shy-ent

[shy-ent]

Little Kuni

Wanderer/Scaramouche x Reader

✦ summary ✦

Kuni has taken everything from you, and now he's here to show you your true reflection. Tags/Warnings: unreliable narrator! bullying, emotional/psychological manipulation, suggestive content, nsfw (ish), they are both fcked up!! dubcon elements, yan!kuni and reader

Word count: 3.6k

A/N: was this inspired by a lady on tt who is madly in love w her psychiatrist? yes, yes it is.

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To take you back to the start, Kuni was never really what you would call the “campus sweetheart”. Looks, as you would figure, were deceiving; and it made you absolutely despise those who were blessed with God-like appearances.

Kuni, the boy that made your life a living hell ever since you crossed paths in elementary, was that boy.

A charmingly sweet face, with a rotten core.

It was an odd habit of his, he didn��t necessarily tease or bully anyone else except for you. Kuni would make his top priority to scrutinize you, hurt you, break you.

Every birthday, you would stand in front of a parcel.

Your eyes darken as you look at the contents. It started off innocent. A single rose, then, a rotten rose, a broken mirror, a burnt photo of him, all sorts of objects that would eventually cause you pain if you were to even touch it.

And every birthday you close that parcel, seal it, and put it away.

You were distressed at first, but you grew to normalize his tormenting. After realizing the countless amounts pleading and crying in front of anyone wouldn’t do you any good, you began to just, deal with it - no matter how unfair it was.

It was unfair now because he was surrounded by friends – people who surely didn’t know who he was, and still is to you.

Life was different now that you both were in college. It was true what they say – it’s a new chapter, no one cares who or what you were back in high school.

But you still cared. You still knew who he was – who he is.

Little Kuni

⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡

You were making your way to your shared class. You usually make your way a little late since you wish to sit in the back, away from the boy. But today, you decided different.

He was following you down the stairwell.

Your heart lunges out of your chest as he nears, a dangerous look in his eyes as he spoke the words that made your blood run cold, he wanted to take away your first kiss.

It disgusted you to no means. You look around to see a few students pass by.

You begged him to leave you alone, but just like that, you were backed up against the wall, with nowhere to go. You were entrapped by the devil himself who had now every advantage over you.

There was a part of you that wanted to crush his entire soul if he ever did dare to take away the one thing you had been holding onto, but there was another part of you that wanted to try, to experiment. Even if it was with him.

And like that, for some odd reason, you weren’t afraid, nor did you want to resist. Resisting was just a controlled response, but things were different in your eyes.

You had grown up even though he hadn’t.

But somehow, someway, you still end up pressed against him.

The kiss was agonizingly slow, sending an electricity around your entire being, it was then that you realized that his lips were soft, just like the way you kissed him. How sweet. Enough to make you melt.

“Don’t- don’t tell anyone, please, I’m begging you” you sobbed, sniffling quietly as you wiped away your tears. He tilts his head to meet with you with fierce eyes. The look in his eyes was dangerous now, he was seething.

Overwhelmed and both disappointed in yourself, your eyes began to have a mind of their own, tearing up at the sight of Kuni when you pull away.

Kuni opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off.

“What makes you think I’d want to tell people about it” he comments lowly, his sleeve brushing on his lips as if to wipe away the taste.

“You took it from me-” your rambling made him roll his eyes, pushing you onto the wall. You wince in pain before looking to him. His eyes were cold, and unamused. Not a word more was said before he had left you there.

Cold, alone, helpless.

Taken and bare. For everyone to see.

⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡

Kuni hadn’t come to his classes for a good two weeks since then, and to be completely honest, you even felt as if you missed his presence during that time. You decided not to give it too much thought, but attempting to ignore it only made you think about him more, and about the last few times you were with him.

Your first kiss.

Shaking your thoughts away, you looked to your phone screen which had just lit up brightly to beam a new text from your friend.

She was forcibly dragging you out to a party.

Not just any party, one Kuni’s friends were throwing for his birthday. It was a surprise party after all, held by his friends, all who resided in the same house. They were a popular bunch in your campus, even if half of the group were textbook introverts.

You didn’t mind. You needed to clear your head.

It was his birthday after all. If anything, you were safe from any harm.

You didn’t mind that either.

You were uncomfortable, those were the only words to describe how you felt when you entered the absurdly large residence.

You weren’t insistent on staying beside your friend for the whole of the night, because you knew somewhere and somehow you would be separated and lost entirely.

The only thing you did mind was the way one of Kuni’s friends had reacted to seeing you at their doorstep. As if you weren’t invited, as if he wanted you to leave – all with a kindhearted smile. He had white hair, and a singular red streak in his bangs. You didn’t like it one bit.

“Oh...I didn’t think you would come, you’re not really the type-”

The other friend, one with an outrageously long blonde braid, smacks him on the shoulder and apologises, “no no, you’re welcome. This is a free house party, enjoy~”

You smile softly at both the blonde and the boy with snow white hair.

Just like that, you lost your friend and find yourself retreating upstairs where things seemed to be more silent. You stride around the place, seeing a sign propped on one of the doors. You wanted to be alone – that was your excuse. So, you entered.

It was a photo from long ago. When he was a small child, and so were you. Side by side, you were sat, posing for a photo with bright beaming smiles. You let out a breath before pushing the frame down so it lay flat on itself.

It was Kuni’s room.

You could tell by the way it was organised. The amount of books piled on each of his shelves, the lack of decoration on the walls. And the picture frame on his bedside table.

You continue to run your eyes over his room, finally settling on a journal. Your hands are already curious enough to open and read it’s contents. Your eyes widening as you read through each excerpt.

“I made a new friend today. Her name is Y/n. She’s the sweetest girl there ever is. She said that she wants to hang out and be my friend. I didn’t believe her at first but now I do. I’m excited to finally have a friend.”

“I just found out that Y/n’s birthday is on the same day as mine! Isn’t that amazing? She’s definitely meant to be my friend!”

“Y/n and I went out to get ice cream today. She said her favourite flavour was strawberry, but I don’t really like that flavour. That doesn’t matter though. She is still my friend.”

“The kids at school kept calling me names today. But Y/n told me not to listen to them. So I am trying to do that. I’m glad I have her as a friend. She is so kind.”

“Y/n doesn’t talk to me anymore. I wonder if she is okay.”

