#my feelings on this ep are SO mixed but it does have some of my fav eleventh doctor era

[bellamysgriffin]

favorite doctor who quotes: 67?

[ghoulphile]

sticky fingers | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 4.5k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; mildly dubious consent, dirty talk, degradation kink, fingering, squirting, rough sex, size kink, standing doggystyle, overstimulation, teasing, choking, dacryphilia, cooper howard is his own warning (he nasty y'all), canon compliant - takes place around ep 7, a grab bag mix of the show and the games ➥ summary | “Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal.” ➥ notes | i love my men like i love my beef jerky 🫠 i wrote this over 16 fevered hours after finishing the finale. hope you enjoy~ minor edits 4/22/24 | x posted to ao3 | masterlist | feedback is always appreciated ❤️ feel free to send in thots, questions, requests!

It begins, as most things in the Southwest Commonwealth do, with a fight for survival.

City life is tough to be sure, but here on the outskirts of pocket civilizations where there’s nothing but long stretches of desolate wasteland - arid, sunbaked earth and scorched shrubbery - for miles around?

Well, if the ferals, fiends, and super mutants don’t get you in the night, then the desert itself will. During the day the sun burns overhead so nuclear hot, heat glimmers on the horizon in dancing waves.

Unforgiving, relentless as blink-and-you-miss-it mirages are swallowed by ever shifting sands.

It’s easy to get lost.

Even easier to boil alive in your armor if you’re unprepared.

Far too many travelers from the Eastern Commonwealths have met their demise here, where shade is sparse, and water even moreso. The rain - if it does blow in over the mountains - brings rad sickness.

If you’re lucky enough to still be alive, the only reprieve from the heat is in the stooped bones of bombed buildings and ramshackle shacks... where you're just as likely to catch a knife in the back from a chem fried addict as you are relief.

Because here, in the Wastes, danger lurks in sand and shadow alike.

You don’t trek out into the flats half-cocked: a fact all locals know. And if you do decide to? Well, you learn one way or another.

No, only the truly ignorant - or the desperate - dare to tempt man and nature.

Consequently, as you dust off the crumbs from the last half of a Fancy Lads Snack Cake and suck a melted smear of icing from your thumb, you're of the latter half.

You tried holding off for as long as you could. But once the shakes started, you knew you couldn’t put off eating lest you pass out and wake up in a slaver camp.

Well, shit, you think as you rattle a dented canister of purified water. This fucking sucks.

Almost going cross-eyed, your tongue hovers under the rim as you watch the last lazy drop fall free. You catch it with a grimace, smacking your lips. The water tastes metal warm in your sour mouth, barely enough to wet your whistle - let alone your thirst.

You began rationing the last of your supplies days ago, and it’s been a battle against light-headedness ever since. Pretty soon you won’t have the strength to defend yourself, scavving be damned.

Come on. Think - gotta think. What can I scrap for caps?

Not only is Filly more than half a day away, Ma June isn’t one for charity cases. The fact she offered twenty extra caps last time for some burnt books and bent bobby pins was as close as you were ever going to get to a Wasteland miracle.

Sunken cheeks and pleading eyes can only get you so far; everyone’s gotta eat.

"Fuck..." The palms of your hands grind into your eye sockets until you see stars. "FUCK!"

There are two unspoken laws in this otherwise lawless land: steal or starve, live or die. A grim reminder that surrounds you in old bleached bones, empty bullet casings, and scraps of cloth fluttering in the breeze.

Someone always has to be top dog. If you’re lucky, they might be willing to share their spoils.

It’s as you’re considering what pieces of yourself you’re willing to barter that you see them. On the horizon, coming from the west, are two dark blobs.

Stark against the flat plains - a shining beacon of salvation - is a man in a ratty duster and cowboy hat. The saddlebag tossed over his shoulder bounces with his steps while a dog trots beside him, its sable coat rippling with muscle.

Pay dirt.

Making sure to keep low and distant, you stalk them. Watching, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

When the sun dips low, the sky a swath of pale pink and gold, they make camp at a blown-out Drumlin Diner. Off in the distance, thunder rumbles and sickly clouds gather.

Dark and roiling, acid green; a Radstorm brewing.

Electricity cracks at your skin, stands your hair on end. You scrub your hands over your arms, huddling into yourself for warmth. Meanwhile, the stranger seems to luxuriate in the budding promise of rad rain.

He lounges under an awning, his back pressed against a defunct Nuka Cola fridge. He gazes in the direction of the oncoming weather while mindlessly running his fingers through the dog’s fur as it curls up against his legs.

Occasionally, its ears twitch, and its eyes crack open.

Whenever it glances in your direction, you hold your breath and squeeze your eyes shut but it never gives any other indication that it notices your presence.

A small mercy you’re thankful for.

While you’re a pretty good shot, your body is weak with hunger. Besides, you have quick hands and light feet. There’s no doubt you can stealth your way in and out before he realizes his pack is lighter than he left it.

You’ll only take what you need - not interested in causing any more trouble than is necessary. Some food, maybe something to drink if he can spare it, and something to pawn. Just enough supplies to get you sorted in Filly.

Anyway, he certainly isn’t hurting for it by the look of things.

Any guilt you felt was short-lived when he settled down after dropping his pack inside, walking out with an inhaler of Jet in one hand and a can of Cram in the other.

Watched, greedy, as he cracked it open and picked at the tin of meat with lazy fingers. Salivated as he sucked them clean in between deep pulls of chem.

Soon, you decide, licking your lips as he chews, swallows. Soon.

However when push comes to shove, the stranger proves far more keen than you give him credit for.

The world spins like a hit of Daytripper, a kaleidoscope of color as your skull bounces off the wall with a loud crack. Air rushes from your lungs as something huge - hot and heavy - slams into you from behind.

Pins you against the wall with ease as your ears ring.

Something rattles loose; your teeth too large and your tongue too thick. Warm metal floods your mouth as the side of your face throbs in time with the rabbit fast stutter of your heartbeat.

Pain sparks and your stomach rolls.

"Wha's?" you slur, thoughts dripping like wax. "Wh-at's..."

Meanwhile, a gloved hand lassos around your throat like a collar. Brute fingers squeeze the tender flesh of your jugular until you hear your pulse in your ears. Senses struggling - sluggish to adjust in the encroaching night - as tiny cavities eat at your vision, little pockets of darkness.

“Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal," a gruff voice mocks. “Betcha thought you was real slick, huh? Tch. You ask me, you’re dumber than shit, Darlin'.”

Trying to regain your bearings, you shake your head only to groan. “I don’t - ‘m not -” It’s difficult to concentrate, a throbbing tempo taking up residence in your temples. The words come slow. “Wha’d you mean?”

He whistles, long and low-pitched, "D’ya have any idea who you're fucking with?"

“N-No…”

“How’s about I show you, then?”

Warm breath puffs over the shell of your ear, a tongue sliding out to trace along the lobe. You jolt, squirming in discomfort as he crowds closer.

“Tasty lil thing like you, wrapped up all nice and pretty just for me." He chuckles. "Why, it must be Christmas.”

What the hell is he talking about?

It’s hard to breathe with his heavy weight suffocating you; the scent of gunpowder and bitter smoke clogging your nostrils with every labored inhale. His lips - ragged - scrape over the nape of your neck.

The grip on your throat squeezes once, twice; leather sticks to your sweaty skin.

You squint your sore eyes, taking in the faint flickers of firelight that spill through the open doorway. The desert chill of night has settled in, creeping through the busted out windows to dig beneath your padded armor.

Thunder rumbles directly overhead as lightning follows in flashes of acid green. It’s only a matter of time before sheets of rain come pouring down; the air sticky with humidity, trembling with energy.

The Radstorm has finally arrived.

You’ll undoubtedly get sick if you leave the shelter of the diner - might even die from it if you can’t afford or find any RadAway. But as the stranger’s chest digs into your shoulders, and the dog curls up in the corner - uncaring of your plight as its nose tucks into the whip-thin tail - you think you’ll take your chances.

Tilting back to glance at him from over your shoulder through damp eyes, you say, “Look--”

Only his hand moves, viper quick, as it slides from the front of your neck to the nape. Strong fingers clamp down like a vice, like scuffing an unruly dog.

He grinds your face into the wall, rough metal shredding your cheek.

You cry out, a soft, pained little thing that echoes through the empty diner.

“Now why’d you gotta go an' make me do that?”

A phantom glimpse told you all you needed to know; broad jaw, thin lips, a hollow nasal ridge, creeping radiation burns and cracked skin. Ghoul.

“Let’s try this again, Sugar.”

His free hand - sans glove - creeps over the curve of your hip to splay along the swell of your belly, fingers tucking up under the hem of your shirt. You shiver at the stroke of roughened skin.

“Don’t take another peep or I might jus' have ta pluck out those pretty eyes of yours.”

Dread pools low in your gut, a leaden ball.

Everything in you screams: RUN, RUN, RUN.

Alarms blare but you freeze. Stare straight ahead at the featureless wall, eyes wide and unseeing. Through the foggy mire of your thoughts - half formed and shapeless - you have enough presence to understand the precarious nature of your position. 

Heart hammering, you plead for mercy, “Please, I’m - I’m sorry.”

"Aw, ain't that real sweet?" He remains impassive, unmoved. "The little thief does got some manners after all."

Without warning, the sharp toe of his cowboy boot kicks apart your feet. In the ensuing empty space between your thighs, his leg slots into place. Spurs dig into the tender meat of your ankle, little kisses of pain, as his hips rut forward against your ass.

You choke on your spit, pulse jumping in your throat.

"H-Hey, that's..." You attempt to shove at any part of him you can reach to no avail. Built and broad with compact muscle, it's like trying to move a brick wall. "I said I was sorry, okay!"

He ignores you, burying his face into the space behind your ear. A deep inhale sounds next to your head, the expansion of his chest against your back so firm you're not sure you won't fuse together.

The whiskey rough groan he releases does wicked things, makes your mind wander to places it shouldn't. Full of grit and gravel as his cock twitches against your backside, a burning line of heat.

A shiver ricochets down your spine.

He grunts, says, "Mm, you smell good enough ta eat."

The cap of his knee nudges up against your clit with a sudden jolt, shocks of pleasure electrifying your body. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and a sob threatens to scrape its way up from the depths of your throat.

You swallow, mouth desert dry. "Come on, let's just forget all about this, yeah?" you reason. "No harm done. I'll even give you whatever I've got left so - so..."

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, the vibration rattling through your chest. "So?" he prompts, plucking at the waistband of your trousers.

"So let me go?"

"Now why would I go an' do an asinine thing like that?" he replies. "If you think you can buy your freedom, think again, Sweetheart."

