#for me it was just ok with some really good and interesting bits weaved in

[dayurno]

cousin dayurno…. thots on tsc. i remember you mentioning before it came out that you weren’t super excited about it/might not read it for a while. im curious now if you think it’s worth getting into sooner rather than later! as someone who keeps forgetting to start it i must know the opinion of the council

cousin dayurno............... hi! well okay so. going into tsc i didn't have many expectations besides maybe seeing kevin at some point, and getting told an interesting story. i was not disappointed in the kevin front nor whenever the foxes were concerned: i think nora sakavic's grasp on them is as strong as ever and the few that showed up (kevin, renee, neil) were capable of carrying any story no matter what. jean spends a good chunk of the book in palmetto and you can tell it's nora's strongest suit as a writer; it's the most interesting part of the book and the character work is, as expected, very well thought out. i couldn't stop reading for the entire period of jean's stay with the foxes.

i will say the book kind of fell flat for me after jean left palmetto. half of it is because jean sucks the life out of basically any of the trojans character-wise; the foxes were able to compete with him because they are well established characters with complex backstories who already feel real to the reader, whereas the trojans (bar lucas, who is a highlight if there was ever one), while lovely, aren't really much of characters at all. i think nora sakavic likes to write a very specific kind of story, and in that niche she is fabulous, but she stumbles when she has to make simpler stories interesting. she is a high-stakes writer writing a very low-stakes story, and in tsc you can tell.

jeremy was supposed to be the main character along with jean, but in his very few chapters, not much about him is learned; from the moment he is in a room with jean, jeremy's whole character starts to revolve around him. yes, you can say this is jeremy repressing even in his own mind, and maybe that's true where it concerns his backstory, but that's not all there is to a character. even if jeremy's backstory wasn't going to be discussed, there's effectively nothing else about him: we know that he's rich, that he's gay, and that's it. no particular quirks nor non-trojan related interests. the only discernable character trait i can put out about jeremy is that he is very pushy, and i don't think that's what nora intended for him. he was a breath of fresh air in his first chapters, but what little personality he shows is immediately mowed down by being on 'taking care of jean' mode 24/7. i thought he could use more personality, and overall more scenes away from jean (and even laila and cat) to establish himself as a character

you have not yet read it so i will not spoil you the reason, but i felt that neil's appearance later down the line was the highlight of the book because it made the story feel interesting again. neil steals the show because he's neil, and he's more interesting than all of the trojans combined. he also makes them all look worse by comparison: we see personality and chemistry and history and that is something that the trojans just don't have. they're lovely, but that's all there is to it. jeremy and the trojans feel more like tools to achieve jean's happiness than actual characters, and that's a bit of the upperclassmen curse in aftg, but in a book that's so specifically centered around jean's inner world and his healing trajectory, they feel flat and out of place by contrast. they can't win. they can't even compete. but if they could, catalina and laila would get the closest to being real characters

this got away from me so tl;dr: tsc is fine! it's not tfc, and i think the contrast might feel surprising and hard to adjust to, especially when it comes to character work. it has all of nora's trademark writing with none of the groundwork there was for tfc, and it would have benefitted a lot from staying in the drafts for a little longer. it's an ok book! it didn't change my life nor did it save anyone, but it was there, and it did what it said it was going to do. if i saw it on ao3 i probably wouldn't read it, but i wouldn't hate on it either

[wizzycore]

ok. this is my OFFICIAL wallaru copepost. i am a hater and this is going to be me hating specifically on the storyline of wallaru. if u dont liek that dont read XDXDXD -- MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD (also, this is a long as fuck post. so im putting it under a read below

Anyway .

ok so. my biggest gripe with this world is that plain and simple it just disappointed me. here are a good couple of reasons why:

1) events that didn't make sense... or perhaps absence of

ok, i'm starting out relatively weak in my reasoning and going toward stronger rationale as we go along. bear with me here. one of the most irksome things i found was events that didn't make sense, or the failure to create events that would follow up with previously established stakes.

let's recall where we're at by the end of novus:

dasein has forsaken everything, having seen the settlers on novus as the broad strokes of the entire universe - no more everything for him. meanwhile, the novus governors have sworn vengeance upon yourself as well as dasein.

(cont below)

but throughout wallaru we get very little peeps of either problem-- dasein is off fighting his own battles stuck in sap in the dreaming, and sure, the governors send some like... spiders.... to fight you, but it's never a substantial threat -- and they never really continue to escalate.... they just fade into the background until directly the end. (hell, dasein fades out too as the kroaker becomes a bigger threat.)

it feels like what should be our biggest priority going into wallaru is the continuation of the novus plot - be it through dasein or through the governors. but we're left basically floundering on that point until the Very Last Area(s) -- when there was plenty of space throughout the world to weave in information about what's going on there. they TRIED to weave in dasein information - but ultimately were so cryptic with it that it had no payoff and indicated basically nothing to us.

1.5) massive pov problems

I realized this is a continuation of my last point - so I'm putting it as a .5. When I say pov problems, I more mean "subject of focus" - wallaru had a bit many subjects of focus this time around for my taste, and certainly didn't pay appropriate attention to any of them.

dasein (existential struggle), the governors (colonial/power struggle), the 3(or 4) main wallaru groups (townies,drovers,kids,+dingos), sandiago(?), & the old one (past colonial/power struggle), joan&cane, judge veg, freddie kroaker, sybil, on and on and on.

you get my point, right? way too many hands in the same few bowls - all competing for attention, screen-time, characterization, and importance.

usually i've seen the golden rule for good characterization in wiz worlds as using characters at gateways. let's take novus for example.

copyqat/fuzhi - established as a strong character in her own right, (though is also a continuing character), who provides a gateway into catmandu npcs. you are compelled to learn more about catmandu through her (&later moo bu) strong foundations of interest - she becomes a companion, along with moo bu.

moo bu - also established as a strong character provides a gateway into the stone of heaven & the first leg villain, tung-ak. you want to learn more about the villain because he is the key to moo bu's character arc closure - not necessarily even because he's excessively interesting in his own right.

and tung ak passes the torch to dasein-as-novus! who becomes the grounding gateway for much of the rest of the world. it is compelling to investigate novus because he is it - and it is him - and he is such a strong (and priorly fantastically established) companion and plot device that he makes even the least tolerable of jokes semi-tolerable. and there are a lot of stakes to ending his suffering / opening his psyche back up to continue to talk to him. the moments with dasein in the gallery were a perfect example of weaving a fragmented dasein CORRECTLY into a world.

briefly we have that lil nonbinary dog person to carry us through the dog area even! & entwine them into dasein-as-novus motivation interests!

novus had a GREAT flow of attention and supplied a lot of motivation for a player to continue (thru emotional attachments to npcs and dasein) as well as a very sensical reason perhaps a wizard oc might continue as well.

wallaru however, much like karamelle, failed to supply a consistently meaningful companion baton toss while also introducing way too many one off characters w/o a meaningful connection to main npcs or companions .... leading to a very convoluted and confusing plot experience.

our primary&first companion, sandiago, theoretically has the motivating factor of a mystery - who is he, why is he /was he in wallaru, etc..... but because his involvement with the old one is introduced too late in the world, there's no clear connection to existing themes within his character - and therefore, very little drive to learn his mystery in comparison to other characters. he acts as an opinion device and a concealer of information, which is merely frustrating when he isn't a well established companion.

then: for a little while it's that acting gator guy? who is funny i guess, but not a grounding or continual companion - he's a one-off joke character we drag about for a while.

same with all the judges - they're mostly samey people.

essentially for the bulk of the middle of wallaru's plot, we're stuck playing sidekick to various wallaru npcs we don't already know in order to be immersed in their world (a very tourist-y perspective even once the overt tourism wears off).....wasting time that could be spent learning about sandiago (or god forbid, dasein&the governors.)

the intermittent time spent with dasein in the dreaming is great, don't get me wrong, the irks-as-emotions is a great explanation device and actually led to some of the least annoying exposition in the world -- but he's not much of a companion this world.... because other than "vaguely stuck in the dreaming" - we don't know where he is, how to get him, or WHAT HE'S GOING THROUGH. HOW HE CHANGES FROM THE END OF NOVUS TO WHEN WE MEET HIM FORMALLY AT THE END OF WALLARU IS ENTIRELY UNCLEAR (because it's told largely from sybil's perspective, who is just as cryptic as sandiago if not worse).

i consider joan locke & judge veg some of the stronger companions of the world, w/ judge veg having GREAT prior establishment and characterization and joan locke being a decent theme character. but they can't save what's already a train wreck - judge veg can only weakly 'introduce' freddie kroaker - mostly because we already know full well who he is.

what we needed from this world was the same tight plot we recieved from lemuria&novus - characters who scaffold the world and themes, rather than flounder and drown within them.

and we also needed tighter focus in general - to the same themes novus&lemuria were about (power, colonialism, *old one manipulation*, etc) and to a few concrete, reliable and lovable companions/minor antagonists. (if it were me, i'd go santiago -> judge veg/morb -> any novus character with dasein information weaved more strongly throughout... and leave sybil&the old one to fill out between santiago, dasein&morb. but alas).

2) events that didn't provide any meaningful payoff or further the story in any way

here's a running list:

-dasein's suffering in the dreaming (we don't see an arc from him, just senseless suffering & constant prodding from sybil to produce a realization we don't see)

-the huntsmen spiders (empty threat / annoyance, no real information about novus gleaned and especially not about the governors plan for novus)

-the entire fake walkabout tourist area (enforces the surface themes of wallarus tourist problem, but could've been resolved a little faster and gotten more done in the meantime)

-honestly? most of anything the furryosa crowd was involved in. maybe i'm just a dedicated hater but i feel like their agitation could be completely removed from the plot and it wouldn't have affected much, especially if the dingo family took the stage as the main third force as oppressed colonizer ?

-sadly some of the old one historical information. it felt... too spotty, inconsistent, or too late delivery of information to matter. which sucks and is the exact same way i felt abt karamelle's t.o.o information

3) MASSIVE amounts of exposition in inappropriate places

all dasein sequences pretty much struggled with massive exposition problems. exposition is great in wiz, it can feel earned, but because most of the world was spent in ignorance and suspense (so to speak), the massive worddump about the dreaming and dream water and the reverie and the dreamer and dasein..... feel unearned and almost annoying.... and that's coming from somebody who eats up lore with a spoon.

sandiago also did a fuck ton of it - which is fine, that's what he does, but he did it in big short bursts rather than slowly throughout. which did suck.

constant constant constant exposition about wallaru's political landscape and an npc's place in it. really really obnoxious after a certain point especially when the writers overtly showed pro-tourist/settler bias while arguing an ambiguously pro-indigenous point.

a resolution that didn't feel earned

see above: im still absolutely stunned.... the exposition and then a sudden truce..... felt so weird.

4) story felt secondary to gameplay/visuals (which is fine, BUT...)

but in an arc like arc 4, where story&visuals feed into each other very well, and where visuals were at times sacrificed (at least in effort put in - work smarter not harder) in order to serve story development -- seeing the opposite in wallaru was unnerving. it was gorgeous, yes. absolutely. i was fascinated by the architecture, the landscapes, the character models, the lighting&colors, the spells. it was all fantastic. but it felt like a distraction from a confusing plot... or rather an excuse for a confusing plot. not to mention, wallaru itself seemed a subject of focus (see above bulletpoint) throughout, but not in a thematically interesting way - wallaru is inert, subject to the whims of magic and politics, all while sitting very pretty and consumable for the viewer... and it is a non-diegetic as well as diegetic consumption. it's a rather odd turn from novus, in which we are carefully informed that the world matters too, yknow. (even if it isnt directly sentient.) in novus, when we stare at beautiful architecture, it was beautiful and served a very good thematic or characterizing purpose -- in wallaru, it seemed more an exercise of pushing the boundaries of scenic and character art. (which - again - is fine. i like it. but with a weak plot it just makes me sad.) -- not to mention, story seemed molded around cool battles and cutscenes rather than the other way around at certain times, especially toward the end battles. the only time this really felt excusable to me was during the lead-up quest to malus, mostly because there was a self-awareness involved that i did respect a bit.

very annoying characters, too many throwaways

furryosa, freddy kroaker, many random judges my beloathed. 0 meaningful characterization despite taking up so much goddamn screentime. fuck off forever

5) long running puns and jokes that sucked

again, furryosa&freddy kroaker - the nightmare on elm street joke was fun until it got dragged through the entire plot and also got misused to be pretend creepy. that's not what these damn jokes should do. same with mad max - it ACTIVELY inhibited furryosa's character from going anywhere to be a mad max archetype.

straight up continual racism toward indigenous ppl (in australia and elsewhere?). (known going in - somehow worse than imagined.)

i could make an entire whole post about this. the terms dreaming and walkabout being thrown around either as wizard101 lore terms (sitting on the same infamous shelf as 'cabal' i reckon, for being both technically important but very embarrassing and racist) or as a basically meaningless word for 'journey' dressed up to sound more """drover-y""".

the feeling that this story got drafted much like a spell circle that you run out of space for at the end.

all the exposition, realization, and heavy hitters got saved for the end, and happened so fast my head spun. they were all regarded with the same importance when some really did not have the same importance. (joan locke's reproduction of harmful power structures was not nearly as important as why the old one was even mentioned in relation to wallaru in the first place.....)

TLDR: come on, man. novus had some big shoes to fill, but wallaru was an offbrand novus shoved through the lens of curious tourists just begging for some 'nuance' . could've used a couple more cuts, tighten-ups, killing of darlings, ceasing of jokes, etc.

but malus was cool as fuck and well executed, and so i guess the team put their whole pussy into that and said oh well, theres a hot prime minister in wallaru and also dasein is there.

[starpotionz]

Subway stops

Rise! Donnie x Gender Neutral! Reader

IM BACK BITCHES! Sorry it took so long, life got crazy man. But I’m at college now so yippee! And I finally present you with my long awaited Donatello one shot subway stops

Enjoy!

The first time you ever met Donatello was precisely 8 years and 6 months ago. A very specific amount of time, but since that first moment where small tear filled eyes meet the gaze of wide shocked ones you’ve counted the days between each meeting you inevitably have with the purple terrapin. Especially after you two became romantically intertwined, but I digress.

You met him when you were 6. One of your front teeth had fallen out earlier that morning so your cheery mood couldn’t even begin to be dampened. Clutching tightly onto your mother’s hand, your tiny feet stumbled across the concrete floors of the New York Subway station. She had just retrieved you from your mandatory after school extracurricular activity and wanted to get the both you home as soon as possible. It was Dad’s turn to make dinner that night. You remembered him mentioning it that morning before your mother took you to school.

Your father’s cooking by all means wasn’t perfect, but he was definitely the better cook out of your parents. Your mother’s stride quickened as she weaved through the thick crowd of New Yorkers.

In the corner of your eye you saw an old poster for the 5th Lou Jitsu movie on the wall. Your interest was immediately peaked and you slowed down your jog to stare at it longer. You stood there admiring the poster as your mother’s grip slipped and she continued through the crowd without you.

It was a few moments of uninterrupted admiring went bye till you reached to squeeze your mother’s hand but it wasn’t there. She was gone and you were left all alone.

All

Alone ……

Shocked to your core, you numbly glance back at the Lou Jitsu poster hoping it’ll bring you comfort.

Someone shoved into you as they were heading towards their own destination and the impact brown your resolve. You started bawling and ran towards the least crowded area you could see with your blurry vision.

Everything was caving in on you, ringing all around. There was no way out. No salvation. No mom to comfort you.

No one

No way out

NO

WAY

OUT

“Um.. A-are you ok?” A small voice inquired. You shoved you face farther into your arms. During your panic you had fallen and closed in upon yourself for some semblance of comfort.

“ ‘mn not ok. I’m lost and I don’t have my mommy a-and someone shoved me and I-I-I” you could barely get out a full sentence before the tears came out like a flood.

This startled the other child and he sat down next to you rocking back and forth. “I’m not the best at comforting others, but I promised my brothers I’d try so uh don’t cry…..please.”

You glanced up from your arms and sniffed “…..you really aren’t good at comforting”

“HEY! AT LEAST IM TRYING! Empathy isn’t really my thing” he snapped. Looking at his face you realized he was a turtle… or well a turtle who looked human. Or was he a Herman looking turtle-ANYWAY back to the turtle boy thing.

“Well..” you pondered “what is your thing Mr. Turtle” Your lips upturned a bit at his frustration, he may not be good at comforting but he was really funny to talk too that’s for sure.

“I’m glad you asked peasant for I am the greatest GENUIS SCIENTIST, DONATELLO! You can applaud now. Go ahead.” He boasted as he waved his three fingered hand at you, urging you to clap.

You snickered as a laugh bubbled from your chest, “Oh yea? Great and powerful scientist Donatello. What science do you do?”

“I invent things obviously” he rolled his eyes. Donatello’s face went blank for a moment, his eyes focused ahead as he mulled over a thought. He looked back at you and thought once more before speaking again.

“You can call me Donnie, not even my dad calls me Donatello.” He fiddled with his fingers “-WAIT! you never told me your name”

“My name? Oh uh-“ you uttered your name to Donnie and he nodded as he repeated it.

“Well now that we are properly acquainted-“

Donnie stopped his sentence as both of you hear your name being frantically yelled. The woman sounded heartbroken and desperate to find you. Wait, you knew who that was.

“MOMMA!” you jumped up as you faced her direction. You couldn’t see her from where you were but she was here. She had really came.

“Is that your mom?” Donnie asked. His words startled you as you quickly turned around to face him.

“Yea it is” Your tone got quieter, but an idea popped into you head and you jumped up startling the port turtle, “ Hey, let’s be friends ok? I think your funny so um meet me here tomorrow ok?” You proposed with stars in your eyes.

“Oh uh yea ok.” Donnie nodded, taking over your proposition, “Yea I’ll see you tomorrow right here”

“Right here!” You smiled at him and grabbed his hands to swing around with your own. Your mother cried your name and you yelled back to her that your coming.

You took one last look at Donnie before you let his hands go and went back to your mother’s waiting arms. As you were walking , you turned around to walk backwards and yelled “TOMMOROW!”

Donnie gave a small smile and cupped his hands over his mouth to yell back “TOMORROW!”

He waved as you turned back around rushing towards your frantic mother. Yeah Donnie was definitely looking forward to tomorrow. After all, he had his own special friend to hang out with and show how cool he was.

Tomorrow was gonna be amazing.

It took me two years BUT ITS DONE HAHAHAHAH also Imma change my name cause I’m not felling my old one anymore. As always Thxs for reading and Cowabunga

[blackjackkent]

Lorroakan loot:

[fahrquad pointing meme] Athkatlan!

Interesting. The staff is pretty okay for Gale but the robe isn't really even that impressive, at least as compared to the Potent Robe we got from Alfira all the way back in Act 2. So that will go towards the HGS Potions Fund.

I was gonna talk with Rolan but he seems to have disappeared so I'm assuming he's back downstairs and we'll talk to him later? Quick look around the tower first though.

First interesting thing - a note confirming that Lorroakan was a bastard, in case anyone needed it:

[fahrquad pointing meme again] Sellout! Asshole! Liar!

Honestly I'm relieved because if it turned out that he really HAD found some way to use her magic without hurting her then all of this would have felt a lot more complicated than it does. XD

He also has tried to write a book about himself to submit to the "Wizards of Note" book series, apparently:

That's more or less all that's up here, so heading back downstairs...

OK, going back downstairs we are caught by one of Lorroakan's projections and once again ejected from the shop for "HABITUAL VIOLENCE." No sign of Rolan.

INVISIBILITY AND BACK UP TO THE TOWER AGAIN!

Aha there you are. How you doing, Rolan?

"Lorroakan is dead. The bastard is dead."

"Are you all right?"