“She doesn’t talk to me. Why doesn’t she talk to me? I want her to talk to me. What did I do for her not to talk to me? Please talk to me.”

“It’s my birthday today... and Y/n's. I hope I can speak to Y/n and wish her a happy birthday. I’m nervous.”

“Y/n is a liar. She lied to everyone. I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her I HATE HER!”

Before you could continue flipping through to the next page, the door opens. You remain still on his bed, turning to the greet the new appearance, calm. It’s Kuni, of course. He stills, but enters in silently, closing the door behind him, locking it.

“Here to ruin my birthday? Oh sorry, I mean, our birthday. I didn’t get your special parcel this time, were you here to deliver it in person?” his voice is shockingly calm when he speaks, it makes you seethe in anger.

“What… is this? You’re sick, you’re sick!” You stand up, ripping a page from his journal before throwing the whole book straight at him. Kuni dodges it easily, hearing it thud onto the wall behind him.

He scoffs before looking off to the side, “you’re in my room, rummaging through my stuff”

“You were sick then, and you’re still sick now!” before you could finish, you were already yanked by your wrist and pulled towards him, his eyes were fierce. He didn’t show any signs of budging, his grip, burning through your skin as he continued staring you down for an uncomfortable amount of time till you had begun to tear up.

“I… I don’t understand. I didn’t… I didn’t do anything” you begin, shaking. Your breaths uneven, it felt like you were about to give into him again. Again and again, you would be subjected to his ruthless ways. You hated him. And now you knew for sure, he hated you too, from the beginning.

He scoffs, almost incredulously, as he lets go of you. He takes a step away to sit on his bed, watching you stand there like a fool, crying fake tears as you usually do.

He speaks once more, a rather charming smile twisting onto his lips, “don’t you think we’ve known each other too long to keep pretending? You’re not half as innocent as you pretend to be”

You feel his hands settle on your bare thighs, bringing you in closer between his own legs.

“You’re awful, you know? The worst kind of person there is, is someone who is constantly lying to themselves” he mumbles, his hot breath fanning over your clothed waist. And as he held on to you tighter, you sigh at the feeling. Closing your eyes, you let his warmth slip into you whilst your mind drifted away to a frenzy of scattered thoughts.

“Did you think you’d get a free pass, hm? Just because you’re the innocent little doll to everyone else, doesn’t mean you are to me. I still remember what you are.”

Cold, calculated, all with that innocent smile. Perhaps that was the one thing you still had, that god-forgiven smile. It wasn’t as chilling anymore, but neither was it charming. It just seethed rage within him.

He hated it.

His fingers press into your hips, his grip was intolerable, “should I remind you, or are you capable of being responsible for your actions? You’ve gone through my journal after all.”

That smile, it was sinister now – you looked just like you did when you had told everyone in fourth grade that he had tried to kiss you by force. That you told everyone he had forced you to be his friend even when you didn’t want to be. That he would blackmail you.

That sinister smile that led him spiraling back into isolation. That led him a life full of distrust, animosity, hatred, toward anyone and everyone who tried to get closer to him. Until now. He was finally building a small world for himself and you were back to haunt him. He knew you weren’t going to stop the moment you forced your lips onto him on the stairwell. He knew he couldn’t outrun you anymore, no matter how hard he tried.

He wanted it to end right here, and right now.

“What? Are you trying to fight back? To get back at me? Aren’t you the petty one? Little Kuni suddenly has friends and thinks he can stand up for himself, huh? Little Kuni thinks he can fuck girls and learn to love” you taunt but Kuni doesn’t cry like he usually did.

Kuni has a pretty smirk creep onto his lips instead. And suddenly, a shine in his eyes, as if he had finally gotten out what he wanted from you. And he did. He looks ups to you,

“I’m glad you’re back to your regular self, it was draining the life out of me seeing you keep up with that pitiful act of yours”

You suddenly snap back again, eyes shaking.

He was different.

He wasn’t sad, he wasn’t angry. You thought he would be. He was on the stairwell, you thought he’d be like that still. But he wasn’t.

He was smiling. Just like you.

You’re frustrated with yourself now. You had landed right into his trap. You try to step away, but his grip is already anticipating you leaving. He pulls you into his bed, toppling you under him.

“What do you want?” you spoke softly, the words leaving your lips smooth enough to scare yourself till he leans forward, coy. You weren’t scared of him, you were scared of what he’s become. You were scared with how you’re starting to see yourself through the reflection of his perfectly porcelain eyes. He was still so pretty. Pretty little Kuni who would always look so innocently at you.

He’s eyeing you dangerously before leaning closer again, this time his eyes unreadable and hollow, before he eventually cracked into a softer smile.

“To settle this. Once and for all. I know your little game now, and I’m here to say I’ll oblige”

“But I…I’m not doing anything” you say again, mesmerized with the sight of him on top of you. He looked pretty like this. You didn’t want to say it to him, but you understood it with the way your heart was beating faster.

“Oh, really? Is that why you kissed me? Is that why you came today? Hm? Because you weren’t up to anything?”

You roll your eyes, shifting your gaze to the side. That alone was enough to snap you away from your daze. “I just wanted to see you with your new friends. I didn’t think you’d get close enough to any of them, but apparently you have” you mumble softly.

You can hear him chuckle softly before his fingers land on your chin, turning your gaze back onto his, “You must be talking about Kazuha. He’s not like you. He can see through nonsense”

“Oh, I can tell” you spit, your eyes were burning with a fire he was sure to dim down the moment he leans in closer. You flinch when you feel his lips on your neck,

“Well, what is it? Do you want me to put an end to your agony? We can make all the rumors you spread come true, just like you wanted” he murmurs into your skin before sucking onto it, “that’s what you did, wasn’t it? I forced you to kiss me - that’s what happened back then, right? Why don’t we continue the rest, hm? You’re in my room after all, it seems like a perfect set up for the next one”

Kuni continues his torment, and you don’t bother pushing him away. A sick part of you wanted this. You wanted him to continue touching you like this, you wanted him to continue his trail of kisses up your jaw.

“You’re so clouded with guilt that you want it all to come true, right? So you don’t have to feel bad anymore for ruining me.” He whispers before leaning back to look into your eyes. These words out of everything, seemed to have caused a shift inside of you.

“You even saved yourself for me, just for this moment, right?” he whispers, “so I can take it away from you, yeah? You declined every single offer just for me. I’m honored, truly.”

