marbles and swallow. Instead, he scratches at the soft skin on his neck, clawing up red marks from chipped, short nails.

“I wanted to! ‘m just failing… hard. So I need to get my history shit done.”

“I can help!”

“It’ll be boring as hell…“

“No, really,” you hesitate to grab his hand before committing, his cheeks flush at the warm contact, “I could even just watch.”

Life is more boring when Denji isn’t around anyway. You’re mostly just… waiting to see Denji again every time you two part ways. Even the books and journals they supply you with at the commission cannot distract you from how gray and cold your room is now. All you think about is sunshine hair and thick lashes.

“I just don’t- “ you release his hand and look down at your white indoor shoes, “I just thought we would be together longer today. If you want to work by yourself, then- !”

Denji snakes his hand back into yours, shaking his head vigorously, “No way! That sounds terrible.”

“Okay!” you try to smother the elated smile rising to your lips, but it's totally hopeless. You nestle into Denji’s side, using him to navigate the (largely abandoned) halls of North East as he leads you both towards the school library. Your attention drifts to your feet against the floor once again.

Denji pulls his hand slightly behind his back, squishing your body tighter to his, every time someone passes you both, “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Look at your feet.”

“If I tripped over myself in public, I’d just about die…”

“Makes sense,” he glares at a trio of boys walking down the narrow corridor shoulder-to-shoulder until they break apart to avoid bumping into you.

You remind him of Kobeni for that. He realizes he hasn’t spoken to her in a very long time. He wonders if she’d even appreciate him trying to reach out. Probably not, he concludes; but he likes you better anyway, which is appropriate given the circumstances.

“Why do you…” you hum quietly, contemplating the question as you both arrive at the library. Denji squeezes your hand encouragingly, finding you two a table far off from the rest, “Why did you try using Him to get a girlfriend?”

“We’re the same person,” Denji shrugs before tilting his head and shrugging again, “I dunno. It worked before.”

“Really?”

“Not really,” he isn’t minding his volume as he replies, not like you do. Two other students are holed at tables by themselves, one underclassman debating two books in the nonfiction section, and the librarian at her desk, “Every girl I’ve met before you has tried to kill me…”

“Aw, that’s terrible… You’re not someone I’d kill.”

“,,,”

“Not that I could. But even if I could, then I still wouldn’t.”

Denji nods, a pensive screw overtaking his face, “What if there was a prize? Like. Something really, really cool that you’d get. Would you kill me?”

Instantly, you’re shaking your head, “Never!” you’re still whispering, cautious of irritating others even as your boyfriend drags you into the depths of his ego death, “I’d run away with you if it came to it.”

Iron pools in his mouth. A severed tongue. Soft daisies leave dirt and spit-up trailing over his chin. An ominous choker that stayed on, even when she stripped to go swimming.

“What if I couldn’t run away?” he still has a family after all. Bigger than last time, even. If he had to run away, he wouldn’t.

You frown, “Then I guess I’d have to stay away for good…” then, you settle your head in your hands, palms cupping your cheeks, and Denji has to look away to avoid spilling his guts about how cute he finds that, “Wait, I’m not gonna have to run away am I?!”

The shrewd librarian raises her head only to shush you before burying her nose back into her binder of book logs. Denji flips the old lady off at the same time you mutter an apology.

She takes note of neither act.

It irritates Denji in a way he’s unfamiliar with because more than the urge to be acknowledged is the need for him to know that the woman heard you.

“I really can help, if you want, also.”

“Huh?”

“You said you’re failing,” you point out, leaning forward onto the table by your elbows, “I’m passing everything, so I actually can help. If you want!”

“Seriously? Didn’t you just get here? How’re you already all smart?”

“I just don’t want to fail,” you wave out your hands as though to dismiss any ill-intent, “Not that it’s… I’m not sure how to say it… I don’t think it’s terrible of you to fail, school seems really hard. I just feel sick at the thought of not doing well.”

“Your class is lucky to have you to answer questions, all my classmates are dumbasses,” he bites bitterly.

“Oh, I don’t really answer questions. Yoshida does sometimes, though.”

“Why don’t you?”

“What if I’m wrong one day?”

“Are you ever?”

No, but that doesn’t mean you’ll start raising your hand anytime soon. To distract Denji from this topic, you stretch closer to him over the table and insist on helping him finish his history work. That way, he won’t have to do it in replacement for your date tomorrow.

“Hey. Why d’ya like Chainsaw Man?”

His fiery eyes are all raw, mushy dough. He looks terrible and sad. You want to fix it, whatever or whoever made him this way. You simper sweetly and confidently declare,

“He’s so powerful. He can kill any devil he wants. And so can You, Denji. You’re both so amazing. But I like You best.”

“... I like you, too.”

In February of 1996, you are sent on your first real mission with Kishibe -- Makima stating he was your safest partner option after training together so long.

Your tie is tied too tight, and your pants cinch uncomfortably around your thighs. You can’t maintain any sort of normal breathing pattern and that’s beginning to occupy more brain space than your actual upcoming fight. Mostly, you’re trying to level your heavy breaths so as to avoid irritating Kishibe. Logically, you know him to not be hotheaded and prone to rash lashing out, but the fear of him slicing your chest open lingers there.

Far too soon for your liking, the car lulls to a stop outside the boarded, graffiti’d Love Hotel. Swiftly abandoned by faculty and regulars alike as soon as the Devil made itself known on the fourth floor.

Just remembering the bold letters printed at the top of Kishibe’s briefing report sends a shiver down your spine -- FOUR CIVILIANS DEAD. TWO PUBLIC HUNTERS M.I.A. ONE PRIVATE HUNTER K.I.A.

“Come on,” Kishibe jerks his head towards the building and you trip after him like a newborn puppy.

You follow Kishibe into the Love Hotel and patiently wait for his orders before heading for the top floor. He pauses at the stairs to jerk your body in front of his, shoving you in the back to hurry up the flight as he meanders behind.

“I want you to clear the first floor ahead of me.”

A command, no room to fight back. Not that you would. Following his orders blindly feels more comfortable, anyway.

“You ever get the urge to bite people?” Denji pops the question while watching you peel an orange. The underside of your thumbnail is stained yellowish from the skin you punctured, and some bizarre voice inside him whispers that he should dig the flesh out with his sharpest tooth.

“Hm…” you roll the orange peel into a ball and settle it beside you on the rooftop pavement, seeing as there are no nearby trash cans, “I don’t think so…” you rip the conjoined slices in half and hand the slightly fatter side to Denji, “Maybe when I first met Kishibe. He scared me.”

“Really?” Denji pops one of the juicy slices into his mouth, eyes still trained on your fingers as you carefully squeeze out the brown seeds inside before eating, “I just thought he was a geezer.”

“That’s rude!” you’re trying in vain to keep your lips pressed in a straight line, as if the Mad Dog would apparate at your back and kick you just for laughing.

Denji leans back and chews another slice of the orange, tucking the seeds under his tongue and debating whether or not it’d be a waste to spit them out. He shrugs, “‘s true. He had a flask, too. Definitely thought he was some weirdo.”

“I guess maybe a little…” you hesitantly admit, “He super liked beating me up when we met.”

“Oh, yeah. Like for training?” Denji finishes his half of the orange and settles on swallowing his seeds.

Just as you go to respond, the bell to end lunch rings and Denji is stumbling up to his feet, swiping up the pile of orange skins and your discarded seeds. He offers a hand to help you up and you wonder if it’d be more polite to spare him from the sugary orange blood on your skin.

“My hand- “ you begin, words sudden and jumbled, and you feel shyness suffocate you under his blank stare, “Sticky… it’s sticky with-“

“I know,” he waves his hand out again, “I watched you.”

“You don’t mind…?” you take his hand, earnestly shocked by the quickness with which Denji yanks you off the ground.

And just as Denji opens his mouth, Yoshida is yelling at you both to hurry inside from the doorway to the roof. Denji flips Yoshida off before turning to you, he squeezes the orange in his hand and thinks about the sweetness.

Oranges are better than apples, he thinks, but he can’t find a real reason as to why. The seeds are a hassle, and he’d hate to sit there and peel one, but he liked sharing just half an orange with you more than he liked having an entire apple to himself in Aki’s apartment. He can see the orange juice still glistening on the bow of your lip. His eyes linger there, and he knows you notice because you’re suddenly fidgeting under his gaze.

You wait patiently, eyes flickering down to your shoes before meeting his again. He isn’t sure what that means. So he turns back towards Yoshida and stuffs the boy’s palm with the orange husk before walking you to class in stiff silence.

Your bed is thin and flat against the floor. A bookcase that only reaches your waist is pushed against the opposite wall. You’ve read every book in it twice over. You don’t remember when every empty slot was finally occupied, and you don’t remember the last time you touched one of the books and felt genuine interest.

You do know that you once requested a brand new book from Makima, and she’d refused you so simply you once believed it was a personal slight you’d committed against her. You also once requested a television -- you had it for one week before it was taken away. You never asked why because Makima herself came to oversee your beloved TV’s removal from atop your dusty bookcase (though you doubt you would’ve had the courage to ask even if she was absent).

During that week, however, it was the happiest you’d been since coming to Tokyo.

A lot of what you watched was utter garbage. Contrived plot lines and miscommunication and shallow characters you’d sooner choke out than shake hands with, and it was the most beautiful entertainment you could’ve asked for. What you quickly discovered to be your favorite viewing material was movies made specifically for television. Usually lower budgets and completely unknown actors. A paradise all to yourself.

“That’s it, watch your back,” Makima’s soft voice called when one of the men nearly slammed into your doorway on the way out. She turned to you with a smile, “Anything before I go?”

A prompt, you figure, to ask if you had the courage to demand your stolen present back.

Rather, you shook your head shyly, twiddling your thumbs, “Well, could I maybe get a window…? I’d like to see something other than…” you gesture to the walls around you.

They, too, are covered in a thick layer of cloudy dust.

Makima extended a hand to pat over your head, “No,” she stated as blandly as your room was decorated, “You’re still a security threat.”

Another test. Would you deny it? Would you dredge up the fact that you’d never once reacted with hostility? Would you bare your teeth and try (in vain) to rip her apart?

You nodded solemnly and watched Makima exit.

And your room has remained untouched since.

Denji’s handwriting was a sloppy chicken scratch, often paired with backward or mismatched characters, which was why he asked you to write his reminder note.

YOYOGI PARK ON SATURDAY. 12PM.

And at 12:02 PM, you sit on a picnic table surrounded by tall ginkgo trees with bouncing knees as Denji makes his approach. In one hand, he clutches a plastic bag, logo wide and distressed around a massive bulb shape. In the other, is a knotted tangle of black and red leashes tethering seven wiggling and yappy dogs to his side.

“I didn’t know you had so many dogs,” you hold out your hands for the dogs to sniff and lick before petting over their heads and behind their ears.

“I got a cat, too, but I dunno if she’s allowed in.”

You sit straighter, letting the dogs press their heads into your hands for more attention, “So you do have a cat?!”

He nods, laying the bag on your table with a thud and crinkle before sitting beside you -- thigh firm against thigh and arms brushing, “You’ll meet her eventually.”

Denji leans over the edge of the seat to lift a corner of the table, stapling the leashes into the grass. Even if they weren’t collared, you doubt they’d try running off anyway with each dog avidly jamming itself into both your spaces. Big drooly jaws resting on your lap and paws digging into your calf for even more attention.

“Hey,” Denji whines when he sees the opaque slobber Tiramisu is webbing on your pants, “Off. You’re makin’ her gross.”

“It’s okay,” you insist, tempted to rest your head on Denji’s nearby and tantalizing shoulder as you pet the husky, “I have a lot of these pants in my room.”

“These’re your casual pants?”

“Yeah.”

Denji side-eyes you, but says nothing more about your white button-up and black slacks being ‘casual’.

“If I could have a job, I’d buy you lotsa clothes,” he mutters, “Whatever you wanted,” he’s so quiet you almost feel apologetic for hearing him at all; but before you can suss out a response, he suddenly whirls around in his seat and sticks both hands into the plastic bag, “A mango!”

“A mango?”

“Uh-huh,” he wrestles the fruit free from its plastic confines and rolls it into your hands, holding an arm out in front of you to keep his licking dogs at bay.

“...for me?”

“For you!” he echoes. He’s trying to play everything off casually, but really his hands are moist and vibrating - his gut cramping as he awaits your feedback, “Old man was in Kyushu, so I had him get a souvenir… I hope you like it, he bitched about how expensive it was the whole time I saw him.”

Taiyo no Tamago. Egg of the Sun. Gold leafing into fierce, flaming oranges and reds. You bet that the real slices are even juicer, tastier than faux flavorings.

Between both hands, you gingerly cradle the large mango and feel your mouth watering just as you stare at the fruit.

“Kishibe got it?” you lift the mango towards the blazing sun, inspecting the skin for any damage, “It’s not poisoned, right?”

“Nah,” he squints at the fruit as well, just to be extra sure, “I can try it if you want?”

“Aw, no, it’s- I’ll be okay either way, but I trust you,” Denji watches you pet over the mango like it's a fat kitten curled over your arm. He grins at the sight and doesn’t question it, scared that if he does, then you might stop, “So, does he watch over you?”

“Not really. Sometimes he comes around just to know I'm alive.”

“Do you get lonely when he’s not there?”

His face wrenches sourly at the idea of Kishibe lingering around the apartment, “I got the dogs and Meowy. And a little sister… friend… type living with me,” his eyes dart over you warily, “You’ll probably meet her eventually, so…” he inhales sharply, “It’s, eh, you know, the new Control Devil.”

“She got reincarnated already?” you whisper it, like you’re saying something inappropriate.

“Well,” he winces, “Nayuta’s her own person. Same Devil stuff, but she's nothing like Makima.”