"I am. Now that the bastard's in bits." There's none of Rolan's old cocky confidence now. He just sounds extremely tired and sad. "Lorroakan was a cruel and vicious man. By day, I'd tend the shop, but at night - he'd fire the most nonsensical questions at me. And for every one I answered 'wrong', he'd beat me."

A pause. He looks down at his own palms. "I could've killed him with my own two hands, but I kept thinking it was all a test. It had to be. I thought it was the price I had to pay to become a true wizard. I realize now he was just a sick, sick man..."

Poor guy. Hector is no stranger, by now, to the terrible things that people in this world are capable of doing to each other. But it never fails to strike him with new ferocity every time he encounters it. Rolan has been a blowhard at times, but he's a good man at heart, and he doesn't deserve how his desire to better himself has been taken advantage of.

"He's dead now," he says quietly. "It's over. And you've won."

Rolan smiles slightly, with a hint of his old air of confidence - though muted now with experience. "I have," he agrees. "With your considerable help." He looks around thoughtfully. "I see things clearly now. If I wish to master the Weave, I must do it myself. Thankfully, I have everything I need - right here."

Hector grins. That sounds more like the Rolan he knows, and cocky though it is, it's good to hear it back, even a little. What he's proposing -- to take Lorroakan's tower for himself -- is certainly aiming high, though. "You'll be challenged," he points out. "I'm sure there are others who want the tower."

Rolan laughs softly. "Let them come. I happened across a book on the tower's defenses, and they are considerable." He's visibly starting to come out of the shock of the battle now, growing more energized. "I'll move Cal and Lia in immediately. Lorroakan refused to let them stay here. The are going to love the tower."

He pauses, then looks at Hector intently for a moment. "I wouldn't have this - the tower, my family - without you," he adds, with a more earnest tone than Hector has ever heard from him before. "What can I do to thank you?"

Hector smiles. The other man's gratitude and respect is worth more than any reward to him, and in truth he never expected to truly earn it. Were there less at stake, he would demand nothing at all.

But very soon, he will need people to stand with him against the terrible threat on the horizon. And Rolan has more than proved himself, over the time they've known each other.

"The city is under siege, from the inside out. I need allies," he says soberly.

"And you'll have me," Rolan agrees at once, nodding. Given everything they've been through, Hector is more than a little impressed at the lack of even a moment's hesitation. "I'll learn everything I can about the tower in the meantime, even if I have to rip this place apart. But know this - Ramazith's Tower, and its master, are now your friends. And when the time comes, we will stand by you as allies."

[thundercrack]

ok joining the club... February reading report! I'm mostly just mouthing off... Read at your own risk!

Dune by Frank Herbert

The Friend by Sigrid Nunez

Look, I'm a sucker for a classic. I'd been vaguely meaning to read this since I saw the Timmy Chalemet movie...and I generally have a tolerance for fairly long scifi/fantasy. I enjoyed the first maybe third of this book...and then I got bored (needless to say I will not be reading the next four Dune books although I did finish). Don't get me wrong -- I'm glad I read it. In many ways, Dune still culturally relevant, both within the world of genre fiction, and (especially because of the new film) in debates about orientalism, the Cold War, humanity, etc, etc. I found Herbert's explorations on this future version of Islam and future version of Arabic pretty interesting, but by the end of the book, I was really annoyed by the main character. There's a lot of really interesting discussion and criticism around this book, so I'm glad to be able to understand a little more of those conversations as well. Also, now I retrospectively sort of know what was happening in the movie!

I was too young to read this book. It was good; it was not for me. Revisit in thirty-five years.

Utopia Avenue by David Mitchell

Lincoln In The Bardo by George Saunders

Why did I read this? I've never read any other David Mitchell. This book was an exercise in 1960s musical fantasy, where nothing goes wrong and the truest joy is from celebrity encounters, powered by the author's love for the era, rather than having anything to say. This was a book about a rock band going straight to the top, without any real interrogation into the cultural forces and pitfalls of the 1960s, weak characterization, random tie-ins with his larger universe, and next to no tension. I'll probably still read Cloud Atlas at some point, but this one is a hard pass.

This was one of my old roommates favorite books that I gave another go after DNFing in maybe, 2018? Again, I think this might be a book I'd like more if I were older. I thought the structure and format was well-done (I especially liked the history excerpts, of course); the story itself, I was maybe luke-warm on. I thought the prose was good (especially the dialogue) and the characters were interesting. I'm not entirely sure what's making me luke-warm on it, but I liked it enough to be glad I read it.

Human Acts by Han Kang (trans. Deborah Smith)

This was the best book I read this month, hands down. Maybe this year as well. Kang masterfully weaves together a number of stories around the Gwangju massacre of pro-democracy demonstrators. This book was at times, extremely brutal to read (and I would say I have a fairly high tolerance in text). It was clearly well-researched, well-lived, and well-considered. The topics it tackled were both grains of sand and the meaning of humanity itself. I really, really, enjoyed this book; I highly recommend it, and I definitely look forward to reading The Vegetarian in the future. Bonus reading: Han Kang and the Complexity of Translation

All The President's Men by Woodward and Bernstein

I constantly get this one mixed up with All The Kings Men by Robert Penn Warren (also good). One of my college friends had just read this and sent me a number of random updates throughout their reading, mostly focused on Woodward and Bernstein's....tense relationship. Like most Americans, I've been vaguely aware of Watergate my whole life (I even saw that movie The Post!), and I think this book really did a good job laying out the reveal of the story as well as sort of the in-house tensions that were going on. My copy (from the library) was the original 1974 edition, and I sort of wish that I had a more recent version with a little bit more distance on the events, but it's kind of fun to have been "right in there." I generally do like this style of expanded-reportage book (see Ronan Farrow's books, or in another genre, Jon Krakauer), and Watergate still looms so large in the American political imagination, so I'm glad I read this one too.

Beyond Babylon by Igiaba Scego (trans. Aaron Robertson)

This is a book I would have really liked to enjoy. I didn't. I kept saying to myself -- well, maybe it's just the translation that didn't work for me (the whole book was a bit clunky to read). There are a lot of really interesting themes in this novel (fluid identity, colonization, language, coincidence, politics, choice and nature, etc), interesting characters, play with language, a sweep of history that could have been fascinating. However, in practice, it didn't work for me. The different storylines sometimes were confusing, the plot at times eluding me, seemingly unnecessary tangents taking me nowhere. It was a slow read. There was just a lot here (and maybe it's just through my background that I was missing pieces)...and none of it quite fit together.

Murder by the Book by Claire Harman

Totally random book I picked up at the library. It's not really a topic or like...an era (the metropolitan center of Victorian Britain??) that I care about, but I was like, hey, cool cover, I want an easy read this week, etc. I thought it was well written and well researched, and I definitely learned some stuff about the literary scene of the era. It was also amusing how some of the debates around "base literature" are...pretty much the same today as they were in the 1830s.

Beasts of a Little Land by Juhea Kim

Look, you ever read a book and you can just tell it was written by a Harvard/Yale/Princeton grad? Well, this was one. This book was extremely readable. It's got decent characters who are fairly easy to get invested in and a structure that pulls you through the text, all while set across a complex, divided, and rapidly changing backdrop of early 20th-c Korea. However, the narrative itself rung flat, and the book's promised complexity disappeared before I got through the second chapter -- it's almost a completely sanitized view of two very complex worlds: that of high-class courtesans, and that of orphans/gangs who become politically involved. Narratively things go wrong, but it's almost never because the characters make bad decisions -- except perhaps in love -- which collapses the once-promising characters. Also, it jumps from 1945 to 1964 at the end...not very successfully (the opening/closing of the book was extremely trite and not terribly well-done). This book was almost disappointing because it promised more than it could deliver, falling straight into the chasm of mediocre novels by diverse graduates of elite institutions. I didn't do it any favors by reading it so soon after Human Acts either, although they're very different novels.

The Thousand Crimes of Ming by Tsu Tom Lin

The advertising around this book does it poorly (do not go in expecting anything Cormac McCarthy-like LOL). Don't get me wrong, I liked this book -- I do enjoy a modern Western and I think Lin does a great job highlighting the role of Chinese workers on the expansion of the railroad, as well as the curiosities of the era through a fantastical magic troupe. The NPR review of this book highlights how each character plays with genre, which was true and definitely one interesting part of the novel. Thematically, I thought this book was interesting if a bit restrained, and the characters were neat. Unfortunately, though I enjoyed giving this one a read, at the end of the day, it's all a bit forgettable.

Dumb Luck by Vu Trong Phung (trans. Nyuyen Nguyet Cam and Peter Zinoman)

Tumblr bookclub read! Like I said to A and Rhu, I found the introduction "Vu Trong Phung's Dumb Luck and the Nature of Vietnamese Modernism" by Peter Zinoman more interesting than the text itself, but overall, I'm glad I read the book. It's always really interesting to read these sort of big, foundational texts -- even in fairly recent translation. I haven't read a lot of satire and really don't know that much about Vietnam before American involvement, but the thrust of the text was definitely quite interesting (and brutal -- one review described all the characters as antagonists) even if I didn't fully understand all the conversations, it was taking part in.

Heart of Darkness (3rd Norton Critical Edition) by Joseph Conrad (ed. Robert Kimbrough)

Confession: I think I'd read this before and almost entirely forgotten it. I didn't particularly enjoy the book and literarily, I'm not sure that I got what quality elevates it to a "great novel." I especially enjoyed the back-and-forth among several scholars (especially around Achebe) about its relationship to colonialism, inclusion in the canon, and European self-definition against Africa as a "primitive other." I'm glad I read it mostly because I feel like it gives me a better sense of the larger conversation around Leopold in the Congo and the literary/related discourses around the scramble for Africa. So, thematically, glad I read it; literarily, whatever.

The Last King of Scotland by Giles Foden

The end :) maybe I'll do this again someday!

Another confession: I pick a lot of books by wandering around the library and just grabbing one that looked interesting. I did read Heart of Darkness before this for a reason. I quite liked reading this one -- I thought the narration was really interesting and the narrator's complicity in the brutality of Idi Amin's rule was neat. Certain scenes were very brutal (and the book was certainly well-researched). I felt like at times, the time-skips didn't quite work, but the general disconnect between Garrigan, his identity, and what was happening around him was interesting. I think I had to watch the film that was a loose adaptation of the book in class in high school. I think I could probably have some more interesting thematic and political comments on this one if I sat on it a little longer, but I'm kind of getting tired of writing this and also I finished it like, twelve and a half hours ago or something.

[diodellet]

ooohh that ask game has some interesting questions hmm how abt 16, 18, and 23?

i am realizing just how much this ask game is making me bare my soul goshhh (/not srs), thanks for sending me an ask, bibi!

16. What makes you immediately close a fic that otherwise seemed good?

hm...well, most of the time i try to stick it out even if i'm not enjoying the fic from the first few sentences. like, maybe it's just me but a lot of the first words of a fic tends to be the (for lack of a better word) "the gunk" that precedes the actual story? like some stories just have slow starts, but they do get gud.

but to answer the q, i guess stuff that makes me roll my eyes at a fic, in the context of x readers would probably have to be:

disclaimer: most of the time, i don't mind reading these. but there are just moments where they bother me as i'm reading

reader getting carried bridal style (i dont like it, i hate it. id rather be carried like a sack of potatoes. or id rather be carried like a goat by its shepherd. but i do like seeing characters getting princess-carried) just carry me like this instead 🤧🤧👇

royalty AU++CEO/office/corporate-setting AU (like secret princess of a kingdom or being a secretary, for example) i'm not a big fan of those kinds of settings. like ok sure a chara can look good in business formal or in some fine furs, but once the eye candy wears off thats when i exit the fic oops.

fics centered around marriage: i don't really enjoy reading proposals. also thinking of how the rings, the dresses, and the flowers look is hard bcs of my (partial?) aphantasia, but weddings Are Pretty Fun as a background setting. overall, i think what bothers me most is that the chara loses a bit of their personality after they get wed together with the reader.

^^actually in relation to this... im not that big of a fan of prom/dance settings, they both read very similarly, especially since the reader tends to be placed in the more passive role of being asked out. (but when you make it angsty or hurt/comfort, ok i will read it i'm a simple girl)

Oh and ig this is just me wishing for more in the Imposter-SAGAU genre of fanfic (i mean i'm still looking around, i don't feel desperate enough to write smth of my own), but i kinda wish the charas weren't so doe-eyed and quick to apologize to the reader. like, i get the feeling of wanting to write The Good Bits Immediately (e.g. being fawned over, getting to lord that blunder over the characters) but the potential of slowburn trauma recovery and developing a relationship from straight-up antagonism is Right There.

18. What media do you want to get into because of artists/writers you like?

i think i'd want to try reading more poetry? like, if i rb a lot of web weaving, i gotta know sumn other than "deep" pop lyrics (u wont find me saying nice things about ms sw*ft). so far i'm thinking of starting with ocean vuong and richard siken (basic ik but i mean, their works are good)

dunmeshi! i've been putting it off for forever 🙈🙈 (<-girlie watched frieren and forgor abt dunmeshi bcs they got yorushika to do the 2nd OP) but senshi,,,, SENSHI THE MAN THAT U ARE,,,,

Oh! and i'm rlly curious about alien stage! my sibling's dipping into it and he told me it was basically america's got talent x the promised neverland. and he said the magic words "toxic yaoi" and "doomed yuri," i Gotta watch it atp. (also like, carole and tuesday rearranged my brain, im ready to put a sadder spin on it😤)

23. What would you make a 5 hour video essay on, if you had enough time and motivation?

as soon as i read this all my hyperfixations have: left the server HAHAHA

maybe in terms of recent ones, i could try analyzing madds buckley's my love is sick. i wrote about that album for a final paper in a basic music elective, but i was constrained to only 3 pages so i only talked about 2-3 songs. but i could pretend to be a music major and regale ppl with how the leitmotifs tie together and completely destroy me add a new layer of meaning to the songs on subsequent listens. Also like, these songs just Get It (not sure what "it" is exactly, but there's smth related to first love and love lost*)

(but atm im just yoinking songs from there to use for fic/chapter titles, i plan on using one for this ruggie timeloop angst fic im plotting out anyway)

(art appreciation ask questions, please bug me to rb some underrated art and fic)

[moonmothmama]

slowly finishing part two of the nevers

just got through episode 9 (fever) and. it went to the sex club??

ok i get it you're tying all this shit together but BABY ALIEN IN THE VICTORIAN RICH BASTARD SEX CLUB? IN THE POOL IN THE SEX CLUB?

this show is fucking bananas. oohhhh my god.

Hugo is out here getting himself painted gold for an Olympian themed orgy while his abusive father dies. Lord Massen's Touched daughter is secretly alive locked in the basement but he might try to kill her. and all the shit with the Bidlow siblings. there's all this weird symmetry and it's like barely coherent. what the hell is this show. why am i so invested in this. it's so good but at the same time it's a train wreck. i would say it's gone totally off the rails but was it ever on them?

the actors are so good. it's beautifully acted. and the characters are interesting. but the plot has run away with itself. it's bonkers. there's so much- too much- going on. it's excessive to the point of being almost baffling. there are too many tangled threads. imho this story could be really good if it a) was stretched out over at least three seasons, thereby giving time to weave plotlines together and develop more than a handful of characters* b) was, shall we say, tidied up a bit, and some Questionable Decisions revised.

*- oh look! they remembered that Harriet, Primrose, and Desirée exist!

that said, i mean, here i am watching it, so. idfk man.

and just by the fucking way, is that the dead widow somehow reasserting herself???? whaaaaaat the fuuuuuuuuuck is going on here

there's three more episodes and i can't decide if i'd rather binge it or stretch it out for the next few days. which is worse? also, as usual, goddammit Frank

the scene with him and Lucy was genuinely very good

note: Nick Frost is fuckin chilling in this show. i hope he gets more roles like this one. but if that knife he gave the hateful bigoted teenage girl ends up hurting Myrtle i'm gonna burn something down.

no one spoiler me please in the extremely off chance that anyone in this fandom (what is it like half a dozen ppl) even sees this post within the next few days <3

ps- not shedding any tears for the colonel but neither am i cheering for the piece of shit doctor

[ayliamc]

Italia

Day 5 - The Smell of the Ocean

Steps walked: 16,283

Flights climbed: 13

Vehicles ridden: 3 (two by land, one by water)

Points of interest visited: 3

Leonardos spotted: only bastardizations in tourist swag

We took our time having breakfast and checking out of the hotel, opting for comfort and taking a taxi to the train station rather than the metro. We got to marvel at the skill and audacity of Italian drivers as he cut through solid walls of traffic to get us to the station with plenty of time to spare. We strolled directly onto the train for the nearly three hour ride to Venezia. ‘Twas a relatively uneventful train ride, mostly pleasant, aside from the little boy who sat next to me for 30% of the ride who watched stuff on his phone with the volume on.

We arrived in Venezia, a sinking city, hungry. We tried two cafes at the train station who reportedly sometimes had vegan croissants but no such luck. Dan was noticeably worried because as my hunger grows, my moods become more mercurial. I insisted I’d be ok and that we could head to our hotel and maybe we’ll find something on the way. I was determined not to be the problem, as I usually am.

It was a half hour walk through Venezia to our hotel and along the way we passed a Chinese restaurant listed on Happy Cow (our vegan restaurant finder app, a necessity for every traveling vegan). I was not about to resist another break from Italian food so we had a very satisfying lunch there and I have no regrets about our first stop in Venezia being to a Chinese restaurant.

The rest of our walk to the hotel was uneventful, providing us a nice walking tour of the city, encumbered only by our luggage.

Some observations/thoughts about Venezia:

* For all intents and purposes, there are no roads. No cars. No vehicles. We walked exclusively through alleys, for lack of a better word. Ranging from wide to impossibly narrow, weaving with no apparent rhyme or reason thru the multi-story ancient buildings housing apartments, hotels, restaurants, and shops. Modern kitsch sold from crumbling brick store fronts and tourist traps next to local markets.

* How could anyone live here? It’s just fine to visit. Kind of surreal to experience. But people live their lives in this city where Amazon deliveries are brought by rolly cart and courier and emergency services take a boat to the nearest canal. Their day-to-day is spent navigating through a sea of tourists who seemingly outnumber them.

* It feels less like a real place where people live as it does a run down amusement park where there’s only one ride: a 30 minute gondola ride that costs €80. It’s all in need of a good scrubbing to get rid of that algae/fish/sea salt smell.

* You pay for water at restaurants here. They don’t do tap water.

Our hotel was directly next to a canal and gondola “start point”, of which there are many. The gentleman who ran the hotel greeted us at the door and was outrageously friendly and nice and Italian. “Buongiorno! Ciao! Welcome! You have-a my favorite room-a!”

‘Twas indeed a very nice room with windows that overlooked a canal. We unloaded our bags and went for a walk to the Piazza San Marco and the Doge’s Palace and meandered around, taking in the sights and sounds. Without having much interest in actually paying for admission to any of the museums or historic landmarks, there wasn’t a whole lot for us to do.

And here we are sighing at the bridge of sighs.

We eventually found ourselves in a gondola not far from our hotel (but not the one right next to the hotel entrance). I’d noticed that all the gondoliers were male and I did a bit of googling to confirm that in Venezia’s history, only one “female” gondolier has ever existed, and even then not really. Alex Hai became the “first female gondolier” a few years before he came out as trans. As far as I can tell, he still works as an occasional gondolier but by appointment only. He also works as a filmmaker. So we couldn’t support any women or trans-men, and were left with a traditional gondolier. He was still great and pointed out a few things on our half hour tour. My initial thought that 30 minutes was too short a ride was replaced after about 20 minutes when I decided “yeah, 30 minutes is plenty.”