You were shaking. From words alone. From the truth. He was right.

And in moments, you were crying. This time, they weren’t constructed, they weren’t by design. They were true. He could tell. There was a sense of shock in your expression that he didn’t think he’d ever see from you. And he was starting to understand that he himself, was starting to pity you, just the slightest.

“Oh no, don’t cry, I was only trying to help. Does the truth hurt that much? IS it scary seeing yourself for who you are?” he hushes, his fingers soft, gentle as he brushes away the tears, “who’s the crybaby now? all helpless, all alone, no one in sight to call a friend. You’re all alone, just like I was. Helpless. Pathetic.”

Kuni’s touch doesn’t stray further. It doesn’t cross boundaries; it doesn’t entertain them. It dances along your skin, in an attempt to sooth. Along your waist, along your thighs, to cup the side of your cheek so you don’t fall apart under him.

“I’m sorry”

“I’m sorry”

“I’m sorry”

Kuni freezes. And just like that, the proximity between both of you has extended. He pulls back. You were chanting it like a prayer. As if it would undo the years of pain he had to undergo because of you.

You’re too in your head to notice that he’s staring straight at you with hollow eyes. As if he’s finally reached his life goal, and now, doesn’t know what to do with himself. As if he’s disappointed with himself. As if, this wasn’t as satisfying as he had hoped it to be.

As if he wanted you to fight back and continue berating him.

Just so he could feel better.

But you didn’t.

You had finally broken.

You had finally apologised.

And now you both felt empty.

Kuni felt empty because he understood you. All this time, he had kept it to himself. But now, he wasn’t sure if he needed to. You had read his journal. He was sure you knew why too.

You manage to sit up to face him, your tears still streaming down your face but you bravely wipe them away with your sleeve.

You reach towards him, pull him closer. Kiss him.

Kuni’s eyes are open wide, his pupils shaking, before he finally gives in and closes them. He doesn’t push you away, he pulls you in. He takes you in, tastes you like he’s been starved. He relishes in it, he doesn’t want to let go.

“Will you ever forgive me?” your voice is frail, broken as you part away, “I… don’t know why-”

Kuni catches his breath, scowling at your words before pushing you back down. You fall back harshly, wincing at the impact as you look up at him. You must have upset him with your words again, “If you want forgiveness you need to be honest with me. At least this once”

Your cheeks bloom red, he notices how you fluster, “Are you embarrassed, is that it? I would be too, but it’s okay. I already know it all.”

“I don’t… want to talk about it anymore” you say, eyes steady on his. You take his hand instead, and trail it over your body. He chuckles at your move – anything to prevent the truth, even still.

“You don’t get to make that choice” he murmurs, dipping down to latch onto your lips. He understands the way your hand moves is an answer in itself. It was your way of showing the truth. And he wasn’t about to complain. Not when your fingers went to undo his belt. Not when he wanted it so badly himself.

“I’m sorry” you whisper again, closing your eyes to feel the wave of pleasure building in you as his body settles into yours. It was foreign for you. You had waited so long to get here. You never thought it would ever come.

“We were friends after all, weren’t we?” he whispers, his forehead presses against yours, his breaths heavy, “and friends… understand each other”

You whine and bite onto your lip, he was relentless with his ways as he was with his pace, but you enjoyed every bit of it.

“You did it for me, didn’t you? You wanted me all to yourself. Was it to protect me, or control me?”

“Protect…” you say, it was barely audible, “I liked you so much… I didn’t want anyone else…”

Before you reach your first high he begins to smile devilishly, “how sweet” he coos, “and all your pretty lies, were they just fantasies, hm?”

You don’t answer anymore. You’re focused on staying still, holding on, just incase you might fall. He wasn’t going to stop, and you didn’t want him to.

“It hurts you to see me move on, doesn’t it? Fuck other girls, have new friends. Have I hurt you enough?” he taunts, “I’ll keep you to myself from now all. After all, the rumors you spread about me weren’t wrong at all.”

Kuni doesn’t elaborate, there’s no use. You were already out of it, you wouldn’t be able to decipher a single sentence more. But perhaps, in the near future, he may just confess to you.

That you were right. He did like you. He loved you. Back then, and even after what you did to him. He was just as sick as you were.

You just gave him the benefit of the doubt.

But he was exactly what you painted him to be.

[shy-ent]

I LOVE UR WIRITINV WJAAA WAAAA WAAA I WAS TWIRLING MY HAIR AND BANGIG THE DESK i love how u interpret scara i live for it 😞 i’m tje anon that dropped by july 24!! I AM OBSESSED W UR WORKS IB WANNA DRAW RHE SCENES SO BAD HRRGH HRHRH

i hope ur doing great!!! take care of urself always!!!!! love u & ur writing!! mwuah mwuah

I showed this to my entire generation after rereading it 10 times. I was too excited to respond🙉

Thank you for your support. I have to reread my Scara lines over and over in hopes i'd gotten him right and even then, sometimes I'm just in doubt of my interpretation of his character. I'm happy you're enjoying my writing of him lol.

[shy-ent]

more big brother scara fics plslsls ill lick ur feet if u do

I'm sorry I'm in my wholesome era rn 💔💔

But I promise to blindslide y'all with something filthy at some point!

Maybe.

[shy-ent]

Just for tonight.

Pairing: Wanderer x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: you sneak into the Wanderer’s bed while he ‘sleeps’

It wasn’t the first time you watched him sleep. Or rather, pretend to sleep.

The Wanderer didn’t need rest, and you knew that well. But lately, he’d been lying down for a few hours every night. Closing his eyes, staying still. Almost like he was imitating something human. Maybe it was a habit. Maybe he did it for you.

You wanted to touch him. Not in the romanticized way stories tell it. You just wanted to be close. Run your fingers through his hair. Lean on his chest. Feel that he was real. Tangible.

But you never really did.

His presence always felt distant. Every time your hand got too close, he’d stiffen. Sometimes he’d give you a cold look. Other times, he’d pull away like it was nothing. And you’d smile, pretending it was fine, even though your chest tightened a little more every time.

But tonight... tonight felt different.

The house was dark, windows shut against Sumeru’s warm night. A light breeze moved the curtains. You stepped into the room quietly, holding your breath.

He was already lying down, facing away from the door. One arm under the pillow. Completely still.