Rain pings off the metal roof, the smell of pungent ozone and rusting metal wafting in through busted windows and open doors.

“'Sides,” he pauses to turn your attention outside, “I’d hate ta have you yakin’ before the fun’s even started.”

There’s no way to misconstrue his meaning when he punctuates the statement with a teasing rut of his hips. Those rugged fingers tug open the clasp of your trousers, yank until the material goes slack and pools around your ankles.

“Hey, wait--!”

You jolt, hands scrambling for purchase as he slides his leg against your core. The friction of his pants through your thin cotton underwear makes you ache.

Ripping through your bottom lip, blood beading to the surface, you choke on a high-pitched whimper. "I..."

There's no way he can't feel your reaction.

How quickly you're getting wet as he drags you along the length of his thigh while yanking your hips back into the cradle of his pelvis. You meet him in a slow grind that boils your blood and steals the breath from your lungs.

It’s been - shit - far too long since you’ve felt anything other than hunger, thirst; the animal drive to keep pushing forward.

"You like this, don'tcha?"

You hear the dagger-sharp smile hidden in his words.

He croons, "What would your fellow smoothies think, huh? Here you are lettin’ a ghoul get you all hot n bothered - and you’re lovin’ it. Ain't you?"

You throb in response, heat stealing its way into your cheeks as you turn your head away in shame. His dark chuckle lets you know he felt the squeeze of your thighs, the rock and dip of your hips against his knee.

"I - I don't..." you stutter, struggling for a retort. “I’m not--”

A tremble works its way through your body, crushed as you are between the rad warm burn of his body and the wall. Completely at his mercy as you try to figure out where it all went wrong and what you can do to worm your way out of this one.

Terrified of what'll happen if you stay, terrified of what'll happen if you go; stuck in limbo as what was meant to be a simple grab-and-dash devolved into this confusing cluster of shame and lust.

You loathe the embers of desire kindling to life low in your belly.

"You really outta start bein' more honest, Sweetheart."

A large hand dips beneath the worn band of your underwear, and you wait with baited breath. Helpless as calloused fingertips brush over the swell of your mond.

Your inner thighs are uncomfortably sticky with slick, and your eyes burn in humiliation. Your throat trembles around all the words you want to say.

"Didn't anyone teach you lyin' was bad?" he asks rhetorically as his fingers slip down to play with the swollen bud of your clit, tapping lightly.

You keen, low and wounded.

Short nails dig into your palms as you flex your hands for want of something to grab onto.

“I am being honest,” you bite out through grit teeth. Sweat dapples your furrowed brow. “Just lemme go, please.”

"I find that hard ta believe," he replies. "Sorry to say, but you're shit at lyin'. Just look how hungry your lil cunt is for me."

It’s the only warning you get before those long digits plunge deep inside, two becoming three as they stretch you wide. Hollow you out; knuckles massaging your entrance as the tips prod along the sensitive front wall of your cunt.

You clamp down with a strangled moan. “Shit!”

This is a horrible idea - but it’s been forever and a day since you’ve felt anything other than your own touch.

Whether it be the bone-deep loneliness you’ve been shoving down for months or the sudden, inexplicable need for contact, you long for a reminder that you’re still alive.

That you’re not some wrath of the Wasteland filled with sand and blood, doing whatever it takes to survive in a place that would rather see you fail.

“I - I’m not sure.”

He snorts but offers no council or reassurances, using his free hand to yank at the back of your head in impatience. While it might’ve been a fairer fight if you weren’t in such bad shape, there’s no denying that he’s proven himself to be more adept.

Stronger, quicker.

This is going to happen either way.

And that turns you on - even though you feel like it shouldn’t.

If you give in, if he forces you to give in, it’s not really your fault then, is it? You can enjoy it because you have no choice.

Fuck it, you think, closing your eyes and tilting your head to the side in submission.

Like a doll with cut strings, all the fight drains from your body and you’re left sharing space. The ghoul is a furnace of heat behind you, barely any space to breathe he’s crowded so close.

His cock thickens where it digs into the soft fat of your ass, as large and intimidating as the man himself. “Now stay still for me.”

The or else goes unspoken.

Then he’s stepping away, a rush of cold air filling the empty space at your back.

You shiver, tempted to turn around. Maybe make a run for it. The only thing stopping you is the awareness that his threats aren’t so idle. In your experience, it’s far better to befriend the monster than to anger it.

So you comply, waiting an eternity as your senses strain to pick up on anything other than the murmuring hush of rain, the rumble of thunder, as the Radstorm continues to blow its way through.

Though just when you think he might’ve left, ready to chance moving, you hear the clink of a belt buckle clicking open. The scuff of boots across the linoleum before broad hands shove up under your shirt, scarred palms bare as they settle on your hips.

You tense before forcing yourself to relax.

“You ain’t as stupid as I thought,” he says. “Good girl.”

A test.

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“I can listen,” you mumble, keeping calm as his hands explore the plains of your stomach, pluck at the waistband of your panties. “Promise ‘m not gonna do anything else.”

Learned my lesson the first time. Got my skull cracked open for it.

“That’s what I like ta hear.”

Without warning, your panties are being ripped from you, scraps of fabric fluttering useless to the floor. You squawk in indignation but then a heavy hand settles between your shoulder blades.

He presses down, and you follow without complaint, finding yourself bent in half.

And then the fat head of his cock is right there, teasing at your entrance. He plays with your cunt, slipping the shaft between your wet folds. Dragging up the length of you to tap at your swollen clit.

Jerking in his hold, you whine and try to bear down with all your weight. “Please,” you squirm. “Please, c’mon…”

His grip remains firm, bruising as he exhales next to your ear, a pleased little grumble. “Thatta girl. Now tell me, who’s my pretty lil thief?”

Every hard ridge of his body bites into the softness of yours, your stiff nipples dragging against the rough material of your shirt. Zings of pleasure shoot through you; bursting in your bloodstream, fizzy like warm Nuka Cola.

“I-”

“Go on now, Sweetheart: say it.” Fingers dig into your hips so hard your bones ache. “Or I jus' might be tempted ta take a bite outta your pretty lil backside instead.”

He’s bluffing, you think, half delirious, … Right? He wouldn’t--

You swallow, throat clicking, and squirm against him.

Is that a chance you’re willing to take?

No, no it’s not.

“Y-Yours - I’m - I’m your little thief.”

The unexpected flare of satisfaction in his voice is almost your undoing. A hand pets down your flank, swatting the outside of your thigh playfully.

“Good girl.” He demands, “Say it again.”

Sharp hip bones kick forward against your ass as he lines himself up and starts to bully his way inside.

“I’m - YOURS!”

Your soft, gummy walls flutter, squeeze until giving in with a pop under the hard pressure of the fat head. His cock stretches you out, thick and girthy.

Ridges of scar tissue and patches of rough friction pockmark his shaft, massaging tender places as he fills you up, fucking you open.

He feeds you inch after inch… until he can’t.

“Wait!”

Accommodating his girth is a struggle, your cunt filled to the brim by the time he’s halfway inside. No amount of slick could make him fit, so he makes do with harsh little jerks of his hips. Forces himself deeper and deeper until he glides home nice and smooth, sheathing himself to the base with a sigh of satisfaction.

You clamp down hard with a hiccupy whine, walls furtively trying to push him out. “A-Ah!”

“Goddamn,” he huffs, hands kneading your ass, “You’re a tight fit.”

Tears prick your lash line, your hips shifting as you try to stop him from moving. Begging for a moment of reprieve. You’ve never taken something so big and thick, so textured before.

Coupled with the minimal foreplay, it feels like he’s punched his way through your body. Hollowed you out to make a home for himself.

Pussy aching, a low burning tightness creeps over your lower belly as tender flesh pulses uncomfortably around the unforgiving heft of his cock seated deep inside. You swear you feel him poking your belly button.

“Please,” you pant, heat settling into your cheeks. “J-Just wait a sec-ond! I can’t - oh shit.” 

“Aw, look at you.” Fingers reach around to brush over your cheeks, gather the tears that’ve slipped free. “Didn’t mean ta make you cry,” he lies.

The sound of him sucking his fingers clean reaches your ears. Your stomach swoops, and your clit throbs. Dazed as you wonder what his mouth would feel like on your pussy.

"Hah - too much, you're - fuck - you're too big."

He snickers. “Can’t be helped, I guess.” Body rippling in a shrug, his hands re-settling on your hips. “But that’s all right - I like it better when they cry.”

Before you can retort, he pulls his hips back.

Your toes curl in your boots, feet squeaking across the linoleum floor as your sweaty forehead grinds into the cool metal of the wall. The texture of his shaft burns as it slides through your swollen folds, dragging against sensitive spots you didn’t even know existed.

You can’t tell if it’s the best you’ve ever felt or the worst, but you nearly sob all the same, nerves alight with liquid fire. Want him as deep inside as he can go; a frenzy of desperation that needs him to stuff you so full you choke.

“See for all your whining, you’re takin’ me so well. What did I say about bein' honest?”

You sniffle, blurry eyes creaking open to stare out the window.

Your body throbs in time with your pulse, your pussy so stretched out you can’t clench down when he thrusts in deep. The fat mushroom head teases your cervix, a faint whisper, before he’s drawing back again.

“T-Too fast,” you stutter, head rolling back to rest on his shoulder. Your thighs tremble, knees going soft. “Slow down, slow down.”

“Sh, you can take it. I know you can.”

With a grunt, he surges forward. Wasting no time in starting up a brutal pace that rattles your bones. He drives you hard into the side of the diner; tits crushed and face smashed, a disgusting mixture of tears and drool wetting your cheek.

“Just like that, Sweetheart.”

You do little more than hold on, all thoughts driven from your mind as he fucks you swollen and bruised. Cunt a sticky mess as your slick eases the way, clinging to your inner thighs and dripping down his heavy balls.

Every thrust punches little sounds from you, and he grunts. “Fuck!”

Your hands cling to the sides of his hips, focusing on the shift of muscle beneath heavy fabric. “I can’t,” you slur, eyes cloudy as you glance up into his, gazes meeting for the first time. “Please, I - ah!”

His thrusts turn punishing, even more so than they already were, hips meet your ass with enough force to leave bruises. “What did I say about sneakin' a peek?”

While the words sound threatening, his voice is heated and breathy. For all his talk, he doesn’t look away. In fact, his hips slow into languid rolls, grinding close. When your eyes slide from his, he reaches down to pinch your clit between his fingers.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chides. “You keep those eyes on me.”

Pretty, you think, dazed.

Glinting in the slants of firelight like wet sand or a Nuka Cola bottle in the sun; bourbon warm as they peer at you from beneath a heavy brow bone.