Many of the gondoliers chat with each other as they pass, their long oars on the right of the boat while they use their left leg to kick off the building walls on either end of the narrow canals. It seems like an exhausting job. I don’t know how they do it. But it’s fun to watch.

We had some time to kill before our reservations. (Too late we discovered there’s exactly one vegan restaurant in all of Venezia and it was far and required reservations which we had not made. An email revealed to us that they were fully booked for the night. Our next best option was a very expensive restaurant that had a vegan menu.) We wandered aimlessly through our little corner of the city while I marveled at some of my aforementioned observations and went to our reservations a half hour early. They seated us immediately on their patio* and we immediately became aware that we were much too poor for this restaurant. We ordered two dishes each, aware that one dish would not be enough food despite the cost. Anyway it was all good. Not as good as the best meal I’ve had, and not good enough to justify the cost. But quite tasty. We had a nice leisurely dinner, hampered only by the French woman sitting next to us who lit up a cigarette right after we had our appetizers. Europeans, amiright?

I’ve also been starting to respond to every dog sighting with an ever increasing yearning for our babies back home. The best part of a vacation is knowing you’ll be ready to finish it at the end. We’re about halfway there, and that feels right.

Our hotel had given us a complimentary bottle of wine which was a sweet, mild Chardonnay which we happily enjoyed before bed, falling asleep to the sounds of splashing water and boats passing by in the canal below our window.

*the alley behind the restaurant

[wclovewhatismortal]

I just binged Love What is Mortal in two days and I just want to say - you're an amazing writer, the way you were able to weave a story that not only fits into the warriors universe, but expands on things we'll probably never learn in canon in a way that makes sense (also it was definitely better written than any of the newer books, plz take over for the Erins) is amazing. I really hope we get more warriors content from you in the future!

I do have a couple of questions though if that's ok?

Generally speaking, what's the time frame of Love What is Mortal? If I recall correctly Leafpool mentioned the flooding from Bramblestar's Storm in one of the earlier chapters and it ends with Juniperkit and Dandelionkit meeting Hollyleaf so I'm guessing it ends right at the beginning of AVoS or a little before the beginning?

I feel like it was heavily hinted that Ashfur either went to the mortal realm and started the whole Bramble possession arc, or went to whatever exists outside of starclans itself (likely the place where Jake resides.) I did see in one of the asks you answered that Mudclaw would still be hunting Ashfur down, so I'm just curious if we'd ever get maybe a novella or a snippet of that scenario depending on where Ashfur went exactly? Or maybe if not a fic to read, would you be willing to explain what might have occurred?

The last thing I'll ask right now is about Patchkit and Larchkit, are they still with Appledusk? Or was Petalkit implying they faded away? I thought it was probable it was the former, but reading about how many kits get left without families or kin around because they are still waiting for closure or something that will help them move on, made me think perhaps those two were able to move on after spending time with their father whereas Petalkit chose not to stay with him.

Again, I really love your work!! You deserve a good break and some good food. Make sure to drink water and rest! Sorry if all these questions have been answered or are a bit much, feel free to not answer them if you don't want to!

You binged it in TWO DAYS? I'm impressed! LWIM is 226,638 words, which according to the website Wordcounter is the equivalent of 503 pages. You're freaking awesome!

Thank you for the nice words! LWIM really was a passion project for me. It's fun to take the afterlife of warrior cats and expand on it, seeing as it's so ripe with potential. I'm glad you enjoyed the story, and I'd be happy to answer your questions!

You're right as to the timing: it ends a little bit before the beginning of AVoS.

You might be wondering how Ashfur's shenanigans factor into that timeline. As of the end of LWIM, he escaped from Starclan. Now, he's out galavanting somewhere in the greater afterlife. Neither Sorreltail nor Mudclaw are particularly interested in letting him get away, but I think they'll meet some resistance from some of Starclan on that.

As for Ashfur, he's going to try to stir up trouble for Starclan. He knows what he wants to do, he just has to figure out how. In one of the latter chapters, he taunted to Hollyleaf about the plans he has for Squirrelflight and Bramblestar.

If I were to write a sequel or short story, it would probably take place not long after LWIM, and follow all the way through into TBC. Sorreltail would be the POV character, on a quest to track down her half-brother. Mudlcaw would undoubtably be involved, but as to what capacity, I'm not sure. If they can get along, a Mudclaw & Sorreltail dual-investigation might be fun. I think Sparrowfeather would make an appearance in this, as location-wise he would probably be somewhere in the broken remnants of the PONS.

You're right on the money with Patchkit and Larchkit. They stayed with Appledusk until they were able to make peace with their own lives and with what happened with Mapleshade. They have long since faded away. On the other hand, Petalkit disliked Appledusk so much that she ran away and never found closure with him or herself. She's not in a great place at the end of LWIM. For all intents and purposes, she feels abandoned by pretty much everyone: Mapleshade, for making reckless choices that bound her for an eternity to the PONS instead of Starclan; Appledusk, for his presumed infidelity and perceived lack of interest in being a parent to her in the mortal realm; Patchkit and Larchkit, for not agreeing with her revulsion of Appledusk and finding peace without her; and Snowfur, who she has a lot of mixed feelings for. THAT one is a whole can of worms that she'll have to sort through.

Now Petalkit is with Hollyleaf. It's what Mapleshade would've wanted: someone trustworthy watching over her.

Perhaps, Mapleshade wouldn't have had qualms with Sorreltail watching over her too, but that might be a little too painful for our calico protagonist. The death of Honeyfern is very fresh for her, and after all, she still has work to do.

Thank you SO much for reading my story, and for sending an ask!

[fishtails-nat1]

grading double life ships, shipnames, if any, added in brackets.

CANON PAIRINGS:

Ma'el/Pall'or (cultduo, sometimes maellor) the classic, they had chemistry day one. honestly not much more to say other than the fact that the players are on their hands and knees to stop the slowburn and let them fuck. bonus points for the intersting backstory weaving. 10/10

Eiwn/Miym very well done friendship to tragic love. the chemistry these two have is off the walls, like why are pep and cerin so good at doing these friends to lovers ships. the tragic family aspect and cool gods backstory stuff provides a really interesting dynamic. 10/10 i like the poem

RD/Alastrelle (no common tagname, but adding in one ive seen; "winnerduo" cause its funny as fuck) I didn't used to see it cause they had a slight roughness to their alliance but when alastrelle started getting darker vibes? ok yeah this is some cool corruption shit. RD has nothing to hold them back anymore either. i hope they win and kiss about it. 10/10

Luck/Lilly (tigerlilly, luckian) I think this one is actually just canon aside from pairing stuff? or its luck pining a lot, whatever. it's... it's hard to actually judge this one because pep can't actually play out them talking to one another, but y'know what yeah i like the vibes. me and my girlwife who hates people. me and my malewife who trips over roots. 8/10

NON-CANON PAIRINGS:

RD/Pall'or why is their friends with benefits energy off the CHARTS holy shit. RD has plans to kill him but the enemies to lovers energy could be fucking insane??? they have multiple plans to fuck?? the fact that pall'or knows every inch of their body?? 10/10 keeps that inappropriate workplace relationship going

RD/Eiwn they work really well as the weirdgirl/jockboy so I think it's pretty funny. yeah we gay keep scrolling! not a lot of substance anymore and tbh i've seen a lot of angst breakup fics following the latest events so.... yeah.... 6/10

Alastrelle/Luck from what I've seen, all the fics are entirely about the single conversation they've had. There's some further chemistry to be explored, but for now, I don't really see it. 4/10

Pall'or/Alastrelle the starboys... the lovers under the moon... I think they can be so wonderful or horrible for each other. i dont know why im saying this but hannigrm kind of. 7/10

Pall'or/Lilly HOOOOO boy theres a lot to be said when most of the fics under this are hurt no comfort and one-sided relationship. cool job speculating what the fuck happened between these guys. 9/10 because pallor would actually do that yeah

RD/Luck ok yeah again with the pathetic malewife who trips over roots and the cool strong one. I think the fact that RD does actually like luck feeds into this, it's pretty strong actually. 9/10

Pall'or/Luck ok half these noncanon ships involve them so its abt time! i don't have anything to add i just agree. 9/10 because they have yet to flirt in an insane way

Luciano/Cle'av i've seen some age discourse around this so no hate please im just doing rankings. we all love a consentual workplace relationship, especially on the dating death game show. 7/10

Ma'el/Luck once again dont mention the discourse pleaseeee luck said "oh i guess we're not then" in the same sentance after bringing up being related. yeah i think a dog and a cat can be lovers, if they try hard enough. more than anything i like the fact that theyre streetsmart vs booksmart vibe that pall and mael have too. 9/10

RD/Eiwn/Alastrelle polycule is always a win. i have small hope they'll meetup again to do more stuff like the bear bit, buttttt things arent going good. i miss these three 10/10

Ma'el/Pall'or/Luck ive said all that ive needed to say. 10/10

[dondake]

i wrote a whole rant for hashihime so i deserve to do another one for uuultra c since i keep subjecting myself to the messy writing of adelta

honestly after ch 1 i had a nagging feeling i was just not going to enjoy the game just like hashihime but i powered through. my biggest concern ended up being true: that the plot holes that were written in - obviously with the intention of being patched in later chapters - would not all be filled in. it's fine to leave some things to the reader's imagination but it shouldn't be a barrier to immersion which it was, unfort for this game.

if the writer wanted a weaving storyline, they should not have written it into 3 separate sections. the sections imply that they are standalones and can be read to understanding as such. they are not. the first chapter suffers the most from this, since it basically forces you to finish the other 2 to collect more detail. and honestly, it did not even need to. the concept of the first chapter is "i am a kaiju and my boyfriend is a hero dedicated to destroying kaijus". that is a whole idea. yes, it could be supplemented by other details that are fleshed out in other chapters, but the central concept is compelling enough. but because the writing was determined to make you go through the rest of the game, you're just reading it and being like huh? that makes no sense...so you end up not being able to fully enjoy and complete the first story because you end up thinking about things that don't add up. i actually liked the akira/shoutaro ship, which made me disappointed because then i had to go through with other ships to get more context for some of the storyline

the backstory for some of the kaiji encountered in ch 1 being part of the story of ch 2 and 3 was interesting and honestly that would have been enough to connect to ch 1. instead, i finished ch 1 wondering if the writing was bad on purpose or if it would all be resolved by ch 3 (spoiler, it wasn't)

ch 2 was ok. it filled in more detail and went faster than ch 1 since we already had some of the details and context explained. i don't think i have much to say about it. i'm meh on the ship dynamic, i think they tried to make it way more edgy than it needed to be without actually saying anything...probably the ship i'm most ambivalent about

i had a lot of hopes put on ch 3. i was partially interested in the ship dynamic but also the previous chapters kind of set it up as a "ok NOW you'll get a full explanation" so i was waiting for it. and yeah, it explained a bit more. it kind of satisfactorily legitimized the need for a parallel/alt universe, although maybe the translation was a bit wonky because i needed to reread that part to understand the intent. but then yomi coming back (did he? the pre-credit scene implied some kind of closure with jyuro but in both previous chapters it's implied he was shot back into space - either to die or return to his home planet. it was unclear which) came out of left field. how did that happen? nah, that isn't important! also, you'll be left wondering because there's no post credit stinger scene like in the others! why? because it's a meta commentary on two plot drivers deciding they don't want to be main characters anymore so it doesn't matter!!!!

ultimately i have a few requests for adelta. i think they have a lot of promise. both uuu and hashi have really good core concepts. time travel bookstore? heros and monsters? good ideas. the buildup is usually good too. but both suffer tremendously in the end game by bad writing, which is a result of:

the decision to use really complicated plot devices (time travel, alternative universes). it's fine if you can pull it off, and maybe most players won't think too hard about it. it's a fucking game after all. but for players like me, it's hard to ignore hand waving especially because the first half was so well done. it takes me out of the immersion and makes me realize i'm fucking reading a visual novel. so then why would i feel invested in the characters and story anymore? those plot devices are usually pulled in for someone who usually can't think of a satisfying way to end a story, which brings me to my next point --

inability to commit to a central idea. it's fine to have an open ended ending and have some things left purposefully vague. but the endings for hashi and uuu just feel like the writer was like "ok here's this concept...oh and THIS plot twist...ok...wait...now how do i bring it down to a conclusion" and then they pull a plot device to try and explain things. ok...but when you clearly don't put as much investment in the end because you're leaning on the plot device as a crutch, then it just leads to an unsatisfying ending. the laziness here also seems to translate in a few sloppy cgs which felt so out of place compared to other beautiful cgs which makes me wonder if there was a scramble to get this out. and i understand the tendency to choose a vague or unclear conclusion - but it's not like the writer is unable to write well. fuck, look at the first halves of the stories? look at the post-game mini stories, the yomi/jyuro one basically making me tear up? i'm really hoping her next work is more focused. like the childhood friend route in hashihime was honestly the strongest route and then the rest of it kind of fell to pieces. so i KNOW she can write a good story

overall, adelta has some solid foundations. the art is pretty decent. the setup and concepts are good. it doesn't take itself too too seriously with some humor and references to other media and breaking the fourth wall. but these games so far have felt like you've seduced me and brought me home only for me to realize you want me to clean your house (an apt metaphor since i ended these two games trying to piece together threads that never got addressed). i really want to keep playing their content but if the next game (i believe it's got a TON more characters which makes me really anxious) also flops i might have no choice but to just drop this circle

[spookyserenades]

Hii <3 hope you are well! So... I've read Trouvaille, and I'm in love! 😭 I can't describe in words how much I liked this story, I wish I could convey everything in words. Its plot is VERY interesting, I read the synopsis and I was like "Hm, I've never seen anything like this, how fascinating" and when I read the chapters I really enjoyed it and was VERY interested in the story.

I was wondering how you managed to come up with a combination of ideas like ??? Ok, I've read several Hybrid fanfics, but combining supernatural and horror?? PERFECT! Everything I needed in my life and didn't know. And the vibe of this fanfic is ??? AAAAAAAAA IT'S VERY GOOD, I can already imagine the scenarios and everything is very good to read! I imagine the house as the one from the Ozark's series (even if the location of the series is not at all old, but I imagine Trouvaille a lot like that, the filter, the scenography, and I think it matches the story a lot. Well, at least when I imagine the story be like that).

I'm also IN LOVE with how you made the characters, all the hybrids being predators and the personality of each one I LOVE SO MUCH, I'm SO curious about them, I want to know EVERYTHINGGG!! It's amazing how UNIQUE each thing in the story is, and that makes it even better! Because I hadn't seen anything like it yet, it's so original and so beautiful 😭 For example, jungkook ??? instead of a shy and sweet personality, it's COMPLETELY the opposite, and I LOVED it, "rebellious" and a little "arrogant" perfectly matching his appearance, I don't know, I imagine that very well. As if it matches his age since he's the youngest (although jungkook is already past 15 with the rebellious phase LOL)

And taehyung is soo 🥺🤏 same with what the boys said about him LOL, SORRY, I CAN'T HAND IT IS SO CUTE! He reminded me a lot of Ice Bear from "We Bare Bears" 😭💓

And when the character had that nightmare, I thought it might be namjoon 👀 and when you posted the third chapter and you had the description of his eyes, I was like hmmm 👀 but anyway, I don't have many theories about that, because I bet you will tell us surprise with these things! Then I'm ready!

And about those "electric shocks" that the character feels when she touches Seokjin (or someone else, I don't remember very well) it made me think "are they Companions? 👀 or soulmates" but as it only happened with Jin, I was very excited doubt. We still don't know much, so it's hard to make theories. I can't wait for them to come around and we discover so much more!

When I think that the update is only on the 7th and 20th, I feel so sad 😔 LOL, but when you write these huge chapters, I get really excited because I know the wait is worth it! 💓💓💓

(I hope it wasn't too difficult to understand what I said, English is not my first language so I'm afraid of getting confused LOL)

HIIII darling, oh my goodness!! I'm doing very well, and I hope you are too! I just want to say, thank you so SO much for sending me such a beautiful message, you've brought such a smile to my face <3 I'm so happy you find the plot to be fascinating so far, I really wanted to have multiple layers in this fic to keep the reader on their toes!

Inspirations for this story are numerous! I've loved hybrid fics for a long time, and always wanted to write one of my own. I've drawn inspiration from many of my favorite forms of media, whether it be music, film, literature, or TV shows. The largest sources of inspirations come from the music of Deftones, films Constantine (2005 Francis Lawrence) Fantastic Mr. Fox (2009 Wes Anderson), books such as The Exorcist, Wuthering Heights, and Water for Elephants, and most of all, TV shows Twin Peaks, The X-Files, Yellowstone, and Ghost Adventures (LOL). I take some of my favorite bits of these shows and sort of weave them all together to create a plot, even if one thing doesn't seem to go with another. I think now, after having written this story for so long, all these inspirations seem to complement each other in different ways :) I'm planning on releasing a whole post about Trouvaille inspirations, including an in-depth look at how certain characters from my favorite forms of media influenced the hybrids in Trouvaille. I adore horror movies and all things spooky, and so I couldn't help myself by including some darker themes into Trouvaille!

My parents LOVE Ozark, I've never seen it myself, but after your mentioning of it, I looked up the house you were referring to. The vibe is VERY much like the setting I imagined for the Trouvaille house! It takes place in a town outside of Boston, Massachusetts, so it is a heavily wooded and misty sort of area. The house itself is an old Victorian mansion of sorts, but the outside areas of the home, including all of the densely grouped trees, are VERY much like that Ozark home.

I'm so happy you're loving Jungkook's character so far. He has definitely been one of my favorite hybrids to write about! Jungkook in real life definitely has those timid, sweet characteristics, but I totally see a bit of bad boy arrogance in him that I wanted to exaggerate in this story. You're right, it goes well with the fact that he's the youngest, perhaps having something to prove since he is the only hybrid who isn't a predator~

Taehyung is really a sweet little bear in this!! Ice Bear is a such a fantastic comparison, especially with Taehyung's stoicism and quiet nature. So cute <3

You're the second reader to theorize that Y/N's nightmares may be connected to Namjoon! You're totally right, the descriptions of both the eyes of the creature in her nightmare and Namjoon's are pretty similar. It's super interesting that you've both made this connection! I hope you'll tell me if you gather more clues from future updates :)

Seokjin is one of my babies in this story, I'd protect him with my life XD I love the concept of soulmates SO much! Its fun to write an OT7 story, because you have to come up with several ways to demonstrate different types of attraction to each member. Y/N definitely feels an electrical pull to Seokjin, but I wonder why... ;)

I'm so happy that you've shown so much love to each update of Trouvaille so far, and that you've sent me such a wonderful message in response. Reading all of your comments and theories have made my day!! I hope I was able to give you some more exciting insights to the story! April 7th will be here before you know it, with another hefty update :) I'd love to hear your thoughts surrounding Chapter Four when it drops!

By the way, your English is wonderful-- don't apologize, I could understand perfectly and you are so very kind and lovely! Thank you again for reading, enjoying, and taking the time to send in your beautiful response. Until we speak next time, I wish you nothing but happy days! <3

[mcyt-peach]

sweeter than honey

*:･ﾟ summary: your first venture into the building's kitchens introduces you to a girl almost as sweet as the things she's baking

*:･ﾟ pairing: cc!niki x gn!reader

*:･ﾟ warnings: reader uses they/them pronouns

*:･ﾟ note: oh sweet darling niki <3 this may be the fluffiest thing I’ve ever written and I’m not mad about it one bit

*:･ﾟ series masterlist

Sometimes you wish you could say no to Phil. He’s a great boss, always willing to listen to your problems and work around your schedule when you’re struggling.

But today was your day off and somehow you found yourself at the SMP Honey Company once again.

"Thank goodness you’re here!" Phil looks tired, like he’s running on too little sleep and too much coffee. This is why you can never say no to Phil.