He didn’t move when you came in. Didn’t say a word.

It was his silent way of saying, “You can stay.”

You moved closer slowly, sat down on the edge of the bed carefully. His dark blue hair spread messily on the pillow, soft and a little tousled. His face seemed calm, or maybe just empty. Distant, but close enough to feel the energy he gave off.

You wanted to touch him.

With all your heart, you wanted to.

But you were afraid to ruin the moment.

You lay down next to him, slow and cautious. Close enough to feel his body’s warmth, but careful not to press too much. Your heart pounded in your ears, your hands shook.

You didn’t dare reach for him. Not yet.

You watched him secretly. He looked relaxed. His shoulders weren’t tense. No harsh words. No rejection.

So you took the risk.

With the delicacy of someone crossing a sacred line, you stretched out your hand.

Just your fingertips, grazing the sleeve of his pajamas. The fabric felt cool.

He didn’t move.

You got closer. Your hand slid gently down his arm. The touch was light, but your chest tightened.

Minutes passed. Your breathing slowed. You rested your head lightly on his shoulder, your arm wrapped around his waist. And when he still didn’t move...

You let your fingers glide respectfully, touching the fabric, running through his hair, tracing the curve of his shoulder. You wrapped him in a silent hug, with gentle strokes and everything you’d held back for so long.

And finally, comforted by the closeness you’d always longed for, you fell asleep.

He didn’t open his eyes right away. But he noticed the difference immediately.

Your weight, soft and warm, pressed against him. Your steady, slow breath. Your hand clutching the robe like a promise.

He could have pushed you away. He could have said something cold, like he always did.

But he didn’t.

“So impatient,” he thought. “And yet so silent.”

Your face was hidden on his chest, a leg lightly tangled with his. It was disarming—how your body fit against his like it was part of him. Natural. Human.

It irritated him.

It unsettled him.

And yet... he didn’t move.

He stayed there in the quiet room, staring at the ceiling, listening to your breathing rhythm.

Trying not to feel anything.

But maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t so bad.

Hour passed.

You slept without moving. Your body curled around his. Trusting. Defenseless.

It tightened his throat.

You didn’t realize how dangerous that closeness could be.

But you were his. And a part of him, even if he’d never admit it, had to accepted it all.

He let you sleep.

Longer than he expected.

Longer than he wanted to admit.

And when he finally decided to wake you, he didn’t do it with words.

He slowly lifted a hand, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek. Then he bent down and kissed your forehead.

Then your temple.

Then the corner of your eye.

And finally, on your lips.

His kisses were light but intentional, each one like an old secret carefully revealed.

You moved a little, still asleep.

Your eyelashes fluttered, your breath shifted.

You blinked, voice still heavy with sleep.

“Mmm…?”

He stayed there above you, watching you.

His purple eyes were calm, but beneath the surface was something deeper, something he didn’t want to show.

“You slept on me,” he said in a low, flat voice.

You tried to sit up, clearly embarrassed. “I-I didn’t mean to-”

His hand gently pushed you back down.

“Stay down,” he said. “I’m not done waking you up.”

And he kissed you again.

On the cheek. Then behind your ear.

Then he rested his forehead against yours, closed his eyes, and breathed slowly.

He didn’t say more. But it was clear:

“Don’t get used to this.”

He would never say those words out loud.

But in the way he let you sleep.

In the way he kissed you now, like he’d counted every second you were asleep...

You already knew the answer.

[shy-ent]

If you wanna to be my BITCH, you HAVE to be obedient; you canNOT be a whore (you cannot be a slut🤢👎🏾‼️‼️) 🗣🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

[shy-ent]

I was actually pretty proud with the "keep your eyes closed, or I'll break up with you" part. Because yes, he would have broken up with you if you broke your promise to keep your eyes closed for him.

And I'm happy because I wrote reader to understand that it wasn't a bluff and that Scara was willing to do things to protect himself. He prioritized self-respect.

Wish I'd emphasized it more. Though nothing can stop me from editing.

As muuuch as I love relationships that are just purely detrimental, I love writing a healthy one where the characters put their self-respect over romance.

In conclusion, there are 2 wolves inside of me.

[shy-ent]

I'm actually gonna start asking writers why they feel they don't have to tag their fics

"x white reader"??

Like I want to hear how they explain that they're somehow different from everyone else in fandom spaces

[shy-ent]

i’m not like an incest shipper (although like yeah me and 10k other people shipped wincest in 2013) but the more i see people absolutely losing their minds over the concept of fictional incest the more i laugh like come the fuck on now like this trope is quite literally hundreds of years old and we’re acting like it was invented by fanfiction writers. “richard siken condones incest” “ethel cain condones incest” you mean the artists who write about the rotten and the wretched and the unhealthy and the abusive enjoy digging into fictional relationships that are just that. have you lost your goddamned minds. do you ever read anything except for steven universe fanfiction. like could you handle a 12th grade english lit module on the god of small things.

[shy-ent]

Actually fuck politics I wanna be a deep sea creature.

[shy-ent]

men with a black reader who starts wearing a cute stack of waistbeads ! he doesn't notice immediately you get them, but they catch his eyes so quick once you’re pulling off your shirt to change into sleep wear. they look so good sitting directly on your belly like that! they highlight the dip in your waist and the curve out of your hips—he just has to feel them.

and you’re slightly jumping at his cool tipped fingers brushing your exposed skin, single digit hooking the decorated ropes and he pulls into him by your beads. you quietly scold him. you don’t care that he could buy you new ones; these were custom made and your favorites, he has to be careful!

but he’s not. nowhere near actually, because he’s gripping and pulling at them hard as he fucks you back onto his cock. your mind is blanking, fingers gripping the sheets and crying out in pleasure as he slams you onto his base over and over again. his tight hold on your waistbeads has you deep in his grasp; unable to run away from the numbing pleasure. but he’s not satisfied just yet–there’s one more thing he needs to be sure of.

the sound! it’s just as he expected, a beautiful cacophony of plastic hitting plastic mixing the loud noises of skin on skin as you ride him. with each pound, your beads are clack, clack, clacking in unison and it’s making him groan into your against you.

he also just loves the way they feel. when you’re finally done, all fucked out and limp laying on the bed, his hand rubs up and down your side, enjoying the way the beads feel against his palm. it’s also perfect for aftercare, he does it for so long! totally not because he broke one of your loops of beads and is trying to get you to sleep quicker so he can brush the little pieces of evidence of the bed.. totally not.

after that (and a handful of yelling when you realize what happens) he buys you so so many! custom made, any time he sees a bead store, anything he sees online, you end up with such a collection you don’t know what to do! neither of you mind though, it’s much easier to color coordinate with your outfits now, and you’ve both made a little game out of it. if he can guess the colors right before you show him, maybe he can break a couple more later in the day!