“Sorry! Of course! I didn’t mean it like that…”

Denji feels a pang in his chest at the sight of your cowering frame, consumed by guilt over misspeaking, “Don’t worry ‘bout it. Just didn’t want you freakin’ out when you meet her or anything.”

“I’m nothing compared to Her, I’m not really in the place to freak out.”

Something disturbs Denji so staunchly at the ease with which you say that. He can’t place it, he just knows that the very sentence made his stomach curdle and tie his intestines in knots.

You tilt your head, “Can I ask…?”

“Shoot.”

“Is it… well…” you shake your head, but Denji shakes his back.

“Just ask. Whatever ya wanna know.”

“You said Nayuta is her own person,” his brows furrow but he lets you finish before speaking, “Do you never consider maybe they’re… similar?”

He’s quiet for an unbearable eight seconds before answering casually, “Guess if I thought about it for a long time, I could find ways they’re alike. But I don’t really think about it that long. Nayuta’s my little sister. Makima was…” he shouldn’t say exactly what Makima was to him in front of you, he knows that much about being a boyfriend at least, “Makima. They’re totally different.”

It’s extraordinarily complicated to even put words into describing what Makima meant to him. A lot of things he’s learned were sick, but some things he almost… wants to hold onto.

He definitely shouldn’t say that to you. But it isn’t like he misses her, he misses the comfort of their early days. If you could even label it “their” days. Makima may have been like Nayuta at one point, but he knows Nayuta would never so meticulously stab him in the back. Or the chest. Repeatedly. Miserably, however, he knows that even if she did -- he’d probably still love Nayuta like she were his sister. How he imagines an old dog still craves the warm hands of their human as they fall asleep for the last time.

Dangerously, he wonders if he may one day feel the same for you, smiling as you dig a knife through his chest just because his girlfriend is still holding him.

And when you blink up at him like he’s as delightful as the mango in your hands, he thinks he might.

You beam at Denji before shyly turning your gaze back onto the mango, curling both arms around it. This time with all the tenderness you would a baby and tuck it into your chest.

If Makima and Nayuta are different maybe you are too.

You hope so.

Tsuyu time is finally looking to drag to an end by early July -- with yet another rain storm. Fourth East faculty has very kindly allowed students to stay past the usual close time of 6:00PM due to such harsh winds and lightning raging outside. You hadn’t accounted for this when you asked Denji to accompany you to a bookstore’s summer sale after school. The frustration you feel could boil the falling rainwater with how heated such sudden weather has you.

Impatiently, you and Denji are leaning right side against one of the entry door frames with his chest to your back.

“They’ll be closed by the time the rain lets up…” you grumble.

Denji almost wants to laugh: the first time he sees you act minorly unpleasant is over books.

“There’s always tomorrow,” he’s not sure, actually, “Probably.”

You scowl out at the wretched, amalgamated clouds, “Sale better still be on tomorrow…”

“If not, there's next year.”

In an embarrassing instant, your annoyance wavers. You tilt your head back into Denji’s shoulder to look at him, “You think we’ll be together next year?”

Honestly, he hadn’t meant to imply that. All he meant was that you’ll be able to go next summer whether the sale ended today or not, but when you bat your eyelashes at him all softly he’s compelled to agree to whatever you want.

“Why not?” he shrugs, fighting to keep his arms relaxed at his sides rather than folded over his chest defensively.

Your lips stretch with mirth, a smize following lead, “I want to go with you to the summer sale next year, Denji.”

The confidence of your confession is rattled from you as quickly as it’d appeared.

Until, “Even if we go today?”

His tone is bleeding hope.

“Even if we go today,” and you’re all too merry to confirm.

Denji slides to your left, hands shaking wildly, “Can I- should we?” you quirk a brow at his chopped questions, “Can we kiss?”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

He nods rapidly. You want to kiss him, too. You reach for one of his hands and tug him closer with a much slower nod.

“We can kiss, Denji.”

“Awesome,” he lamely sighs under his breath.

You remain glued against the metal frame, leaving Denji to be the initiator. He’s the more dating-experienced party anyway.

Denji swallows audibly before steeling his nerves and leaning so his lips are just brushing yours. You can feel the hot puffs of air he lets out, and you’re praying he can’t feel yours. Neither of you has shut your eyes yet, weirdly certain that the second you do disaster will strike.

Up close, you can really see everything -- his messy sunset hair, the peeling skin on his lower lip, and the faint red veins peeking around his sclera. His skin is stained dark like pomegranate juice. Finally, he tenses his eyes shut with a wrinkle in his brow and commits. Given how chapped his lips looked, you’re amazed they feel nice against yours at all.

Your eyes flutter shut and you press back.

You don’t dare venture further than the chaste lip-lock before Denji pulls away, leaving a sharp stabbing sensation on your bottom lip in his wake. His low-lidded stare widens as soon as he sees your chin.

“Oh, shit.”

Cupping the aching area, you feel a slickness slowly leaking over your fingers. You dip a finger to your lip and pull back to find a stain darker than pomegranate juice.

“Denji!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he grimaces, reaching up to swipe away the blood spread over your chin.

“You bit me!”

“I know!” (he does a poor job hiding the aggravated trill in his voice there)

His fingers are all smeared with your blood by the time he’s done makeshift mopping up your lower face, and he wipes his hands off on his black school pants. You pull your lip back as if you’d be able to see the trivial wound. The motion tests Denji: wanting to maintain his nurse act, but also wanting to kiss you again.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore…” you twist a hand into your rumpled uniform skirt, “It’s okay. I wasn’t mad, just surprised.”

Forlorn, Denji reaches up to gingerly thumb at the spot he bit -- now swollen and darker than the rest of your lip. Only minutely, but still. His brain can’t compute how small-scale your injury is over the fact that he was the one to cause it in the first place, “I’ll be more gentle next time.”

You nod, face growing hotter the longer Denji touches you so softly, “I trust you.”

The rain thins outside.

“Can I try again?” Denji’s hand slides from your lip to your jaw until he’s tenderly cupping your cheek.

Again, you nod, hoping the shift in movement will get air to cool your melting cheeks.

Puddles are splattered by a few brave students rushing home, and Denji holds onto hope the storm clears fully before the bookstore closes.

By spring of 1996, you’re given your first journal and pen; and in winter of that same year, you finally pluck up the courage to try putting your headache-inducing thoughts to words.

A Devil is more humanoid the more that Devil tolerates humans -- you don’t know where you learned that. Or why you remembered it. It’s just something you’re always certain of, in the exact same way you blink and breathe you are also indistinguishable from a human being. When the both of you met, Makima spent time examining you from head to toe to see if there were any visible tells of your true species.

You aren’t sure why you look the way you do, you don’t like humans. Although, you don’t exactly dislike them either. When you think of people, flailing on swings and cramping grocery store produce sections and knitting warm winter sweaters, you feel only a vague thrumming in your heart at the knowledge that they could send you back to Hell. A primal and innate sensation of spine-tingling fear. If enough people discovered you outside Makima’s care, then you would be back in Hell.

Maybe it’s that fear. Your knowledge of the tipping power scales could be maintaining your flesh and bones. Strangely, you wish you looked more horrific - a gaping, toothy maw and claws in place of hands. Swells of discolored flesh that twitch with each beat of your heart.

You wish you looked appalling. Absolutely ghastly. Maybe then Makima wouldn’t like looking at you so much.

But then, what if you were so scary that Chainsaw wanted to eat you?

While being free of the perpetual motion of death and rebirth in Hell unto Earth and Makima’s inescapable, piercing gaze, you wouldn’t want to face off against Chainsaw. He’s the Hero of Hell, so wouldn’t that make you the villain?

You’d rather be reincarnated and stared at by a million Makimas than be so terrible that the puritor of Hell forced himself to consume you. And he’d be able to -- you’re sure of that, too. Not even your rejection of other Devils’ powers could be so strong as to deny Chainsaw. No, no. He’s far too great.

You think of that figure - one that makes your usual aching thoughts whirl into devastating stabbing pain just trying to remember - covered in Devils’ blood and guts and you feel nervous that perhaps Makima will try finding him too if she reads of him in your journal.

So instead of expressing those thoughts to free your searing skull, you jot down a plain:

Made a new contract today. His name was Yoshida, Hirofumi. He said I was nice for not wanting to eat his body parts as payment :)

“Denji! Over here!”

It's a stubbornly drizzling Tuesday when you’re shouting through the school gates, inky uniforms parting around you like a gentle river flow. Usually, getting your peers to not body check you is terribly difficult, but maybe the authority you carry in a Public Safety suit and tie is more pressing than yourself. While students shelter their heads with small book bags and hands and vests, you’ve got the plastic handle of a black umbrella warmed up in your palm.

Denji tilts his head at your distant frame before suddenly shooting ramrod straight. He rushes out from under the shelter of Fourth East and through the gates to your side - puddles splashing under his quick feet all the way.

“Heard you were out,” Denji ducks under your umbrella, tempted to hook his chin on your shoulder and sap up your body warmth.

“Just a mission,” your hand clenches with the urge to grasp Denji’s, but you take no such initiative, “Sorry I couldn’t tell you myself.”

He shrugs, “‘s fine,” then he sighs shortly, brows scrunching, “Fucker let me sit on the roof for ten minutes before saying anything.”

“Aw, I’m sorry! I told him to let you know in the morning…”

Again, Denji shrugs off your worry -- eyes trailing slowly from the pristine white collar of your shirt down to the smooth black slacks snug around your waist and thighs, “Been awhile since I’ve seen one of those.”

Ironed and fresh and symmetrical black-tie apparel. It seems far too dismal on you, he doesn’t like it. Memories of strawberry blond hair and scorching blue eyes snuffed out, he tries to smother those down as often as possible.

“Oh, I have my school uniform!” you lift a plastic bag up, sealed around more black and white folds, “In case I needed it…”

In case you want me to change -- you don’t add that part. You’re not sure Denji would appreciate the reminder of a power imbalance while you’re dressed like this. You already know that you don’t like thinking about Makima while dressed like this.

He nods, wordlessly sneaking the bag from your grasp to his so he can hold your now free hand, “You look pretty.”

“Really?” you two finally begin walking away from Fourth East and to the same ice cream place he’d taken you on your first date.

“You always look pretty,” Denji doubles down as if it's that easy. As if it's so simple. As if it’s undeniably true, “‘m glad I saw ya. Thought we wouldn’t be able to go out after school.”

“Sorry, again. They’re trying to avoid giving me more work, but I guess this one couldn’t be helped…”

You’re almost nervous Denji picks up on that sentiment of “more”. That “more” means you’re already working, which is mortifying because even if Denji is technically work you don’t want him to think that. You chalk that concern for his feelings up to not wanting him to grow tired of dating you.

But Denji doesn’t make any indication of having noticed, “I guess I’ll have to get used to it: dating the Rejection Devil.”

Now you’re genuinely nervous.

That sentence alone freezes every cell in your body -- heartbeat stilling lethally. Your hands crinkle down your long pant leg before scrunching up the material around your thigh -- ruining the plain smoothness. Desperate to feel something in the spiraling numbness, you stab your teeth into the ripe flesh of your lip, tearing up thin strips of skin. And you chalk this up to a defect in your usual personality.

“Hey, Denji?”

“Hm?”

“When was the last time you called me ‘peach’?”

“I dunno,” he answers honestly before he blinks his brain into action and looks over at you, “I’ll use it more often, if that’s what you’re saying.”

“No, you’re fine, really. I just…” you can feel your chest bump in tune with your heartbeat, so overt and harsh it's causing authentic sparks of pain in your chest, “I’m sorry.”

For what, you can’t be precisely sure. You think, as a general rule to yourself, you’re sorry for everything that he doesn’t like, especially when it comes to everything about yourself.

But he just thinks you’re still stuck on earlier today, “Like I said, I’ll just have to get used to dating the Rejection Devil.”

Despite the two being in one body, you’ve come to learn that Chainsaw Man is Denji, but Denji is not necessarily Chainsaw Man.

While yes, you think Chainsaw Man is great, you think Denji is somehow even greater. It’s almost unfair. The Rejection Devil is okay, but are you? You as in you as in the fleshy, squishy, bloody you? You as in the you with a name you don’t remember (and desperately hopes her government-assigned boyfriend calls her peachy)? You as in the you that likes sugary fruit juice and soft cat fur? Are you okay? Could you one day be great?

Or are you only as useful as the devil you are? Protecting hunters and killing beasts and soothing the lively Denji (and therefore the Chainsaw inside him).

Are you still Denji’s girlfriend because he likes you? Or are you Denji’s girlfriend because he knows you might be the only available option? Could you be great like Denji? Could you be named?

Or is your soul too entwined with the Rejection Devil? Is your soul the Rejection Devil itself? Do you have a soul at all?

You must if you keep coming back. If your birth and death are celebrated and mourned, you must be alive.

Too bad you remember none of that.

If you died now, would Denji mourn?

You know you’d mourn him, but is that your choice?

You know you like Denji, but is that really you? Or is that Rejection Devil admiration spiraling into an infatuation for the Chainsaw and his host?

Does it even matter at all?

“Do you wanna come over after school tomorrow?” Denji asks like it's an afterthought, one he doesn’t even need to look at you for. Maybe he already knows your response.

“Yeah.”

Maybe he’ll grow bored soon. You wouldn’t blame him.

“Yeah!” you repeat it louder this time, hoping to entice a bigger reaction from him (this is the first time you’re going to his apartment after all), “I’d love to!”

He nods, though with a rosier tint to his cheeks than earlier and that’s good enough.

By October of 1997, your second diary was full with one last addition.

The wall closest to your bed has only 273 tallies, and you stare at the dust pooled in the shallow divots when you get bored. With every book read and only the same four walls to stare at until a Devil Hunter came with a contract proposal or a mission -- you were bored more often than not.

In a strange way, you still got excited when you saw Makima because it meant something new was coming. However quickly it would then be stripped away wasn’t even an afterthought.