"Half the kitchen staff just called out sick. I know it’s not what you’re trained for, but she’ll help you, ok? She’s really nice." He’s ushering you into the kitchen before you can ask who "she" is and closes the door behind you.

There’s gentle music playing over the sound system, a far cry from the usual chaos of the store. Someone’s humming distantly and you follow the sound of it, weaving around tables and ovens. A girl’s standing with her back to you, mixing something in a bowl.

"Um... hi! I’m Y/n, Phil called me in to help you today." You try not to squeak when she turns to face you and sends the biggest smile your way.

Her hair’s tied back, tucked under a bandana, though a few strands frame her face. Her glasses are slightly crooked and her sweater sleeves are pushed up to stay out of her way. She’s got a streak of flour on her cheek and you think she might be the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen.

"It’s nice to finally meet you!" She sounds so sweet as she beckons you over to the table. "I just need some help with the baking prep for tomorrow. Don’t worry, it’s not hard. I’ll help!"

She hands you a couple recipe cards and sends you off to find the ingredients. When you return, she takes the milk crate full of items from your grasp. Her hands brush yours and you can’t help but feel a bit dizzy at how soft her fingertips are.

The two of you chat idly and you get lost in the way she speaks. The way her hands move around the machinery and craft something out of nothing.

"Ok, so now that the dough's set, we have to knead it." She looks up at you and suddenly the bread is a far more interesting subject than her eyes.

You try to match her movements and knead the dough, but it sticks to your fingers like glue and won’t take form. Niki’s laugh captivates you and you’re glad she found your struggle funny. You smile along with her until she calms down.

She takes your hands in hers and directs them through the kneading process. Her voice is kind and delicate as she explains how much pressure to use and when to let it rest.

Her hands are still on yours and you look up to see her madly blushing before she pulls her hands away. She turns back to her own dough, trying to hide her face from you.

You’re sure you’re grinning like an idiot as you knead the bread. Niki clears her throat and gives you a nervous smile, holding out the baking tray for the loaves.

"Niki, you have something on your cheek." She wipes the wrong cheek and you giggle at the bewildered expression she wears.

"No, no, come here. I’ll help you get it." She steps close, fidgets with the hem of her apron and finally meets your eyes. She lets out a little hum when you brush the flour from the side of her face.

"Wanna have a picnic Y/n?" She smiles when you release her face, bobbing on her heels with energy. You nod and she grabs a slice of cake and a blanket.

The both of you sit outside, watching the farm hands bring the cows out of the barn. Niki’s humming again, to some song playing in her head. You share the cake and talk and laugh and you think maybe, just maybe, you should visit the kitchens more often.

taglist: @hunneiuwu @lous-blue @girlofthefandom @somethingsuperstupidsstuff @greatesthitz @cultof-medusa @mooncaffeine @lemonedbeetle @patchesofwork @junebug-isunavailable @cryptidcritter @paradigmax @soot-and-co @alovestruck-fool @onehellofaweeb13 @stayacarat @ladylapize @satellitesunshine @hanaamara @nonetookind @tinylillx @jhinx-it @h0p33e @flowerguywashere @olibv @daydreamerwriting @mayempress @kaii-jpeg @msbonink @kkusuxa @gifted-axolot

[spencersawkward]

*house call // wes (Dollface)*

ssummary: when her pet cat gives her a scare, Reader decides to call the vet to make sure everything is going to be okay. 

pairing: Fem!Reader x Wes

word count: 5.4k

content warnings: discussion of cannabis/cannabis consumption, unprotected penetrative sex, use of nicknames (baby, sweetheart), SoftDom!Wes, breeding kink, creampie. 

request: can you do a wes smutty one shot if you’re down?! 

A/N: to be fair, i haven’t watched Dollface in a minute, but i’m obsessed with the domestic vibes that Matthew gives off when he plays Wes and i just thought it would be super cute. anyway, this was super fun also i wanna fuck Wes. ok enjoy!

masterlist

the absolute best part of your day is when the package arrives at your doorstep. you impulse-purchased it about two weeks ago while you were hanging out with one of your close friends, and you've been looking forward to trying it every day since. 

or, really, for your cat to try it. 

you've read reviews and been extremely diligent to make sure the stuff is completely safe, and everything you've seen or read was singing the praises of this cat weed (which isn't actually cannabis at all, but catnip made to look like it).

as you take the cardboard box to the kitchen table and pry open the top with the help of a Swiss army knife, you're grinning. Klimt comes scampering into the room to see what all the fuss is about, sitting at your feet with his tail curled around his legs. 

"no peeking." you scold him gently. your kitten, the friendliest little rescue tabby around, simply stares blankly back. when you remove the wrapping from the glass jar and stare at it up close, you're impressed by how realistic it looks. the label shows cat-friendly ingredients only, but you unscrew the top and get a whiff of catnip. 

Klimt begins to weave in between your legs, nudging them affectionately and beginning to purr. you giggle and bend down to give him a few pets. his nose twitches; he tries to sniff at the foreign object, but you put it back on the table. 

"don't be greedy, babe." you scratch between his pointed ears and he lets out a whiny meow. 

it's about his dinner time, and you were hoping to give him his treat tonight after he finishes his dry food. so you make yourself something simple with the leftovers in your fridge and do some more work on your laptop while you two eat together. 

you've had Klimt for a while, now. you call him a kitten even though he's a full-grown cat-- he's just as playful and enthusiastic as any newborn. his eyes are the color of meadow grass, and his nose is scattered with tiny freckles. it makes him look like he's just come from digging around the backyard, but it really just adds to his charm. 

not to mention his ceaselessly social tendencies: Klimt is always around when your friends come over, worming his way in between you or sitting on one of the free chair cushions to listen. you wonder if he knows what you're saying sometimes, because when you talk about the embarrassing things you've done that day or the failed interactions you've had, he always lifts his head to give you something of a judgmental stare. 

once you've settled down for the evening and turned on the TV, you decide that now is the time. Klimt is aimlessly poking at a few of his toys. he bats at a fake mouse between his paws.

"kitten," you click your tongue and get up to grab the jar. "are you ready to try this stuff?" 

as if he's going to answer. he hears your footsteps coming back his way and watches patiently. it's only when you pour out a little bit in front of him that he gets curious about the stuff. you admire his movements as he bends down and examines. 

although you keep an eye on him while watching your show, you don't notice much of a change in him. he starts to roll about on the floor, which is to be expected, but it's only when he starts to chase around his fake mouse that things get interesting. 

you laugh as Klimt goes nuts, jumping back and attacking the thing like he's ready to come in for the kill. it's really funny, but you're interrupted by your phone buzzing. you told your friend that you were doing this tonight. 

"hi!" you answer the FaceTime call right away. 

"how is he?" you can hear the smile in Andi's voice as you turn the camera. 

"he's loving it." 

"oh my god," she laughs. Klimt arches his back, leaping so highly in the air, you raise your eyebrows. "I wonder how long it'll last." she muses. 

"I'm guessing we'll get about an hour more of this before he passes out for the next two days." you joke. he gets strong bursts of energy usually, but they only last so long until he's curled up on the window sill or in your bed. 

Andi and you talk for a while as Klimt tires himself out and plays with all of his favorite toys. you dangle a string in front of him for a decent amount of time, too, just to make him get up on his hindquarters. he's a natural entertainer, a lithe little thing who lets out a few irritated meows to demonstrate his impertinence. 

after about forty-five minutes, however, you notice your cat's behavior change. he keeps raising his hackles and rolling about, and something about it makes you nervous. he doesn't usually act like this, not even when he plays with the other catnip toys he's accumulated. 

"what's wrong?" Andi notes your furrowed brow as you look past the camera of your phone and at your pet. 

"he's just acting really weird," you pat the couch cushion to call him over, but he doesn't even glance up. "I don't know why." 

"maybe it's the cat weed." she suggests. you purse your lips and try to think. 

"yeah, but nobody in the reviews ever mentioned anything like this."

"I'm sure he's fine, Y/N."  

"yeah, I know..." but you're worried. Klimt is your pal, your cuddle buddy. as he rubs his cheek against the wooden floor, you feel guilt pool in your stomach. if he's hurt because of some dumb online purchase, you're never going to forgive yourself. "I'm gonna call the vet just to be sure."  

"oh, okay," she sounds surprised, but doesn't try to stop you. "let me know what they say." 

"I will." you hang up the phone and stare at your companion for a few seconds. he leaps into the air and does a somersault before letting out some deeply disturbing whine that reminds you to call the vet. better safe than sorry.  

...

when the doorbell rings, you're practically twiddling your thumbs anxiously. Klimt hasn't settled at all, and you haven't even bothered to change out of your lounging ensemble. you're pretty sure you look a mess, but hopefully the person won't care too much. 

you don't know who to expect-- your usual vet is an older woman who is friends with your mom, but her receptionist said she was out tonight and would send over another vet to check it out. 

when you swing open the door, you immediately regret the decision to stay in sweatpants. 

"hi, I'm Wes." the guy gives you a friendly smile and holds up his bag. it's almost comically old-fashioned, something out of an old movie, and you half-expect him to be wearing a stethoscope around his neck. 

he's gorgeous, though. definitely a good amount older than you, tall with brown curls and stubble. his features stand out to you even under the porch light, and your mouth guppies idiotically. 

"hi," you manage. his eyes flicker to your hand, which is seemingly blocking him from coming inside the house, and you jolt back a little to let him in. you clear your throat. "sorry." 

as he steps inside and you close the door behind him, getting one tiny moment to yourself, your eyes widen. way to make yourself look like a bumbling fool. 

"I heard that there's a tabby who got into some catnip?" you catch him looking around the front of your house, eyes catching on the framed photos before finding yours again. you can feel the heat creeping up your cheeks, but nod confidently.  

"yeah, Klimt. he should still be in the living room." 

"Klimt? like the artist?" he chuckles and follows you into the rest of the home. his voice has a nice timbre to it, something low and gentle that fits well with his occupation.  

"yeah, exactly." you turn to smile at him. 

you hear the cat before you see him. he's climbed to the top of his cat tree and leaps down onto the ground, paws hitting the surface in a way that can't have been comfortable. he chirps and looks up at Wes, whose lips are turned up with amusement.    

"are you the man of the hour?" he asks, approaching the cat. Klimt's pupils get enormous and he prepares to pounce on the newcomer. 

"careful--" you start to warn him, but the cat launches himself right into Wes' arms. the vet turns to you, holding him to his chest, and grins. warmth spreads over your skin with embarrassment. "sorry." 

"no need to apologize," he starts to pet Klimt, who is only slightly struggling to escape. he wants to go wild again, but Wes isn't going to let go. "they call me the Cat Wrangler at the office." 

"really?" you snort. he brings your pet over to the couch and sets him on the cushions, careful to keep him in place. 

"no way." he shoots you a dazzling smile. the joke makes you giggle, and you feel yourself become even more self-conscious about the outfit you're wearing. this is just your luck, having hot guys come over when you distinctly look your worst. 

Wes scratches between Klimt's ears and glances up at you again. "is there any reason in particular you're worried about the catnip?" 

"yeah, actually," you nod, brought back to reality. "I know it's supposed to make them more playful, but he's just been acting weird and I got worried that there was something in it that messed with his head." 

"can I see the container for it?" he asks. you go to grab the jar, only to remember that it proudly announces itself as cannabis for cats. profound embarrassment causes you to hesitate with the stuff in your hands. 

it's not like he's here for you to flirt with, but you're still thinking about how stupid and young you're going to look with this stuff in front of him, a hot older guy who seems to have his life under control. you peek at him once more from the kitchen, at the way he smiles and starts to talk softly to Klimt as if he were a peer. 

he's kinda crazy, and it makes you smile. 

"it's cat weed." you hand him the glass container, and Wes breaks into a grin as he looks at the front. 

"oh my gosh, I've heard about this!" his eyes move quickly over the label. you're in shock. 

"really?"

"yeah, it's hilarious. here, can you make sure our friend here doesn't move while I read the ingredients?" he gestures. the knot of anxiety within you loosens a bit. you nod obediently, going to scoop up your pet and sit him on your lap. he's still squirmy, but he doesn't look ready to attack either of you, thankfully. 

"hey, you." you greet your pal affectionately. his tail is wagging impatiently while Wes kneels on the ground beside the couch. there's a silver ring on his finger, but you notice with relief that it's not on his fourth one. 

when he sets the jar down on the coffee table with the kind of smile that hints at some secret amusement, you frown. "what?"

"nothing," he shakes his head. "Klimt is gonna be totally fine."

"are you sure?" you pet the feline's smooth coat. 

"definitely. you know how drugs affect people differently?" he asks. you want to say no, you don't know that because why would you, but then you remember that there is quite literally a glass-blown bowl sitting on your kitchen table. 

"sure." you reply honestly. 

"it's the same with cats: some just feel the effects a little more." he shrugs. you think this over for a second. 

"that makes sense." 

"yeah, I'd estimate about an hour more of this wildcat behavior before he takes a ten-hour nap." he cracks another joke and you find yourself totally charmed by him. something about the way he talks just makes your heart beat like crazy.  

"that's a relief." 

he chuckles and stands up, grabbing the bag (which he never even had to use) and starting to walk out of the living room. you can smell his delicious cologne as he moves past you.  

"sorry for making you come out here so late." you apologize from the couch. Wes turns to look at you with an easygoing expression. his free hand is tucked into his pocket.  

"no worries. you have a lovely home." he gestures to the kitchen, and then at the bowl sitting there in the open. you have to fight the smile on your face.  

"thanks." you're smirking. right before he's about to head back out, you ask a question that's been wriggling around in your mind since he arrived. "why no title?" 

"you mean, like, Doctor or something?" he stops in the threshold. one hand leans against it while he answers your question. you still can't get over how tall he is. 

"sure. I mean, you are a doctor, right?" it comes out more dubious than you intended, but he doesn't get offended, only smiles. 

"yes, I'm a doctor. I went to Davis." he points like the school is right outside your door. you nod.  

"cool." 

there's a silence where you just look at each other, and you forget that you look like you just rolled out of bed. he clears his throat. 

"to answer your question, I just go by Wes because you're not my patient-- Klimt is." he points to the kitten, who is now chasing his own tail like a dog. you snort at the sight. 

"how humble of you." 

"I know, right?" he's joking. you find yourself not wanting him to leave, even though you've really just met. he's so sweet and funny and handsome... your stomach is flipping over and over like a schoolgirl. 

and it's stupid that you can't think of one plausible reason for him to stay, but every step he takes shortens your time to think. so you just blurt, instead. 

"would you want a beer?" 

Wes pauses and looks at you, an unreadable expression on his face. "a beer?" 

"yeah, I mean... you came all the way out here and I just feel bad for causing a fuss over nothing." you scramble slightly to justify your words. you don't ever drink beer-- do you even have any? god, this is embarrassing.  

the vet checks the watch on his wrist, then smiles at you with a halting kind of enjoyment, before nodding. "sure." 

"okay, great." you turn on your heel to hide the grin on your face. he follows you again to the kitchen area and leans against the counter while you open the fridge. the best form of flirting you can manage right now is bending over shamelessly and taking your time to poke around. 

thankfully, there are three cold bottles left towards the back. you take out two and use the tool in one of your drawers to pop the tops off. he watches patiently, takes a sip when you hand the drink to him. your eyes meet. 

"so, what prompted the cat weed purchase?" he starts the conversation effortlessly, and you try to keep your eyes from wandering over the shape of him. now that he's just standing in front of you, you're noticing the way his sweater sits against his frame, his long legs and the way his head rests on an elegantly-proportioned neck. 

"I just saw it and thought it would be fun." you shrug honestly. he smiles.  

"do you think you're gonna let him try it again another time?"  

"I don't know," you cross your arms over your chest. "I'm a little nervous, but he also was having a lot of fun until I made him sit still." 

"fair enough." you both turn your gazes to the cat. he's nudging a little toy ball with his nose and watching it roll across the floor. there are tiny bells inside that jingle. Wes turns back to you. "what do you do?"

"graphic designer." 

"an artist." he raises his brows, impressed. 

"not exactly saving animal lives, but I get by." you take another sip of your drink. 

"it's not like that, mostly." he rolls his eyes playfully. 

"then what's it like?"

"I just see and talk to people's pets all day. it's a pretty great job, even when it's not. you know?" he's optimistic about it. you're drawn to his positive energy, to the way he smiles when he speaks like he's preparing to deliver a witty joke. 

 you're hopelessly attracted to him, and the space between you is becoming unbearable. even though he's a guy you just met, you can feel in your gut that something about this is just right. you want his body against yours. 

 "you okay?" he breaks what you only now realize is a silence, and you blink to clear the dirty images from your mind. 

"yeah." only thinking about you fucking me against a countertop. it must be the fact that you haven't gotten laid in a while or something, because you usually aren't this attracted to people within the first hour. it takes longer for you to even want to kiss them.  

"what kind of stuff do you design?" he seems genuinely interested as he shifts and continues to nurse his drink.  

"I work for a tech startup downtown, so it's a lot of website work to make sure it's navigable and pretty." you try to sum up your duties, but it's hard when his hazel eyes are so intent. he listens to every word.  

"do you do personal work, too? like, just for you?" 

"actually, yeah!" this sparks your excitement. 

"can I see?" his smile widens. "only if you're comfortable, of course."  

"sure." you're beaming.  

he stays put as you start to go out of the kitchen, but then you smile. "you can come with." 

"oh." he sets his beer down on the counter and follows you, slightly surprised. but you don't care; you were nervous before, but he's stayed for this long. maybe he wants you, too. 

once you get to your bedroom, you're grateful that it's been freshly cleaned. there's even a bouquet from the flower's market sitting on your dresser, and you head over to the desk to sift through the drawers for what you want. 

"cool room." he compliments from the threshold. he's careful not to make you uncomfortable, but also can't resist the curiosity that draws his gaze from wall to wall. you find the stack of papers and smile. 

"thanks," you place the folder in his hands. "these are some printed versions of stuff I did last year." 

Wes immediately begins to flip through the art. him seeing your stuff makes you nervous, so you pretend to focus on straightening up the few items that sit on your desk. you wipe your fingertip over a nonexistent film of dust. 

"these are amazing," he says, holding a card stock copy in between his index and middle fingers. "holy shit."

"thank you." you're trying to keep from smiling too hard. you can tell that he's being genuine with his compliments, and it makes your heart swell. 

"definitely. are you showing anywhere?" 

"at an exhibit downtown a couple months back, but I've been so busy with work that personal stuff hasn't really been on the table, you know?"

he nods in understanding and continues to go through until the end. when he's finished, he looks up and sees you, his eyes concentrated. he doesn't speak at first, and an undercurrent ripples across the room. there are about three feet between you, and you have no excuse to lessen it. 

he licks his lips slowly. you purse yours, unsure of what to say. 

"I'm glad you called tonight." his voice is lower, slightly uncertain, like he's testing the boundaries. except you don't want boundaries right now. you want to go wild on him. 

"me, too." you reply. it's in your eyes, that begging for him to do what you're scared to initiate. 

your tongue is pressed to the back of your teeth in anticipation. and when he sets the art back on your desk and comes closer, you feel yourself give in. bubbles of excitement travel up your body as he grabs your face and bends down to kiss you. 

it's full, passionate, not the kind of kiss you give someone you've just met. laced with desire and longing, you respond immediately. hands immediately run to his forearms, over his shoulders as he imposes beautifully on your form. it's so hard, you lean back slightly. your torso presses against his until he pushes you against the wall. 

the slight gasp that escapes your lips causes him to smile, followed by your moan and clutching fingers. the material of his sweater, the taste of him mingled with that sophisticated, gentle smell of cologne that you want printed all over your skin. 

"come here." he murmurs against your mouth and reaches down to the back of your thigh so you can hook your leg around his waist. you whine at the easy access he has to grind against your core, both of you desperate. 