CHARACTERS: this is literally toji lmfao, gojo, geto, tartaglia, aventurine, kinich, sukuna, kaeya,arattaki itto, shikanoin heizou, boothill, sampo, wriothesley, jiaoqiu, + your favs!

a/n: can you tell i’m projecting cus i love my waistbeads lmao

[shy-ent]

Hey, I just wanted to say thank you for the pronouns system in OLNF, I'm pronounfluid and have never found any game that allows me to be that in game until OLNF, and that makes me really, really happy! Thank you so so so much!!!!

That's wonderful! The amazing pronoun feature was handled by our lead programmer, Shawna. I wasn't able to do that in OL1 because they weren't there to make it happen yet. I'm glad you can use your real pronouns in the story.

[And that's the end for this mini bonus Q&A. Thanks again for the asks 😄]

[shy-ent]

[shy-ent]

Amaterasu's Ride (Lite)

[shy-ent]

I hate to tell y'all this, but I have another idea 🙉

[shy-ent]

I will continue posting in favour of there being fewer people like that

[shy-ent]

Writing notes: Close Your Eyes, and All is Right #1

Okay but when I made scara finger his blood and cum into reader>>>>

That had actually been on my mind for a while, and I wonder if it's a common trope? That was so hot :(( I need that to happen to me some day. If anything, I wish I'd written a little bit more on his feelings during in that moment.

I was actually going to have reader taste it afterwards too, but decided against it. I'd also wanted him to sit on her thigh and mess it up with his blood, but I was sure how I'd build up to that and I doubt he'd have wanted her to even FEEL his genitalia against her skin if he didn't want her to even see it either in the first place. It'd likely have made him feel sick and I wanted to stay consistent with that.

But eventually, I'll probably make a fic including thigh riding and some blood. Now I'm beginning to wonder if I have a slight fetish for periods, lol. But time will tell.

Originally, I was going to give it a bland title; Touching. And instead of reader's bedroom and her parents not being home, they'd begin and end at the couch. They would have also have been more inexperienced in their escapade than they were in the final product. But it seems I do love writing relationships that are somewhat deep in their intimacy.

In the end, it made most sense for them to be more experienced and for Scara to do this only when him and reader were that comfortable with each other to the point of her welcoming even his blood into her body. As suggested in those 4.3k words, his trust would have been taken advantage of in the past (because bbg can NOT catch a break).

But it was also a little bit of a commentary on how people expect others to let go of their insecurities (and especially their dysmorphia, any, all kinds of body dysmorphia) because they personally find us attractive. In some cases, it might work, but sometimes it won't. True love isn't going to erase how someone might feel about their body, even if it looks cute on TV.

And this is an idea I had in mind for Scara's past partner but I didn't know where exactly to squeeze it in. So if I ever do write a trans character in the future, especially Scara, such a scenario might be included. Especially if it's a longer fic.

The part in which I was most proud with was this one. And alongside, here is the first comment I'd received on that fic;

Thank you for your kind comment :3 It made everything worth it. You don't understand how many times I read it over. I promise you, I WILL be framing this on my wall some day. I wish I'd taken screenshots of my first ever comments to frame them on the wall. But those are lost to some of my sadder choices :(

I actually felt kind of proud writing the part with his packer. I'd actually gone out of my way to learn about how to make one and how one would wear it during their period.

This is THE fics I'm most proud of and can read without cringing. I feel like this is my most successful love letter to Scaramouche, even though it might not end up being the most popular. I'm glad I made him happy.

I looove you, S'mouchie.

I'd be surprised if anyone reads this, but I was bored. And a lot of heart went into this, so I'd wanted to talk about it.

Ps: The amount of times I'd utilised the thesaurus was unholy. I'd also used pinterest for new words to add to my vocabulary. Would recommend. I hope this fic made some of y'all horny, because it certainly didn't for me💀 (asexual writers, unite!)

[shy-ent]

.Close Your Eyes, and All is Right

Rena|Shyent

Trans Scaramouche, Black reader, reader is taller than him, period, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, he's a tiny bit mean but he loves you

If Scaramouche had to choose between diarrhoea and cramps vs the tribulations of being unbearably horny, he'd likely choose the former because at least he could do a way with a little bit of advil and patience. But he could never have it one way. When he felt the growing ache in his womb that was gradually spreading to even his thighs, he'd curse once and a second time harder when he realised what he was being sentenced to.

At least painkillers can erase the cramps if it came down to it, but there was nothing to help the first few days of his heightened libido aside from masturbating

So when he woke up from a dream curated around your image, with his dick in his hand aligning with your pussy (a more uncommon asset of his wetter dreams), his name on your wet lips and eyes pleading for him to sink his cock into your cunt because you wanted him, so so so bad? Your hands on his cheeks, pulling him closer and closer towards your face, only for him to wake up as his glans met your entrance and it wasn't even due to his alarm clock? Bleary eyed, he blinks and rolls over to bury his face into his pillow and groans. Loud and annoyed.

However, he wasted no time dipping his fingers into his briefs to play with himself, and after the first orgasm, when he realised once again it wouldn't be enough to treat this curse of arousal. Not when chills reverberated up and down along his spine and the tingling between his legs refused to cease. When he couldn't help himself replay the scene of him bucking his hips into yours over and over. Even if he'd gone to school now, he didn't think he'd be able to function properly. Half an hour prior to school starting, wiping his hands against his thighs, he'd pick up his phone to warn you that he wasn't going to be coming to school.

And yet, even so…

Scara wanted to stay home. He really did, but when the clock hit 10:30AM and he checked his phone again, he'd seen your pathetic little response, which was nothing more than a ':('. Which made him put aside his attempt at crushing his desire to see you.

He lowkey started to regret his decisions though halfway through the walk and considered going back but he was already almost there! And he missed you. He wanted to be held by you, and go home holding hands with you. Cuddle with you. Touch you. May or may not end up fucking you.