But you’ve gone a long while since seeing her. You can’t be sure of the days passed with no window or calendar or even clock; you can’t even be sure you’re sleeping at night and awake during the day. Part of you is sick over the ache in your heart the longer you go without seeing Makima, Yoshida, or even Kishibe. As though they’ve all forgotten you exist. You could be locked down here for eternity with no means to die and not a single soul would be bothered to find you. But if they did?

If they found you, would they care?

Would they cry?

You don’t think so. You’re hardly something to cry over.

So does it matter at all that you’re down here? Certainly, a life of nonexistence is better than languishing in a cellar, burdening commission resources with no purpose.

Maybe when Makima finds Chainsaw, she could have him eat you. That would be nice. An honor to be so miserable upon humanity that Chainsaw is left with no choice but to consume the concept of your being. An honor to finally be wiped off this planet.

With a drying pen, you scribble that down.

To be eaten by Lord Chainsaw. That would be freeing.

And after sleeping that night(?), you awake to find Makima blatantly reading out of your journal. When she turns to stare at your crumpled form on the bare mattress, she smiles and reaches over to pat your head. Like an eager puppy, you push up into her touch and don’t dare demand she stop reading.

“You’re a good girl,” she coos down at you.

“I am?” you croak.

“You are,” she stands, snapping the book shut and continuing to smile down at you, “And you have a mission today.”

When Denji notices you curiously eyeing the black slip-ons by the door (which are multiple sizes too small to be his), he’s quick to explain.

“Just Nayuta. She throws her shoes wherever she wants.”

“Okay.”

You hadn’t planned on asking, but you like to imagine that maybe he didn’t want you getting jealous. Then you wonder why you like that so much. Probably because he’s your boyfriend, and you’re meant to.

Before you can spiral, a soft mew nabs all attention. Dogs’ nails clack against the faux wood tiles and you and Denji are quickly surrounded on all fronts by wagging tails and soft fur. Sniffing, happy puppies lick at your hands. You wrinkle your nose at the unadulterated smell of dog and you're hoping Denji doesn’t notice when suddenly a long tail wraps around your ankle. Loudly, you gasp and swoop down -- frightening Denji only a little -- to smooth your hands over the fat white cat’s fur.

“Kitty!” you’re borderline squealing in glee, and Denji shoos his dogs away after giving them their due pets, “So big!” you encourage the feline to pounce onto your lap with quick taps against your thighs.

“Meowy,” Denji clarifies (as if you could forget!), leaning over your shoulder to scritch under the cat’s chin, grinning when she starts purring in your coddling hold.

“I love you, Meowy,” you whisper to the cat, and Denji sits on the floor beside you after figuring the fat cat won’t be moving on from you anytime soon.

You’ve been looking forward to this since you heard about the cat, and somehow all your expectations have been exceeded.

“Didn’t know you liked cats so much, peachy, I woulda introduced you sooner.”

“Cats are so picky,” you keep your voice low as if raising it could startle Meowy off, “When a cat picks you, it feels so nice.”

“You must be a hit with the strays, then. Meowy usually fucks off in the living room instead of hanging by the door.”

You shrug, sluggish and dismal, “I’m not usually allowed out unless it's for school. Or you.”

Denji feels nauseous. His whole chest is tight with this unpleasant curdle. Quickly, he decides that he hates this feeling and wants it eradicated as soon as possible. Subconsciously, he must believe the solution is you because before he can really think about it, he’s lugging you off the floor and towards his room.

He lays you on his bed and falls into your side with Meowy now latched to your chest; purring loudly as you pet her with one hand, and Denji snatches the other. Rather than link his hand with yours like usual, he splays your fingers into his mess of tangerine hair.

Turning your head so your cheek meets the feather plush of his pillow, you find Denji’s eyes boring into yours. You blink at him with your hand limp over the side of his head, “Do you want me to pet you?”

Denji nods, crimson overtaking his cheeks and sweat beading over his palms.

“Okay.”

You card your fingers through his hair, gently prying loose knots apart over your knuckles before tenderly dancing your nails along his scalp. He presses his head closer, cheek now smooshed on your shoulder and eyes flickering shut.

Shakily, he raises an arm and lays it across your stomach, careful to avoid spooking Meowy. You can sense his hesitation in how the weight of his arm is so light it's imperceivable, then you press your hand flat against the back of his head and pet there, too. His arm relaxes, fully settling the weight on your gut.

This feels right.

Crushed and warm.

You’re doing a good job, you think.

You smile at the thought of being so useful and Denji hugs you tighter.

“Can I…” Denji swallows, throat cinching dryly, “I wanna make you feel good.”

“I do feel good.”

“Good good,” he’s quiet now. Voice all raspy and unsure, “I want to do something for you.”

That would be good for Denji too, right? He’ll be happy.

But you’re not sure you want to.

But not wanting to isn’t exactly your job.

Your job is to make Denji happy. So you lift Meowy from your chest with great remorse and watch the cat prattle out of the bedroom, “Okay.”

Sickness unlike the kind before a big fight builds in your stomach. Bloats all the way to your throat as you go limp in bed and allow Denji’s hands to wander. He sits up and untucks your uniform vest and top before gliding under those and resting over your bra.

Denji looks up at you for encouragement and finds a stoic appraisal. Then his eyes drift to your balled fists at your sides, and the lip you’re ravaging between your teeth.

If you had offered this to him -- he’d be on cloud nine, so what’s he done wrong? Denji clears his throat and finds a burning sensation at the back of his eyes, he tries blinking the fire away but it only makes the pain worse. He’s certain that this is what boyfriends and girlfriends do for each other. They bring each other to euphoria and lave one another in attention every night. This kind of service (or rather, the promise of service) was one of a few things that Denji recalled fondly from his days under Makima. Unfiltered affection: nasty and raw and intimate.

But the longer his hands are cupping over your bra, the more defeated you look.

The vicious pain in his chest bites up to his head.

“This isn’t hot at all…” Denji’s hands peel off from your chest to stow in his lap.

You shrink into yourself, shoulders coming to your ears as red-hot shame climbs up your neck, “What?”

“This isn’t hot,” he leans back with his arms outstretched behind him on the mattress. Hotter and hotter the burning grows until it's all wet, stinging heat in his eyes, “You’re not into it…” he looks around his room and tries finding anything out of place (he was sure he made it perfect!). But no, all the posters a girlfriend wouldn’t like are hidden under his bed with the magazines a girlfriend would hate. The blinds are drawn. His door is locked. He sniffles and looks down, hoping you don’t notice the flooding along his lower lashes “What’s wrong? You don’t like me? Ain’t I handsome?”

Inching your shoulders even higher, as if to somehow hide behind them, you frown, “What if you think I look weird naked? Or I make a sound you don’t like? Then you won’t want me anymore…”

Denji scoffs, lips twisting in an almost offended snarl, “You’re my girlfriend! I’ll still want you!”

He’s sure you don’t look or sound weird, but he’s also simultaneously sure that if you do then his loyalty will twist the weirdness into some obscure new fetish.

But you’re shaking your head, what more does he want?

What if he finally does have sex and realizes he never wanted you at all? What good are you doing then?

“We’re hardly a real couple…” his pout is just that, and one of his eyebrows is quirked curiously - he’s totally clueless, “What’s my favorite color?”

“I dunno!” he groans, then shrugging and sitting up straighter, “I know you like mango best even though you’ve only had a single one in your life. And you like staring at your feet when you walk so you don’t trip, which is annoying ‘cuz I gotta make sure nobody runs into you. And you never raise your hand in class even if you know the answer. Which is even more annoying ‘cuz now people think you don’t pay attention, but you’re passing every class,” he frowns a little, “You’re the smartest girl I know,” his frown deepens when you don’t smile like he’d hoped you would, “And you like cats more than dogs.”

“I like your dogs,” you weakly defend.

But he never meant it to be a jab in the first place, “But you like Meowy more.”

“I think we should break up.”

“Oh…”

“Just for a couple days,” your voice is tittering, all soft mush. If he so much as stood up and crossed his arms then you might take the suggestion back, “Three at most… just to see if this is really what you want.”

“I do, I know I do.”

“I know you want a girlfriend. Do you want me? Me me.”

“‘Course I do,” he sulks, “You’re…” he stops himself, the churning ache in his stomach sensing how displeased you may be with the repeated argument of you’re my girlfriend, “Do you want me?”

You’re silent. He tenses.

“I don’t know if we want each other.”

“I do. I want you. I want to- I haven’t given you anything. I want to give you things. I want to be nice to you, too. I want to make you happy.”

But how could he? You’re a tool, and now you’ve upset him. Are you worthy of being upset over? You aren’t so sure.

You aren’t even certain you have the power to make the call for a break-up. You’re a tool -- you don’t think you’re anything worth crying over.

But Denji is absolutely sure you are. And he knows he wants you, and that feels right because you’re his girlfriend. But curiously, even after you leave and he’s apparently now single, he continues to want you. He wants you so bad that he turns onto his stomach and buries his face in the pillow you laid on, just to see if he can still smell your perfume on it (he can).

In November of 1997, Makima got you a cat.

“You like them, right?”

“I do!” you’d smiled so wide your cheeks hurt, giddily petting your new friend, “Thank you, thank you! I love him!”

That same night, she makes you hold the small, quivering kitten above your head as she takes aim with a single finger. Your words are slurred with spit leaking down both corners of your mouth in your hurry to beg for your friend’s life. Your eyes are squished half-shut, trying to juice all the tears out without cutting Makima from your vision. You choke on your own breath, snot sour on your tongue as you shriek for her mercy.

bang

You don’t remember much else after that. You think you passed out as soon as the wall to your right indented.

You do, however, remember waking up the next morning and weeping into the kitten's soft fur. Hugging the warm, live feline to your chest and praying Makima would die on her next mission (by now, though, you were smarter than to think your prayers had merit). You even feel rebellious enough to engrave the edgy remark in your personal journal.

As repentance, Makima sends you on a month-long mission only days later. When you return, it’s to an empty room -- aside from a note left on stationary you recognize as ripped straight from your journal.

Kitten got sick. :( - Makima

Yoshida is stomping ahead of you the entire way to school the next morning, and you already know he’s fuming. You had hoped that by the time you both reached Fourth East, he would have calmed down; but you’re quickly proven wrong as he storms up to you once you’ve switched shoes at your cubby.

“Are you- !” Yoshida holds both hands over his face, muffling the scream he unleashes, “Are you serious?! You were doing everything right! You two were fine!”

“I’m sorry, I just- I don’t think I should be here… I’m really confused about how I feel all the time. I think I should go back to- “

“You don’t get to decide that,” he hisses, visible eye wide with rage, “You better beg him for another chance, I am not letting you fail this mission just because you’re ‘confused’.”

“I don’t want to beg him,” you stand a little straighter, maintaining fierce eye contact, “I want him to be sure- “

“This isn’t a dorama!”

“Hey, stop yellin’ it's annoying,” a passing voice snaps. The both of you look up to see Denji glaring sharply at Yoshida, “And don’t yell at her at all.”

Yoshida is quiet as Denji stalks off, the latter’s back growing smaller the further into the distance he goes.

“Did you like him?” Yoshida asks, voice returned to his typical lulling forbearance.

“Huh? What does that matter?”

“Shut up,” he commands before redundantly asking again, continuing to stare deep into the direction Denji was headed, “Did you like him?”

Did you?

You did. He was prettier than Yoshida prepared you for. And more considerate, too.

Deep down, you even think that maybe he’s inspired you - regarding you higher than you’d ever taken yourself for. You’ve realized things since dating him: you hate your room at Public Safety, you want to try petting more dogs, you don’t like school, and you really, really hate not having a name.

A real name.

“I think I did… Can I still like him?”

Yoshida groans under his breath before walking off, “Do what feels right!”

“What?!”

Scratch that -- you really hate that cryptic answer above all else!

Despite not having anything else to be tending to, you dawdle around Fourth East more often than not after being dismissed. You prefer wandering around the track twenty times over retiring to bed as soon as you get back to the commission’s basement.

Not even homework can entrap your attention long enough for the days to be less agonizing.

You watch your outdoor sneakers line one after the other along the white paint - you wobble less now that your body’s used to the limited movement. However, the idea of falling onto your side on lap twenty-one is mortifying. So when you’re too busy staring at your feet, you jostle into a body at the starting line. Your head bumping into their chin, their hands gently cupping your arms to keep you upright.

“You should seriously look up when ya walk.”

“Denji!” you cough, clearing the excitement from your tone, “Denji, what’re you…” you stop yourself, fretting over how rude he might think you suddenly are, “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“What are you doing out here?”

“Do you want to see a movie with me?” you open your mouth and Denji watches your lips part before interrupting you, “Don’t overthink it.”

Do you want to watch a movie with him? Yes.

Should you?

Don’t overthink it.

Does it matter? Honestly, what’s even waiting for you at home?

Why shouldn’t you watch a movie with Denji (especially when every nerve in your body is screaming at you to say yes)?

Denji ends up sneaking you two into an R-18-rated horror film. One with a single poster lit up in the theater lobby - blood dripping down a screaming woman’s face and the title in a gaudy, pure hot red. You’re the only ones in the theater, sitting in the middlemost seats Denji could scour. Your hand is bound in his on your shared armrest, warm flesh tangled in warm flesh.

And it’s the worst movie you’ve ever seen.

The main actress has the inflection of a primadonna teenager despite portraying a single mother lawyer, and halfway through you’ve seen more strip teases than blood. Not one of the characters is likable beyond being a slice of dead meat hooked on the end of the killer’s cleaver. You can’t even discern the plot of the movie other than some brick wall villain slashing down a woman and her coworkers.

You earnestly laugh as the woman runs upstairs in the creaky old cabin in the woods rather than out the wide open door. In the corner of your eye, you can see Denji looking at you. You return his stare, giggles still chittering through your teeth at the ridiculously forced story beats.