“That’s it, there’s my good girl."

Eyes fluttering when he flexes his hips in reward, the tip massaging along your g-spot, your mouth drops open on a whine.

“O-Oh! Right there, I - fuck, please don’t stop. ‘m so close.” F-Feels s'good.

His bare hand reaches up to curl around your jaw, gnarled fingers pushing their way past the open circle of your swollen lips. They compress your tongue as they gather saliva, stroking along your tastebuds.

Gritty, rough; he tastes of dirt, blood, and gunpowder.

You sneak a kiss to his scarred knuckle when he pulls free.

“Shit, I’ll be damned. You’re just a nasty lil freak, ain't you?”

You moan in response, stretching up on your tip-toes and arching your hips to change the angle. Your palms rest beside your head, docile.

A crazed grin cracks the corners of his lips, his teeth bared like an animal. “I like that,” he husks. “Now be a peach…”

Then those soaked digits are finding their way between your thighs, ghosting over your skin to smear spit onto your abused clit. The tender bud throbs beneath his fingertips, swollen and begging for attention.

He hitches his hips forward to feel you jerk, pulsing beneath his touch as he resumes a fast, jolting pace that has you smacking into the wall.

“And cum for me.”

A deep rumble escapes his throat, the sloppy, wet sounds of him fucking you ringing loud in your ears. Your hips roll, unsure if you want to press forward into the swirl of his fingers or back into the rut of his cock.

Tears stream down your cheeks, your chest heaving with weak sobs.

“Please,” you whine, his shaft pinching your walls uncomfortably. You feel swollen, rubbed raw. “A-Almost there.”

A nip to the ear is all it takes.

“Hhaah, I’m--!”

The liquid heat that’s been pooling low in your belly - building and building - finally bursts in a gush of slick that soaks his hand. Darkens the crotch of his pants as it drips down your thighs to splash against the tile.

You sob, a full body tremor zipping through you like bottled lightening.

In the aftermath, your cunt twitches in time with your heartbeat. Hands numb and head full of cotton as cramps bloom between your hips. Sharp little stabs shoot up behind your navel.

“Shit, I’ve got myself a gusher,” he laughs, a nasty little smirk tugging at his lips. “Look at the mess you made. Now if you ask real sweet-like, maybe I’ll let you clean it up with your tongue.”

You sag, too boneless to be ashamed as electric aftershocks tingle along your nerves. All the while, his pace never falters, quickly fucking you into overstimulation.

Your clit twitches pathetically when the fat head of his cock drags along your g-spot. "No more," you mumble weakly, letting him maneuver your body how he likes. "Please."

“Heh, let’s see if you can do that again.”

You whimper, “Oh, oh, please n-no. I - I can’t. You’ll break me.”

“That’s real cute,” his lips, harsh and rasping, drag over the shell of your ear, “but I wasn’t askin’.”

The grip on your hips tightens to the point of pain, digging in and marking you up.

“Now, why don’ we have some real fun, Darlin'?”

[arminsumi]

“you’re short”

“okay? so put some inches in me”

-

all i can imagine is a sassy/bratty reader and a cocky gojo 😭

we’re going to ignore that i’ve only seen one ep of jjk and i’m already requesting smut over it ☠️

OOH, YOU FLIRTIN'?

💗 GOJO さとる

[ Note ] : 🥵😳 what a vision! and lol one ep into jjk n alr thirsty for gojo love that 👍 also u n me are so small compared to him 🫠 also idk if he's more cocky or dorky in this oops lol. and i am writing this on my phone at a sleepover lord help me i have been awkwardly shifting around and avoiding showing my screen to any eyes 😭😭

[ Warnings ] : 🔞 minors do not read/interact : suggestive/18+ content/smut, mentions virgin reader, getting caught

[ Playme ] : XXX

"You're so short."

"Okay, so put some inches in me."

"Yeah, I bet you'd like that, huh?"

"I would, actually."

"Ooh, you flirtin' with me, shorty?"

"Yeah, well you started it, big boy."

Big boy...? 😳

Gojo Satoru, your very cheeky and very bold classmate, who has not held back on flirting teasing you about your height since he met you, is rendered speechless for the first time.

But only for a moment. Soak up your victory quick. He stutters. His brain chokes up. His heart throbs like he's just developed an instant crush. His uniform pants feel uncomfortable.

And then he reanimates himself once he hears Suguru snickering next to him.

"That's pretty bold of you, huh?" he smirks toothily, sinking his shaky hands in his pockets. "Now you're gettin' me all worked up—"

"—oh yeah?" you lid your eyes and flirt. He's taken aback again. "Worked up how?"

"Get a room, you two. Honestly..." Suguru grumbles.

"Yes, I think we will." Satoru winks at you. It's a failed wink. Deep down, he's not confident in his flirting. No. Deep down, he's an awkward dork.

His brain short circuits when you continue flirt back. He actually runs out of things to say.

She's a mature flirt. I'm an immature flirt. How the hell do I keep up? Fuck.

When you and him get alone together, clearing up the chairs after a class, you tease;

"Come on, big boy, what's the matter? Lost your edge?"

"No... I'm just thinking." his voice cracks at the end, he clears his throat. It feels tight. His pants feel tight too.

"About what?"

"About what you look like naked."

You let out a laugh, and laugh and laugh, like he's the most ridiculous flirt you've ever met.

"What?" he raises a brow.

"You're so ridiculous."

Oh yeah. That irks him. That flippant comment. You're not even looking at him as you say it, you're scooting a chair into a desk.

He walks over to you and peers down, making the height difference between you and his 6'3 frame sorely apparent. What a big boy.

"Wanna repeat that for me?"

Ooh his voice is heavy and low, low enough to cause goosebumps on your skin. And the proximity? It makes you feel more than just small, it makes you feel a tingling between your thighs.

He comes closer. Grazes his lips across yours. Mixes breaths with you.

"Uh—" you get flustered.

"—haha, just kidding." he pulls away suddenly. Maybe because he got too nervous (true) or maybe because he felt victorious in knocking you off your high horse (also true).

"I thought you were gonna—" you begin disappointedly.

Satoru cuts you off.

"—do something? Aw, are you horny?" he winks.

"Yeah. For you." you roll your eyes.

Fuck.

My pants feel too fucking tight. Can she see the outline of my dick? Is she looking there?

"Is that so?" he raises a brow, staring right into your eyes. No one holds eye contact quite like Mister Six Eyes.

He chuckles, Addam's apple shifting up and down deliciously. "Aren't you a virgin?" he sneers.

"Yes. I am. Are you gonna do something about it, or just stand there like an idiot?"

He nearly chokes.

Wow. What? She actually just said that?

"Of course I'll do somethin' about it, sweetheart. But..." he leans into your air again, closer than before, 'n breathes tauntingly against your quivering lips.

"... does a goody-two-shoes like you really wanna lose her virginity in a classroom?"

"Stop stalling, big boy. I'm not a "goody-two-shoes"; I'm fucking horny." you seethe lustfully.

Fuck.

He's not sure how to respond. His brain is malfunctioning.

"Alright... then use your words like a big girl and ask me nicely to fuck you." he mutters, lips grazing yours. You can feel how badly he wants to kiss you.

Please say it.

The sexual tension has his heart racing, pretty cock pressing flush against the fabric of his dress pants.

"Satoru..." you begin, pulling on his collar.

He gulps and listens intently. The small touch your fingers make with his neck drives him wild.

"... fuck me."

Something just snaps inside him right there.

He crashes his lips onto yours with a feverish intensity, the rest his history—

—er, until the teacher walks in on you two right as things get toasty, catching Satoru with his hand up your shirt and your hand down his pants. And then you giggle off to detention with Satoru.

He promises to put some inches to your height. Uh... you know... by lifting you off your feet while he stuffs you up with his cock 😌

© arminsumi

No copying/plagiarizing/reposting. Do not promote me on other platforms.

[kazumist]

EPISODE 13 ✿ LITTLE BY LITTLE

YOU + ME = LOVE — A DILUC SMAU

masterlist / prev ep / next ep / wc: 732.

with the past issue slowly dying down, you and diluc decided to lay low for each other’s sake so that you two could avoid such an issue appearing again.

“wait, so i just do that? how come it looked so difficult when professor maxwell explained it?" you exclaimed, shocked at how you didn’t get the process earlier.

he won’t even deny it. he has been warming up to you ever since that talk you guys had back then. ever since he was in junior high school, all he had were the other three. so for him, it felt quite refreshing that he managed to get along with someone new on a close level.

“maybe it’s because you were feeling sleepy again during his lecture.” diluc chuckles at you.

“hey, i wasn’t! though his voice really does have this sleepy effect whenever he’s giving a lecture... he’s so soft spoken for what?” you groaned, slumping yourself over on the table. 

-

if someone were to see you and diluc, one would most likely assume you're together as a couple, having a little study date in the library.

“you mixed these two up. first, you do this, then you do that," diluc explains, using his pencil to point out your mistakes. 

“actually, do you prefer a simpler way to solve this?”

“diluc, this is fucking calculus. of course i’d prefer an easier way," you deadpanned at him.

“alright, well, you can actually just use this formula instead," he says, writing it down for you.

you looked confused as you stared at the formula presented before you. “eh? but professor maxwell didn't teach us that.”

“that's because i derived it. look, if i use this formula,” writing down the proper solution using the derived formula that he's teaching you (however, you couldn't help but stare at his side profile instead of the one he was writing). “and there you have it. see? it's still the same result," he finishes.

“huh? wait, yeah! i think my life just became easier. what the hell?" 

“you're welcome.” he chuckles.

but who cares if they assume that you're romantically involved with each other? they can think all they want. what matters is that your only focus is the derived formula that just made your life easier.

oh! and the one who taught you that as well.