And he's relieved to see you.

Until he's not, because everything about you seemed to spur him on.

You knew better than to feel hurt if he seems a bit cold. If you pay attention to the shade of Scaramouche's cheeks, then you'll understand that it isn't something that you should take to heart. If you feel that he's touching you less, it's not because he doesn't want to! But what if he allows his hormones to get the best of him and he ends up making you uncomfortable.

And he can't do anything but fight the urge to just physically touch you. He's staring at your tits, picturing kissing around the nipple and brushing his lips against your dark, tender skin, kissing up along your neck and bruising your skin dark-brown purple before bullying your lips swollen and wet with his saliva down your throat.

The point is, he didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable…even though you fear the worst he'd do is make your palms super sweaty when he squeezes your hand. He couldn't begin to make you uncomfortable even if he tried.

So sure, he may tug his hand away from you, but he's doing it because he loves and care for you! Too much maybe.

Throughout the day, he'd been spacing out because all that was on his mind was fucking his girlfriend and imagining the taste of her fluids on his tongue. He heard you yawn once during a class and that was enough to send his mind down a fucking spiral because it sounded so cute and so hot in his superior opinion.

Can't you do it one more time? Just to cement it in his mind?

He was atrocious, when he was alone, he'd find himself softly humming or trying to mimic the sound of that yawn so he'd visualise it better.

When the school day was over, before you could do anything, he started packing both your bags (he did yours nice and neatly even in his haste, while his, ugly and messy) before dragging you away from your friend.

You don't think that your boyfriend realises how adorable he is at times (though, when he does, he knows how to take advantage of it). Shoving you into the changing room and locking the door behind him, walking you up against the wall with such intention, the shorter boy looking up at you, his palm cupping your boob as his eyes glazes over your features before they settled on your fully clothed chest. His lips falling apart as drool threatened to trip over his lips. His breath picking up. Blood rising and rolling beneath the surface of his skin, making him seem as if he was about to combust. Vulnerable.

However, there was present an intensity in Scaramouche's gaze. If looks could kill, you find that he'd be able to possess you too. Because in the darkened hue of his eyes secured by lids his which sharpend into glare, you felt an imposing a heat igniting inside of you.

You cup his chin and swipe aside the saliva, and had half the mind to prod at his lips. But something told you that he'd likely gnaw at your finger if you'd made an attempt at it. In your opinion, your boyfriend had mellowed out ever since you both…happened into your relationship and eventually officialised it. But you knew that you shouldn't push your luck.

"You're looking really stupid, y'know."

"You have a fetish for hot guys looking stupid, stupid."

"I didn't even call you stupid, jerk."

"Dumb ass."

"Okay now you're twisting my nipple."

"Is that a request?"

"Aw, you're asking now? You're so-"

"Maybe I shouldn't."

"Now that's not the spirit, didn't your mom ever teach you about consent—oh wait."

"…I'm letting you know now that I keep count of every time you make that joke against me and one day, I'm going to beat your ass with a fucking stick by that count."

"That's hot."

A little bit more banter (and threats) later,

"Okay, let's take it a step back. We're going back to my home. And if my parents are there, then we'll just have to be extra quiet. We'll lock the door, and when we're done, we can take a bath together. You'll control how everything's done, of course."

"…mhm?"

"Yeah."

-

Your parents were indeed home.

Upon entering your bedroom, he'd be the first to move to lock the door. You'd slip off your socks and he'd follow suite, and for a while, you'd sit beside him, head resting against the shorter man's, waiting for him to initiate contact.

Cool sweat rolled down his forehead, and taking notice of that, you couldn't help but press your face against his, wanting to share it.

He buries his nose into the crook of your neck as he'd unbutton your shirt, stopping at the button at the midsection of your stomach. He'd then unclip the front of your bra, letting the cups fall to the side and cup your tits, admiring the way they filled his palms and squished in his grasp. He thumbs your nipples, pressing down on it and twirling them around his thumb.

"Not going to take the rest of it off today either, huh?"

"What can I say?"

"I don't know, maybe you just don't find my whole body cute enough to look at-"

"I'll slap you."

"Or you have a fetish for clothes, that works too."

"This tacky ass uniform?"

"I don't know man, you're not known for having high standards."

"You know it, look at who I'm dating."

"I'll step on your face, you dick."

"I fear you'd give up the intention of doing so in a second the moment I offer it the other way around."

Now that you couldn't deny.

He kisses your forehead, before dragging his lips alongside your face to kiss you on the mouth, nibbling your bottom lip and teasing his teeth, threatening to draw blood just to hear your gasp in pain, and Scaramouche swore, if he was a cartoon character, hearts would form in his eyes as he saw your refusal to pull away in spite of the sting. He never ends up drawing blood, though, only wanting to see you squirm.

It was less about bringing bodily harm to you but more of a power play. Knowing you'd never pull away from him no matter the ache he'd inflict upon you. Not out of a physical or emotional bondage, no, but for a reason far, far greater. This reason an undeniable truth. The undeniable truth in your soft whimpers, the flutter of your lashes seeking that approval and delight in his eyes you knew would be present. The way you leaned, an effort made to deny yourself the instinct of pulling away from the pain.

He presses open mouthed kisses down along your chin, to your sternum, until his face is levelled with your breast. Scaramouche squeezes the tissue in his palm, before prodding his tongue at your nipple, swirling it around and finally taking it into his mouth to suck and tug the erect tip with with his teeth.

He soon finds himself on his knees, kissing along your knee to up along your thigh to your crotch until he reached your pubic area. Scaramouche nuzzles his nose into your hairs before scissoring them apart to reveal your slit, your throbbing bud exposed to him. The man couldn't help but kiss it before pressing his nose against it, swiping it between your pussy lips and inhaling deeply. You can feel his hot breath against your skin as he exhales to breathe in even more of your musk. You can hear him puff and sniff, urging your mind to once again compare him to a dog.

"You're so gross, Scara…"

"If that's true, then what does that say about you?"

"I hope that's not a jab at my hygiene, ass hole."

"Maybe, maybe not. I still have yet to make any comments on your pigsty of a bedroom."

"You little shit, I cleaned it last night."

"Really? Then explain those wrappers on the floor. It's about time you find another roach…again."

"You little shit, I cleaned it last night", you reiterate.