“Terrible, right?” he doesn’t bother whispering.

But you do, “Horrible,” his eyes flicker down to your lips again, “I love it.”

“Me too.”

It may be your favorite movie of all time.

“I missed you,” you admit, fully ashamed of backtracking a mere day after your decision to break up.

“I missed you, too, peachy,” his voice is unweathered by that shame.

“I don’t know…” you look down at your dark shoes, they fade into the swathing shadowing of the theater, “How can I know this is real? That I really do like you? That this isn’t just because I was told to?”

Away from Fourth East, above your small room in the basement, and throughout the barren offices of Public Safety, the shadow of Makima hangs heavy over everyone. You’re not certain when you started submitting to her, and you’re not sure when you started submitting to everyone she told you to, and you’re especially not sure when submitting to everyone felt comfortable. What you do know is that you are a useful tool for the public. You are a good instrument when devil hunters need assistance, for your technique and regeneration -- on missions and off them. And to keep Denji’s identity hidden, you are to be a sweet, giving, and kind shield.

But you hate all of that. You hate fighting and you hate everyone you work with. You miss movies. And you like Denji.

Is it some late-stage rebellion as the death of Makima truly settles in, or is this who you are?

“How should I know?” Denji mutters, kicking at the plastic back of the seat in front of him, “I don’t care about any of that. I don’t care about devil hunting or who controls who. I choose my life, and I choose to be your boyfriend. If I didn’t like you on our first date, I wouldn’t like you now.”

“What if I change?“

“You can’t change in a way I don’t like,” he frowns when you don’t smile at his declaration, “I just want you because you’re…” nice, weird, interesting, and if he pushes the right buttons you can be lively and loud, “you. I like you. You can’t change in a way I wouldn’t like unless you tried killing me.”

“I would never try to kill you.”

So does it matter if this was chosen for you?

You can like Denji and be with him, or you can like Denji and be away from him. You feel like the second option would be more miserable. So how does it matter, then, that dating Denji was chosen for you? Either way, you like him.

A lot.

You smile, and he copies it, “I like you, Denji. I want to be your girlfriend.”

On the big screen, a woman is being stabbed to death, but Denji eagerly closes towards you as if the projection is completely blank.

“I wanna be your boyfriend!”

A flashlight blinds the both of you suddenly, a stern male voice you briefly mistake for some impossibly higher calling following after, “How old are you two?”

“Eighteen!” Denji flips the man off, one eye cinched shut and the other squinted in a nasty glare, even as he answers honestly.

“Yeah, eighteen!” you copy, grabbing one of Denji’s hands with yours.

The man holds out his palm, flexing his fingers once. Denji scoffs but hands over his student ID with you taking example.

“Hayakawa, Denji… Yoshida, Reiji…”

Reiji. れいじ. It feels as unfamiliar as it sounds.

You almost open your mouth to protest - that’s not my name! before remembering that in the eyes of Fourth East High, it is. You don’t like it.

But you don’t like Rejection, either. You feel bigger than that. You are bigger than that. You like ginkgo trees even without the fall glow, you think mangoes are the best fruit, you like the smell of ashed cigarettes and dog fur, and you think the color orange is prettier than people give it credit for. You wait until the strange guard leaves before voicing,

“I want to change my name,” you continue to whisper although neither of you is paying any attention to the movie.

Denji sticks his legs out, resting them over the back of the seat in front of him, “What to?”

His volume startles you a little before realizing that it doesn’t matter how loud he is; the two of you are alone.

You raise your voice to a normal volume, “No clue yet, but I’m excited to find one…” you smile when Denji does, he tightens his hand in yours, “I wonder if I’ll find one unique or pretty.”

“If it's yours then it’ll be pretty anyway,” there’s a pause, you stare at him and he stares at you. You like how the projection reflects over his pale face, his eyes sparkling from the bright screen. Finally, he speaks again, “You’re really pretty.”

I think I actually love you.

“You’re pretty, too, Denji.”

I think I actually love you, too.

“You should leave Public Safety for real. We can get you real clothes. And you can stay with Meowy all the time when you’re not in school. Nobody will order you around ever again.”

“They’ll try dragging me back,” you doubt that they’d let a Devil -- even one that has no interest in being a Devil -- roam free in Japan on some fluid, lucrative “mission” of dating Denji.

“I’ll fight ‘em off,” he sounds so determined, “I’ll protect you.”

You look back at the movie, you wonder if you and Denji are the only ones to have seen it since it came out.

“Okay,” he brightens up at your agreement, “I’ll live with you. I’ll leave Public Safety.”

Denji lifts your linked hands from the shared armrest and pulls it up, shoving it into the gap between your back supports to yank you closer to his chest. He hooks his chin on the crown of your head and squashes you in a tight embrace like a child would their stuffed bear. He kisses your head, nose dug into your hair. He feels so excited he could burst out of his skin, and the only solution is to keep hugging you as unbearably annoying characters are slaughtered onscreen. To cram the both of you so tight together you’ll explode as one -- that’s the only way he can escape this whole-body buzzing.

Immediately after deciding to live together, Denji made the frightening choice that you should meet his sister. On the way back to his apartment, he’s internally scolding himself for not having introduced you sooner but pushes the nagging feeling away. After all, Nayuta wants what’s best for Denji just like Denji wants what’s best for Nayuta -- if she can feel the same coziness that Denji always does when he’s with you, then she’ll like you. He’s certain of it.

“I told her about you, so… She shouldn’t be weirded out when you meet anyway…” if not for the blush on his face, you could mistake him as being casual about this!

You, however, feel so nervous you’re hunched into your boyfriend’s side and fighting the urge to gag up your lunch.

“What if she hates me?!” you heave, a hand clawing at the unevenly tied ribbon around your neck. It’s somehow too tight and too loose. Simultaneously suffocating and unable to ground you.

“She won’t!”

He’s so sure, he foolishly doesn’t even prepare a backup plan for if she does hate you. Besides, revising house rules to adjust for your incoming presence went well enough -- so how could it not work out now?

By the time Denji’s managed to steer you up to his apartment’s door, your legs are overdone noodles. He knocks twice - brief pause - then three more times, and waits. A caucus of rowdy barks and animated paws on fake hardwood thrum behind the door before a faint click hauls your heartbeat to a stop. As soon as the lock is undone, the door’s hinges squeal open and a little black-haired girl with untrimmed bangs is poking her face through the gap.

Her eyes are electric yellow, burning straight through your skull, with crimson rings around her iris.

“This is her?”

“This is Her,” Denji nods sternly, certainly much more serious than you’ve seen him before.

Nayuta’s stare is just as intimidating as Makima’s was, despite the girl being a grade-schooler. You’re frozen stiff under her gaze, heart thundering so hard you’re absolutely positive that she can hear it even feet away.

Suddenly, she nods, “Okay.”

“Yeah?” Denji’s positively beaming.

“Yeah,” Nayuta shows off a peace sign, receiving one in turn from Denji, “She’s got a nice scent.”

She doesn’t say it, but she thinks you smell like sugary fruit punch and honey.

Terrified of sullying her (apparently positive?) impression of you, you squeak out a childish, “Thank you…?”

Nayuta slinks an arm through the door, careful not to let any of the yipping, jumpy dogs out, and takes hold of you to pull you inside, “Mhm.”

She hugs your arm through the door and into the common space.

That night, Nayuta almost makes you miss Public Safety curfew -- desperately trying to worm you into the cuddle pile of the dogs and Meowy and Denji that they sleep in. You almost feel compelled to break curfew and listen, and not from her own power. As a compromise, you promise to be back the next day and she demands you honor your word before letting Denji walk you to the train station.

After a bite-free kiss from Denji, you’re sitting on the train to the commission’s haunting office building. Alone and warm all at once.

And you have to agree with your boyfriend, Nayuta is nothing like Makima.

In late 1998, you met with Yoshida at your shoe cubby for the last time. A cold breeze of December’s premiere christens the moment.

“It took some help from a senior hunter, but I got your release papers signed,” Yoshida holds up the manilla file in question, “I’m supposed to hold onto them in case you do something they don’t like, but I have a lot of work on my plate already.”

As if you wouldn’t understand, he waves the file around Fourth East’s expansive entrance. Then, he holds the folder out to you, jerking it further when you don’t immediately grab for the thing.

“Are you- ?”

Yoshida cuts you off quickly, “It needs to be renewed every five years, and I’m sure you’re not stupid enough to think there’s no consequences of fucking up. So just live a normal life, okay? Don’t make me and Kishibe regret this.”

Kishibe?

“Kishibe?! Seriously?”

Yoshida shrugs off your question and heads for class, fully intent on dodging any of your future attempts at interrogation.

Fortunately for him, you don’t give chase; too busy giddily reading over the official statement of your release from Public Safety. The final plot to yours and Denji’s journey of moving in together since you’ve had your few possessions sent to his apartment (and due respect to whatever nurturing side Makima had, no matter how selfish in nature, because you genuinely forgot how plain your room could be with no old books or journals).

“Thank you!” you call after the boy, ignoring the odd stares from your peers and holding the folder to your chest as if it may disappear.

Inside on the very top line is a printed line for your taken name. 恣恩 -- Shion -- is slated over the last name spot, preceding the empty bank for your first name. A pen is tucked into the corner of the folder.

Looking up again, you find Yoshida nowhere in sight, but you still whisper after him with a gooey need to express your gratitude, “Thank you.”

“You got it?”

“Yep!” you can tell who’s behind you without needing to turn.

For a reason you cannot discern, that makes you proud of yourself. Knowing Denji so well you can pick his voice from a crowd. You like that. A lot.

Nayuta drearily slips into the tight kitchen space, rubbing crust from her eyes while watching you and Denji stare into a pan. You’re closer to the stove with Denji huddled just over your shoulder.

“Breakfast?” Nayuta meanders over, wrapping her arms around one of yours and burrowing into your side.

“Eggs,” you and Denji answer.

Then you tack on, “And toast.”

She nods sluggishly against your shoulder, lazily blinking as Denji holds the pan for you to scoop the fried egg with one hand. You hold the egg up while Denji scrambles for a plastic black plate with a piece of toast on it. Once the egg is settled onto the bread, Denji holds the plate out for Nayuta.

“You’ve still gotta get ready for school!” Denji calls after her as she moves to the living room.

When you hear no response, you poke your head out to look at the little black-haired girl, being sure to keep your voice gentle as you ask, “Did you hear Denji?”

Nayuta throws up a peace sign, chewing her egg on toast.

“She heard you.”

“Figures.”

Denji yawns and slings both arms around your shoulders just to rest his head against yours -- the motion itself is selfish and monopolizes your entire personal bubble. You return the embrace around his waist and press a kiss against his cheek: soft and warm and pink like peaches. He hums at the affection and squeezes you tighter.

I think I love you

I think I love you, too

Denji almost gathers the courage to say it, but instead settles for, “You skippin’ again, peachy?”

You nod against his cheek, “Think I’ll wash the dogs.”

He snorts, “Your attendance is shit.”

“Oh well…” you think you’ll drop out at this point -- Fourth East is a slough of swamp water unless you’re cutting class with Denji by the track field.

Denji kisses your forehead before leaving to finish putting on his own uniform, “Yeah, oh well.”

He’s certain he’s in love with you. You’re certain you love him back.

On nights when you and Denji aren’t sleeping in his room -- Nayuta has you all holed in hers. You learned quickly that Nayuta was possessive (you expected it, even), what you didn’t pick up on was that her possessiveness spread rapidly to you as well as Denji and the pets. If you and Denji make the mistake of not putting her to bed with enough soothing, she’ll slither her way between your arms.

Like tonight;

You and Denji are laid out first in a loose sweetheart’s cradle, Nayuta flopping onto the wide mat next. She rests perfectly in the middle with both of you throwing an arm around her. Tiramisu will jaunt up behind you while Custard takes Denji’s side, and Meowy will always find a way to settle her weight on your lap or hip. The remaining five dogs will circle your pre-established huddle for the most comfortable spot before sighing into the mattress as well.

Nayuta’s stray hairs tickle your cheek and Denji will carefully card the strands away. It’s a repetitive routine, but a comfortable one.

You had a routine in the basement, too. It was less comfortable.

Much less comfortable.

@ghostlykeyes hopefully i got the depressed:pathetic ratio right!!

#happy valentines day :)#denji x reader #denji x you #chainsaw man x reader #csm x reader #csm denji #denji fluff #csm fluff #pls someone treat this man right #PLEASE #hurt/comfort #denji angst

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yuri-is-online · 9 months

Note

Hi!

I saw the 300 followers event, and I'd like to request prompt 9 with Leona, Ace, and Jamil

9. Jealousy pt. 2- someone from a rival school asks for your number

Hi hi! Thank you for your request, I hope you like this friend.

notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, Check out the rest of the event requests on my masterlist here.

Leona

"Overconfidence is a slow and insidious killer." Leona has heard you say that more than once, always in a tone that suggests you are mimicking something or someone; from your world he assumes. Not that he really minds, it's a nice quote. Snappy. And the first time he heard you say it you had been critiquing Azul, not him. Not him, even though it could easily apply.

That's why it is thundering in his skull right now, needling at that knot in his forehead that refuses to leave, twitching in his snarl as he watches some RSA brat wind his way around your shoulders.

Slow.

"I've got to say," purrs the stranger, lightly resting a hand on your shoulder as you consider what power you need to invoke to get him gone "I was surprised to find someone so nice attending NRC." You can't really think of a good reply, the awkward laughter that stutters out of you doesn't seem to count.

Insidious.

"It would be a real shame to let such a chance encounter go unsavored." He could have chosen a less suggestive tone of voice, or maybe it's just Leona's previous comments about how you should try to avoid "getting eaten" that are working double time on your nerves. "Perhaps you could give me your-"

Killer.