-

it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

but why—just why did diluc feel so... electric when your hands brush against each other? why did it actually feel nice when he felt your touch, even if it was just for a quick moment? this is stupid, diluc thinks; he just helped you pick up your pen, after all.

why did it make him happy to hear his name roll off your tongue so smoothly? it’s not like you say it in a different way than his friends. so what makes you say it so differently? what makes it special for diluc whenever he hears you say his name?

with a bit of remaining time left, you both decided to take care of some other schoolwork. but diluc couldn’t focus. no matter how hard he tries, his attention span for his own workload just ends up shifting to the girl working peacefully beside him—you.

he takes in your side profile. your index and middle fingers were pressed onto your temple, gently massaging it, a sign that diluc noted that you’re stressed about whatever you’re working on right now. your other hand lets go of the pen it was holding as you start to tap your fingers against the table—a habit you have whenever you try to brainstorm or think of something—and a trait that diluc noted down in his head (as for why he noted such a thing down, he’ll refuse to answer that).

you two are supposed to be only a tutee and a tutor to each other. neither of you should cross that line; diluc should know this by heart—after all, he’s the one who refuses to show any romantic interest towards anyone because he’s solely focused on his career. he couldn't—actually, no, he wouldn’t even dare take a tiny step into the gates that lead to your heart.

nonetheless, diluc accepts it. he accepts that maybe, just maybe, he’s crossing the line right now (or maybe he has already crossed without even realizing it).

it wasn’t supposed to be like this at all.

taglist (open): @ryuryuryuyurboat @g4bbyyy @kizakiss @quackimilktea @mochiboo123 @thystarsshine @cerisescherries @jamieexistss @the-ghost-0f-t0m0 @aethion @dottoreworld-page @naishite @sleepyeri @staaarhin @eroxotckv @kiyiiaarchived @fallenssun @lolmeowing @haihelokuki @astolary @kissingkzuha @axerrri @a1-ic3 @lottierulez @livelaughlovekuni @sorcerersseestars @whipped-for-fictionals @morganadorodo @briluvspnk @venderretta @xiaosoneandonly @angeilix @morgyyyyyyy @kazioli @the-massive-simp @qtange @tiredjxnna @yuminako @ratiolove @sn1perz @akitokisser @siu-ssi @artri-ad @hyeinszn @saeskiss @bubblegum-angelquartz @boomie-123 @moni11032 @sandwichmyonetruelove @cherrybb-ily @itztaki @dontmindtheevie @hotgirlshit5

[sysmedsaresexist]

I've heard one of my posts is causing waves

Here's some more things that are normal in DID/OSDD systems, and some weird myths, in no particular order

- Not realizing you're a system until later is normal (average age of system discovery is 18-21)

- It's rare for children to display distinct alters (not impossible, just a rare occurrence in a rare disorder (based on numbers, it's considered rare, yes), alters tend to form in mid-teens)

- Feeling as though you "created" an alter is normal (related to unconscious feelings of control over an uncontrollable situation, and/or tricking yourself into an explanation, also, if you have a need to be filled, the brain WILL provide)

- "mixed origin systems" are totally normal for DID/OSDD. I have a couple alters that could be considered "endogenic", but I'm really just... DID, with normal alters forming in normal ways

- Alters forming at any age/time is normal (you can form a brand new alter at fifty, after having undergone complete fusion, once the ability is there, it's always possible to split)

- Alters don't always appear immediately after a traumatic event (alters can take YEARS to come to front after forming, making it impossible to tie them to specific events unless THEY'RE aware of the connection)

- Alters can form from stress, not just trauma (and the brain is notoriously good at hiding how stressed you are from yourself)

- Comfort splits ARE normal in DID/OSDD

- The amnesia criteria in DID doesn't mean you need to experience amnesia day-to-day, you still have DID if you can't remember childhood events but have good communication now

- The dysfunction criteria is redundant and circular, where the symptoms themselves fulfill the criteria, and as per the DSM, doesn't imply any inherent need for treatment or distress-- so being happy, loving your system, feeling like your system helps you more than it hinders you, all normal (and good!) but still DID/OSDD

- OSDD 1a does not involve alters as they're known, but states or modes that influence you, and amnesia occurs during these periods of influence; OSDD 1b involves "emotional amnesia" only (which is just a stupid, fancy word for dissociation (an emotional disconnect from a memory) that doesn't actually exist in the medical world)

- You can have as many EPs and ANPs as you'd like. The majority of systems with OSDD feel as though the one ANP theory doesn't fit them, and there have recently been updates to theories to acknowledge this

- Integration is the lowering of dissociative barriers to allow for better communication between system members, and is absolutely necessary for functional multiplicity (fusion is the joining of two or more alters). These definitions come from the ISSTD, and it IS recognized by the ISSTD that integration and functional multiplicity are viable and attainable treatment goals. Keep this in mind when conversations about these topics come up-- if you can communicate clearly with alters, you're already well integrated. It's not scary, it's not bad, and no one can or will make you fuse.

- CPTSD, the basis of dissociative disorders and DID, presents very differently from PTSD -- mostly presenting as a negative view of the self and vigilance rather than the flashbacks and nightmares you'd see in PTSD (it's quite similar to BPD, but the view of the self is negative rather than unstable). If you resonate with some aspects of BPD and have a system, and you don't experience the "typical" presentation of PTSD, that's normal. That's CPTSD (complex PTSD, not chronic PTSD), maybe read up on it.

- You don't need to know your trauma to acknowledge that you have DID/OSDD, and no one should be pushing that you search for trauma. Who cares, move at your own pace, maybe you'll never figure it out, and that's perfectly fine. People who push others about their trauma will face my wrath.

- Trauma isn't an action, but a REACTION to an event. What traumatizes one person, may not have any effect on another person, and vice versa. This isn't about what might have happened to you, but how you felt about it. There is no Trauma Olympics, and people who play that way are ridiculous. Trauma reactions are personal and unique, and come from anything-- bullying, isolation and loneliness, abuse. And yes, other disorders can make you more susceptible to trauma reactions. Having autism or ADHD or BPD, EDs, psychosis, schizophrenia-- all of these create more opportunities for trauma reactions, and make someone more susceptible. That doesn't mean you're not trauma based. It doesn't mean those things caused your system. It means those things made it harder for you to navigate life and left you more susceptible to trauma. That's it.

- MADD is typically trauma based

There's so, so many more. Other DID/OSDD systems, feel free to add on, endogenic systems, ask if something is normal.

[franzkafkagf]

okay so i want to hear about your take on aegon i know you like him and all (so do i no matter how much i wish not to) but whyy

yess thanks for asking, I love being insane about him<3

I think Aegon is such a wildly tragic character– many asoiaf characters are but I'm so drawn specifically to him; he didn't want power or responsibility or the crown. It all was bestowed upon him against his will, and he shouldn't; putting on the crown is his definitive death sentence. The coronation scene has got to be one of my favorites in the season– he is quite literally walking up to be butchered like a sacrificial lamb, there are tears streaking his cheeks in the scene! I love the tragedy of it, the way it couldn't have been avoided anyways; his fate was sealed from the very start! He was quite literally dead from the very beginning.

I'm going off a mix from the book and the show but I actually love what they did with the character in the show? The book version does have some hard-hitting moments from him that are missing ("What sort of brother steals his sister's birthright?") but there wasn't that much there in terms of characterization and relationships. And wow, did they deliver on that in the show; I'm gonna give whoever came up with his mommy issues a forehead kiss.

Because YES! He and Alicent are reflections of one another– Alicent suffered under the heavy boot of Otto, turned into the perfect daughter, turned into the perfect queen for him. She recognizes that this was wrong and abusive of him, then she turns around and does the same thing to Aegon– the poison DOES drip through, the wheel is NOT broken!! It's BRILLIANT.

@atopvisenyashill put a GREAT tag under one of my posts–

#he looks like her and he’s weak like her so why can’t he get strong like her.

While Alicent persevered, Aegon crumbled under the pressure. He is miserable when we meet him– and he should be! He is unfit for the role of king, but it is his destiny nonetheless, everybody tells him so. It destroys him.

It's so sad too and I cannot help but to feel bad for him. No one knows where he is in ep 9, I don't think he has anyone to confide in; it must be lonely. Everybody seems to have written him off already– he is a drunk and a failure at being heir, being a son, being a father. He tries to prove them wrong later, and does in some aspects.

His loneliness plays into another aspect of him that I really love; his desperation to be loved. He will never be enough for anybody, he probably knows it deep down.

"[Aegon is] desperate to be loved but destined to be hated." – Tom Glynn-Carney

Obviously there is the carriage scene with Alicent that shows this. But I also really love the moment in his coronation, where he basks in the people's affection and cheers. He is poised to bleed out in front of the throne, he was crying and fighting for his life not to take the crown just minutes before. But now he's here and they love him and he can't help but love that.

He takes the crown to protect his family (the show does hint at that with Alicent telling him as much in ep. 6– in the book it's much more explicit with Criston pressuring him on the day of the coronation itself) and then his son DIES because of it! And he drinks and rages and drinks some more; he must've blamed himself. He goes to battle, flies too high (figuratively), and he FALLS; he burns and falls to the ground. He isn't made to be king. He knows. He does it anyways.

"You have already written yourself into legend, you survived dragonfire" – Larys Strong in season 2 (probably)

He survives, he is gone for over a year, unable to do anything but he SURVIVES. He escapes the capital, takes Dragonstone, he falls AGAIN, he loses most of his family; but he still goes on. Fueled by what? Maybe anger, or bitterness or just pure lust for revenge. It doesn't matter. He must've realized somewhere on the way that this was always meant to go this way, ever since he put the conqueror's crown on. It doesn't matter.

And then he dies and it's not grand or spectacular or anything like that. He drinks poisoned wine, nobody even sees him die, they only find him after. It's so uniquely lonely.

[ultfreakme]

Okay I’m still on the verge of tears and can’t do this rn so buddy daddies ep 10 jumbled thoughts

Idk wtf anyone says anymore the entire kazurei relationship is queer there is absolutely NO denying it anymore. That scene where Kazuki is looking at kids with their moms, then it cuts to himself? Yeah that’s basically insecurity and feeling terrible he can’t fit their own family into societal standards. Yeah it’s about Miri missing Misaki, about how their careers aren’t meant to accommodate a child but its also about how society has made us all internalize that a ‘right’ family involves a mom, a dad, and a child/

Miri is absolutely sad that Misaki isn’t with her, but she’s never like, so upset she gets devastated. Misaki herself asks “do you like it here better than with me?” and what does Miri answer? She doesn’t says “yeah i like it better here”, BUT she also doesn’t say “I like it best with you!”, she completely dodges and says “I love you mama, and papas too”. Any time a situation involving a mother comes up, she’s like “would be nice if mama were here....anyways!” and doesn’t dwell on it.

I thought Rei smiling would kill me but Kazuki almost CRYING DESTROYED MY SOUL. It’s like watching either of my parents cry its heartbreaking and horrible and i want it to stop. He thought he’d never find that normal happiness, wanted it oh so desperately and then it’s....gone. The Ferris wheel symbolism was horrible I hate the OP for doing that to me. That opening where they’re in front of the billboards was just-- IT WAS IN FRONT OF US THE WHOLE TIME

I think even Rei almost cried. On the ferris wheel, when they focused on his mouth and it twisted downwards before Miri pointed to the city. Kazuki crying was bad enough and had me tearing up too. If Rei was added into the mix I’d have been in shambles

Misaki holy shit wtf, life hates her, cut the woman some slack wow. Throughout the show she was defined by her singing and they took her voice away. It’s horrible, but I’m glad she has parents to go back to. I’m not fully convinced she can take care of Miri, but if she’s being genuine I think she’ll be just fine and would learn just like Kazurei.