"Wes." you pant into his open mouth. he sucks on your bottom lip before finding your cheek and jaw. his fingertips tighten around your flesh. 

"this feel good, sweetheart?" he checks in. coincidentally, his jeans grind against your panties at exactly the right spot and your hips jump. you release a pleasured yelp. 

"mhmm." 

"sounds like it." he latches onto your throat with a possessive excitement. you can feel him sucking and biting at the skin until you're positive there'll be marks tomorrow. you hope there are; purpled evidence of his touch. he digs his nails into your thighs. "you like it when older men touch you, baby?" 

he blows over your tender throat before attacking it again. you sigh contentedly at the way he mingles sensations for your pleasure. "yes." 

he grunts and nips at your collarbone, sliding the strap of your top down your shoulder so that he can effortlessly flutter his lips over the skin. you grip at him and toss your head back against the wall. his weight on yours is divine. it makes you weak, but that doesn't matter. he's practically holding you up at this point. 

when his hand pushes under the hem of your shirt and dances over your stomach, you arch your back for more. he's gentle yet firm, pulling you close like he wants to breathe your oxygen. he's tracing over your ribcage, all the way up to the valley of your breasts, before cupping one and moaning into your shoulder. 

he kisses you again with an aching hunger that can't be satiated. your tongues meet and Wes finds your hardened nipples beneath the thin fabric of your bralette. you sigh while he starts to circle one with his thumb.  

"you're perfect." he breathes. 

you want to bask in this moment, to enjoy the shock across your skin when he reaches his hand back down between your bodies to dip below the waistband of your sweatpants, but you're just so greedy. he could make you cum over and over and it would never be enough. 

"what do you want me to do to you?" Wes is hovering over your lower stomach, dangerously close to where you need him most. he's teasing. the warmth of his skin drives you mad. his breath brushes over the shell of your ear. 

"fuck me." it's the only response you can fathom. every other instinct in your body flies out the window and is replaced by a craving to sink your proverbial (and literal) teeth into him.

but he loves it, apparently, because he pushes you back against the wall with a nearly bruising force. "I can do that." 

with those words, he quickly grabs your other leg and lifts you into his arms, bringing you to the bed and laying you delicately on the mattress while you giggle. you stare up at him with an almost daydreamy lust. his cheeks are flushed. 

you only get a second of that heavenly sight, though, before he dips down and pushes your shirt up to see your tits and kiss up the chasm between your ribs. his stubble tickles your skin, which causes you to smile. 

by the time he's pulled your sweatpants off and tossed them to the side, you're whining for him to strip down as well. 

"what is it, pretty girl?" he murmurs against your tummy. when you try to squeeze your thighs, he pushes them apart. 

"I wanna see you." your fingertips touch at his sweater. he chuckles and pulls the garment over his head. it messes up his perfect hair even more and you love it, tangling your fingers in it. he bites his lip. 

"do you want me to taste you first?" he keeps stroking the inside of your thighs and staring down at the skimpy lace that you're positive that you've already soaked. you're making him crazy with the way you roll your hips against air, against nothing, seeking any kind of stimulation. 

"I can't wait." you shake your head. as nice as it would be, you're going to implode if he doesn't fill you up soon. he drags his fingers down your clothed slit and groans when he feels just how ready you are for him. 

"let's take these off then, okay, sweetheart?" he hooks his fingers in the panties and waits for you to nod before tugging them down your legs. you whimper at the cool air that hits your core, soaked and needy. Wes stares at your body on display for him. 

as he gets back up from the floor to kiss you again, you both work to remove the rest of his clothes. his skin is perfect under your hands. his chest is warm, solid, and when he climbs on top of you, his arms rest on either side of your head.

one hand comes down to grab his own cock and stroke it a few times before lowering himself to rub it against your throbbing clit. you whimper at the pressure; he's mindless when he feels how easily you cover him in your essence. 

"so fucking wet..." he groans while rutting against you. 

"Wes, please--" your breath hitches. "put it in." 

"begging?" he teases your entrance with the head and smirks. "good girl." 

"mhmm." you're smiling, but your mouth drops open when he pushes himself inside. 

it's a heavy feeling, him filling you up. he's thick and the stretching of your walls makes him groan and rest his head on your shoulder. he kisses the skin there while diving deeper into your body. 

you're shaking slightly from the mixture of pain and pleasure, his size forcing your body to work quickly to accommodate. your eyes are squeezed shut, but you run your hands over his back and shoulders to stay grounded. it feels like a dream. 

he starts to pull out, coated in your wetness while you whimper below him, and he grabs your face with one hand in a dominant, soft gesture. "okay?"

"yeah." 

he pushes back in. the air in your lungs is practically gone at this point, he's so deep inside. your eyes roll back and push your hips up to take him at a new angle. Wes finds his pace easily, rocking into your body at a manageable pace to let you get used to the sensation. 

every time his hips roll down and he buries himself in you, he presses on your clit and sends a new shock through your body. he leans on his elbows to get closer and feel every undulation of your body. you love how his thrusts force your legs apart, how he moans your name and causes the headboard to repeatedly hit the wall while maintaining eye contact. hazel irises that rake over your features with lust. 

"you feel so good." he speeds up a little when he hits a certain spot. you can feel him deep and hard, causing a small bump to rise in your stomach with each stroke. his voice is husky and dark. like a man starved. 

"fuck..." you drag your nails down his back. he groans at the red marks that you will no doubt leave for him. 

"clingy thing, huh?" he sucks at your throat affectionately. "I come over for one thing and you can't help yourself." 

hearing Wes speak through his own panting is like listening to a secret, and you never want it to stop. he's reveling in the sordid crush of his own wants, and the way he shoves into you shows you that he has no intention of slowing down for a while. 

"I'm impatient." you smirk. he pulls away to admire your expression. 

"so am I." he kisses your lips and starts to pound into you. the juxtaposition of his tenderness and the sharp snap of his hips to yours fills you with butterflies. you love how much he wants to ruin you. 

"Wes-- oh my god!" you whimper. he grabs your hips and yanks them closer to him so he can go as deep as possible, so he can hit your cervix. 

"that's right, sweetheart," he pants. you can tell that he's starting to lose control. "say my name. I want everyone to know what a good little slut you are for me." 

the commanding tone makes your body shake. "I- I'm cumming, Wes, please--"

"please what, baby?" he taunts. his index finger is tracing over your jaw. 

you don't know what it is that you're wanting, except more. as your form shudders and tightens, walls fluttering around his cock, you lose the capacity to speak. you grind your hips against him and cry out pathetically while he pushes you back down and slams ruthlessly into your pussy. 

"cum inside-- please, I need it--" you writhe. he groans at the request. 

"fuck, yes..." he sheathes himself. "take it."

you gasp as he repeatedly hits your weakest point and spills hot ropes of his cum inside you, still thrusting in and out and whimpering into your shoulder at the clenching sensation you give his cock. it's warm, strangely delightful, nearly sending you into another orgasm sheerly from the sight. 

he mutters unintelligibly as he empties himself in your pussy, but you catch a growled "so needy," between deep moans. you're clinging to him like you'll never have it again. you might not. 

he slows down, giving shallower thrusts while riding out his high and shoving his cum deeper inside. it turns lazy and messy, both of you panting, before he finally pulls out and rolls over next to you. 

you press the back of your hand to your forehead. it's sweaty from all the work he just put you through, but you feel amazing at the same time. your eyes keep flickering from the ceiling above to his rising and falling chest beside you. his nose twitches; he turns his head to look at your face. 

although you expect him to say something, he doesn't. instead, you just stare at each other. the air conditioner rattles gently in the background. you're not sure how long this lasts, this soaking in, but he's the first to break it. 

"hey." 

you find the corners of your lips turning up. "hi." 

"do you mind if I go get something to clean you up?" he asks softly, his fingertips finding your forearm with ease and drifting over it.

"sure. bathroom is the first door on the left." 

he gets up and you watch him gather his clothes, eyes glued to his perfect form. you can't believe you just had sex with your veterinarian. you don't regret it at all. 

he wanders out of the room and your eyes follow, only to see Klimt sitting patiently by the door. 

"what are you doing, perv?" you tease as he comes over and leaps up onto the bed. his kitten paws pad over the blankets and settle into the crook of your arm. you smile to yourself, recalling how sweet the vet was with him. "hey, Wes?" you call out. 

"yeah?" he comes back into the room with a warm washcloth and a small smile on his face. 

"would you wanna get coffee or something sometime?" you bite your lip. maybe he doesn't want to go on a date, but it's worth a shot.

"sure." he breaks into a grin that makes you giddy. thank god, because you really were hoping to see him again. 

you can't wait.  

taglist (lmk about adding/removal or add yourself to the list here!): @jareids @reidsconverse @xoxomgg @may-b-a-u-shewritestoo @la-vie-en-amour1 @g0lden-cth @treat-winchesterswith-kindness @kisseslikecoffee @spenxerslut @slutforthegubes @spookydrreid @depressedgothgrl @flipper-kisses @multixfandomwriter​ @willowrose99​ @gingeraleluke​ @chasemoonlight​ @spencerreid9​ 

[zodiakuroo]

Cupid’s Bullet

Dabi comes home with a very special Valentine’s Day surprise for you.

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

Contains: dubcon/noncon, mentions of death, unhealthy relationship, gun play, fear play, forced orgasms, squirting, mindbreak, angst (if you squint?), quirk usage, one slap but it’s a hard one :3, overstimulation, creampie

Word count: 5.3k

Notes: pls this title is so cringe but it's like bullet instead of arrow cause... ya know but anyways happy valentine’s day from scumbag boyfie!dabi

Dating a villain meant that your relationship was unconventional to say the least. For one, public dates were out of the question, unless you wanted it to end in destruction of public property and some scorched heroes. You also always had to have some kind of flimsy excuse for your family and friends when they asked to meet your elusive boyfriend. In addition, you had to accept the fact that he would have to disappear sometimes for weeks on end to do his boss’ bidding.

There was also the small matter of arson, murder and theft and a multitude of other crimes that you’d prefer not to know about. And while you weren’t necessarily okay with a lot of what Dabi did, you loved him. You loved him so much that turning a blind eye was so easy it made you question your own morality. He didn’t scare you either. Not in the slightest, because you knew in his own special way, he loved you too.

In fact it ran much deeper than that. On his worst days, Dabi could set the world ablaze until nothing was left because in the end he didn’t care about anyone or anything, not even himself. Until he met you, he says. He tells you that in you, he’s found something to tether him to this existence.

Ok so maybe he didn’t use those words exactly, but he doesn’t have to. You know that’s what he means when he spoils you with expensive, stolen clothes and jewellery, when he offers to burn alive any person who makes you even the tiniest bit upset and when he comes home to you bloodied and beaten, trusting you to take care of him.

In summary, your relationship forced you to give up on having any “normal couple” experiences.  That included, celebrating anniversaries and silly holidays like Valentine’s Day so you never bothered to keep track of them. It could hardly be considered a sacrifice when you compared those things to what you actually got from your relationship.

Dabi had been gone for close to a month now and you didn’t expect him back anytime soon, not knowing where he was or what he was doing. In fact the very last thing you expected was for him to creep into your bedroom in the middle of night and rouse you from your peaceful sleep with a soft kiss on your temple.

You don’t jump out of bed in a panic, like any sane person would. Instead you let out a satisfied hum, surrounded by the scent of burnt flesh, ash and menthol, feeling warmth bloom in your chest. It should be unpleasant but its Dabi’s scent and you’ve missed it. You’ve missed him. You pick your phone up from your night stand, squinting your eyes at the bright light that makes them sting.

Sunday 14 February, 2:43am

“Welcome home.” You mumble groggily, trying your best to fight off your tired body urging you to go back to sleep.

Instead of replying, he greets you by pressing his mouth to yours. You let out a quiet gasp, startled by the sudden display of affection. His lips are chapped but that doesn’t matter, your tongue darts out to moisten them before your lips lock into a gentle kiss.

You reach up, weaving your hands through his dark hair in an attempt to draw him closer but he retreats, opting instead to turn on the bedside lamp but keeping his other hand behind his back. “Sit up doll. Got a surprise for ya.”

Any thoughts of sleep were long forgotten as soon as his lips met yours but now he’s really piqued your interest. You push yourself up against the headboard and sit cross-legged. You look up at Dabi expectantly. Your boyfriend is smiling wide, skin pulled so taut you think one of his staples might give out. He reveals to you what he has hidden behind his back. A square black box, wrapped in a cobalt satin ribbon.

It’s so cliché you can’t help but let out a small snort. “What is it?”

“It’s a gift. You know… for Valentine’s Day?” He says as though it should be obvious to you.

Your heart swells at the gesture. It really was a surprise. Not in a bad way, you just knew he wasn’t your average boyfriend and that was okay. You didn’t want him to be.

“Well now I feel awful. I didn’t get you anything.” You pout as he props the box onto your lap.

“’S like a toy… so it’s technically for you but kinda for both of us.” It’s unusual to see Dabi this excited. The way he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, eyes filled with mirth makes you all the more curious.

“Like a sex toy?” A giggle escapes you as you undo the bow.

“Are we playing fuckin’ 20 questions? Just open it.” He presses you.

You huff at his impatience but you don’t comment, not wanting to wait any longer either. You remove the lid of the box only to find something wildly unexpected.

A revolver?

You look up at your boyfriend with confusion etched on your face but his gleeful grin doesn’t falter. You’ve never seen a sex toy like this so you pick up the article to test its weight. It’s definitely the real deal.

“Dabi, this isn’t a toy.” You state matter-of-factly.

He merely rolls his eyes and says “Doll, when you can incinerate someone with a flick of your wrist, that little thing is definitely considered a toy?”

“O-okay? What do you want to do with it?” You ask, placing offending object onto your nightstand, not really wanting to hold on to it anymore, the metallic smell making you feel queasy.

“Ever heard of Russian Roulette?” Dabi, picks up the abandoned item, looking down at it with pride.

“What?” You furrow your eyebrows as nervousness starts to creep into your system and you instinctively move to back away from him but Dabi is quick to pull you back.

“It’s real easy doll. No need to look so scared.” He crawls on top of you, caging you in with his limbs. “6 chambers. 1 bullet. All you have to do is be a good girl for me. If not, I pull the trigger and we see what happens.”

The look on his face is positively demented. Azure eyes wide and bright, patchwork face contorted into a a sinister smile, white teeth and silver staples gleaming in the dim light.

“Baby,” you hope the pet name will placate him. It usually does. “I don’t know about thi-“

CLICK

You let out a shriek as your body jolts in fear but you’re unable to move with his weight pressing on top of you.

“You see now doll?” He clicks his tongue behind his teeth. “You’ve gone and wasted a shot.”

Dabi climbs off of you and you’re left lying there with your heart hammering violently in your chest, body trembling, still reeling from the shock of what just happened. Reeling from the shock of what is happening

“You gonna listen now? Gonna be good?” Dabi prompts, rolling the gun around in his hand.

All you can do is nod as your eyes being to water. The uneasy feeling in your stomach only grows worse as your mind races with the possible things Dabi has in store for you.

“Good. Now strip.” He command and like a good girl, you obey.

Your arms feel like they’re made of lead, moving rigidly to take off your shirt (one of Dabi’s old ones). You can’t stop the tears from falling as you pull down your panties, fat droplets roll down your cheeks, desperately trying to swallow the sounds of your sobbing.

This can’t be happening. It’s Dabi. He wouldn’t hurt you. He promised you that.

“Oh cut the fuckin’ waterworks.” He snaps. “As long as you listen, you’ll be fine.”

You try to calm yourself with deep breaths, not wanting to irritate him any further.

When you turn to face him, he’s leaning back on his haunches, one hand resting on his thigh, the other lazily gripping the revolver. “Fair warning, I’m more of a ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ kinda guy. But you know that already.” He thumbs the cylinder, making it spin. “Now, touch yourself for me.”

Breathing is difficult. No matter how much you try, it’s like you can’t get enough air into your lungs. Thinking only of gun in your boyfriend’s hand, you still you bring your own hand between your legs, but you can’t concentrate, what with the dread taking over your body making it tough to have any control of your body. Your movements are stiff and apparently not up to Dabi’s standards.

He only scoffs before-

CLICK

You scream again, body nearly flying off the bed before you curl yourself up into a ball. The fright is enough to stop your heart. For a second you believe it has.

“Doll,” Dabi’s gruff voice brings you back to earth, reminding you that you’re very much alive and whether or not you stay that way is entirely up to him. “You’re ruining my surprise. Got it ‘specially for you and now you’re being a brat.” He quirks an eyebrow at you, almost like a challenge.

“So-sorry.-“ your voice breaks. “I’ll be good.”

You’re still struggling to comprehend how any of this is real. You thought you knew him. You thought he loved you. And here he is, treating your life like it’s a game. You can’t help but think that this is your own fault. You thought you were above everyone else, the exception to your boyfriend’s villain behaviour.

“Yeah?” His voice drops to a whisper. “Then show me.” He challenges you. Dabi slips off his t-shirt and moves between your legs to get a better view, pressing on your knees to split them apart.

Self-preservation kicks in. There is one way out of this alive and that’s doing what he says. You spread yourself even wider, showing him all of you. Your hands, glide over your smooth thighs, kneading the pudgy flesh as you get closer and closer your sex, teasing yourself the way he would.  Your fingers find your clit and just a little pressure makes your eyes melt shut. Probably for best anyway. It makes it easier to imagine anything but this. You drag those fingers through your delicate folds, letting out breathy sighs as heat begins to bloom between your thighs.

You pretend, its Dabi’s touch. In your mind’s eye you see the two of you, limbs tangled with Dabi on top, resting his forehead against yours. It’s one of those nights where he wants to go slow. So slow that the sensation of his cock dragging in and out of is you bordering on torturous. It’s one of those nights where he wants to lay his head on your chest, mouthing at your breasts, laving your nipples with his wet tongue while you tell him, in that sensual voice  that you love him, that he’s perfect, that he’s yours.  Because it’s one of those nights, where everything feels like too much for him and the only person that he really has on his side is you.

It’s not long before you’re leaking. Somewhere, deep in the back of your mind, there’s a voice chastising you for being so easy for him… even now. There’s almost no resistance as two of your fingers, press into your entrance. Your fingers are no match for Dabi’s, they never hit all those deep, hidden spots  that make you see stars but still, you start to move them slowly, brushing your thumb over your clit every so often.

“Look at me.” You feel his breath waft over your pussy.

Eyelids fluttering open and you meet his gaze. It stuns you a little and your hands come to a standstill. He is handsome, breathtakingly so, even though he thinks you’re lying whenever you when you tell him that. The way he stares at you, with love and adoration in his eyes, it’s almost like the fantasy you were just imagining. Almost like the fantasy you’ve been living in this whole time. It’s enough to make you forget the situation you’re in. Then the muzzle of the gun is pressed to your clit, snapping you back to reality fast enough to give you whiplash.

“Fucking slut.” He growls and smacks your hand away from your pussy.

You jerk as he starts to move it the gun circles over your sensitive nub and then dipping down to your tight slit to gather up your juices.

“All those fuckin’ tears but look how wet you are.” He says more to himself than you as he admires the way your slick leaves a sheen on the barrel. With his eyes trained directly on yours, his perfectly pink tongue pokes out to lick it clean, groaning at the taste.

The next thing you know his arms are wrapped around your legs, guiding them over his broad shoulders. He kisses you on your mons before his tongue begins greedily lapping at your hole. “Tastes so good doll.” He mutters with his nose pressed against your clit. He slips the wet muscle inside of you making you whine.  You reflexively grab onto his black hair, tugging on the stands and he lets out a groan of approval. He moves up to your clit, circling it with his tongue before suckling on it. While he brushes just the tip of a finger over your cunt, making it clench around nothing while you desperately buck your hips, in an attempt to have it inside you.