"I never said you didn't," he kisses your clit again, his eyes trained on your pubes before he looks up to see your expression as he massages your clit between his lips.

"You implied i-…oh, that feels nice, ha…" you moan softly when he finally slots his tongue between the lips, making friction between your bud and the surface of his tongue before he wraps his lips around it to give it a light suction. A tease, bearing it a dear parting of a pinch between his soft lips. He traces his tongue down along to meet your urethra before driving it up to circle just around the clit, his tongue barely grazing the bundle of nerves.

"And you taste good..."

"I'm pretty sure it tastes like sweat, and maybe piss if I didn't wipe right.."

"No , you did; should I call your dirty little self a good girl?"

"Aw, you're going to make me cum if you keep on talking to me like that. Oooh! ahh-" you dramatise, with over the top moans with an undercurrent of actual pleasure.

"Bitch."

"Fuck you."

"I'll see what I can do about that."

"I bet you felt so smart saying something so original, didn't you? Fucking cornball."

"Didn't realise you were dating an Alice, did you?" and before you can get another rebuttal in, when your hips begin to grind against his mouth, seeking direct friction, Scaramouche scoffs but not in negativity as he latches his mouth onto your clit. The ankles to the tip of your toes go taut, premature to any ache that indicated coming close to an orgasm. A tingly hot heat in the midst of your arousal flaking prickly chills along your skin as it spreads to the edges of your digits. You seek his eyes, the sight of his tongue, the pretty apples of his flushed pale cheeks squished against the skin and fat of your blemished, hyper-pigmented inner thighs.

And oh, fuck. You whimper at the sight of his enthralment, eyes dazed with a racing fervour of lust. His lips encompassed within the warmth of your pussy lips, smacking and suckling in a way that made you clutch and tug at your tits. Hot, like steam smoke arousal dripping from your twitching cunt and smudging his chin. Just the sight, alone it is just the sight that made you want to come undone. Your beautiful, sexy, handsome, lovable, sweetheart, douchy, fuckass boyfriend with half his face against and pleasuring your most intimate area.

Your back curls and you whine. Whine and whine, your mind coming down to the brink and a power hose of concupiscence bulldozing your senses and your decency because you began to care less and less about your parents hearing you, consequences be damned.

"I'm gonna cum—Scara, I think I'm gonna cum…fuck."

"And apparently, I'm going to have to stop and show you how to keep it quiet when I fuck your mouth shut," Scaramouche circles his thumb into your clit, his tongue now circling your fluttering hole.

He's all about damned consequences; the whole neighbourhood and your parents hearing you getting off and gagging for his mouth. But what he isn't about is your parents coming at your door and potentially, interrupting your session and either beating your ass for getting eaten out by a 'girl', getting banned from ever talking to him again, or easily, both.

"Keep talking like that and I'm really, really really going to cum…" but even with those words, his own grounds you and restores a portion of the sanity you'd lost to your high. You blink slow and steady, eyes rolling back as you bite down on your lip to curb your too-fast approaching orgasm. Don't look, don't look, don't look at him.

"A piece of work. What's got you so worked up, huh? What should we call little bitches like you who cum too early?" He slaps your pussy, causing your hips to jerk, your whole body to flinch and your eyes to close tight shut. You choke, and sputter, mind cluttered and you mutter, fuck fuck fuck. "You can't even bear looking at me, am I really making it that hard for you? I haven't even been down on you for long and yet you're already dying to cum on my tongue…you're so fucking pathetic."

"And you like to hear yourself talk way too much," your rebutted, but your voice still rich with creeping lust.

But the grin on Scaramouche's face, the curl of his lids and the buzzing elation present in his gaze could be felt against your skin, excitement oh so palpable and you're sure if lips met lips, you'd be able to taste it. He was enjoying every second of it. His hand leaves your thigh and massages into his in similar stroking motions, poking a stick at his own growing arousal.

"Take a good look at my face."

And you do, understanding what it meant. You clumsily prop yourself up on your arms, stomach heaving as you take in the sight of your boyfriend. Another rush goes through your body. You roll your hips and a moan hums in the back of your throat. Your eyebrows pinch and you can feel phantom tears pricking your eyes.

"Now close you eyes," he says, and you didn't think twice before listening.

You comply. And if you couldn't look at his handsome face while he pleasured you between your legs, then you'd seek his features underneath your fingertips. You'd rest your palm where you'd think his cheek should be, and when you felt his skin and hair instead, he'd move his face to allow your hand right where it belongs. Your thumb would trace his top lip to the corner of his mouth down to his bottom lip, and he'd lick your thumb before sucking it in.

"Can't get enough of my pretty little mug, can you?"

"Who…" you shudder, taking in a deep breath before continuing. "Who could resist touching such a cute face? It compensates."

"Compensates for what?"

"The fact I can't see your face between my thighs."

"Sorry, but I can't have you seeing me getting down and dirty before marriage."

"I don't want to hear this coming from a whore, Scara."

"You can not call everyone who expresses sexual attraction towards you a whore, dumb ass."

"I can, and I will."

Scaramouche retracts his head to kiss your knee. His hand kneads into your inner thigh. It's with reverence, he kisses up along your thigh to where it meets your crotch once more,

"You're so stupid…"

Your eyes momentarily tighten again when you hear the unbuckling of Scaramouche's belt and the eager undoing of his zip, he didn't try to hide it. And even in that eagerness, you could sense it. The vulnerability in this act, even with your eyes closed. It's not the first time you'd both done this, and to the Archons, may it not be your last.

He trusted you to respect him, to not look. To not violate him like others had done in the past due to some romantical sense of entitlement to his body. An entitlement to an idea of what a romance should look like manufactured by TV.

He had faith in you to close your eyes. When he unbuckles his belt and zips down his pants—cupping the bulge of the packer in his boxers, he pulls it down before then pulling down his underwear containing his pad—he trusts you to not look at him like he owed you something.

When his fingers grazes his cunt, he relied on you to not look at him and to not perceive him for the strange, ugly person he felt himself to be. He trusted you to not think foolishly, that no matter how much he loved you, that words of praise and glamour and reassurance would alleviate the ever-running open wound of being seen in a state that's wrong.

And he'd trust you, holding onto that certitude as his fingers grazes where his pussy aches, to believe in him. To accommodate his needs and to believe in him when he says to not look.