Rei sounded so devastated when he was like “you can’t do this when we’re all attached”. Yeah this was his glimpse at normalcy, the one time in his entire life he got to be part of something that didn’t stifle him and it’s gone now. 

Kazuki wrapping the scarf around her- hey why don’t I just eat glass? Why don’t I just go on top of a cliff and scream?? Or set fire to my bed???

“I guess we can’t change” BABY NO YOU CAN. YOU CAAAN!!!

I thought Rei would defy the organization and say “screw it I want to protect this family I have”......but his most prominent memory of his mentor is him dying. How defiance led to his and his wife/gf’s horrifying death. In his head he’s probably thinking that’d be Kazuki and Miri if he doesn’t quit while they’re ahead. Alive and miserable, or dead while holding onto hopeless situations?

Kazuki.....idek.....just Kazuki baby I’m so sorry

[skayafair]

Ep 1 Rewatch Notes

So I'm rewatching the 3rd time and want to note a few things I didn't realize before:

This:

where Edwin seemed so sure he won't need these self-defence techniques is followed by this ↓ the very same episode. No wonder it ends not well. Should have listened to ur mate, Edwin!

Edwin identifies the era Emma is from by her hairstyle and details of clothing and purse. Someone's been studying historical fashion huh~

When the boys banish the demon from Crystal in the underground, Charles looks mostly alright despite taking the most damage (apparently ghosts can very well feel things inflicted by other supernatural beings and forget that material hindrances like floor or a wall or a door shouldn't be an issue for them), while Edwin seems to be alarmed and breathes fast as if trying to calm down from panic. I guess it's not "as if".

Table soccer line on the wall is such a cute detail reminding they are still teenagers.

I didn't understand the bridge scene with "Like, I'm being mean to you. - What? Am I supposed to get mad?" properly before. I do now though. Chaaaarles 😭 I believe it's a mixed bag of him keeping up his "sunny" facade, being able to communicate to another teenager who's alive (as a connection to being alive and regret that he's dead) and liking Crystal. Damn, that's too sad(((

Charles knows Edwin sooooo well. I can't with this huge smile after "You're really gonna let a little american girl die?". He was 1000% sure Edwin would cave in.

"Edwin this woman has a big cleaver-" WHY are you asking Edwin about it Charles?! 🤦😂

Ooooh no oh no oh no. The first case they take is a missing girl one. Crystal is crying while reading the mother's mind. Of course the woman can think only of her lost daughter. And THEN we learn that Crystal's own mother didn't give a damn. DIdn't even know her daughter was missing. My turn to cry 😭

Wow Edwin looked like he was on the verge of tears when Crystal confessed she let David in willingly. Heavy stuff.

Gods the whole "our deaths didn't matter" scene is. Idk how it can hit harder the 3rd time - maybe because I'm paying more attention to the details and have already processed some of their meanings - but it does. A moment of involuntary vulnerability, a true connection, reluctant as it was, and. Edwin is not collected in the slightest. It's not just that his emotions blew up - he just can't control them at all. This whole case with David the Demon became a very strong trigger and Edwin simply could not handle it at all. Crystal can't handle it either, she has her own trauma in full bloom. It's such a fragile moment between them when they decide to set this issue aside, even though it's very much urgent for Crystal. And poor Charles who's used to being a fixer is so lost the whole time because his words don't work and he has no idea what to do. Say what you want but the 1st episode is CHARGED with emotionally strong scenes.

Charles had a beef with Monty from episode one I just can't- 😂

"Keep mocking me, crow. I'll make you my friend eventually. Everyone likes me". Oh well, he sort of succeeded!

[queersouthasian]

Since Pit Babe's end is knocking at the door, I am back in my CharlieBabe feels. I think no relationship will get to me the way they did. I will always be in awe about how human they are and how much humans can love if they want to.

I will never get over how pain shaped Charlie and Babe so differently. Pain shaped Charlie's kindness, his way of loving and caring, his want to give. He has grown up to be the exact person he wished he had growing up. A kind soul who cares so much, who loves so much. But Charlie isn't naive or stupid. Even though he is a natural caretaker he doesn't let people take advantage of him. He is careful and smart while being a giver. And there is Babe, who just wanted to be loved and wanted to love, but was wounded in the attempt to do so that it ruined the definition of love for him. He started believing that love can only bring him pain. This pain shaped his defense. Even though he had found a family of his own, he didn't let anyone venture into those parts of him which hurt the most. He was a desirable sexy alpha racer for everyone, the "Pit Babe", until he became someone's "Phi Babe",

Charlie's arrival was like a gentle knock, where he lets him in thinking he could kick him away anytime, until he could no longer do so, till he feared the idea of the latter's absence alone. It's the way Charlie buries his pain under his smile whereas Babe does it under his cockyness, smugness, so called ego. Charlie picked up babe's broken pieces, some being so sharp it cut through him, but he kept picking those up. And he caressed them. Whereas babe took Charlie's and made them his. They both shared each other's pain. Charlie is loud in love and silent in pain just like babe is the opposite.

But what makes them and their love so human is their flaws. It's the way babe wants to fight along side Charlie but Charlie pushes him away so that he doesn't even get a single scratch on him. But can you blame him? Babe himself wants to fight together but at the face of danger, covers Charlie with his whole body, pushes him back so he doesn't get hurt, so no one can touch him. They can't find equality to save their fucking lives 'cause they are each other's priority, at the face of danger, they would both die and kill for the other.

Their love brings pain and grief as well. Charlie lies and lies 'cause when it comes to his beloved being safe and happy, he would do anything. Anything. Babe may hate him but atleast he will be safe and in peace but Charlie can't fathom that. Charlie fears babe hating him, misunderstanding him. That's why instead of being happy after the "death" that babe is safe, everything assured, he is grieving and is in guilt. He has caused his lover pain again unintentionally. Whereas for babe this grief hits different. He thinks he deserved it, 'cause he didn't let Charlie know how much he meant to him, how much he loved him when he could. He lost Charlie, he lost that one thing he had which he didn't even dare to wish for before, a love, a genuine lover. It was like loosing something extremely valuable for him. He was supposed to keep him safe. But he lost him. He blames himself for not loving his beloved in the same volume. Whenever they locked eyes before, babe had this "I can't believe I have you, What did I do to deserve you" whereas Charlie has this "you deserve every piece of me and more" look on their faces, in their stares. Babe would look like he has found the most beautiful angel whereas Charlie would look like babe has hung stars in the sky. In the last ep, when Charlie comes in to save, even though still physically weak, driven by rage that people hurt babe, his face changes from anger to concern and love and guilt, "I am here for you" whereas for babe his eyes immediately turn red glistening with tears, bewilderment mixed with hope. A hope of finally finding that lost thing, a "finally you are here"

This relationship will last beyond generations and lifetimes, in which every version of them, will search for the other. A love so human it feels like a hope. A hope to love again.

[beanghostprincess]

I wanna know who your favorite vinsmoke sibling is so bad actually please tell me 👀✨

My friend and my brother laughed at me when I told them my favorite Vinsmoke is Niji, and I genuinely was embarrassed that day because I didn't really know much about him at the time (I think I had only watched a few eps of WCI) and it's pretty clear in the show that he's, uh, the worst of the Vinsmokes. And by "the worst" I mean: The one who's portrayed as the worst because he's the most active one when it comes to abuse and supremacism within the family line. Unlike Ichiji (who's more serious) and Yonji (who's more playful, somehow) Niji is the one who has to actually fight for a role in his family and that's why I think he's so fucking annoying all the damn time. I hate him. I love him. I want to hug him. But also I wouldn't mind punching him very, very hard. I have mixed feelings, but yeah, Niji is my favorite Vinsmoke. And you haven't asked why, but I feel the need to do some sort of mini argument about this because I am a very resentful person and I want to show my friend and my brother that Niji is actually a very interesting character!! And my fiancé thinks I just like him because he's hot, and she's right but only like a 20%. Maybe 40%.

I will try to put my thoughts into words, but it's pretty difficult because I have a lot of things to say about this blue evil gremlin.

I like Niji the most because I think he is, between the three brothers, the one who shows feelings and ambitions outside their emotionless selves the most. I know they technically are the same, but I don't think so (btw, please assume I'm not including Reiju in this text because she's canonically different from them and I'm just referring to the brothers).

As I mentioned before, I think Niji is the one brother who is the most annoying and evil because he feels the need to stand out. Ichiji is serious, and calculative and has a secure place in the family. He is the number one, even if Reiju is the oldest (I would like to talk more about how Reiju, being a woman, even if she's the oldest, she's the number 0. Because she is the oldest but she's a woman, so she obviously doesn't and would not be able to wear the number 1 like a man would. She is the oldest and yet, she has less significance in the family line than Ichiji. But, yeah, this is something that has nothing to do with Niji, sorry). Ichiji, like all of his siblings, wants recognition from his father, but he doesn't have to try as hard as the others to be impressive because he is, after all, the oldest. The typical "older sibling in an abusive household who has to deal with all the bullshit to protect their siblings"? That's something Reiju took over. That's Reiju's responsibility as the oldest and the woman. Ichiji literally doesn't have to do anything besides leading the team and being the evil, emotionless machine his father created. That does not mean that I don't think he could be able to develop more feelings, because I think he could and I love the concept of him being the first one to protest against Judge's behavior, but you get me. When you're the oldest brother with an even older sister, your responsibilities are pretty limited. So he doesn't have to be anything but there and himself.

Yonji, on the other hand... He is the youngest. Even younger than Sanji. He doesn't have to try, because Niji and Sanji should be the ones to do so. Little siblings are not expected to do much besides existing because irl parents are usually tired of raising children and they end up either getting neglected or seen as decoration. As a little sibling myself I can confirm that these things affect really badly to your brain growing up, but I got a more Sanji treatment so I can't speak for Yonji here. The thing I can say, though, is that in comparison to Niji, Yonji is just there. He's silly and goofy. He's funny. He's dumb. He has the excuse of being the little one to act that way. Getting lost eating or doing whatever. Even the fact that his powers are more physically focused instead of power/intelligence centered shows that he can just punch away his issues. He's the gym bro of the siblings. Don't expect much from him. <- Thing that's often said about little siblings, btw, and affects real fucking badly in early teenage years. The fact that he's portrayed like that is so on point tbh but after all, they don't have high expectations for him, so little to no effort is everything he does.

Then there's Niji, of course. My favorite. Love him. Hate him. Whatever. Niji is the middle child. And God, do I have to say things about middle siblings.