"Oi." Leona's voice rumbles, you swear there was an actual roar before he spoke. The RSA student certainly jumps back from you like there was. "You are making them uncomfortable." The student apologizes, to you or Leona you have no idea, as Leona settles a comforting hand onto your shoulder.

"Thank you, sorry for-"

"Don't." Leona is surprisingly calm. "'s my job to scare off bottom feeders like that anyway."

Well now. That is news to you.

Ace

There is something of a disadvantage in always being around the person you like when you aren't quite sure how much it is you like them just yet. The full realization tends to come at an inconvenient time, making ordinary situations into ones of great annoyance. For example, a casual walk through Craneport where you run into some kid from RSA who is also casually enjoying his day of with a friend.

"Cute, right?" A great big dog is happily panting as you scratch her ears, a smile just as shiny as her owners beaming up at you.

"Super cute!" You resist the urge to kiss her all over her massively cute face while Ace tries to fight off an existential crisis. That is a dog, he is feeling jealousy over a dog. What's going to make him insecure next, a tooth brush?

"Her name's Ginger." The stranger says with clear pride. "She really likes you, I'm almost sad to see you go."

"Only almost?" You laugh and give a final head pat to the very good girl while Ace swallows. Anger, jealousy, general annoyance at your obliviousness? Who knows.

"Could I get your number then?" Asks the stranger. "I'm sure she'd love to get to know you."

"I'm sure she would!" Ace's heart skinks, hand going behind his head to awkwardly soothe his wounded heart. "But I think I'll have to pass." You don't give a reason and the stranger doesn't ask, just takes his loss on the chin as you begin to walk again.

"So why'd you say no?" His voice is surprisingly even even if the question feels like it stumbles out of him.

"Oh well you know..." You shuffle along, as eager to let the topic die as he is to press it. "I've already got a favorite ginger." He snorts, threatening to break into a full blown laugh. "I do!" You protest, oddly serious and extremely embarrassed. "And he's enough of a handful already."

"I'm sure Cay-kun will be happy to hear it." Ace laughs, winking back at you as he prepares to run back towards the bus, shouts of protest somehow falling on deaf ears and stroking his ego.

Jamil

Sometimes Jamil is envious of Floyd. His reputation wouldn't take a dive if someone from the other team accidentally ran into a missed shot fifteen times. Nobody would even blink. But if the ball came from his hands... well then people would start asking questions.

"Are you jealous?"

No. A lie. Jamil is jealous of the air you breathe for its closeness to your lips, and this sniveling Nobel Bell brat can actually speak. Not that he knows exactly what he is asking for, but Jamil has an active imagination. And feet, he somehow seems to be stalking his way towards you even though none of what is happening is any of his business.

"Are you dating?"

Why would I want that? I've already got enough on my plate as is, I don't need a partner. Only true on the surface. Jamil has no idea why he wants you (Kalim assures him he doesn't need a reason but why would he want to listen to that advice) he just does. You make him feel a bunch of inconvenient and ridiculous things, he does not need a partner but he does want one.

"Um... I was wondering..." Seven the kid was pathetic from across the court but now that he was actually here he is even worse. Jamil is surprised he hasn't fainted yet. "I was wondering... um if you wouldn't mind could I get your number?" He seems genuinely hopeful and Jamil has got to look just as genuinely disgusted with how far back the kid jumps.

"I'm sorry..." you turn him down so gently it hurts (for Jamil, not the kid, he wants to see the little bitch run away crying) "You've been very nice I'm just not interested right now." You let out a relived sigh as the kid walks away normally as Jamil considers talking to and is not given a chance to think better of it before you turn around. "Oh hey Jamil." Why do you have to look so happy to see him? It hurts. "Sorry you had to see that, I was just trying to turn in the team registratio-"

"Do you find that attractive?" You both look shocked Jamil even asked that, but now that he has, he finds that he is too stubborn to back down.

"No?" And then with a bit more certainty you add. "No. No I think I would like someone with a bit more... mindful" You say with an admiral degree of confidence for someone who is no longer looking him in the eyes.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #ace trappola x reader #jamil viper x reader #300 followers celebration

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kiss-me-muchoo · 4 months

Text

𝐖𝐞’𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 || 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠!𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

part one: we’ll be safe and sound || part two: isn’t it delicate?

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲_ Lucy Gray Baird was once your best friend. But Coriolanus Snow arrived and it was you who had them both charmed up. Where Coriolanus returns to the Capitol thinking he killed two women. Only to be surprised to realise that he doomed the bright prospect of his future.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬_ ANGST, kinda Lucy Gray x Coryo x reader, chasing, blood, slight gore if you imagine some scenes, poisonous berries, mentions of aphrodisiacs, drowning, violence, this gets slightly dark.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞_ this is one of my favourite fics ab Coriolanus so far. Main songs are Safe and Sound (Taylor’s version), can’t catch me now again and triste verano lol. Part two is going to be the aftermath of this btw

♪ ♫ awful Coriolanus Snow playlist ✰ Index (+ fics here)

__________________________________________________________

The water was warm. The soft rocks at the bottom made it slippery to stand still. But you did your best to stay there, looking at your friends laughing and playing where the water was deep.

“I can’t do it.” You say, shaking your head.

“You’re such a baby. Of course, you can!” The girl beside laughs at you and gently pushes you.

“Lucy Gray! I swear if you push me again I’m killing you” she laughs harder.

“Lucky me I know how to swim and you don’t”

“Relax. Just take my hand, I’m not letting you drown” Slowly, you take her hand, letting Lucy Gray guide you deeper into the water.

“I’m closing my eyes” you warn her. She rolls her eyes and laughs. The voices of your friends and the splashing sounds closer. At the same time, you feel the water has reached your chest. And it sends you on spirals.

“It’s okay. Just let go…” You’re holding Lucy Gray’s hand too tight. But as you reach further, you start making a big attempt to float. That’s when Lucy Gray grabs both of your hands to help you.

She finds your furrowed brows and insecure face funny and cute at the same time.

After some existential nights, the young girl questioned if she had ever felt such a strong connection with anyone as she did with you.

No. Never.

“Lucy Gray!” When she comes back to reality, she smiles shocked. She had dropped your hands but you had managed to keep floating. You were swimming.

“See? You did it!” Some of the members of The Covey cheer and you smile and laugh at their jokes.

“Told ya’. You’re just a baby” You poke your tongue out and she just makes fun of you.

“So funny. Shouldn’t you be at the market helping Maude Ivory to sell the necklaces we made?” Lucy Gray rolls her eyes again.

“Shouldn’t you be home?” It’s noon, almost dark. And yes, you should be home.

“I should.” To Lucy Gray, it was a disappointment to see that you never shared anything about your family or home. She just knew your mother’s family was from District 4, nothing else.

“Go home. I don’t want you to get scolded.” She was too sweet. Too sweet that you questioned if Lucy Gray Baird was your best friend.

“Petal, I’m almost eighteen…” one of the girls threw you a towel as soon as you made it out of the lake. After thanking her, you slip into your black sundress, which captures your alleged best friend’s attention.

“Why the black dress?” As a colour lover, you supposed Lucy Gray was hating your dress.

“It was the first thing I grabbed,” you admit, drying your hair with the towel.

“It looks like you’re going to a field funeral.”

“Maybe I was. In case I happened to have died in the lake” you joke, making her splash you. Lucy Gray noticed at that moment that you used many words that sounded too educated.

“Do you trust me so little?” She asked as she watched you leave.

“You know I trust whoever is loyal to me.” And with that, you disappeared through the trees.

There was something on you that intrigued Lucy Gray. And soon there will be two.

…

One night, at the hob, Lucy Gray is performing with The Covey and you are seated, smiling at her and your friends. Then all of a sudden, a certain blonde and tanned boy reaches for you.

“Y/N!” You hear your name and once you turn, you spot your two new friends.

“Sejanus, hey!” He offers you a little hug but it’s nothing compared to when Coriolanus Snow got closer.

“Coriolanus…” he literally falls into your open arms, his arms snaking around your hips with so much disguise that it makes you blush at the intimacy.

“I’ve told you… you can call me Coryo” You smile at him, inspecting his charming blue eyes that still made you get lost like the first day.

“Right… Well, it’s nice to see you, Coryo” he wants to chuckle. As Sejanus gets lost to get a drink, the blonde man takes a seat beside you.

“How has your training been? Hopefully not too hard.” You ask and wonder. Coriolanus was a peacekeeper in training. You met him almost three weeks ago, and somehow he made you very happy.

“I’m used to it now. The first days were the worst” you nod, turning back to see Lucy Gray and cheer for her.

Meanwhile, Coriolanus looked at you. Even your profile was a mystery to him. There was something about you that made him feel at home. Maybe it was your mannerisms that were very… Capitol. And that’s the thing, he didn’t know you. Yet, there was something that urged Coriolanus to unveil you. And that has started to make him question his feelings for Lucy Gray.

The moment you knew Coriolanus was Capitol, you started putting everything in a balance. And as you spent days talking outside of The Covey House and the lake, you realised you had started to put an eye on him.

When you turned to see the young man, you were surprised to see him already looking at you.

“What?” You ask, smiling. He replies by looking down, cheeks slightly flushed with pink.

“Nothing.” Your hand sneaks around your neck, and you feel it naked. You have lost your necklace.

Coriolanus sees how you start looking at the table, then the floor, looking out for something.

“What happened?”

“My necklace. I think I lost it… damn it” he starts helping you.

“Maybe it fell at the entrance” he suggests. So together we leave the hob. All under the fixated look of Lucy Gray. Who kept singing but the feeling on her chest made her uneasy.

The necklace doesn’t appear.

“It was just a necklace. But…” you sigh, leaning against the wall of the alley. Just a golden chain, no pendant, nothing.

Coriolanus can only see your features under the moonlight, ignoring the necklace issue. You have a beautiful dress under an oversized cardigan. With or without the necklace, you look gorgeous.

“It was a present. From my sixteenth birthday”

“Have mine.” You look at him before giggling. He takes his tag, a silver chain with his name on it. The young man thinks you would like him even more by offering his tag to you. He wants you to become closer to him. But the offer could be seen as wrong.

“I can’t take it, Coryo” he gets closer and the proximity makes you avoid his eyes. Only to land your vision on his hand taking yours.

He slips the tag in your palm, it’s still warm.

This is the most intimate moment you’ve shared with him. And you don’t know how to feel about it.

“At least until you get a new necklace” he suggests, offering a little smile. You can see he has no moles around his face, barely visible freckles maybe. His skin is very clear and his lips…

As you’re too focused on analysing his face, you accept the chain. And for some reason, you let him play with your cold fingers.

“Until then…” he leans closer, and the air suddenly feels fogged. It could be just another humid summer night.

But no, it was because Coriolanus Snow was less than two inches away from kissing you.

His free hand was ready to land behind your neck, just to slightly push you towards him and finally discover what your lips felt like.

“Where were you two?…” the side door of the hob opened. And like two volts, you and Coriolanus separate from each other. You grasp his tag tightly around your hand in a fist.

Lucy Gray had seen the interaction.

“Just looking for y/n’s necklace,” Coriolanus said first, walking away from you.

“Oh. Well, we were just waiting for you two. They want to start a round with beers” the girl said, rolling her eyes and giggling, pretending very well.

“Let’s go then…” Coriolanus walked past her, smiling at her like nothing happened. You tried to do the same. But Lucy Gray grabbed your forearm, stopping you from entering the hob behind the young man.

“Say the truth. Are you falling in love with him?” You frown, slightly irritated at the question.

“Of course not. I barely know him.” You replied a little too harshly. She nodded, silently believing you.

“You know I’ll never be the woman who wrecks a relationship.” She takes your word a little wounded. Seeing how you enter the hob quietly.

She just stares at the sky. You had been a good friend and she trusted you. Lucy Gray was having a little crisis. She questioned at that very moment if she actually loved Coriolanus.

Certainly not. She didn’t trust him at the beginning. Seeing him almost kissing you, was making her not trust him at the end. And Lucy Gray knew. You were so loyal to ever intentionally get involved in some affair. You preached to Not do what you don’t want to happen to you.

But the truth is that you would wreck a relationship. Unintentionally, but twice.

…

It was you who discovered a pomegranate tree near The Covey House. The branches were long and the season of pomegranates was until late summer, but somehow, in August, the tree was blossoming a couple of red beats.

Near the house, the nomad group had built some locations to make their lives easier. Like some stations to wash clothes and eat. Maude Ivory was sick, she started with a sore throat and she developed a stomach infection later. So you suggested picking their laundry. And since you spent more time with The Covey rather than your family, it wasn’t rare for Coriolanus to find you folding some dresses that were once hanging on a tightrope between two trees.

He stepped on a branch and it made you jump startled.

“Gosh! You scared me!” you squeaked after seeing Coriolanus standing there with his peacekeeper uniform. He grinned, leaving his little backpack on the table. He spotted a little basket filled with pomegranates.

“You picked all this?” He asked, pointing at the basket.

“Yes. It was a big surprise to see pomegranates in August. They start their season at the end of the month or September.”

“I never thought you would be that kind of girl?” You frowned laughing, turning back to fold the dresses into another basket.

“What kind, Coriolanus?” Shortly after, you know he is behind you. You can feel his breath in the nape of your neck, and it sends shivers to your spine.

“The kind who climbs trees and folds laundry while singing” your cheeks immediately go red. He had heard you sing previously.

“You heard me?”

“Indeed. Very pretty voice,” he said after sensing how embarrassed you were.

“I don’t sing. And you really shouldn’t be here. Lucy Gray was looking for you” You state firmly. Realising how much anyone could misinterpret the situation if they find you almost tangled up with Coriolanus Snow behind you.

“She was gone when I arrived here.”

“Oh…” you say, taking the basket with the laundry. When Coriolanus sees that you are also going to grab the one with the pomegranates, he stops you.