The way he’s eating you out is almost romantic?

Or it would be, if it weren’t for the metal digging into your flesh.

“Doll,” He places a sloppy kiss on your clit, lighting dragging his teeth over the hood. “Want you to squirt for me.”

A lump forms in your throat. You can count on one hand the amount of times that has happened. You’re not sure of the odds that you’d be able to right now and it’s not a gamble you’re willing to take. “Dabi, I don’t think I can….”

CLICK

You thrash, screaming so loud it makes your throat burn.

Dabi still holds you open, keeping you in place. “I wasn’t asking.” He makes sure to maintain eye contact as he drops a fat glob of spit right on to your clit before diving face first into your cunt once again.

He pushes 2 of his long, lithe fingers into your tight entrance. It’s unexpected and you wince. He drags his right hand (the one holding the gun) up your torso, resting the muzzle underneath your breast, right over your racing heart. A reminder of what’s at stake. He envelopes your sensitive clit with his lips, moving his fingers in tandem with the suction. You’re consumed by desire as Dabi brings you so close to the edge.

“Dee-Deeper please.” Your pant out.

He smiles against your mound before complying with your request. “Right here?” His fingers press against that squishy patch deep inside you and your eyes roll back.

“Nnnggg yeah.” You’re barely able to mewl out. You dig your heels into his back and grind against his face, chasing your high. Dabi keeps hitting that spot with astonishing precision but you hold off for as long as you can, letting the pleasurable sensation build until the pressure in your core becomes unbearable. When it finally snaps because you can’t hold it anymore, your eyes squeeze shut, hands flying to his biceps and you dig your nails into the sinewy muscle. You gush around his fingers and all over his face. Dabi doesn’t move though, flicking your clit with his tongue repeatedly until you’re trembling and whimpering, pushing him away from your pussy. He finally relents, a pop echoing around the room as he lets go of you.

He gives you a predatory look, scared face and chest wet with the remnants of your orgasm. “You made such a mess baby but I’m glad you’re finally having fun.” He’s just as out of breath as you are but far more composed.

Your head is still fuzzy and limbs are still twitching but your boyfriend doesn’t let you recover. “C’mon, doll. My turn.” He begins to undo his belt, silver buckle clinking as he rushes to drag it through the loops of his jeans

You pull yourself on to all fours, now eye level with his crotch. He pulls down his pants and boxers in one go, his erection almost hitting you in the face.

“You’ve been lucky so far.” He taps the bulbous head of his cock on your lips, smearing your lips with the pre that dribbles out of it. “But I wouldn’t test it if I were you. Open.”

Your mouth is already watering at the sight of him. So long, thick and veiny. It’s disgusting actually, this Pavlovian response. He fucks you deeper, stretches you wider and makes you feel better than anyone ever had. You wonder briefly, if anyone ever could fuck you as good as Dabi.

You stick out your tongue and he slides himself between your lips, groaning as he pushes into your mouth, slowly, inch by inch. He fills your mouth completely and you shut your eyes, savouring the salty taste of him but you feel the muzzle press against your temple and making them shoot open. “Atta girl. Lemme see those pretty eyes.” He grunts as he plunges into your throat. You bob your head up and down his shaft, the hand at the back of your head setting a brutal pace. The room is filled with the sounds of you gagging and his hefty sac smacking against your chin.

“So good to me baby.” He tilts his head back, losing himself in the pleasure. The wet heat of your mouth surrounding him while your saliva leaks out, dripping down his balls. Dabi is big and heavy, stretching you so wide and making you jaw ache from the weight of him. You’re already lightheaded from the lack of air, no matter how much you try breathing through your nose. You don’t dare to complain though.

He pulls out of your mouth slowly, stretching a string of saliva from the head of his dick to your tongue that’s hanging out of your mouth. You pant like a bitch attempting to catch your breath. He doesn’t give you much time before he’s in your throat again, back to fucking your face.

“I love you so much. You love me?” He sounds so sweet, totally blissed out.

He stops thrusting and tilts your head up to look at him, blinking tear-clumped lashes. You try utter a ‘Yes, I love you.’ but with his shaft gagging you, it comes out all garbled. The muscles in your throat convulse around the deep intrusion. “You’d do anything for me right?” He asks, jabbing the muzzle even harder into your temple, finger resting lightly on the trigger. You nod, watching Dabi lose his composure bit by bit. “Yeah. That’s why you’re my girl.” He pushes himself even deeper inside you, making you finally take all of him, until your nose meets his pubic hair and holding you there. “Fuck.”

CLICK

“Hmmhhhhngggh” You squeal around him but you can’t pull off because of the grip he has on your scalp. When he lets you go you’re choking and coughing up a lewd mixture of spit and pre-cum.

“Wh- Why” You blubber, voice hoarse. You don’t understand. You were doing exactly what he asked. You were being good.

“Sorry baby. Felt so good, my finger slipped.” He doesn’t even try to hide his mischievous smirk. The fucker is definitely not sorry.

You want to beg him to stop this ridiculous game because you see now there’s no way you can win because Dabi doesn’t play fair.

He doesn’t give you the chance though, already shuffling off his bottoms all the way and propping himself up against the headboard. “C’mon pretty baby.” He tugs on your ankle.  Wanna see you bounce on my dick.”

You clumsily position yourself atop his lap quickly, before you can even think about it. You know he doesn’t need a reason to pull that trigger but still, you don’t want to give him one.

He grinds his tip along your heat, piercings dragging across your clit over and over again. It’s something he does whenever you have sex, to rile you up. And just like all those other times, it’s working. Circumstances be damned. “Needa feel this hot little pussy. Give it to me doll.” He murmurs against the shell of your ear.

You nod as you lift yourself off of him to hover your dripping wet hole over his hard dick. You slowly squat down on onto him, the fat head stretching you out, burning with every inch you take. You mewl, making futile attempts to blink away tears. You get halfway before you have to stop, resting your hands on his shoulders trying to gain leverage. You’re outright crying now, wet droplets landing on Dabi’s chest.

“’S matter doll.”

I’m terrified. You yell in your head but stay silent, choosing to focus on relaxing your ever-tightening hole in order to take more of him.

“Oh, I know.” He coos, voice dripping with condescension. “’S too big for your tiny cunny.” He leans forward to kiss away the salty tears. “But you can take it. I know you can.” He cups your jaw, stroking your cheek with a calloused thumb. “You can do it for me”

You start to move slowly up and down, using gravity to force more of his monstrous cock inside you with shallow movements. You really are trying your best but that’s apparently not good enough for Dabi and he lets you know that by pressing the barrel of the gun into your stomach. You freeze, horrified, more tears start falling from your eyes. You open your mouth to beg him to just give you a little time. You’re trying.

“Quit being a baby and just take it.” He says before you even get the chance.

“I’m trying Dabi, please just-“

CLICK

He cuts off your plea.  He’s not interested in your excuses.

The rotation of the cylinder sends vibrations through your abdomen. Amidst the shock, you release your grip on his shoulders and impale yourself on his shaft by mistake. The combination of the searing stretch and the blunt head of his cock kissing your cervix is so overwhelming that you collapse forward, head falling on to your boyfriend’s chest. You feel the rumbles of his chuckles while he’s quite literally splitting you open.

“See? Knew you could. Just needed a little scare. Isn’t that right.” He rubs your back as if to comfort you. He lets out a low whistle. “But looks like you’re all out of chances doll. Now bounce.” He gives you a spank with an inhumanly warm hand, making you squeal and leaving your cheek tender.  

Your hands find purchase on his shoulders again. Dabi’s sapphire eyes are practically glowing, daring you to be stupid enough to defy him one more time.

You pull off almost entirely, keeping just his tip inside of you, before spearing his shaft into you again.

“Good girl.” When he praises you with that raspy voice makes you keen and desperate for more of it.

His hand snakes its way up your torso to cup one of your breasts. Your back arches, pushing into his scorching hot touch, forgetting momentarily about his other hand and what he’s holding in it.  He gropes your chest, tweaks and twists at your nipples, leaving red, inflamed hand prints in his wake. You’re practically delirious with pleasure, babbling out incoherent streams of his name along with “yes” and “more”.  All the while, he murmurs praises about how good you are and how much he loves you. It’s confusing and you can’t process any of it.

“Who owns this perfect pussy?”

“Dabi. Fuck. Dabi.” Your tongue lolls out of your mouth in the most obscene way, drooling down your chin. Your plush walls pulse around him as he hits that sensitive spot every time you sink down on him.

“That’s right it’s all fuckin mine. My pretty baby.” Dabi’s eyes are focus on where your two bodies are connected watching the translucent ring of your cream appear and disappear as you ride him.

“Preeeettyyy.” You slur and he laughs at how fucked out you are, brain completely jumbled between the fear, the pain and the bliss all combined into ecstasy.

“Doll.” He groans. “I feel ya squeezin’ me. You gonna cum?”

He’s right. You nod as you feel that coil tightening again, threatening to snap at any second. The man finally starts putting in work, pounding into you every time you pull off of him. Dabi abandons the gun in favour of playing with your clit, rubbing quick sloppy circles. “Yeah? Gonna cream and gush around me? Want you to baby.” He buries his head in the crook of your neck, sucking, biting and licking while he assaults your sopping wet pussy. “C’mon doll, please.”

With that you orgasm. He grabs your hips pulling you flush against his thighs, fucking you through your orgasm, rolling his hips up into you until your high finally subsides.

He doesn’t let you catch your breath before he’s got the revolver pressed hard underneath your chin. “Now make me cum.” You almost collapse but the harsh grip he has on your hair suspends you upright.

Your mind is so foggy and Dabi gives you a small smile, appreciating the perplexed look in your droopy eyes. But he’s not done with you yet.

“Hey.” You’re ripped from your daze, when he slaps you across the face, sending your head swinging to the side. “Don’t pass out on me now.”  

“So-sorry! ‘M sorry!” You grovel as you slam your tired body down on his dick once again, trying to ignore the throbbing on your cheek, the ringing in your ears, and the ache in your battered cunt.  You’re so sensitive from your last orgasm but you don’t have a choice and you don’t dare deny him anything. Your thighs are quaking and burning with every movement but your boyfriend is unimpressed.

“You can do better than that doll.” He lets out a bitter laugh, enjoying every second of tormenting you. “It’s like you want your brains splattered on the ceiling.”

You start crying again, shaking your head frantically. In the time that you’ve been with Dabi, you’ve learned certain tricks, you know he likes it, but in this panic/lust induced frenzy, you can’t remember any of them. Instead, you bounce, mindlessly on him while your gummy walls clench tighter around him every time he nudges at your a-spot. Your legs are going numb from all the effort and you plop down, limp onto his lap, taking him to the hilt.

Dabi tsks at you, reminding you that you can’t rest just yet. You swivel your hips, grinding your pelvis against his while he’s buried deep in your wet heat. You pray to whatever deity is listening that he’s getting close, you’re not sure how much more you can take.

“If I don’t bust in the next 5 seconds.” His hand finds your clit again, you grind across his fingers has you rock against him. “Bang!” He emphasises the word by bringing a heated palm down on your ass.

A choked sob bubbles at the back of your throat, making him snicker

Hands pressed to his chest, you ride him like a woman possessed, the last bits of adrenaline kicking in. Your sloppy cunt squelches every time you drive yourself down on his cock just motivating you to fuck him harder.

“Five.” He grits out.

“Dabi, please!” But you’re met with icy, apathetic eyes staring back at you, feeling the terror that the rest of the city does when they so much as hear his name.

“Four.” He rubs your already raw clit, faster and you can feel another orgasm building, much quicker than your last two.

Your body feels so heavy but you can’t stop moving, not unless you want him to- “Please cum!” You beg. “Need your cum.”

“Three.”

He starts to fuck up into you again with unforgiving force.

“Wh-Why?!” is all you can manage as your mind starts to fog up again, the need to come becoming all the more urgent.

“Two.” He ignores your question, transfixed on your tits bounce in his face. You’re getting close to your third orgasm of the night and it seems Dabi is determined to get you there.

You still can’t believe this is real. You never thought that Dabi would treat you like this. You were supposed to be special.

Or at least that’s what he told you.

Moreover, you can’t believe how your own body is betraying you. You can’t believe you’re actually going to cum. Again.

“One.”

You cry out his name one last time, unsure if it’s out of fear or pleasure. You dig your nails into his arms again, in a feeble attempt to ground yourself as you cum around him. The orgasm that rips through you makes it difficult for you to be sure of anything.

What you are sure of is the fact that there was no bang or bullet.

Just one last CLICK (practically drowned out by your screaming) and the sensation of Dabi’s hot cum flooding your womb. He has a bruising grip on your hips, gun now discarded, and he ruts up into to making sure to stuff your cunt absolutely full of him. He begins to laugh as he softens inside you.

Your head is still spinning but once you’re able to push yourself off of him, you can finally make sense of what just happened.

He was fucking with you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You yell, using weak and quivering arms to throw pillows at him while you cry so hard it makes you dry heave.

Your asshole of a boyfriend starts cackling, clutching his abdomen as if he just pulled the world’s funniest prank while your heart is beating so hard and fast you think it might break through your ribcage.

“You should have seen your face. You were so fuckin’ scared.”

You become nauseous, feeling bile rising in your throat as you come to a sickening realisation.

This is not your Dabi. This is the Dabi that the rest of the world gets to see.

Evil, sadistic, merciless. This is the real Dabi.

You attempt to scramble off of the bed to get away from him, feeling overwhelmed by the humiliation. But Dabi grabs your wrist and yanks you into his chest, wrapping you up in his arms. A gesture you used to treasure but now it just made your skin crawl. “C’mon Doll you didn’t think I was being serious did you?”

You writhe in his hold, hitting against his hard, toned chest with pathetic fists. “Don’t be such a crybaby. It was just a joke.” He strokes your hair oh so tenderly. But you won’t fall for that again. Dabi is a villain through and through. You know that now.  

It’s no use fighting him off though, all the fight in you is used up. You don’t know what else to do. So you do the easy thing: nuzzle your head into his chest, tremors rocking your body as you hiccup, while he holds you. That way you can pretend that you feel safe with him, just like you used to.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, doll. I love you.”

[arvandus]

The Sound of Silence (18+ Aizawa x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Aizawa x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: After once again being stood up for a date at your favorite jazz club, you decide to give up dating entirely in favor of watching and fantasizing about your favorite jazz musician, Aizawa Shouta.  You had assumed you’d never meet him face to face.  You had assumed that he didn’t even know you existed.  You’re about to learn that your assumptions are wrong.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY/NSFW; reader wears a sexy black dress (minimally described); minor sexual harassment; slow build; praise kink (if you squint); hand kink (probably); fingering; ‘baby’ petname.

Special Note:  A few days late, but here’s my contribution to the BNHarem January Collab ‘Making Beautiful Music’ posted by @kingexpl0sionmurder​​. It was supposed to be a oneshot, but this particular piece got a mind of its own and will at least have a sequel. If we’re all really lucky, it may become a multichapter series in the far and distant future, when my life is less crazy (I have ideas, ok??).  In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this fic!

Word Count: 9486

Recommended Song: No specific song at the moment, but this was what I listened to while writing this.

Lesson 1

It was crowded tonight, the air of the small club Midnight hot and heavy with the scent of cigar smoke and booze. The noise of conversations and laughing voices filled the air like the buzzing of a hive, as bodies mingled about like busy bees, each looking for their own bit of nectar.  Some looking to win romance.  Some looking to win money.  While others were simply winning by enjoying the company of friends.  Their movements were carried on the music that filled the space, upbeat jazz played by a three-person band.  It was comforting in its familiarity, developed over multiple visits – some with friends, some with coworkers, and some with potential love interests.

You sat at the bar, a drink held protectively in your hand as your eyes searched.  You checked your phone for messages but found none.  It’d been a full twenty minutes and you were pretty sure by this point that your date wasn’t going to show up.  It was supposed to be your first date in over a month, and you’d had high hopes for it - you’d clicked well with the person on your dating app (or so you thought), talking over the course of a couple of weeks before finally deciding to meet. So tonight, you’d put in a little extra effort into your appearance, donning a black dress that showed off your curves and putting careful attention into your makeup.

Damn. You were genuinely interested in this one.

You sent them a quick text in the hopes that you’d get a response.  Give them an extra ten minutes… You thought. Maybe they were caught in traffic or something.

But by the time you hit the 45-minute mark with no messages, you’d officially given up.  A half-hearted sigh fell past your painted lips. You weren’t really too surprised by this point.  You’d been having terrible luck in the dating scene for a while now.  Sometimes it was them.  Sometimes it was you.  But for whatever reason, each attempt ended in failure.

Oh well. It was likely for the best.  At least you would be able to enjoy the rest of your evening in solitude instead of enduring a potentially disastrous date.  And as for your attire, it certainly didn’t hurt to feel sexy, even if you had no one to share it with.

You loved this place. The atmosphere, the music… you’d even managed to make friends with the bartender Hizashi to the point that he’d walk you to your car on the nights that you stayed until closing.

Your eyes scanned around the room, observing.  Wooden tables littered the main floor, where small lit candles cast yellow light on observing faces, eyes trained on the musicians.  Booths lined along the far wall, filled mostly with men who puffed cigars over a game of cards, their raucous laughter carrying through the din.  Closer to the bar was an arrangement of tall, round tables with matching bar height chairs. A group of women, likely on a ladies’ night out, filled the table closest to you, taking shots and laughing, their heels perched on the rungs.  Waiters zigzagged their way through the crowd with expert precision, platters held high with drinks and snacks, while patrons milled about, waiting for an open table.

And, of course, there was the stage itself, where the jazz band finished their final piece before collecting their instruments and leaving the small stage.  All that was left from their departure was a black baby grand piano, property of the club.  Your pulse quickened as you checked your watch.  Was it that time already?

Not a moment later, there he was.  Long, black, wavy hair pulled back into a half ponytail, the hint of a 5 o’ clock shadow dusting his jawline and framing his lips.  He was dressed in simple clothes, as always… a black v-neck shirt with the sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms and dark jeans.  He entered the stage without so much a glance towards the busy room, instead making his way to the piano with his hands in his pockets. He sat down and from your position at the bar, you could barely see his long fingers arrange themselves at the keys, gently curled.

As soon as he began to play, the mood in the club shifted slightly from buzzing to relaxing.  The flow of his fingers across the keys drew a lazy melody reminiscent of rainy days and hot coffee; of snuggling under warm blankets, feet intertwined with a lover who danced their fingers across your skin, gently tickling your flesh the way his fingers tickled those keys.

Aizawa Shouta.

Of course you knew his name. The first time you’d heard him play, you’d felt weightless, your body going numb as every sensation coalesced into your chest like the forming of a star.  The question of his identity had fallen from your lips before you’d even realized it, and it had been Hizashi who’d answered you, a chuckle on his lips.

Fuck.  It felt like he was making love to you through the notes, each key meticulously selected like a carefully-worded love letter. It made your palms sweat against your glass, your breath hitching in your throat as that familiar sensation took you over, holding you hostage.

This.  This was probably why none of the people you dated ever seemed to work out.  You’d tried… God, you’d tried… some of them were nice, good people.  But you couldn’t help but search for that feeling – this feeling – each time you met someone new.  And every single time it fell short. It was an impossible standard, an invisible bar that no one was able to jump.  Deep down you knew this, yet you couldn’t figure out how to let it go. It was just music, right? Played by a handsome man who didn’t even know you existed.  But you didn’t want to let go of this feeling, to settle for someone that made you feel only an inkling of what he made you feel.  Or worse, to let it go and be left with emptiness.

You had no solutions. You were trapped in Aizawa’s maze of music, unwilling to find your way out as his notes weaved a cage around your heart.