The thing about Niji is that he actually has to try and make a name for himself in the family because otherwise he'll probably get forgotten. I often wonder if he had that fear of becoming the next Sanji once he "died" (he's the only one genuinely asking if Sanji died on them before Yonji and Ichiji say they don't care) because his role is not as noticeable as the others. Reiju is the woman, Ichiji is the successor, Sanji is the weakling getting bullied (being technically one of the little siblings but still being in a limbo of middle/youngest because the little one is Yonji), and Yonji is the little one. Then... What's Niji?

Niji needs Sanji way more than he's willing to admit, and I love that. I absolutely love how he's written because he constantly shows that he needs Sanji, through both words and actions. He needs him because without Sanji's existence -without Niji being his bully- Niji is nothing but number 2. And there's nothing more frustrating than being the number two when it comes to family hierarchy. Not going to mention every little thing he does, but as I said, I love how well-written he is. He's the sibling Oda uses the most to show the abuse Sanji went through, but that's only because Niji is the only one who needs to do that. Niji is the one to talk to Sanji first, all the damn time. He gets angry when Sanji doesn't respond. He gets angry because Sanji can't be bullied anymore. He gets angry out of fear, in my opinion, because if the weakling can't get abused anymore, then he's not worth anything. If Sanji isn't the third, the second one is left alone. 2 can't fight 1 because 1 has the protection of starting the line. And 2 can't fight 4 because there's a missing link that keeps 2 from 4. So Niji is mad at Sanji because Sanji isn't the same weak crybaby he used to be, and he can't use him anymore to be secure and safe.

That's fucking horrifying when it comes to family hierarchy.

I like Niji because, despite being an asshole, he has reasons to be like that. First of all, because his father literally made him this way. But also, the little feelings he has (selfish emotions, yes, evil. But they're feelings, anyway. Urges. He's supposed to be emotionless and yet he knows how Sanji feels enough to use that to his advantage) are used as a way to feel superior and safe because he feels inferior. I think he's the one showing more emotions out of the three, even if those emotions aren't healthy or good and it's just him being angry all the time. That means that if he has urges and needs like that, even if he doesn't fear his own death, he could end up developing more and more empathy. His type of empathy comes from a place of fear. He feels what Sanji feels. And it's not that he doesn't care (I mean, I am aware that he technically doesn't, but let me dream) but it's just convenient for him not to care and keep bullying him to secure his place in the family.

Also pointing out that I like Niji because, being the one who says he hates Sanji the most, he's the one to protect him with his own body when that scene of the siblings helping Sanji escape happens. The others only clear the way, Niji stays with him. There's a really cool post about this on Niji's tag somewhere!!! I personally think he does this because, as that post said: Niji keeps seeing Sanji as weak, instead of believing in him enough to just clear the way. He protects him because he thinks he can't protect himself. Because he's weak.

And yes, it might sound offensive and emotionless and it doesn't make Niji a better person. But it makes him an older brother. Believing in Sanji would be great, but thinking that he's weak and needs protection after years of projecting on him only shows that the weak one is Niji. That he wants and is willing to protect his brother, too. If he didn't care about his well-being he would've just cleared the way for him, not caring about what could've happened to Sanji. But he goes all the way to help him out and protect him longer than the others did. Idk. I find that a very beautiful way of ending their relationship.

All of this being said, I have to be honest with you: When I said I liked Niji for the first time I only did it because people around me kept saying he was the worst one and it bothered me because I found his design pretty fucking cool. And tbh when he started being an actual character? I loved him even more. Because during WCI he's a fucking asshole but the way he acts towards Sanji is wanting to get a response from him, and I just find that so curious and complex... Like, if he just wanted to be evil he'd be more the Doflamingo type. But Niji looks for a response in Sanji's eyes. He wants to feel powerful because he knows he isn't.

And also, well, he's very cute and I like his hair a lot and he makes me furious sometimes which is great because if a character doesn't make you want to punch him at one point, is he really a good character? Look at him! He deserves to get slapped in the face. But also, I would love to kiss him afterward. What's that Olivia Rodrigo lyric? Ah, yes: "I wanna break his heart, then be the one to stitch it up. Wanna kiss his face with an uppercut." That's how I feel about him.

I really hope it's obvious, with all of this, that "Succession" is one of my favorite TV Shows, because I could go on and on and on (and nobody would listen but idc) about how the Vinsmokes are just the Roy family. Both One Piece and Succession deal with family in which hierarchy is crucial in a very specific and accurate way. It makes me sick. I love it.

Anyway, have some pics of my blue idiot:

I want to hit him in the head with a baseball bat.

[lurkingshan]

Cherry Magic Episode 5

Ah yes, the delicious pain of one-sided pining. This was another great episode and yes I would like to wring Achi's neck a little for the mixed signals he is sending our poor beloved and beleaguered Karan.

This episode did such a fantastic job of putting us in the crushing uncertainty of a one-sided love. Karan interprets everything Achi does as either a signal that his affections are returned or a signal that they absolutely are not, and so he swings wildly between elation and devastation minute to minute. And Achi is causing a lot of confusion with the way he seems so happy to be with Karan and know his feelings for him one moment, and then puts up barriers and shies away the next. I would be confused, too, if I were Karan, especially since from his perspective, all he has done is try to get closer to Achi as a friend. He doesn't know Achi can hear his real (simp) desires!

And Achi did not use the information he has about Karan kindly in this episode. He knew damn well how special it made Karan feel to be part of his morning routine, and he used that against him by bringing in Rock as a buffer, repeating the routine, and undoing that special feeling he had given Karan. It was mean and I’m not happy with him! He knew he was making Karan sad but he just kept doing it. And it's not that Karan thinks Achi likes Rock, it's that he's perceptive enough to know that Achi is intentionally using him to create a barrier between them. That's why he's so sad, it's a clear rejection of the closeness he was trying to build with Achi. Achi needs to get his head together because he can’t keep yanking him around.

And that's why I love that Karan decides he will not be living with this confusion for a moment longer. He knows his feelings are too far gone to keep holding it in and it's time for some clarity between them. And he had to be the one to do it because Achi would of course keep avoiding the issue, spending time with Karan every day while also pushing him away passive aggressively. Good for you, Karan! I also love that he waited for Achi to get on the boat before he spoke; this will make it easy for him to flee after confessing. My man is a thinker!

In other news this ep, I LOVE THE OFFICE GANG. They're such a sweet group of caring colleagues and that whole sequence with them intervening in Rock and Min's estrangement, especially Pai dropping the hammer, was adorable. I liked that added layer to Rock and Min’s friendship a lot; it was a nice touch of additional pathos for their story and it gave both of them more depth. And of course, the whole group bonding while Karan was left on the outside because of the situation with Achi just made all of his pain feel more poignant. This show is so smart about the way it's building out all these relationships.

I also continue to be impressed with the way the Thai adaptation uses the mind reading for added humor. Karan singing off key in his own head and Achi and Jinta continuing to have telepathic conversations was excellent. Keep the jokes coming, show, I'm loving it.

[absolutebl]

Be My Favorite - Flaming Hot Trash Watch Action

Ready for this?

Adapted from the y-novel You Are My Favorite by JittiRain this is one of those “rewrite the past to change the future.” Starring Krist (SOTUS) + Fluke Gawin (DBK, Not Me). I expect this to be low heat, full of LIES and manipulation.

12 eps of approx 45 min fresh content each, and I guess I am drinking on frigay for the next 3 damn months 

Main tropes: time travel/slip/loop, paranormal, university setting, soft romance, low heat, sunshine/tsundere with GMMTV’s heavy hand on classic Thai BL tropes, product placement, and high production values.

Trailer | MDL

I’m getting some shizz outta my system before I start putting the alcohol into it...

Story issues 

Let’s get this on the table. I have a mixed relationship with Jittirain’s stuff because unlike Mame who is trash to her characters with plot, Jittirain is trash to plot with characters. All characters (what limited characterization there is) will be obedient to the plot and act against personality the moment it is necessary for whatever insanity is required for audience manipulation. We The Watchers WILL feel jerked around by these jerks (but as this is GMMTV there will be no actual jerking). We WILL be lied to, and the characters will lie to each other FOR NO GOOD REASON. 

In addition to Be My Favorite JittiRain is behind: Vice Versa, 2gether, Fish Upon the Sky, and Theory of Love. Mmm humm. Yeah. Drinks are defiantly required. 

Actor issues: 

Krist: Who knew Krist would do a BL again? Like seriously? His career has been riddled with controversy and his skills as an actor widely challenged. Regarding the first, this is not that blog, take that discourse/cancel culture elsewhere. For the second? I will judged his acting based on the usual criteria: this BL, this role, this pairing, this script, and the fact that this is Thai style acting. Okay?

Gawin/Fluke: I will likely slip and call him Gawin because that’s what he used when he first crossed my radar. I have said this before but he looks like an ex of mine. So my baggage with him is all personal. Said ex and I are amicable, but it wigs me out sometimes. They even have a similar voice. I will try to get over this. 

Also the both SCREAM straight. I mean I don’t wanna judge insult or anything but these boys got breeder smeared all over them. 

Okay, so what are we doing here?

Well, as previously established: DRINKING.

AND

A new trash watch! 

Although there is always the (however faint) possibility it will become a praise watch. Sometimes that happens. But this is Jittirain so... I doubt it. 

Ready?

Here we go! 

Episode 1: Sake & Fear 

I have heartburn already. Or maybe that’s the extra chili I put on my noodles + booze + EXISTENTIAL DREAD. 

Kawi = loser, poor, stupid, shy, and friendless (AKA Japan’s ordinary bottom uke archetype) - he’s a downer, this is an issue with this kind of character, not likable. 

Pearmai = the sunshine faen fatale Kawi has a crush on 

Piseang = the tall handsome cute popular perfect seme, plays basketball perfectly (waves at Love O2O), is also a DJ (nash)

Most of this ep was spent establishing this dynamic and some kind of secret santa for college kids, a magic time travel snow globe, and the fact that the wrong couple got together. 

Why is there a dandelion in the snow globe? 

Is it a wishes thing? Do they have that superstition in Thailand?

A 12 year time jump is v Japanese. Which life-point is closer to Krist’s actual age? Ooo, half a bottle of sake and I’m salty af. 

Apparently Kawi still has same problems and the same haircut as he did as a fresher.

Could we please talk about this? It’s in ALL BL. Why does NO ONE change their hair as they age? My hair changes by the week. 

Meanwhile our ordinary bottom has turned into a wild imbecilic tsundere and our seme clearly likes that and I am too drunk for this. So is Kawi. 