“Let me help you…” he takes the one with the fruit.

“Thank you.” He grabs your hand again, and it makes you weak. But you remember your dear friend. And the loyalty you preach.

“You can’t do this, Coryo. Not to her, not you. And not to me…” he sighs. Honestly, he didn’t want to hurt either one. But it was you who he was always trying to describe. It was you making him laugh so much. And it was you who made him feel like… home. Like…Capitol.

“You make me feel different.” You roll your eyes.

“And how did she make you feel in the first place?” They met at the Capitol. While you prayed for Lucy Gray’s survival at the Hunger Games. Boys could be liars.

“Lucy Gray made me feel like I had an option away from home.”

“But… you make me feel like I can have both. I can have this…” he says looking down at the pomegranates and folded laundry.

“And also… what I had there.” You have to look away. You see the trees and how some leaves fall because of the breeze.

“You’ll have to choose one day…” he nods, but he’s so close to you. He can see every detail of your delicate face. So as much as he tries to resist the urges, he ends up leaning closer. Your lips brush his and it’s magical. You really want to kiss him too.

“Doesn’t have to be today. Right?” His comment makes you almost retreat. And before you can walk away he pulls you to his chest again, finally kissing you.

He’s soft, yet passionate and intense. His right-hand finds comfort in the back of your neck while the other lands on your chin, deepening the kiss. For you, it’s an automatic response to put your arms around his neck.

As the kiss turns more desperate, the hand on your chin ends up pushing your lower back and you have to suppress a moan when you feel the clear outline of his manhood poke at your lower belly and part of your pelvis. It’s not enough to the fire you both initiated, but you have to stop.

Both of you pant for air and somehow he ends up smiling.

“Until the day you choose. This never happened.” You say firmly, but slowly, and you also smile at him.

Your smile was enough to keep him calm on the way back. Unconsciously, both of you feel like silly kids. Shyly walking side by side with baskets in your hands.

“So you couldn’t swim?” Coriolanus asks after some minutes walking to The Covey House.

“I couldn’t. Most of my family is from District 4. It’s embarrassing, to be honest.” He assumed you were also from there. And he couldn’t help but think that District 4 was closer than the 12 from the Capitol. Immediately he brushed away the thought.

“But Lucy Gray taught me. Kind of a violent teacher, but it was still great” you admit laughing. And Coriolanus was blushed. Surprisingly, he found himself on the verge of being jealous. Yes, of Lucy Gray teaching you how to swim.

Through the trail, one of the boys from The Covey appears, he looks too sweaty and tired, gasping and desperate.

“Y/N! Is Maude. She has a lot of fever and we don’t know what to do” You immediately worry, starting at a faster pace, followed by Coriolanus.

“Where is Lucy Gray?” You ask. The boy shrugs guiding you to their home.

“We don’t know. She’s nowhere near.” You sigh.

As soon as you make it inside, you find the girl lying on a couch, sweating and panting. Your heart broke as you kneeled beside her.

“Maude? You are going to be fine.” She seems to have identified you and slowly nodded.

Coriolanus follows you as you run to their improvised kitchen. You mix some herbs and boil them with water.

“Coryo, please hand me the honey.” He looks around to see a glass with honey and hands it to you.

And then, Coriolanus swears he fell in love with you as you treated Maude Ivory, immediately making her rest.

…

One night, Lucy Gray is oddly quiet. You know something’s up. So when you gently caress her shoulder, she lets out a long breath before spilling everything.

“Coriolanus shot Billy Taupe and the mayor’s daughter.” Your eyes widened, before letting a shocked gasp.

“What?” Lucy Gray nodded, confirming the facts to you.

“He did it to protect me and Sejanus. But…”

“This is bad. You know how this district is. Rumours will spark, the people will talk…” you spiral about it too panicked.

“I don’t want you nor Coriolanus to get in more trouble. What if-“

“It’ll be fine. We’ll be safe…” she hugs you, hearing how you tried to hide your sobs from her. She continues to share what happened and where the murder weapon was. She encourages you to keep the secret and play pretend until the waters soothed.

The waters only get worse. Like the tides form hours before a tsunami. After a peaceful morning, you find Lucy Gray at the market. You eat half a sandwich with her and you share that your mother was worried about the rumours. Including the fact that the authorities were starting to turn their heads towards Lucy Gray. She acts calm and used to have people talking about her. But being accused of murder was something different.

And it only gets worse when you two get closer to the chaos. Where Sejanus Plinth and the man who hid the murder weapon were hanged for treason. Lucy Gray takes your hand as you cover your mouth in shock.

You are able to see Coriolanus. The panic on his face is evident enough to make you feel uneasy. And that’s when Lucy Gray plans something.

You listen to her tell Coriolanus about leaving the districts. There are feelings of nausea, sadness, and stress washing all over you. That is abruptly cut by the couple turning to see you.

“Did you listen, y/n?” Lucy Gray asks. You stay quiet.

“Come with us. Please” she adds. You look at Coriolanus. His face doesn’t express anything, but he really wants you to agree. He knows it is a bad idea, he knows that is dangerous. But he wants to have you too.

You have plenty of reasons to stay. A little family, a home, a future. Which was certainly unsure for your dear people. They had nothing to lose.

Half of you were unsure, afraid of growing up and not being able to make it. So you had two options. And you weren’t ready to make a decision.

“Please, y/n. You’re my best friend. I can’t make it without you” Time never passed apparently. Lucy Gray and Coriolanus were still looking at you, waiting for some answer.

Your tongue gets loose before you can’t think clearly.

“I’ll come.” Coriolanus sees how the girl hugs you tightly. And he knows there’s no way back. He doesn’t know what to expect about this.

After agreeing to meet in the hanging tree, the three of you part separate ways.

You don’t think much about it. Because if you did, you would start analysing, and probably you would stay.

Coriolanus is too busy in the barracks to even remember. But he can’t help to think about you and Lucy Gray in a balance, knowing he was lingering too much on your side.

And Lucy Gray understands that in the long term, you’ll either grow old seeing her and Coriolanus being together. Only if it didn’t turn out the other way, where Coriolanus ended up taking you and it was Lucy Gray who would have to bear it.

Either way. She would leave with the only two humans he could trust. Or so she believed.

…

Your boots are dusted. You stare at them, a bitten prune in your right hand a little knife in the other. The way he grabs her chin makes you feel uncomfortable… and jealous.

Coriolanus didn’t kill his old self. That was for sure. You have your own theories, but you refuse to add gasoline to the fire. Not when you have made it outside of District 12.

“Not the best time to throw allusions, Coryo,” you say walking past them, separating the couple. You hoped to have soothed the tension. But you knew Lucy Gray had decreased her trust in the boy.

“You’re right. Sorry…” Coriolanus accepts looking at Lucy Gray. Then to you and your silly headscarf, your long silk dress, and fishing dark jacket.

“We really needed her. Right?” Lucy Gray throws the words, making Coriolanus frown confused. And that’s when he questioned if the girl also had some feelings for you, other than being best friends. Because the way he was on the verge of smiling at the sight of you was the same way she was looking at you.

“She will prevent us from killing each other” he attempted to joke.

“Or be the reason why we kill each other,” Lucy Gray said. Coriolanus disliked the comment.

And so on, for the rest of the walk, it’s you making the air lighter. Your smiles made Coriolanus forget the offer of moving to District 2. Even the situation where his grandmother and Tigris were in. But Lucy Gray reminded him of his errors and his new upcoming country life. Your random comments about plants that are poisonous and others that work as medicine or aphrodisiacs make Lucy Gray blush and keep focused. Knowing that having you by her side was a good sign.

You lean to pick some violet flowers, and both Lucy Gray and Coriolanus look at each other to then look at you.

“Medicine, poisonous or…?” You giggle, noticing how Lucy Gray was avoiding saying the word.

“Saffron. An aphrodisiac, actually,” you answer, looking at her blush and Coriolanus’ little smirk.

“Some threads of this with warm milk or wine and…” Coriolanus can’t help but laugh briefly. You ignore the way he looks at you. The cheeky look he offered you and how you evidently looked away, blushed.

Lucy Gray caught a glimpse of your necklace. She stopped blushing as soon as she looked carefully. It was Coriolanus’ tag. Dangling between your breasts and shining under the last rays of the sun. It was getting cloudy. Likely, a humid rain was coming.

“I’ll take the lead from here.” Lucy Gray says, her tone a little more cold.

She starts walking away and Coriolanus takes the opportunity to help you stand up.

“You should take some…” when you understand what he meant, you punch his arm.

“You’re insane, Snow” he laughs and cynically goes to trace your face with one of the flowers.

“I think I’ve made my decision.” You turn to look at Lucy Gray, who’s even further then. Then back to the blonde guy with gorgeous blue ocean eyes.

You don’t want to hurt her. Lucy Gray deserved better. But you couldn’t deny that if the days kept passing, you would completely and blindly fall in love with Coriolanus Snow.

“We won’t do anything about it. Yet…” you say, sliding a little bunch of the violet saffron flowers inside your bag. Coriolanus shakes his head. There’s a big smile on his face, returning to walk before he jumps there to kiss you.

…

When the rain starts you decide to find the lake. Under the rain, the dark underwater conditions made it desirable to fish. Fish were more active and hopefully, you would be able to bring something to have for dinner that night. The cabin was very near. Coriolanus stayed there and Lucy Gray came to the lake with you. She was quiet, watching how your feet were underwater, and you sank a sharp branch constantly.

“I have one!” You happily yelled, watching how the poor animal squirmed.

When you leave it in a little bag with Lucy Gray, she stops you.

“Lucy Gray?”

“I swear I won’t ask again. But please be honest, y/n.” She starts and it makes you frown confused. You drop the branch, waiting for her question.

“Do you love him?” She finally asks.

You remain quiet. But you keep your word.

“I don’t know…”

She nods, looking at the damn tag on your neck. She should’ve known.

“That doesn’t mean I’ve been acting behind your back or that I will” you add. Because it’s true. None of your encounters with Coriolanus were set by you. It was he who always looked out for you.

“Not yet.” She spits, giving you a harsh look. You sigh, tilting your head, hands on your hips.

“Are we going to ruin everything for a man?”

“I don’t know. Are you?” She asks with a sarcastic smile.

“I won’t do this, Lucy Gray. And you shouldn’t either. Not when we’ve come this far already.” You say looking away from her, grabbing the branch, and walking away.

“Alright. I’m going back to the cabin. See you there?” She asks to surrender.

“Sure.” You hear her footsteps leaving. And you can finally breathe, your eyes water and you question everything.

The long days working with The Covey, helping them to make handicrafts to sell at the market. The nights laughing nonstop with Lucy Gray and giving her to drink when she shouldn’t, how she braided your hair and caressed you. All the good performances she gave and how good the celebrations were.

Then the days you were able to have long walks with Coriolanus, getting to know little but something about his life at the Capitol. The nights you sneaked at the barracks, and both spent hours drinking and saying silly things. The soft touches he started giving you. How he cared for you and always wanted you to be okay.

You realise they are the most important people in your life outside of your family. They are the strongest connections you’ve ever made. And you didn’t have the heart to ruin it or sacrifice it.

Those thoughts are long gone after you hear some shooting. You drop the branch again and you start running towards the cabin. You forget your boots and the fish. It’s the panic of knowing something bad has happened that reigns in your head. Some dry leaves hurt your bare feet but you don’t care.

You literally jump the stairs of the cabin. And once you open the door, you spot Coriolanus with the rifle in one hand. A knife on the other. That forbidden rifle.

You see some dry blood in his arm. An evident bite was there.

“What happened?” You rush to inspect his arm.

“Snakebite” but he’s fast enough to turn and start giving you pecks across the face. And once his lips brush your chin, you can’t take it anymore.

Neither him, he finally kisses you like he never ever did.

It’s desperate. While you kiss him back, many questions keep flooding your head. And you can’t fully concentrate on his lips. So you back away.

“Where’s Lucy Gray?” He remains quiet. Slowly, you look down. Until your eyes land on the rifle. You start walking backward, shaking your head. Tears forming again.

“No…” you whisper as he tries to get closer to you again. Coriolanus wants to scream and tell you everything is going to be okay. But he knows it’s not true. He sees how you’re starting to look shocked. And he realised how smart you were, how fast you connected the dots.

He makes you sit on the creaky chair of wood. He offers you a dark brown glass, where he pours some of the water. Slowly, you take the glass, hoping to calm yourself with some water.

Once you drink a sip, you see a crushed berry. Quickly you spit the water, throwing the glass as it shatters into the floor.

It was a Lily of the Valley, a poisonous berry.

“YOU POISONED ME!” You scream. He opens his eyes and enters in panic.

“No, y/n. It was an accident!” The urge to run increased. Probably what your dear Lucy Gray tried to do. It makes you finally cry.

That crushed berry was an accident. Coriolanus told Lucy Gray to wait for you, to prevent cooking anything that was poisonous from your collection.

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?” He stops you, and as soon as he touches you, your reaction is violent. You keep squirming, trying to run away from him.

He drops the rifle, but the hand with the knife keeps dangerously brushing your temple. And Coriolanus wants to stop fighting so badly, worried that he could hurt you even more. Also, he panics as he knows the poison could be spreading.

He can’t be alone. You were his remaining hope.

“PLEASE STOP, Y/N!” But you don’t.

“YOU KILLED HER! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!” Suddenly both of you stop. You touch your face and your whole palm is covered in blood.

Another thing Coriolanus never meant to. The knife had made a deep cut, and the scarlet kept flowing from that side of your face, covering your silk dress with spots.

“It was an accident. Y/n…please”

An accident… he wanted to kill you.

You run. You run as fast as you can. Towards the lake, wherever. As long as you could be away from Coriolanus.

He runs too, he chases you. Making you feel like his prey. You try to ignore the fear that keeps building up. You ignore the blood threatening your vision from the left eye.