You lost yourself to his melody, the club around you fading away.  Time lost its meaning as you watched his hands dance along the keys, his fingers nimble.  His half-lidded eyes were fixed on the instrument before him, his expression neutral.  To anyone else watching, he would look almost bored; but you’d seen him play often enough that you’d grown accustomed to reading the nuances of his body language, even across the smoky haze.  You knew his look of boredom was really a look of focus as he submerged himself in his art, his hands playing on instinct, a direct link between what he felt and what he expressed.

He loved what he did.

And you loved watching.

Hizashi’s voice interrupted your hypnosis.  “Another night solo, huh?”

You took a look at the bartender as he prepped some cocktails for some waiting patrons.  He had his wire-framed spectacles on again, the orange tinted ones, the color visible from the white backlight of the bar. His long blonde hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and he wore a pinstriped shirt adorned with a black waistcoat.

You chuckled and took a sip of your drink. “It wasn’t supposed to be.”

“You got stood up again?” You shrugged and Hizashi shook his head slightly.  “If they ain’t willing to show up, then they ain’t worth your time.”

“Probably more like the other way around, don’t ya think?” you replied wryly.

Hizashi scoffed. “Don’t let them get to you. They don’t know what they’re missing.”

You grinned and set your glass down.  “Are you flirting with me, Hizashi?”

He grinned back and winked at you through his spectacles.  “Always, darlin’.”

You chuckled and returned your eyes to the stage. “It’s okay…” you said thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s time I stopped trying.”

“Mhm…” Hizashi watched you stare at Aizawa and he raised an eyebrow.  “Y’know, I can get you an introduction if you’d like…”

“What??”

“Don’t play coy with me, darlin’.  You know who I’m talking about.  If you want to meet him, I can introduce you to him. We’re good friends, he and I. Known each other for years.” He commented.

You weren’t surprised by this news… you’d seen Aizawa join Hizashi at the bar on rare occasions after his performance was done.  But you’d always been occupied at a table with company when it happened. 

Watching him from a distance was one thing.  But actually meeting him?  Up close? Where you couldn’t hide your girlish infatuation?

You felt your pulse quicken with dread, heat flooding your body.  “No, it’s okay.  I wouldn’t want to inconvenience him.”

Hizashi gave you a skeptical look over the rim of his glasses before he shrugged. “Suit yourself, darlin’.”

The blonde stepped away, a new group of customers hollering for his attention.  You took a large gulp of your drink hoping it would quell your nerves at the thought of meeting the man on stage.  No. You definitely didn’t want to meet him.  The last thing you needed was for your interaction with him to be a dud just like it was with all the others, destroying your own secret little fantasy. He was handsome to look at.  And you fantasized about his skilled hands when you were in the quiet of your bedroom. But that was all it was; just harmless daydreams over someone you didn’t really know or plan to get to know. Besides, if you’d ever thought you had a chance with him, you certainly wouldn’t be trying to meet people through a dating app.

Gradually the time ticked by as you enjoyed watching the dark-haired man play, Hizashi stopping in to check on you from time to time and place fresh drinks in front of you.  You were content for the time being, enjoying the steady buzz you were maintaining as you enjoyed the ambiance.  Occasionally you people watched or engaged in conversation with Hizashi when he wasn’t busy… but for the most part, you relaxed as you observed the raven-haired pianist, letting his music ease the tension in your shoulders as the alcohol warmed your bones.

A few hours later, as you were busy talking with Hizashi, the final note on the piano rang out, signaling the end of Aizawa’s shift.  The sudden silence hit you like a bucket of ice water, and your eyes darted towards the stage, your heart pumping panic through your veins.  You had planned to leave just before his shift ended, just to make sure you didn’t run into him.  Maybe it was the daydreaming, or the conversations with Hizashi, or the alcohol... but you’d lost track of time.  Now you could only watch and wait to see where he���d end up, hoping beyond hope that he’d disappear like he usually did.  Only rarely did he linger for a drink.  What were the odds, right?

Tonight was one of those rarities, and you held your breath, your posture going rigid, as he sat himself a mere two seats away from you.  He never once looked at you, instead, addressing Hizashi.

“Old Fashioned.” He requested, his voice deep.  It sent a shiver down your spine as the blood in your veins turned molten.  You knew instantly that that sound was now committed to memory.

“Do you even need to ask?” Hizashi replied with a grin as he slid the drink to him.

You disciplined your eyes to stare at your own drink as if it’d open up a portal for you to escape through. But as much as you struggled to control yourself, the simple gesture of Aizawa reaching for his drink made you break eye contact with your own. Your eyes caught how his fingers circled around his glass, long and surprisingly manicured.  You couldn’t help but watch as he brought the drink up to his lips to take a sip, and from there your gaze followed the curve of his mouth, the stubble that framed it, his jawline, his eyes…

Your eyes made contact with his briefly and you quickly looked back down at your drink, your heart pounding in your chest.

Shit.  He caught you staring.

You took a couple of deep swigs, forcing the alcohol down your tight throat, letting the burn of it act as a punishment for your violation. This. This was why you didn’t want to meet him.  No words had even been shared yet and you were already making a fool of yourself.

“Long night?” Hizashi asked him.  In the background, the next performer entered the stage and began to play, and you couldn’t help but strain your ears over the music to listen for Aizawa’s answer.

“I’ve had worse…” Aizawa replied.  “You?”

“Busy, but I’m in good company at least.” Hizashi replied.  Your heart pounded in your chest as your fingers tightened around your glass.  Your eyes darted up to lock with the bartender’s and you caught him smirking at you, his small, pointed mustache following the curve of his upper lip. 

He wouldn’t…

Suddenly another customer called for him from the other end of the bar.  “Duty calls, friend.  Be back in a sec.”

And just like that, you were left alone with him.  Aizawa. Your mind froze as it warred with itself between actually talking with him or grabbing your things and running away. Surely Hizashi would understand, right? And you could always pay back your tab later.   You took another deep gulp of alcohol in the hopes that it’d burn away some of your cowardice. 

Before you could so much as open your mouth, the unwelcome sensation of an unfamiliar hand on the curve of your back made your body go rigid, every muscle poised to fight.  A second later, the scent of hot breath laced in the stench of alcohol choked the air around you as an unfamiliar man slid into the open seat between you and the object of your affection.

“Hey there beautiful…” he slurred.  “You’ve been by yourself all night… you in need of some company?”

You covered your hand over your glass and shifted away from him slightly, your demeanor cold.  “No.”

“Aw, c’mon doll… don’t be like that…” he grinned.  “You don’t come here dressed like that for no good reason…”

The man’s hand was still on your back, its presence making your skin crawl.  It made the fog of your buzz lifting slightly, your senses suddenly heightened in the presence of a potential threat.  Your eyes searched frantically for Hizashi.  He had a way of handling drunken idiots.  But he was stuck at the other end of the bar still, a drunk woman trying desperately hard to flirt with him. 

You were on your own, and this creep clearly wasn’t taking no for an answer. Your brain started to fabricate worst-case scenarios and planning for them, a million options running through your mind.  Screaming. Throwing your drink in his face.  A well-placed kick to his shin.  Your pepper spray.

Your free hand slipped into your purse, fingers closing around you’re the plastic cylinder.  The feel of it gave you a sense of security, even if it might be a last resort.  You didn’t really want to use it, especially with Aizawa sitting behind him… you never had to use it before, and you couldn’t guarantee your accuracy, especially in such a tight space.

You watched from the corner of your eye as the man’s free hand reached forward to grasp your own that covered your drink, and your grip around the cylinder tightened, a warning beginning to fall from your lips.  But your words were cut short as the man’s hand was suddenly grabbed by familiar, long fingers and bent back at an uncomfortable angle that made the drunk cry out.

“Hey! What the hell?!” the man demanded.

Aizawa took a casual sip of his drink with his free hand while maintaining his grip on the offender, before pinning him with a dangerous glare.  “She said no.”

The man’s hand left your back as he struggled to free himself from Aizawa’s grip. “Let go!”

“First you will apologize to her.” Aizawa ordered.

The man sputtered.  “For what?!”

You watched in shock as Aizawa’s eyes narrowed.  His thumb positioned itself on a digit and began pushing it slowly backward.

“For touching her without permission.  For insinuating that her attire makes it acceptable for you to ignore her boundaries. For being a disgusting pig.”

With each statement, he pushed the finger back farther and farther, until the man was buckling to his knees under the pressure in an attempt to alleviate the pain and prevent the digit from breaking.

“Ow ow ow! Okay!  I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” The man begged.

Aizawa held him for a moment longer before finally releasing him. “Good.  Now get out.”

The man scurried away until he was out of reach before turning around to glare daggers at him.  “Hey, fuck you man!”  He shouted.  But for all of his drunken bravado, he stormed out of the club clutching his sore hand to his chest, as heads turned to watch him leave.

The hum of voices within the club fell silent for a moment, with only the band continuing their music. After the front door closed, the noise of people chattering slowly returned, countless sets of eyes turning back to their tables.  Aizawa turned his gaze back to you, the lethal look gone from his dark eyes.

“You okay?”

You nodded mutely, swallowing the dryness in your throat as your sweaty hand released the pepper spray in your purse.  Sensations warred within you, momentarily leaving you a confused mess.  The speed at which he came to your defense and his willingness to resort to violence on your behalf fueled a carnal need you didn’t even realize you had.  But even as hot arousal pooled deep in your gut, your heart still raced from the threat that had been quickly neutralized.

His eyes caught the movement of something over your shoulder and he cursed. “Shit.”

“SHOuTA!” Scolded a feminine voice.

He turned back to his drink, hunching his shoulders. “I told her not to call me that in public.” Aizawa muttered under his breath.

You spun on your stool to see the owner of the bar, Nemuri Kayama approaching, clad in a deep purple business suit with a dangerously low-cut black blouse. She was next to you in a matter of seconds, a cloud of strong perfume enveloping you as she snatched Aizawa’s drink from his hand as he began to raise it to his lips.

“What the hell was that?!” She demanded.  “What makes you think you can attack my customers like that?”

“Your customer was harassing this customer.” Aizawa pointed out.

Nemuri looked at you with her lavender eyes as if seeing you for this first time and paused in her verbal assault.

“Is this true?” She asked you.

She had a presence about her that instantly made you find your voice again.

“He was being handsy and wasn’t taking no for an answer.” You confirmed.

“Can I have my drink back now?” Aizawa asked.

She stared back and forth between the two of you for a moment before slamming the glass down in front of him, half of the contents spilling over the side. “Ugh. Fine.  But next time ask for one of my bouncers.  Or Hizashi.  Or me. Anyone but you.”

Aizawa’s mouth curled with a sly grin as he wiped at the spill with a napkin.  “And why is that?”

“Because you scare away customers.” She growled.

Aizawa stared into his drink, swirling its remaining contents.  “Well maybe you need better customers.” He took a sip.

“I’ll take whoever is willing to pay.  Unfortunately for you, this club doesn’t survive off of chivalry.”  She crossed her arms.  “Besides… it’s less about losing that drunken idiot and more about losing those who saw you almost break his hand.”

“I wasn’t going to break his hand.  I was going to break his finger.” Aizawa said.

You stifled a chuckle with a bite of your lip.

Nemuri rubbed the bridge of her nose in frustration.  “Don’t try to make it sound like that makes it any better.  And you!” She pointed at Hizashi, who had conveniently shown up not a minute before.  “You know better than to leave him alone like this!”

“I can either be a bartender or a babysitter, love.  I can’t do both.” Hizashi replied as he polished a glass.

 Nemuri grumbled under her breath before turning her gaze back to you. “I apologize for Aizawa’s violent behavior.” “Oh I didn’t mind…” you confessed with a small smile, and you could feel Aizawa’s eyes flicker to you briefly.

 “And I apologize for the inappropriate customer. Alcohol is no excuse for harassment.  I guarantee he won’t be returning to this club any time soon.” She looked at Hizashi.  “Get her a fresh drink.”  

 “Already on it…” He replied, sliding a new glass to you and removing your old one.

 She looked back at you. “And your drinks are on the house tonight.”

 “Thank you.” You replied.

 Nemuri gave a satisfied nod. “Now I need to go schmooze the rest of our frightened patrons, which is exactly how I didn’t want to spend my evening.” With a final glare at the two men, she stormed off, her pointed heels clicking on the hard floor.

 You stared at your new drink for a moment, the desire for it lost now.  “Hizashi, can I have a glass of water?”

 “Sure thing, darlin’.” Hizashi replied and placed a chilled glass in front of you.

You thanked him and took a sip followed by a long, deep breath.  Aizawa moved into the now-vacant seat next to you, and you welcomed the closeness. The gesture felt protective, a warning to anyone else who was dumb enough to try their luck with you after that display.  Noticing the closer proximity between the two of you, Hizashi quickly made himself scarce again.

“Thank you…” you said to Aizawa as your finger traced patterns into the condensation on the glass.

“It was nothing…” he replied.  There was a long silence before he spoke again.  “I hope I didn’t scare you.”

You looked at him with surprise then.  Scared? No. Aroused? Definitely.  The dampness of your panties were evidence enough of that, but he certainly didn’t need to know that.

“Not at all.” You confessed. “I actually really appreciate it.”

Aizawa’s shoulders relaxed slightly, as if a weight had been lifted.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” you asked.  “You were so fast…”

Aizawa gave a small grin. “Piano isn’t the only thing I’m good at…”

You had no difficulty believing that…

“Were you a bouncer or something at one point?” you asked curiously.

Aizawa chuckled. “Yeah, something like that…” he took a swig of his drink, the ice in it clinking.  The amber colored liquid was nearly gone now.

His response only gave you more questions, but you forced them down. There was a fine line between being curious and nosey, and you were too worried of crossing it, thus ending your conversation with him.

“You’re a regular here.” He commented.  

It wasn’t a question – it was a statement. He recognized you. You averted your eyes away in embarrassment, feeling suddenly exposed, your anonymity blown.  How long had he noticed you’d been coming here?  Did he know how closely you watched him?

“Yeah.” You confessed, as you took another sip of water. The alcohol next to it was calling to you, promising to ease your anxiety, but you refrained for the moment.  You wanted to keep your wits about you while you talked to him.

“No company tonight?” he asked.

Oh.  He watched you more closely than you ever realized. You weren’t sure whether you were feeling embarrassed or aroused.  Was it possible to feel both?

“Not this time.  I got stood up.” You replied.

“Sounds like you dodged a bullet there.” He said, looking into his empty glass.

You gave a dry laugh. “True.  I’ve dodged lots of bullets lately.”

Aizawa chuckled. “I believe it…”

Contrary to his outward aloof demeanor, he was nice.  You could feel the tension in your body start to dissipate as words came easier.

“If you ever think you want to try a dating app, don’t.” you commented. “It makes for good stories, but sometimes it really makes you want to give up on humanity.”

That earned an honest laugh as he looked at you with a grin.  “Well now you’ve piqued my curiosity.”

You couldn’t help but smile back.  This actually wasn’t so bad…

With amusement, you began to recount some of your more outlandish dating disasters with him, letting him in on the world of online dating from a woman’s perspective.  Aizawa listened with quiet interest, making the occasional wry joke or, for the more serious cases, wearing a deep frown of disapproval.  He was a good listener, and the conversation flowed easier than you had expected, words falling from your mouth without a second thought.  It felt natural.  Comfortable. And for the first time in a while, you felt like yourself.  After you ran out of stories, Aizawa offered a couple of his own, and you found yourself laughing at his own tales of dating woes. As Aizawa talked, Hizashi stopped by to quietly replace his empty drink before disappearing again, a pleased smile on his face.  His brief presence reminded you of your own glass pooling condensation on the paper coaster beneath it, and you returned to sipping its contents, once again finding the buzz you had been enjoying as you listened to Aizawa.

The time passed by as the two of you talked about the stress of dating and relationships. You’d learned that Aizawa rarely dated, but would occasionally have to endure awkward matchups thanks to Hizashi and Nemuri.  You learned how much of a private person he was, how he generally avoided dating culture entirely in favor of letting life play out on its own.  Everything about him exuded a man of experience and maturity, a man comfortable in his own skin and content with his life.  You couldn’t help but admire him as you soaked in every little detail that you’d wanted to know, committing every little bit of information he offered up to memory.  He was everything you’d imagined; kind, respectful, and serious with a sly sense of humor that he only shared once he was feeling comfortable.

Once the topic was exhausted, you sighed.  “I think I’m done with dating.” You confessed.  “I’ll just resign myself to my singlehood.”

Aizawa pinned you with a pensive look.  “Is that what you want?”

Something about the tone of his voice made your pulse race with excitement.

“Well… It’s better than being repeatedly disappointed.” You gave him a side glance as you took sip of your drink.  “But if the right guy comes along, I wouldn’t say no…”

“Hm… the right guy…” Aizawa muttered as he returned his gaze to his glass.

Your statement was a bold one, filled with invitation.  You hadn’t exactly planned for it to come out that way, but it was too late to take those words back now.  You quickly tried to turn the topic back to him.  “How about you?  Any special someone for you?”

He chuckled. “No.  No special someone.  Not yet, at least.”

The words fell from his mouth like breadcrumbs leading to a secret as he eyed you over the rim of his glass. You felt lightheaded and warm, the tips of your fingers buzzing with numbness. Maybe it was the half-finished drink in your hand.  Or maybe it was the look in Aizawa’s eyes that made you feel drunk, the Earth spinning under your feet as you mentally struggled to find some sort of purchase to keep from falling.  

Was he…?

Hope held you captive and you suddenly became acutely aware of how close you were to him.  Your eyes traced the scruff on his jawline, the stitching of his shirt, the slope of his neck as his Adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow. A stray strand of hair had come loose from his half-ponytail and was hanging over his forehead, begging to be touched. Your fingers twitched.  If you reached out to tuck it back into place, would he let you?

You couldn’t muster the courage and averted your eyes. You were filled with alcohol and infatuation, you reasoned.  Your defenses were down, your judgment potentially impaired… what if you were reading into something that wasn’t there?  What if you were wrong?  

You watched Hizashi close out a tab for an older couple as you took a sip of your water.

Warmth pressed against your forearm and looked down to see Aizawa’s arm resting against yours. All of your attention honed in on the softness of his shirtsleeve and the warmth of his skin as his hand fiddled with a paper coaster, flipping it over and over with each tap on the counter.  The contact was intentional, calculated in its subtle intimacy.  It was a silent question… a tentative invitation, absent of assumptions or expectations.  Your doubt evaporated like mist and you understood.  

He was interested.  In you.

Your heart did a somersault in your chest as you sat there, stunned.  Time froze as everything that’d transpired throughout the evening flitted through your mind.  It was a perfect amalgamation of circumstances, leading to this single moment, giving you the one thing you wanted most.  You held your breath as you stood on the precipice, uncertain if your next step would make you fall or let you fly.  

You stared at the contact and carefully… slowly… brushed your pinky along the back of his hand. It traced the vein that stood out there, following it to the knuckle. His own hand let go of the coaster his was holding, his own pinky linking with yours in affirmation.

You couldn’t help the elated smile that spread across your face in that moment and when you looked up at him with a shy glance, he had a smile of his own, small and secretive as he stared at your linked fingers.  Slowly the rest of his fingers followed, twining themselves into yours until he held your hand, his thumb brushing sensually against your skin.  That single action alone was enough to reignite the fire in your loins, your blood racing through your veins from the epicenter of his touch.

Hizashi’s voice crashed through your private, titillating moment.  “We’re closing up, lovebirds…”

Your hand pulled away from Aizawa’s on instinct as you looked around the now empty club.  Only staff remained, finalizing the last bit of cleanup and arranging the furniture for the next day.  How had it gotten so late so fast?

“You want me to walk you to your car?” Hizashi asked, a knowing grin on his face.