You know what, it’s not as terrible as I thought it would be. I don’t like it but I can see the characters becoming appealing. Maybe? Hopefully? Why do I do this to myself?

I’m not a monster, I will give it a chance. 

At least no one has yet picked up a guitar.

See you next week, same Jittirain time, same Jittiran place, new bottle of sake.  

Episode 2: Nigori & Serenity 

The sake I’m drinking tonight is described on the bottle “silky & mild” which is also a legit review of Gawin’s acting. 

WAIT A MINUTE.

What is going on? 

What am I feeling? 

They’re lying on the grass talking to each other in a meaningful way. It’s cute. I am enjoying it. How appropriately collegiate. 

Is this... enjoyment?

Am I enjoying this show?

OMG I AM. 

help 

I ate booze-filled chocolates AS WELL AS SAKE. 

Maybe it’s the double dose? 

Am I becoming silky & mild?

I got a slow down. I can’t do this every week for 12 weeks in a row. I’m not in uni anymore. I might end up being a nice person if I continue down this road. Can’t have that.  

Honestly, I do like the fantasy of getting to re-live your college years as a cooler version of yourself. 

Although, frankly, I did fine with mine. 

(Oh thank fuck, asshole me is back.) 

I don’t know where Max came from but he is officially the most interesting character in this show. 

Also... does he look a bit like a bad boy bunny to anyone else? 

It isn’t actually like it, but I am getting a distinct 2gether vibes from this show. It makes it feel kinda dated for BL. What a fucking crazy thing to say. Ignore me, I’m drunk. 

OOOOO.... Nong teasing. Very nice.  

The over dramatic drunken kiss made me giggle. First time Krist has been properly kissed in a BL.

Sigh. 

What do I do? 

I’m enjoying it! 

Damn it. 

Episode 3: Tipsy Waffling 

I was out at the club, came home faintly tipsy. Frankly I feel a little unwell, so I’m not gonna drink anymore. So this is an unprecedented semi-sober trash watch. I’m not sure if I’m ready but so far this show been beating expectations, and I don’t expect a derailment until next ep so I’m feel okay about my life choices. 

Okay Gawin is good. I’ll give you that . His little moment if realization (and giving up). The “oh shit” look. 

Wait.

That’s Title! 

When did he leave Wabi Sabi and join GMMTV’s stable? 

Look I kinda enjoyed this bit, because it was a joke.

BUT I AM NOT HAPPY WITH THE ENDING.

Is this the beginning of the JittiRain of Doom? Or it this just good angsty story telling?

No way to know until next week.

(JittiRain of Doom - see what I did there? Aren’t I a clever little lush dragon?) 

I should go to bed now. 

I think we can safely say clouds are on the horizon and whether this is good storytelling or bad, only episode 4 will tell. 

Episode 4: It’s Happened! The Suck! 

not in a good way @heretherebedork​ said ep 4, can they call it or WHAT?! 

I’m officially calling Kwai’s pink haired Maximum hotness bestie “my café fae” and YOU can’t stop me. I love him. Or I want to be him? Or I AM him?

Difficult to know.

Checks own hair.

Not pick at at the moment. Mostly blue actually.

(I weirdly adore that blue open weave draw-string vest thing he’s rocking. Checks own closet. Wonders idly about turning a mesh laundry bag into a shirt.) 

Anygay... Café fae and I are running away together and not putting up with any of this Jittirain nonsense.

Right? 

Because this beach frolic...?  

Too cringe. Too awkward. I really don’t like all of embarrassment factor for everyone, not to mention humiliation and hazing and older kids picking on younger kids.

I’ve been done with this plot divice since SOTUS. And I’ll take it in small doses from Korea but no more Thailand. Stop it. And...

is that...

A GUITAR 

!!!

NO SINGING.

Oh, I hate this show.

Everyone listening in on the phone while he’s humiliating himself with a girl? This is fully terrible. 

I’m so uncomfortable with this whole episode. 

And yet. Secure. Because finally we are in the territory I was expecting. But ALSO I can’t bear it. 

Please make it stop.

At least Piseng is a decent human being.

And Pair. 

Screw all y’all. I’m eloping with Pair.

Wait.

What about my cafe fae? Hummmm. 

Ah! Got it. Thrupple! 

I’m not gonna lie. That was rough going. 

And I am not OK.

Although I’m digging this thrupple scheme of mine. 

Episode 5: I Am V Drunk

For those of you following the soga of ABL is a lush... 

I got my cocktail! 

Then got distracted by meeting colleagues at the bar. 

Then went for dinner and wine.

Then got another cocktail and finally made it back to the room. 

So by the time I started watching this week’s installment I was... quite drunk. 

Take this recap with a grain of salt margarita salt rim... no... not that kind of rimming, that’s just in KP, sadly... wait... what am I doing? I got distracted. This is GMMTV. Def no rimming. 

So! 

Kawi deserves his new asshole friends (stop it ABL no rimming). 

I just don’t like him. He’s too straight and whiney and homophobic. 

Could we have a romance between Pisang and Max? 

Asking for a friend me. 

Bet there would be rimming. They both seem very game. Just saying.

Different show ABL. Different show. 

Where was I? Apparently I went to the land of Bed Friends for a moment there. 

Why does anyone like Kawi? 

Max deserves better.  

Pear deserves better. 

Pisang deserves better. 

OMG!!! His utter wistful yearning over the happy gay bar. Poor baby. 

Awe don’t run away from Max. We love Max. Max is the best. You NEED a Max in your life. We all do! 

Someone described Max as “tired gay,” and I feel this keenly. 

NO SINGING. 

I DON’T LIKE WHERE THIS THREAD IS GOING. 

NO NO NO NO NO 

SKIP! Skipskipskip. 

Next week look like a classic ep 6 kiss then angst. Whatever. 

It was fine. 

This was a fine installment. 

I’m very drunk. 

Hotel all spinny. 

Hi, bed! Make me a sammitch. 

Episode 6: I Am Less Drunk Than I Should Be

I just wish this were Pisaeng’s story instead of Kawi’s. It would be a lot better. In fact, it is a lot better. Any time we get PS alone or with any other character it’s a better narrative. Any time with him and Max talking it’s the best of everything, That’s all I want on my screen.

In fact, Max is all I want. 

I love his “care bear kpop” clothes. 

This is definitely one of those shows where I don’t understand why anyone likes the central character - his friends, his love interests, his father, his audience, tumblr. 

No one should like him. He started out a loser and he’s only getting worse, and nasty to boot. 

Yes, it’s good we see him apologize, but there’s no logic behind the choices that led him to needing to make the apology in the first place! 

(No one does, honey.) 

We are heading into classic Jitiirain where are the characters are going to betray us and themselves in order to serve the narrative. 

And I’m not drunk enough for this. 

Honestly? I think Krist what is miss-cast as well. 

I’m not in the anti-Krist faction but just imagine... what if Kawi had been played by Khaotung? He has a much softer more dynamic screen presence. I think he could’ve carried even Jittirain’s patented nonsense. KT is... in fact... CUTE. 

Gawin is not an issue. (Which surprises me, since I came into this with a bias against him.) 

Because we can see PS thinks that K is cute even before the script felt the need to tell us this. 

Even when he’s being an arsehole, PS’s eyes are all soft for him. I guess some guys just are attracted to arseholes. 

Heh. 

See what I did there?

Meanwhile I hate PS’s mother! 

She = evil. 

I RECOGNIZE that balcony!

PS’s house/apartment thingy is the same as MaxNat celebrity pad in Y-Destiny. Another one for the location trackers.

That’s it, that’s all I got. 

Only one gay pun for you this evening. 

I have one job to do and I’m blowing it.

snerk

Nighty night. Don’t let the mosquitos bite leave hickeys. 

Episode 7: NO SINGING

I guess Kawi is one of those “straights” who just gets gayer the drunker he is. I know the type. 

Boozing the Kinsey Scale. 

Beer goggle queers. 

Cockeyed. 

Three sheets to the flame. 

Dick wasted. 

What else do we call them?

Oh yeah... cock tease. 

Episode 8: STOP SINGING 

Pisaeng for these last two episodes...

(singing cat never gets old, bite me) 

Good for you Pisaeng for standing up for yourself. Stop letting the straight boy jerk you around. 

(I see you in your matched couple shirts.) 

Omg I HATE Kawi just WHY IS ANYONE FRIENDS WIH HIM? 

Stop. Just this show would be so much better if he weren’t in it. 

I’m glad he lost Pisaeng and I enjoyed watching him cry. 

Even if he still made everything about himself. 

We return yet again to the fact that I love Max. Max and I are running away together. 

Pisaeng is just never Kawi’s priority, whereas the opposite is always the case. Talk about one sided love friendship relationship everything.  

Kawi the coward. 

To little too late. 

I do keep thinking about Big Eden with this series, Kawi just seems so straight no matter what he says or does or kisses.  

Poor Pisaeng he gets what he wants but it’s all out of pity, fear, and desperation. 

And all he wants is a chance to flirt? 

Is he an actual saint?

Fuck this damn show. 

(source)

As always with these trash watches, I update the original post until Tumblr has a brain fry and won’t let me anymore. Then it becomes an updated repost. Life in the dumpster fire is never dull. 

[b-imbou]

honey baby (SPOILED!)

Ran Haitani x f!reader | Rin Haitani x f!reader

Genre: smut & angst Notes: christening my new blog with a new series! I got inspired while listening to Kali Uchis’ TO FEEL ALIVE EP. The series is set in the 80s but the era isn’t really a huge part of the story. And it’s also set in Italy! There will be some dark content but all warnings will be added accordingly. Happy reading! Warnings: cheating, oral sex, possessiveness, masturbation. Words: 11.7k

Another gift from your daddy.

You’ve been getting a lot of those lately. You’ve been working under Mitsuya since you moved to The Amalfi Coast three years ago. But who paid for your travel costs and air fare? Papà. Who continues to subsidise your living expenses? Papà does. Suya often teases you, calls you spoiled. You are. Always have been, and you think you always will be.

Papà shouldn’t mind.

What use is being rich if he can’t give his baby girl anything she wants?

Papà wouldn’t mind.

What else would drive him to work so hard but providing for his favourite daughter?

Papà doesn’t mind.                    

His favourite daughter is his only daughter, after all.

He was willing, albeit a little hesitant, to allow his pride and joy to fly across the globe and set up a new life for herself overseas. You have daily phone calls with him. More often than not, the conversation is nothing of importance. Simply asking and telling how your days are. He visits, sometimes. One of the reasons he was prepared to allow you to move to Italy was that he had a valid reason to visit. He’s able to spend some time with his treasure and tend to one of his many businesses while he’s in the country. It makes him feel powerful. To be in the presence of men under his employ and offer a more hands on approach.