“STOP, Y/N!” Coriolanus screams.

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” But you don’t stop, you reach the old wooden platform at the lake. The rain splashing against the surface of the lake is loud, but not enough to silence your sobs of anger, fear, and pain.

Coriolanus also fears. He knows he’s a monster, but he didn't want to be one around you. Maybe it was his karma. He believed Lucy Gray placed his mother’s scarf on top of that snake. You believed he had purposely placed the crushed Lily of the Valley at the bottom of that glass.

He keeps running, you won’t go anywhere in that wood thing.

You turn to see him. And it destroys him. Your face and drenched dress. All covered in blood and rain. Your red and swollen eyes. He had broken you in less than twenty minutes.

And looking at his eyes was your ending. Because you slipped. Coriolanus saw how your weak body fell into the water and he ran faster.

But he didn’t jump. It was too late.

Soon he realised your body would never make it to the surface.

He cried, he screamed in that lake. He fell on his knees and cursed at the way things happened. He lost his head when Lucy Gray was gone, and he returned even more stressed as he thought you had also run away. But you came straight to his arms, hoping to see everyone was fine. And he just kept cursing, wishing he had given you a different glass.

Some minutes later, he goes back to the cabin. He takes the rifle carefully wrapped with a blanket and takes a raft.

As he lets the rifle sink into the lake, he wonders where your body had ended up. But he accepts it was probably better to let you rest peacefully underwater than disturb you.

In his head, he truly fell in love with you. Lucy Gray had been an enigma for most of the time, only to reveal her true nature in her final moments. And you, Coriolanus realised you were the real mystery.

Just like your death.

He took all the flowers you had collected and sprinkled the lake with them. His eyes watered once again. Thinking about what could’ve been. And after a minute of silence, he leaves. The lake, the cabin, the outsides of the districts.

With two remaining memories; Lucy Gray’s earring and a single saffron flower you promised to give it a try with him.

Coriolanus swears that he actually needed you. But you’re gone.

…

Ending up back in the Capitol makes Coriolanus feel like Lucy Gray’s death was worth it, actually. But yours makes him feel guilty. He could’ve asked you to come with him. To forget about everything that happened on the 12 and start a new life. With the Plinth fortune and Gaul’s help on his side, Coriolanus accepts the only missing piece is you.

The saffron flower rested between the pages of his journal, now dry. But the color was vivid as the day it blossomed.

Coriolanus is a new man. Who had let go of his past, but not the memory of you. He mourns your death the first week he comes back home. And he tells his grandmother that from now on he will only wear her white roses.

A symbol of peace, hope, and innocence. Which he had lost a long time ago. But it reminded him of you. Especially the hope, which was what you took away from him when you died.

So he accepts the invitation from the annoying childish girl Livia Cardew. The golden blonde was always a shy yet smiley girl in class. But Coriolanus never paid much attention to her. Until he learned Livia’s older cousin was a famous and respected politician. So he agreed to come with her to the Inauguration Day. President Ravinstill was too depressed and down after his son died at the hands of a rebel attack. So he had to retire. And Coriolanus knew it was a great opportunity to look out for contacts and form new comrades.

“You look amazing,” Tigris said, brushing her cousin’s shoulders, inspecting his dark blue suit.

“Maybe because you did this,” Coriolanus said, happy to see the young woman smiling again. After the bittersweet comment of saying he looked like his father, there had been a shift.

“With some help,” she says, admitting all the hard work was not from her hands. Now she had a little atelier where she had help and started new fashion trends at the Capitol.

“Even so, you designed it. Thank you, Tigris” he smiled at her.

“Are you still going with that girl?”

“Livia? Yes… Why?” He asked, looking at himself in the mirror.

“I don’t think she’s the one Coryo. She’s a child” Tigris admitted, arms crossed and avoiding looking at the man.

“She’s my age, Tigris.”

“Still… allow me to say this but, she doesn’t seem to be what you need” Coriolanus sighed. Of course, Livia Cardew wasn’t what he needed, she just had some contacts and a good reputation from her family. But they had nothing in common.

Coriolanus Snow needed you. An alleged district woman, who didn’t even know her last name or background. Just the sweet girl who seemed to be the remedy for all aches.

“I know she’s not the one” and Tigris knew there had been someone else than her cousin’s tribute. Something else happened. But she wouldn’t ask him.

“Listen, I’m just going with her to the inauguration, but this doesn’t mean I’ll take her for granted,” he says, pushing away his memories from you.

“Say goodnight to Grandma’am for me, please” Tigris nods, briefly smiling once again before kissing his cheek and wishing him good luck.

The celebration had been very ostentatious. With a lot of people cheering for the new president. He seemed young, with a mature beautiful wife. There was a rumour that he was District 4 governor and was Mr. Ravinstill's best friend. That said a lot about why District 4 was wealthier than District 2 or three compared to before.

Nonetheless, the Capitol’s citizens seemed to be embellished by this new president who promised a new start for everyone in Panem.

Soon after the Inauguration Ceremony, only the wealthiest and finest members of the Capitol were invited to continue the celebration in a mansion near the hills. The view was amazing and the remaining minutes of the sunset were gorgeous up there.

Coriolanus had barely tasted from his posca. After you, he started to pay more attention to poison. He saw some classmates, like Festus, Clemensia, Vypsania, Hilarius, etc. A side of him wants to get closer and say hi, but Livia appears beside him, eating a little pastry.

“Imagine living here and being able to see this view every morning, evening, and night.” She says. Coriolanus hates her purple dress and red lipstick. As he thought, Livia was ridiculously trying to look mature.

“It’s a great view.” He replies coldly. The city was finally looking brighter, modern, and illuminated.

He turned to see the profile of the girl and noticed she had some cream on her chin.

“You have some-“ Livia understands and quickly wipes it away, smiling at him. She was pretty, but not his type.

“Better?”

“Yes.” The crowd suddenly starts talking, capturing the couple’s attention. So when both Livia and Coriolanus turn towards the mansion, they see two peacekeepers opening the doors from the biggest balcony. And the new man who had the crown of president appeared, followed by his wife. And then what seemed to be his family.

The guests started a round of applause, looking up from the giant patio. Coriolanus finally took a little sip of his drink.

“Dear friends and honourable guests. It is my joy to say that the inauguration ceremony was a success. My family and I feel extremely blessed and thankful for all the support we have received” the man started his speech. Coriolanus was mentally taking notes. As that was the man he would literally have to beg to become the Capitol’s governor one day. And hopefully, then become president.

“This is going to be a period of change, evolution, and a new start for the history of Panem. I look forward to meeting all the involved staff and personnel to make this real” he sounded honest, yet, like a dangerous species that you had to be careful around.

“For now, I’d like to introduce my sweet and dedicated daughter, who shall not be judged by her young age. But to be admired for the position I’m giving her, as chief of staff.” it was able to be heard on the microphone. He said the name, but no one heard.

And the first thing Coriolanus saw between the lines of the railing were some weird heels and the layers of a tulle dress.

Then a satin top with some soft knitted sweater, with shiny buttons. A delicate golden necklace and some dark brick red lips.

Coriolanus Snow almost dropped his glass. His face went pale and Livia had to borrow the glass from him.

“Are you okay?” She asked worriedly. Coriolanus nodded, but he had an evident nausea forming.

“Y/n. Come here, darling…” the new president said with a smile. Putting an arm around his daughter, proud of showing her off.

The president’s daughter was you.

He couldn’t believe it. He saw your body drowning. You drank poison, and the cut on your temple. How could you have survived?

That didn’t matter. There you were with a shy smile. Innocence is long gone. Coriolanus only saw the mystery, the danger in your face.

Seeing you there, breathing, as much as he wanted to have you alive before, was going to curse his existence.

“A toast for everyone here. To begin this new era with the right feet!” Your father said, raising his glass.

Everyone did it then.

“For the president!” The guests cheered in unison.

Fireworks started, making everyone turn to the sky. Even Livia walked a little past Coriolanus, but he stood there looking at the balcony. Eyes set on you.

You spotted him. And it stopped your world.

He looked even more beautiful than he did in 12. Longer hair, perfect weight gained. Clean and elegant suit. Now you know everything about him. And it broke your heart. You had healed through the trauma of what happened in the lake. Nobody knew, besides you and him.

You hoped to keep it that way. But you had no compassion left for a man like Coriolanus Snow. Who killed your best friend, almost killed you, and loved you the wrong way.

You knew he would be scared to see you alive. He would end up begging on his knees at the slight error he committed. He would have many questions, that time would answer for him.

Your days of being a loyal and sweet girl were gone. Coriolanus had stripped you bare from any trace of trust, unconditional love, and innocence.

You stare at him, and he looks shocked. He looks so scared and… frail. So you greet him back with a smile, sipping at your glass one last time, before looking up at the fireworks.

He really thought that it was the end.

____________________________________

Minitaglist: @rockstarbfs @gracieroxzy @il0vebeingdelulu @coconut-dreamz @angelscrime @maryvibes @justacaliforniandreamer

part two? yey or nay?

#coriolanus snow x reader #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus x lucy gray #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow #coriolanus fanfiction #tom blyth x reader #corio snow

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usetheeauthor · 1 year

Text

I’d Stop The World… (+18 MDNI)

Sub!Arisu Ryohei x Plus!Touch-Starved!Reader

Summary: After nearly losing your friend, Arisu, during the witch hunt game and experiencing the King of Spades, you realize the fragility of life and just how important he is to you.

NO READ MORE LINE BREAK ADDED DUE TO GLITCH

A/N: Wrote this because there just isn’t enough Arisu fics and my boy deserves some lovin’

Word Count: 3.8k words

Warnings: spit kink, dirty talk, doggystyle, scratching, biting, crying during and after sex, squirting, creampie, using underwear as gag, cum eating, if you squint ass worship/body worship, body hair kink, multiple orgasms, existentialism, mentions of violence, graphic language, talks of death and impending sense of doom, depression, markings/hickies, hair pulling, oral (m & f recieving), fingering, choking, hand kink/finger sucking, size kink (reader likes how small Arisu is despite him being really tall)

You wondered how it got to this point. How did you end up in a place where you constantly had to fight for your life? A place far from home. Not even existing in your normal universe.

You remember wanting to get away from all of your problems back in America, a year ago. You ended up moving to Japan. Being a city girl, you didn’t think much of the difference in perspective aside from the language. Luckily for you, your mother was a teacher who’d taught English in Japan so you were pretty familiar here.

You mostly kept to yourself, no friends in question. Just how you intended it. All you wished was for a peaceful life. Something you felt hadn’t been granted to you ever since your father lost his battle with depression and your mother developed early dementia. Believing she was too far gone, you’d left. Leaving only a phone number on file to the nurse back home only in the case of emergency. You never visited your mother since.

Now…all you wanted was to visit her. To hold her. To tell her you were sorry for leaving. Her nurse is probably calling you now. Maybe even your friends and family have called you as well. But you’ve pushed them away and you have no way of letting them know that you’re lost in the borderlands with no idea whether you’d be able to get back home.

Along the way, you met countless others who’ve been forced to play the games, too. Countless lives lost. It was enough to wear you down.

But then you met the courageous, intelligent, and inspiring Arisu Ryohei. When you wished to die on the “distance” biking challenge, he encouraged you to love in hopes you’d one day see your mother again. That was your motivation.

However, the closer you got, you realized just how much he meant to you as well. You wanted nothing more than to leave the games with him and start a fresh life together. Maybe even introduce him to your mother.

Then, the night of the Witch Hunt came around. People frantically trying to win the game to proceed and retrieve the Ten of Hearts card. You learned that Arisu’s visa would soon expire at midnight but he’d been tied up somewhere around the hotel. With the help of some players, you were able to save him. Only for Aguni and his goons to continue to attack Arisu nearly beating him to a pulp. Now present day comes around and you’ve made it to the King of Spades level in which he’s mindlessly killing people. An absolute massacre.

The fragility of your mortality comes into question. You’ve met so many great people who you’ve come to know as friends. Usagi, Kuina, Chishiya, Ann…Arisu. People who’ve taught you how to let people in again after building walls for so long. Now you’re at risk of losing them all and never seeing your mother again.

You needed to confess your feelings for Arisu if tomorrow’s your last day. This meant regardless of whether those feelings are returned. Obviously, you sensed that Arisu had feelings for Usagi as he also has a close friendship with her.

“Are you okay?” Arisu asks, snapping you from your panicking thoughts.

The group has separated in pairs, currently searching for supplies to bring to a safe house (abandoned hotel) far from any of the hot zones.

“Mhm.” You simply say, nodding.

“You seem tense…which is fair. We are being chased by a madman with sub machine guns,” He says with a small smile. You give no reaction, continuing to search through the ruins of the convienence store.“Seriously, what’s wrong?”

You sigh. “If I tell you, it’ll make things different between us.”

“I thought we were friends. Nothing could possibly change between us.”

But that’s exactly what I want!

“Okay, I will tell you,” You began. “But I have some rules.”

“And they are…”

“Number one: don’t interrupt.”

“But—”

“Shhh, I said ‘don’t interrupt’. Number two: When I say what I have to say, you don’t have to answer me. At least not yet. You can tell me some other time later just not now.”

“O…kay.”

You inhaled and exhaled deeply, eyes squeezed shit before opening them once again. “Arisu…I…I like you. Like a lot. I long to touch you and hold you. To kiss you. I feel like I’m alive when I see that you’re okay. I’ve been thinking of my motivations for keeping alive. I wish to see my mother again but also I wish for a life where I can be with you and things would be normal. I wish for all our friends to be alive and well. I wanted to let you all of this before it’s too late. When I thought I nearly lost you at the Beach, I felt so sick and lost. I realized that I just couldn’t bear the thought of not having you. You make me feel less alone. I don’t want to go out with so many regrets when I could’ve said something while I can. I release this truth for a lighter conscience. So in case I die tomorrow…Ryohei, I love you.“

He’s stunned by your confession. Rendered speechless. You awkwardly give him a small smile before packing up some food in your backpacks. The rest of the trip back to the safehouse was quiet aside from the one time you wept having to go through a street littered with bodies of players not much older than you.