"I have a feeling you've got a thing for those you perceive to be stupid. Maybe it's to make yourself feel smart, ever considered that, Scara?"

You and I both.

"I don't need a dumb ass like you stroking my ego to make me feel better about myself."

"I should criticise you but I'll leave you to think that if it's the only thing keeping your fragile little ego stable. You'll need something to hold onto when you-"

"I can bite your clit off, bitch."

"And I can bite your dick off the moment you get it."

"The logical option would maybe be to break it off with me and call the cops instead of waiting until I get my penis. But I guess you're just that obsessed with me enough to stick around, how sad."

"Patience is a virtue, Scara, " you could have said more, but you were growing impatient. So you urge, needily, "now less talking, more fucking.."

"Think I can make you beg for it?"

Softly, without missing a beat, "Yeah, you can…so please eat me, you know that I need you, right?"

And his heart melts, calescent affection dripping like wax down to the heat pooled in his fluttering stomach supplying the rush in his veins going straight to his pelvis. He bites down on his lip and groans, rubbing slow, hard circles into his clit and his eyes roll. He breathes, rubbing his nose against your sensitive bundle of nerves.

"You're so quick to change your tone, aren't you?"

"I think that my tone's pretty consistent. How I talk doesn't change the fact that I want you. I don't think I have to whine like a bitch for you to understand that…" you sigh blissfully, grinding your hips against his face and in all the right ways to feel his nose's abrasion against your clit. "I bet you're looking so good down there, Scara. I'm going to cum all over your face whether or not you fuck your tongue into me, y'know…mhm. I'm gonna look so fucking stupid when I cum on you, All over that pretty, sexy face…you're so hot. You're so, so hot and you feel so good I'm gonna-"

"Not yet…you can't finish yet. I haven't even gotten started yet," he rasps out, his strokes quickening against his clit at your desperate words.

Your musk fuels his arousal; your panting, irregularly thursting hips, high-pitched moans and gasping sealed behind your lips as you had half a mind to keep it down for once.

His fingers traces his hole dressed messily in the viscosity of his blood that dyed his tips and pulls them back to his clit. He moans against your own opening, and you sigh in relief when he, without a moment to waste, buries his tongue deep into your creamy-wet heat. In a tandem, you rode his face while he fucked your cunt in a way only he knew how to do. In a way that made your eyes roll and tongue fall from your lips, his nose never leaving but pressing hard against your swollen red sensitive bud.

He couldn't take it anymore when your thighs clenched around his head and you'd allowed yourself to tug at the hairs on his scalp. He could imagine it the expression that was on your face right this second, one he'd seen many times before.

Scaramouche pinched and tugged at and grinded his fingers against his engorged, hardened clit before clenching his hand to rub his finger bones against his pussy harsh, fast and hard. He'd abandoned the idea of taking it slowly because all he'd wanted to do was cum.

He was experiencing worlds of pleasure all at once, the earthy taste of your clenching heat around his swirling and thrusting tongue, hot trembling thighs wrapped around his head and his low grunts and whimpers being muffled against your wet skin. His scalp ached, but each your tugs felt like a reward as you tried to force his face impossibly close to your aching cunt.

With all of these factors, he felt so pathetically close to cumming. It must be a mix of his blood and wetness dripping onto his underwear. His sounds rumble against and felt as if they reverberated throughout your hips.

Your tongue lashes against your palm and your eyes roll shut.

"'m gonna cum…I'm sorry, I'm gonna cum—" you doubted that Scaramouche could hear you between your thighs. You could barely even hear yourself.

Scaramouche comes down to a slow and sensual rub against the heel of his palm. He feels your thighs shake and in your warmth, the suffocation he's experiencing as he pleasured your heat only contributing to his high. If he could, he'd be giggling and gasping in excitement playing with your hole, red-faced and fierce.

He was losing his vigour but not his passion, but one lick more was able to do you in. You squeaked, his nose crushed against your clit and your stomach twitches. One second passes, and another all so quickly. Before the intricate knot comes loose and you cum down his throat.

It wasn't by coincidence, but in direct response to the taste of your cum did Scaramouche finish on his hand immediately after. His fingers rubs at his entrance, collecting the cum that leaked out and he made sure to collect every last drop, blood included.

And when your legs fall limp on his shoulders before falling off, your hip bones gaining more prominence underneath your skin. He gasps for air, and languidly, his head falls to the side against your sweaty, damp thigh.

You sigh his name and he hums in response, giggling in feverish. And when he caught his breath, he asks,

"Are your eyes still closed?"

"mhm…entire time…"

He didn't have to ask, he'd already known.

He thumbs your clit once more, causing you jerk.

"Shhh…I'm gonna feed this pretty pussy my cum, okay? You don't mind a little bit of blood, do you?"

And that just reinvigorated your arousal, "no…can I see?"

"That's too much work, [Name]. Keep your eyes closed, or I'm breaking up with you."

He spreads his essence along the ring and middle fingers of his cum-blood stained hand and wastes no time slowly sinking them down into your accommodating pussy, sucking him in like it had a mind of its own. How you accepted his blood and all into your body, made him feel like it locked into place how you both belonged to each other. Like some sort of erotic pact.

His eyes were already wet from the high of his orgasm, but knowing that his cum was mixing in with yours inside the depth of your cunt again made him feel a rush of euphoria like no other. And he wanted to feel it again and again until he couldn't anymore. Until it didn't matter.

He slips in a third.

Your roll your hips, "Figures…oh gods…right there, Scara.."

"Ready for another round then, yeah?"

Concerning Scara's wet dreams, the intention was WAY less about him dreaming about being a futanari but more about the fact I'd read from a trans man dreaming of having both his vagina with an additional penis in his wet dream when looking up how they've seen themselves in their wet dreams. The way they see themselves varies, but I'd decided to go with this one. Good lord, y'all do not understand how long it took me to write this. I'd wanted to upload this fic for pride month but ADHD had gotten the best of my ass and I'd procrastinated on this fic to hell. This was my first time writing a character as trans, soo I'd say a fairly decent amount of research had gone into this given the fact that I'm cis. I hope I'd done my sweetheart justice. Comments are greatly appreciated <3 I accept cricism as well. I hope you enjoyed reading this. Edit: I just realised I didn't elaborate on something well enough for a part of the author's not to make sense. But oh well :D