In all that had happened that evening, you’d forgotten about that little arrangement.  But you weren’t ready to leave just yet…

Aizawa’s voice answered before yours could.  “Leave me the keys to the place.  I’ll walk her tonight and lock up when we leave.”

“Suit yourself.” Hizashi replied with a shrug.  He placed a set of keys on the counter.  “Don’t tell Nemuri, though.  She’ll kill me.”

“Your secret’s safe with me, friend.” Aizawa replied.

With that, Hizashi gave a small salute, grabbed his coat, and left.  You watched, your heart pounding as the door closed behind him, leaving a deafening silence in its wake.

You were alone with Aizawa. Completely and utterly alone.

Your turned back to face him and froze.  Aizawa still sat on his stool, but he faced you now with an elbow propped against the counter, and that simple distinction made his presence fill your space.  He stared at you, the look in his eyes unfettered now, deep and hungry. “You really do look beautiful tonight.” He complimented.

With the way the words fell from his mouth and curled warmly into your chest like a cat, you believed him. You felt beautiful.

“Thank you.” You said with a soft smile.  “You look handsome yourself, Aizawa.”

He took your hand again and slowly began to lean forward, closing the small distance between you.  “Call me Shouta.”

You swallowed. “Shouta.” You whispered, feeling the name on your lips.

His dark pupils dilated and you felt his other hand on your jawline, warm, long fingers wrapping towards the back of your neck to pull you into a kiss.

His lips were warm and soft as his stubble tickled your skin, and you leaned into it fervently, your hands finding their home on his chest. You could feel his toned muscles beneath the black cotton and a purr found its way to the back of your throat. Shouta took it as an invitation, coming off of his barstool to stand between your now parted legs, his arm wrapping itself around your waist as his tongue slid along your lips.  You opened your mouth eagerly to taste the bourbon there, to feel the wet muscle dance and slide against your own.  Every touch, every taste, every smell enveloped you further and further in the essence that was Shouta until your entire body was singing, teetering on the edge.

Oh God… you were not going to let yourself cum just by kissing him.

You pulled out of the kiss slightly as your hands pressed gently against his chest, and he retreated from you just enough for his eyes to search your face, a silent question in them.

“I-I’m sorry, I just…” your words fell pitifully from your flushed, wet mouth, your voice shaky with pent-up arousal.

One second longer. One second longer is all it would have taken…

Shouta’s hand on your back began to rub soft, slow circles. “Would you like some water?” he asked, a small smile on his lips.

You nodded, and he kissed your forehead before handing you your glass.  You drank greedily before handing it back to him, half-empty.

“Have you ever been kissed like that?” he asked curiously, as he placed the glass back down onto the counter.

You gave a small laugh and shook your head.  “No… not like that.”

Your confession left you feeling embarrassed, even as your chest felt it would burst from this latest turn of events.

You kissed Aizawa Shouta.

Actually, he kissed you.

You needed a moment to collect yourself, to process everything you were feeling.

So, you completely changed the subject.

“How long have you been playing piano?” you asked.

Shouta didn’t miss a beat, returning to sit on his stool to give you the space you silently needed. But his hand still held yours, resting on the counter as his fingers twined with yours. It gave you a sense of reassurance, that everything was okay, despite your awkward hesitation.

“My grandpa had one when I was a kid.  Used to mess around on it.” He explained.  “He finally got me lessons from a guy he knew, and I’ve loved it ever since.”

You smiled as you watched his thumb trace across each of your fingernails.  You returned the gesture, tracing the details of his own hand. It was like living a dream, to see them up close and feel them, every fingernail, every vein, even the pads of his fingertips. The number of times you’d fantasized about these hands…

“I always wanted to learn how to play, but my family could never afford lessons.” You confessed. “But my mom used to have all of these old jazz albums, and I used to sit in my room and listen to them for hours.”

“I can teach you.”

Your fingers stopped their tracing.  “What?”

“I can teach you.” He repeated.

You shook your head.  “Um, no it’s okay… I’d probably be a terrible student anyway.”

“A student can only be as bad as the person teaching them.  Follow me.”

Before you could protest further, Shouta’s hand closed around yours and pulled you from your seat.  He led you up the steps of the stage and across it until you reached the black piano sitting forlornly in the empty space.

It felt strange being up on the stage, especially with the club being completely empty.  The stage light was bright and warm on your shoulders, and the silence sounded different there, affected by the difference in acoustics.

Shouta sat at one end of the black bench and pulled you down by your hand until you were sitting next to him.  The bench was small, meant for only one person, so you had to press yourself against him to be able to sit without feeling like you were going to fall off. Even then, it wasn’t the most comfortable arrangement, but you endured, if only to be close to him.

He released your hand and began his instruction.

“First thing you should know is how to find middle C.  Everything else will center around this.”  He pressed the white key with the thumb of his right hand, the note singing out into the empty space.  “Then, it’s D, E, F, G, A, B, which brings you back to C. That creates an octave, also known as a scale.” He played each note as he spoke.

“What about the black keys?” you asked curiously.

“Those are the half notes. Don’t worry about those right now.” He arranged his hand back how he initially had it, his thumb on the middle C key.

“Now,” he continued, “First, you must learn how to move your fingers along the keys.  Like this.”  Shouta demonstrated the motion again, his fingers playing each note slowly in a steady rhythm.  “The switch of the fingers is important. It will help you flow quickly and easily without having to watch where your hands are, which will be important for reading sheet music.”  He repeated the motion again, the sounds once again ringing out.  Then, he removed his hand.  “Your turn.”

You bit your lip and placed your hand how you’d seen his arranged and tried.  The notes were clumsy, lacking in rhythm and falling together as you forgot in your nervous haze where the switch of the fingers happened. Embarrassment flooded you and you withdrew your hand.

“Don’t expect to get it right on the first try.” He reassured.  “Let’s try it again.  Try to keep your fingers loose, curved like a bowl.”

Shouta modeled it again. You watched, but your focus was muddled with anxiety, attraction, and likely alcohol.  It was a poor recipe for learning, but you knew he was trying to make you feel comfortable, and you didn’t want to turn down his kindness.  You arranged your hand back on the keys again and tried again, with little improvement.

“I’m sorry, I…” you stuttered as you clutched your hand in your lap protectively.

His hand covered yours and you looked up at him to see him staring at you with warm patience.  “It’s okay.  If you don’t want to do this, we can stop.”

You stared at him, mouth slightly open as you thought about it.  You knew he wouldn’t hold it against you if you wanted to quit.  And sure, you felt silly being so poor at it when sitting next to someone who’s skills you idolized.

But did you really want to stop?  How often would you get an opportunity like this?

“No, it’s okay.  Keep going, I want to learn.” You replied.

Shouta watched you for a moment longer before he placed his hand back on the keys.  “Place your hand over mine.”

You followed his instructions, your hand looking small compared to his.  His skin was warm, and it calmed the shaking in your fingers.

“Watch where the fingers land.  Feel how they move.” He played the notes, and you could feel the tendons of his hand tense and shift, his fingers rising and falling like a wave.

“It’s like they’re dancing.” You said.  “You switch to your thumb on this key… E?”

“Yes.” Shouta replied in approval.  “Your turn.”

This time you focused, remembering the feel of how his hand had moved under yours as you played the keys, switching your fingers at the right time.  The improvement was noticeable.

He smiled.  “Good.  Now, for the other hand.  You’ll start one octave lower.  Can you find it?”

Your arm crossed Aizawa’s chest to press the white key, letting the sound ring out.

“Perfect.  Only this time, your pinky will sit on this key, with the others following after.”

You placed your fingers across the white keys.  “Like this?”

Shouta nodded.  “Now you’ll try the same progression with your left hand.  The middle finger will follow after the thumb plays the G note.”

You removed your hand so he could place his own and demonstrate it for you.  You followed after him, imitating his actions, but this time your attempt was worse than your first, your hand angled awkwardly due to limited space as you pressed yourself against him.

“That was terrible.” You laughed. “I can’t reach very easily.”

A small mischievous smile formed on Shouta’s lips and he slipped his hand around your waist.

“Come here.” He said.

You didn’t fight him as he pulled you into his lap.  His right hand settled itself against your stomach as his legs parted slightly to make room for yours, your knees drawn together between his.  The heat of his touch seeped through the fabric of your dress, weaving a tight knot of desire deep in your core that made your body go rigid as you tried to keep yourself from melting against him.

“Is this okay?” He asked, leaning slightly to see your face from his position behind you.

You licked your lips and swallowed, giving a nod.  “Y-Yes…” you answered shakily.  “Are you okay…? I’m not too heavy?”

Shouta gave a soft laugh. “No.  Not at all.” His breath was hot against your skin and you could feel the scratch of his stubble as he spoke, sending goosebumps over your body. “Let’s continue.”

He placed his left hand on the keys again with ease, regardless of how poor his view of the piano was with you in front of him.  He knew this instrument like the back of his hand; could probably play it with his eyes closed and never miss a note.

He played the simple notes again, C through B, fingers tip-toeing across the keys as he said their names out loud, helping you to remember them.  You watched carefully for where the shift in finger arrangement happened, the middle finger following after the thumb just as he’d described.

“You try.” He instructed, his right arm still wrapped around your waist, holding you close against him. You could feel the warmth of his chest against your back now, feel the strength of his body beneath you.

You loved this.  The lap-sitting, the lesson, the praise. Each time Shouta praised your improvements it sent a thrill through you from your head down to your toes.  To be complimented by him, even for something as simple as pressing a few keys… it only made you want to please him more.

You played the progression of notes with renewed motivation, once again showing improvement from your first attempt.

“Good.”

Your spine straightened against him slightly.  The thumb of his hand caressed your abdomen where he held you.

“Now you need to learn to do the same but in reverse, until you’re back where your fingers started.”

You moved your hand away to let him demonstrate and his right hand left your stomach, leaving an ache in its wake.  You watched both of his hands play the simple notes up and down, working together with ease. But you knew it was all a ruse… he made it look easy, but if you tried to do the same, you’d fumble clumsily.

“I don’t know about this…” you chuckled.

“It takes practice,” he replied, “until it becomes muscle memory.”

Shouta demonstrated it again, up and down.  And again.

You placed your hands over his, wanting to feel the touch of his hands under yours more than the actual pressing of the keys.  All you wanted was his arm around your waist again, his hand on your lower abdomen.  His touch was tantalizing, and you wanted more of it.  

He completed the simple scale progression two more times with your hands on top of his.

“Do you want to try?” he offered.

His hands left the keys to hold you again, his arms wrapped more tightly around you this time. You leaned against him, reveling in being held in his arms.

“I’m going to mess up.” You warned.

“Just take it slow.”

You shook your head a little and let out a small breath, shifting your position in his lap slightly as you leaned forward to focus on the keys.  His arms loosened around you, his hands shifting to your thighs.

It was likely an innocent action, intended to give you the freedom to move as you made yourself comfortable.  But as soon as the tips of his fingers touched the bare skin below the hem of your dress, that sharp zap of arousal tingled the ends of your nerves, causing you to suck in air and part your knees slightly, your walls throbbing in hopeful anticipation.

It wasn’t intentional. Your body just… reacted.  But Shouta noticed instantly.

There was silence at first, his hands still on your thighs, waiting.  Finally, he spoke.  “Y/N….” his voice was huskier now.  “How long has it been since you’ve been cared for?”

Embarrassment flooded through you.  Embarrassment at your sensitivity to his touch, embarrassment at the answer to his question... You hesitated a moment before words fell clumsily from your mouth. “I, um… a long time.”

A low hum rumbled from Shouta’s chest as his fingers brushing gently along the inside of your thighs until they dipped just beneath the black fabric. The action was experimental, a testing of the waters, and it brought immediate results.  Your thighs widened the slightest bit more as you failed to fight back a whimper, your hands grasping his arms in need.  Not a moment later you could feel the growing firmness of his cock begin to press against your backside, despite the restriction of Shouta’s jeans. Shouta’s hands halted again their movement, waiting. He was miraculously under control despite his obvious arousal, and you envied him.

“Do you want me to touch you?” he asked, his voice low.

Of course you did.  It was obvious you did.  Why else would your legs be parting like the red sea as if he were Moses?

But for some reason, your body language wasn’t enough for him.  He needed to hear it.  A sense of urgency filled you, desperate need driving you.  At this point, you’d give him whatever he wanted…

“Yes.” you begged. “Please, Shouta... Please touch me.” You leaned back against him, allowing the angle of your hips to tilt as your hands guided him further beneath the skirt of your dress.

With you draped onto him, your head tilted back, Shouta kissed the curve of your neck as his hands gently gripped the insides of your knees, pulling your legs apart until they were draped over his own.  You were open for him now, your skirt hiked halfway up by the spread of your legs.  

Your heart pounded in your chest with so much excitement that you could feel your own pulse in your neck and between your legs.  This was happening… This was really happening… How many times had you fantasized about this very thing?  How many times had you longed for this man, whispered his name on your tongue only to be met by the empty silence?  And now here he was, freeing you from the shackles of your loneliness in the best way possible.

Shouta’s hands pushed the fabric up the rest of the way until it was pooled around your hips, exposing your panties.  The thin cotton fabric did little to protect your aching cunt from the cold air, and you sucked air through your teeth at the sensation.  His fingers traced invisible lines up the inside of your thighs, leaving nothing but singing nerves in their wake that cascaded into a shiver that rolled over your flesh, leaving goosebumps.  Your body was already moving of its own volition, hips rolling, eager for Shouta’s fingers yet simultaneously attempting to grind down onto his restrained cock.  Your breaths were already coming in hot and ragged, every inch of you frantic for the release that it had been denied all evening.

Shouta gave a low growl, his left hand holding down your hip, halting your movements.  “You better stop that…” he warned.  

No doubt your girating was making things difficult for him on his end.  But you didn’t care.  You were an unfettered, horny mess now.

A whine escaped your lips at his restriction.  In response, Shouta’s left hand trailed up the length of your body, caressing over your breast before finding its home on your neck.  His palm was against your voice box now, his fingers long enough to wrap around your throat and reach your jaw.  There was no force in his hold, but it still held power over you, ushering your body into stillness while your chest heaved with heavy breaths.

“Patience.” He whispered. “Let me take care of you.”

Shouta followed up his words with more gentle kisses along your neck, your shoulder… wherever his lips could reach with you on his lap.  The feel of his hand on your throat was a reminder of who was in control.  But it was also a promise - a promise to ensure your needs would be met.

Once Shouta was sure he had your compliance, his right hand travelled the remaining distance of your inner thigh to arrive at your panties, where moist heat greeted him.

A low hum of approval rumbled in his chest, vibrating against your back.  “You’re so wet.”

A pitiful “yes” was all you could muster before the tips of his fingers brushed gently against your clothed sex, stealing your voice and replacing it with a gasp.

Slowly Shouta pet you, his fingers stroking gentle circles over the wet cotton, teasing the sensitive flesh beneath.  With his hand still on your neck, you kept your body torturously motionless as he gradually increased the pressure of his digits, reducing his speed as he passed over your clit to drag the pads of his fingers over the bundle of nerves.

You swallowed the pooling saliva in your mouth, the action causing your throat to press against his hand. “Please…” you begged. “I can’t…”

Shouta was strict, but not cruel.  He obliged, slipping his fingers beneath the cotton to swim his digits into your juices, never breaking his circular, rhythmic motion over your slick entrance.  The scent of your arousal surrounded both of you, thick and heavy.

“Fuck, Y/N…” he growled against your skin.

Two of his fingers dipped into you then, slow at first, allowing you to stretch around him as your walls quivered.  Your thighs tensed at the intrusion, welcoming the stinging pressure as your core burned with fire. He withdrew his fingers slowly and you lifted your head to watch in carnal fascination to see his fingers shining wet down to the knuckles. He pushed them into you again, curling his fingers towards the sensitive, spongey tissue along the top of your walls, his thumb pressing down on your wet clit.  A zap of stimulation fired from your core before fizzling away, a teasing warning of what was to come.

“Oh-Oh fuck…” you gasped as one hand reached back and grabbed a fistful of Shouta’s thick, dark hair.

He picked up his pace then, his thumb driving firm circles around your swollen pearl as the sounds of your wet hole being finger-fucked filled the silence of the empty stage.  With each pass of his thumb, with each curl of his fingers, the heat grew hotter, your cunt swollen and burning with the need for release.  Your thighs were tensed so tightly now that it made your legs lift and you had to brace your feet against the piano, discordant notes ringing out to join the sounds of your heavy pants and wet squelching in a lewd song. Shouta’s hand left your throat to hold you under your thigh to keep you steady as his other hand worked fast and hard to unravel you.  With the absence of his touch on your neck, you were free to move your hips, grinding hard into his hand, his lap, whatever part of him you were touching.  Your grip on his hair tightened, mirroring the tension building within you, clinging to him like the boughs of a tree knowing that any second the flood would come.

Shouta was your lifeline, your rock, your destroyer.  You were the waves and he was the shore, and your body tensed to prepare itself to crash against him.

“Come on, baby…” Shouta whispered gruffly.  “I’ve got you. Cum for me.”

You came with a cry, loud and frantic as your walls clamped down on his fingers.  The ball of heat that you had been carrying like a stone exploded within you, incinerating every nerve from the inside out, leaving nothing but sweet, sharp, euphoria in its wake.  Your walls spasmed repeatedly, sucking greedily on Shouta’s drenched fingers, as you cried and moaned, bucked and arched.  Shouta’s arm was around your waist, holding you against him to keep you from sliding off of his lap as you rode the high of your orgasm, tumbling like a waterfall over and over again to finally become a puddle in his strong arms.  

Shouta held you silently against him as your body twitched with aftershocks of pleasure.  Once your spasms subsided and he was sure you wouldn’t fall from your perch, Shouta released his hold around your waist to draw his fingers up and down your arm, creating goosebumps under his gentle touch.  His fingers were still in you, his hand cupped between your legs.  The warmth of his touch on your tired cunt was comforting, and it brought forth a content moan from your parted lips.  Shouta smiled as he planted another kiss on your shoulder.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that with him.  But you finally made yourself sit up when you felt sleep starting to drag you down into its murky depths, your limbs feeling heavy.

Finally, Shouta spoke. “Better?” he asked.

You gave a laugh.  “Much.”  You looked down at yourself in amusement. “You made a mess of me, though…”

Shouta gave a satisfied hum and stared at his hand that held you.  “I like you messy.” He stated.

“So, you’re just gonna leave me like this?” you teased.

He laughed and withdrew his fingers, wiping the slick coating them onto his jeans.  “As much as I like that idea, no.”  He adjusted your ruined underwear and the hem of your dress back into place before turning you around in his lap.  His hands were planted on your rear, keeping you securely and comfortably in place.  “It’s late. We should get you home.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him.  “What about you?” you asked, your eyes glancing down to his lap. Your hands began to trail down his chest to reach the button of his pants, eager to reciprocate.

Shouta smiled at you and grabbed your hands, bringing them back up to plant kisses on your palms.  “Tonight was about you. There’ll be more opportunities for both of us later.”  You pouted and he chuckled. “Don’t give me that face.”

“It hardly seems fair…” you muttered.  You were looking forward to enjoying more of him… you didn’t want tonight to end.

He hummed as he began to trail kisses along your jawline and you arched your neck to allow him better access.  “We both… need sleep.”

Sleep? With his mouth on your skin, sleep was the last thing on your mind.  Shouta pulled his lips away to look into your eyes again and you could see the fatigue there, dark circles framing bloodshot eyes.  He really did look incredibly tired, and you couldn’t help but wonder how late it really was.  You brushed the errant strand of hair off of his forehead, tucking it behind his ear.

“Okay...” you softly agreed.

“You should come back tomorrow night.” He mused, the mischief back in his eyes. “We can continue our piano lessons.”

“I’d like that.” you smiled.

 You couldn’t wait.