The group sat in a circle in the middle of a fire outside of the safehouse, talking about their fears and dreams in life. Every now and then, you noticed Arisu glancing at you before quickly averting his gaze.

Deciding to call it a night for wnough rest and energy, the group had gone to their designated rooms. Before you enter your room, you spotted Usagi and Arisu speaking together in the hallway. You knew his feelings for her were stronger but it didn’t hurt any less knowing.

Climbing in bed, you curled the sheets around you. Silently crying to yourself, you here a knock at your door. You wipe your eyes, grabbing a nearby t-shirt to cover your body half-naked body. Trudging over, you opened the door. Arisu stood in the doorway, hair disheveled and eyes needy. He quickly pulls your body to his, planting a passionate kiss on your lips.

The two of you stumble into your room, him kicking the door shut. You pull away for a moment, him pecking your lips with each word you spoke.

“I dont (kiss) understand (kiss). I thought you (kiss) liked Usagi.”

“Usagi’s a friend. A good friend. She encouraged me to not be afraid to say how I feel about you. I was worried that you only felt like you had to say those things because you were scared. I thought a girl like you could never want someone like me. But now I know you mean it because I feel it, too. I love you.”

“I wanna feel you tonight. All of you. No holding back.”

“I’m not very experienced. But if you teach me how to touch you, I will do my best to please you,” He whispers against your lips, cock hardening against your stomach. “I want this to be perfect for you.”

“I don’t want perfect,” You grip him through his shorts, biting down on his bottom lip at the same time. “I wanna fuck. I want sloppy, messy, dirty love making. The kind that will make everyone blush in the morning. I want it to where I could feel you between my legs even when your not there.”

“I want you so bad. I ache. Do you feel me throbbing in your hands?”

“How could I not? All I ever wanted was to feel you. I can’t believe I get to do that now,” You sink down to your knees before him. “But I need more. Need to suck your cock and taste you.”

He caresses the top of your head. “I might cum in your mouth.”

“That’s what I hope for.” Untying the strings of his shorts, you tug them off to reveal his boxers. The head of his growingly hard cock peaking through the hole. Too impatient to pull down his underwear, you suckle on the pink head through the hole; tasting the salty and addicting taste of his precum. Increasingly lowering your mouth around the base, you jerk and bobbed until his cock was fully through the hole.

He groans, biting his lip and watching you through the dark strands of his hair. Once in a while, he’d run his fingers through your hair keeping it out of your way as you gagged around. He was fairly thick in size, dick surprisingly tanned and pretty. Although, he wasn’t extremely huge, he was fucking perfect.

Hands free, you continued to move your mouth up and down his cock. Your hands busied themselves, pulling up at the hems of his shirt. He takes the hint, pulling the shirt over his head. He reveals his toned stomach and faint happy trail of which you happily crawled angry lines down his abs while he fucked you mouth.

His hand rests on the back of your skull, thrusting sing into the back of your throat while saliva dripping down to the cleavage of your breasts, soaking your shirt and forming a puddle on the floor.

You pull away, stroking his cock. “You taste so good, baby. Love it when you fuck my throat.”

“You need to be naked.” Arisu whimpers.

You remove your shirt, breasts exposed to the cold air and your nipples immediately get hard. Only in your lace panties, you shove your hand down to play with your swollen bud while resuming to suck on his deliciously veiny cock.

“Oh, fuckkkk,” Arisu whines head thrown back and knees nearly buckling. “I can’t…It’s too much. Too good.”

You slurp the thick saliva off his cock, jerk him a few times before spitting it right back on the base. You deepthroat his cock, fingers playing with his balls. Never again would he question your desire for him. The sight before him right now is proof enough that you wanted him bad enough to devour him.

“Mmm.” You hummed your enjoyment, sucking hard on the tip for more of his essence while folding his testicles. Your only given his high-pitched cry as a warning before his shooting his warm cum down your throat.

You greedily swallow him down, sucking and moaning until he has to physically pull you off. By the time you look up at him, he’s trembling. His hair even messier from his head trashing around.

“You were amazing,” He breathes out a chuckle. “I’ve never had a girl do that for me.”

“I’d do anything for you, Arisu.” You say, doe eyes and kiss-swollen lips glistening in the moonlight.

“Could I taste you, too? I’ve always wanted to try. I’m not sure how to begin.”

“I can teach you,” You rise up to your feet, eye contact not breaking as you played with the band of your panties. “Off or on?”

“O-off.” He says.

You lower the blue lace material down your legs, keeping them close for later use. “I’d like yours off, too.”

Arisu obeys, finally peeling off the boxers. He’s freed of his restraints and it’s as if he’d gotten even more beautiful somehow. The underwear held back from just how perfect his cock appeared, still drilling wet with your spit.

You lie on your back on the plush mattress, sitting close enough to edge. You prop your up by your elbows, gesturing him with a beckoning finger to come closer to you. When he does, you then gesture him with that finger to get on his knees. His blown pupils assured you that he was more than eager to do this.

He looks down at your glistening core before him as if staring at a 5-course meal. You were, in fact, his meal.

You tug his hair, bringing him forward. His face hovers over your puffy pussy. “You have such a pretty mouth, Arisu. So pink and full. Even when facing death, my eyes can’t tear away from them. I bet they’d feel like heaven on me.”

“Please let me taste you,” Arisu begs. “I promise I’ll do anything to make you cum.”

“How can I deny my good boy?” You cooed. “Go on and taste me.”

Tugging on his hair once again, you bring his face down. He sticks out his long, thick tongue licking a long stripe up your cunt. Flicking the tip of his tongue rapidly against your clit, he sucks it into his mouth causing you to whine out.

You pull at his hair again to pull him away for a bit, looking into his eyes. He was far gone. His eyes trained on your perfect cunt. You decide to let him take the lead releasing his hair. He kisses your inner thighs, enamored by the thickness in them. God, he’s dreamt countless nights of you squeezing his head between them. Tonight, he plans on getting that wish.

He dives back in, kissing and sucking on your lips like he would with the ones on your gorgeous face. Your eyes roll into the back of your head. He’s already doing so good.

With his lips clamped around sensitive nub, he takes a large hand and kneads your thighs before slipping his longest finger into you. You groan out loud, rolling your hips and shoving mouthfuls of your pussy at him.

“Ohhhh, Arisu. You’re so fucking incredible. Ooo, baby.” You groan, removing the hair falling over his face. as stared at you with intense lust-filled eyes. You bite your lip to keep from screaming when he adds another finger in proceeding to do the ‘come hither’ motion and triggering your impending orgasm.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna cum.” You squeak. Arisu works his fingers faster into you alternating between pumping them into your tight core and playing with spongy trigger. He hears the sound of your wetness before he see it. The squelching noises sounding off and then you’re squirting around his fingers. He continues to pump until your eruption practically shoots them out if you. He eagerly licks at your arousal from his finger and the source itself. You take his fingers, sucking them into your mouth.

He can’t take it anymore. He needs to be inside you. Now. You’re turned over on your stomach, hands stretched behind you for him to pin them behind your back. Cuffing a hand over your wrists, he slips his hardened cock into your sopping pussy. The two of you moaning out your bliss.

“Feel so good inside me, my good boy. You’re so tiny compared to me. You really think you can handle all of this body.” You tease, you voice sultry and fucked out.

He bottoms out, biting his lip to keep himself from whimpering. “I can handle all of you. Your curves, your beautiful ass.” He lets a hand collide on your ass cheek causing it to ripple.

“Fuck me, Arisu. Fuck. Me.”

He picks a pace. A pace that—although felt incredibly pleasant—would make you cum soon. You wanted to stretch the moment for as long as you could.

With your cheek pressed to the mattress and your eyes rolled, you beg him to change pace. “Slower. Please. Need to feel every inch.”

He listens, hitting into you with long, deep thrusts timed like the swinging of a pendulum.

“Oh shit,” You whimper, hearing the sounds of your sticky release squelching with the churn of his cock. “Arisu, please, don’t leave me.”

“So good, hanii. I’ll never leave. Never. I’m going to make this pussy my home.” He growls.

Arisu picks up the pace a little, hitting deeper and deeper. You involuntarily began to fuck back against him, your plump bottom smacking against his pelvis.

“Oh god, I’m not gonna last long at this pace. You feel sooooo good and wet,” He punctuates with one thrust against your cervix. “I’ll have to pull out.”

“Just cum in me.” You whine, sounding desperate.

“I don’t want this to end so soon,” Arisu pulls out, letting out a shaky breath. He looks down at his length coated in your creamy arousal. “You’re making it so hard.”

You turn around to face him on all fours. “Want me on top?”

“I need a few minutes to calm down. If I’m inside you again, I’ll blow my load.”

“Do it,” You beg. “Let me be filled by you.”

“Please, hanii…I’ve waited for this moment and I won’t blow it so soon.”

“You can fuck me as many times as you want, Arisu. If I die, I don’t want to live with regret. I don’t want to die without ever having the chance to have you in as many ways possible. The next game we go into, I’ll look at the marks you leave on my body and I’ll remember exactly how I got them. I’ll remember them each fondly. You’re my motivation to live. To come back into your arms and hold you.”

A corner of Arisu’s lips twitches as if he’s attempting to keep himself from smiling, too shy to let you know how much your words made him feel like he was on top of the world.

He nods his approval. “Okay. You can get on top now.”

You push at his chest, making him lie back. Slowly crawling over him as a predator to a prey, starting from licking at the creamy release on his dick, up his chiseled stomach, then finally to his lips. You plant a soft kiss on his lips, gentle enough to leave him wanting more but present enough to run your tongue over his chapped bottom lip.

Taking your lace underwear, you shove it into his mouth and straddle him. You line him up with your entrance than sink down, sobbing out at the feeling of him stretching you. His big, round eyes watched you in awe, mouthful of your panties wet with your arousal. He savors the taste of you on his tongue.

You grind slowly on his cock, biting your lip and watching his lips part. He looks up at your face then your breasts then back at you. But your primal emotions had gotten the best of you and your back to setting a dam-breaking lace, grinding down hard on his cock to bouncing on it.

“Ahh.” Arisu muffles out a whimper at your newfound energy, squeezing his eyes shut.

You wanted slow but did he have to feel so goddamn good?

“Look at me when I’m fucking you.” You growl, grabbing him by the chin. He opens his eyes. You pull the gag from his mouth, parting his lips. Sticking your tongue out, you let a trail of spit fall onto his tongue and he immediately swallows.

After a few bounces, you notice Arisu breathing has gone ragged along with the tightening of his balls from under you which indicated he would be coming very soon. You squeeze around his neck bouncing harder and faster, not giving him any room to breathe.

“That’s it, little one,” You hiss. “Just stay there and take it.”

You loved how fragile he looked under you as if you could easily break him. You can tell he’s never been with a curvier girl. You were going to make sure you’d be his first and his last.

You pull off him causing him to groan and protest. “Why’d you stop?”

“Because I want you on top of me. I want to feel your chest against mine and kiss your neck while you drive into me.”

“I really won’t be lasting long this time. Even if you pull out for the last time, I’ll cum.”

“It’s okay, baby. I won’t pull back this time. Just fuck me slow.”

You lie on your back once more and waited for him to get into your arms. The moment he does, you grip his butt forcing him to quit beating around the bush and fuck you properly.

The gooey, squishy noises were music to your ears. You moan and sob, tears running down from how incredible he felt. You intertwine your fingers in his hair, pulling hard. The other hand clawing angry lines down his back. Your mouth occupies itself biting into his shoulder hard enough to draw blood.

He sucks a bruise on the top of your right breast. He sounded so pretty and desperate. Shaky moans and high-pitched whines whenever you’d clench around him. He pulls his length out for only the tip to stay in, playing with your entrance by shallowly pushing in before going in deep again.

You circle your fingers over your clit, gasping at the feeling of him. He was just so special. “Arisu…I gonna cum so hard. I want you to know that I love you so much. If this kills me, I’ll die happily.”

Taking one hand and pinning it above your head, he tangles his fingers in yours. His eyes still boring into your soul while the heavyness of his breath tickles your skin. He’s panting louder and louder the closer he gets to cumming as well.

“I love you, too.” He reciprocates, placing his beautiful pink lips against yours and it’s enough to awaken a rapture within you.

You cry out, the tension snapping and a splash of wetness shooting out of you and coating his pelvic area and pubic hair.

“Arisu.” You chant his name over and over, the tears continuing to flow as you felt every sensation on every part of your body that contained nerve endings.

Arisu releases his thick, hot essence into your tightening pussy and milk him passed the point of sensitivity. He’s just as loud when he cums, whimpering and begging you to take all of him.

You pull him in for another kiss, your tongue swirling around in his mouth to stifle his cries. By the time you pull away, a line of saliva tracks before you flicks a tongue out to lap it up.

He flops down on the space beside you, letting out a sigh of relief. “That was…”

“Otherworldly? Heavenly? God-tier? Because that pretty much sums it up for me.”

“R-really,” Arisu says dwindling with his thumbs.

“Uh-huh, I’ve never cried this much during sex. You’re one of a kind, Arisu.” Tears still flowing from your face.

“You’re still crying.” Arisu says with concern.

“So are you.” You say, wiping away a tear from his eyes.

“I just don’t want to lose you.” He whispers, taking your hand to kiss it.

“Me neither. I want us all to live.” You sniffle.

“Then, we’ve gotta do whatever we can to survive. I’ll do everything I can to protect you.”

You and Arisu share a passionate kiss, staring into each other’s eyes until you fell asleep for another day…and another game to come.