Your papà writes letters, though those are more cryptic. He relies on you from time to time to keep him informed on his businesses while he doesn’t have a physical presence in Italy.

“Diamond earrings, tch. You are spoilt.” Mitsuya smirks. “Spin for me, baby. Don’t be shy.” he instructs his client standing on a pedestal before him. He isn’t sure why he hired you considering you don’t do much actual work. But at least you’re good company and a good model for his clothes.

Your papà loves Mitsuya. He checks in with him whenever comes to Italy. He’d quite like it if you married a man like Mitsuya. No, not like him. Him. Just him. But whenever your father brings it up you can both barely conceal your amusement. You’re friends. Just friends.

“Aren’t they to die for?” you muse, sighing dreamily as you admire yourself and the twinkling jewels in the mirror in front of you.

You’re sitting crossed legged on a stool by the cash register, a pen in one hand and your chin resting in the other. The sound of your pen scribbling on the alabaster sheet of paper before you is positively deafening. Mitsuya is trying to keep his composure in front of his client; but she’s smiling as she notes the growing annoyance on your boss’ face. There is a clothes pin between his teeth that he’s clenching for more reasons than one. Resting on the balls of his feet as he works on the pure white wedding dress in front of him.

“Is that your papà you’re writing to?” he asks begrudgingly. You shake your head, not looking at him as you smile down at your whimsical writing, remembering to dot the I’s in your letter with hearts instead. He loves that.

“Careful, bella. People will talk if you keep secrets about men. They’ll think you’re sleeping with un mafioso.” the woman getting her wedding dress adjusted tells you in whispers. It piques your interest as well as the attention of Mitsuya, who scoffs a little before resuming his work.

“No way, signorina, her papà would have her taken back to the states if that were true. And… just, look at her. She’s a pain in my ass but she’s a good girl. Too good to get mixed up with a mafia man.” he explains with purpose, a small laugh punctuating the final few words of his sentence.

You look up from your letter, plump lips pulling into a rosy, red smile as an expression of truth. It’s enough for Mitsuya and the bride-to-be to leave you to your own devices. Finishing off the final words of your letter before kissing a crimson mark into the paper. You spray it with your favourite perfume before sealing it away like a it’s government secrets into a secure envelope. And you’re just such a romantic. You tie it all together with some string and secure a loose, dainty flower from the floral display sitting atop the checkout counter to it all. You write amore mio in the bottom right corner in small and gentle letters that you hope he’ll be able to read.

“Scusi, mi scusi, Mitsuya—”

“Si?”

“Can I go for a break, per favore?” you question. He shakes his head before instantly grinning as his eyes find yours.

“Whenever you come into work, your whole shift is a break!” he reminds you. It makes your cheeks warm and an evident bashfulness arises from within and paints your whole exterior. “Go, go away. Only if you buy oranges for me. I’m craving citrus.”

“Si! Thank you, Suya.” you beam at him, picking up two wicker baskets from beneath the counter and walking by him and the client before exiting into the sweltering sun.

You take your time, as you often do, walking slowly as to let the sunshine melt into your supple skin. It always makes you feel like you’re going to live forever, living this life. Taking it easy on the Italian Coast and doing as you please.

It suits you just fine.

There are familiar faces on your journey to the market; faces that can’t help but light up as they notice yours. Exchanges of ‘Ciao’ and ‘Ciao bella’ are swapped between you and each person you can’t help but greet upon seeing them. There’s no mistaking it, not from anyone.

You’re in love.

Like your father, everyone expects you and Mitsuya to be a perfect match. Though it couldn’t be further from the truth. Admittedly, when you had met Mitsuya on arrival to Italy, there was no denying an attraction between the two of you. You slept together, once… twice… five times, deciding you get along better as friends and more than happy to keep it that way. Your father would be broken to discover you aren’t as innocent as he believes you to be, but he doesn’t need to know. He’s halfway across the world, so whatever you get up to is more or less going to be taken to the grave with you.

“Ciao!” you greet the fruit grocer as you look carefully around the market. He smiles when he notices you. It isn’t lost on you that he has a crush on you, he has from the minute he set his sights on you, but your heart belongs to another.

“C-Ciao, bella. Can- um, can I help you with—?”

“Suya wants his citrus fix, Hakkai. Would you be able to fill this basket with oranges for me, please?” you politely ask, a soothing sounding tone emanating from your lips. He nods, gratefully. You’re so kind to him. Not because you want to lead him on, you’re just a kind, sweet soul. And Hakkai, bless him, he’s so shy. No matter how lovely you are to him, he doesn’t seem able to acquire any newfound confidence to talk to you. If anything, you think it might have made him worse.

“Yeah, o-of course. And, the, uh— o-other basket?” he manages to stumble out his sentence as he looks down at the wicker currently housing your love letter. You pick it up, holding the beautifully scented correspondence betwixt dainty little fingers. It’s brought closer to your chest, your heart. You smile shyly as you hope he doesn’t interrogate you over it.

“It’s a gift. So, I’ll let you fill it and make it look nice for me.” you tell him. He nods, stepping out from behind the counter with Mitsuya’s basket first.

He doesn’t normally do this. Fill the baskets of customers for them. But you didn’t know that when you first visited him for a basket of peaches all of those years ago. And, really, how could he say no to a pretty little thing like you?

Neither of you speak as he works, so you merely observe. You wish he had even a modicum of social skill. Mitsuya claims he’s real talkative when they spend time together, but how can that be true? Trying to converse with Hakkai is like trying to pull teeth from the gaping maw of a great white. Watching him do something so regular, so normal and mundane, is making you feel somewhat like a perverse voyeur.

You’re saved, thankfully, when an elderly woman who you’re familiar with greets you. She takes a seat on a nearby bench, and you feel inclined to join her. You talk for a little while as you keep allowing your vision to alternate between her and Hakkai.

“Are those diamonds in your ears, bella?” she queries, reaching her hand up to feel and caress your earlobes. You don’t mind, though. The apples in your cheeks swelling tenfold with pride as you consider all of the compliments you’ve received on them today.

“Si,” you grin, tucking your hair behind your ears for her to study them both properly. They’re glittering even more in the sunlight. Enough to blind anyone who looked directly at them if they weren’t careful.

“A gift from that wonderful papà of yours?” she wonders. Your lips pout but quickly form a smile, eyes twinkling with mischief as you hold her gaze and consider your answer.

“From my daddy,” you tell her. She clutches her heart and exhales yearningly at your response. Her eyebrows become a slight more angular as she uses her free hand to take yours.

“He is a good man, that papà of yours. If only I were thirty years younger.” she tells you, it makes you giggle. Your papà is a handsome man, and happily married to your mother. You don’t blame the elderly woman for having a crush. He’s ridiculously charming and well-to-do. He dresses smart and oozes confidence, earning the respect of any and all he comes into contact with. “Your grocery boy is waiting,” she points. Your head swivels to face him and he awkwardly waves when you notice him standing beside two baskets filled to the brim with fruit.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I need to pay for those. It was nice catching up with you.” you smile, waving goodbye as you walk over to Hakkai. “How much do I owe you?” you ask him.

“I-It’s fine. I’ll let Mitsuya know next time I see him…” he tells you, rubbing the back of his neck stiffly, unable to keep eye contact with you more than a few seconds. You ask him if he’s sure, and he insists. “Yeah, uh, he can take it out of your pay cheque or something, right? It’s okay, really. What’s a few Lira, anyway?”

You walk around the stall to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek. It’s walking a fine line between platonic and romantic, easily leaving room for the affection to be misconstrued by the poor boy. To you, it was nothing but an act of gratitude. You smile at him, waving a delicate goodbye as you continue your expedition, with no idea you were being watched the whole time.

It’s impossible to keep a low profile in such a tight-knit community. Though in this area of town it would be difficult to explain to anyone why you’re on this particular doorstep. Your heart beats quicker and quicker as you stand and wait. A young couple noticing you and gasping. They call to you, ‘Bella! It isn’t safe, here, come away from there and come with us!” with a prominent begging tone behind the panicked words.

You smile, easily, shaking away their offer with an almost flapping hand gesture. It’s all you can do to assure them that you’re fine, as well as speaking the words. And, of course, they’re too terrified to argue your naivety and risk sticking around a second longer.

The door swings open aggressively, with such a ferocious violence to make your dress billow around you as it follows the bracing breeze created from the wooden entrance.

“Amore mio, I’ve told you time and time again not to come here. Haven’t I?” and there he is. The objection or your affection. The recipient of your fruit basket and the romantically written letter you wrote all for him.

“I know, ‘m sorry. I wanted to see you, Ran! Wanted to say thank—”

“Come in before anyone sees you, come.” he demands, ushering you inside. Just as he’s about to close the door behind you both, a large palm flattens against it and pushes it open wider. “Rindou.” your lover responds to the brazen sound of his brother’s heavy hand connecting with the splintering wood. He comes inside as well, a usual intense glare on the younger sibling’s face as he walks by you.

Ran looks at you from the corner of his eyes, intending to focus more on his less than savoury roommates whilst in your presence. He looks at you properly, however, when you subtly clear your throat. He watches you raise the wicker basket you got for him with the love letter on top. He points to a console table for you to set it down on, and you look between him and the tabletop before sighing gently.

“Actually, Ran, they’re um—”

“Don’t tell us you brought two baskets of fruit and you’re hoarding them both for Haitani?” Sanzu questions you. Your gaze drops to the ground, he isn’t the leader, but somehow Sanzu has managed to solidify himself as the scariest member of the group.

“Leave her alone, Bastardo. My sweet bambina didn’t do anything wrong.” Ran interjects, pulling your body into his side, towering above you as his hand rubs roughly up and down your arm.

“Tch,” Rindou scoffs, leaning against a wall and garnering the attention of yourself and the other three men in the room. “Your little signorina put her lips on the grocer.” he announces, making you realise he had been hot on your trail likely since you left Mitsuya’s boutique.

“Scusi? Are you fucking kidding me?” Ran’s voice booms throughout the room, prompting Rindou and Sanzu to smirk at each other while Takeomi opts to retreat to the balcony for a cigarette instead. “You’re fucking the market grocery boy, is that a joke?”

“N-No! Not at all. Rindou, you’re making it sound awful. I was saying thank you, s’all. He picked all of the fruit for me and told me I could pay later!” you defend yourself to each man in the room despite having no reason to. You didn’t do anything wrong. You carry yourself with confidence over to the coffee table in front of Sanzu, placing the fruit basket and removing your letter to Ran from the top. “Help yourselves. This basket is for my boss.” you inform them as you walk back to Ran. He’s visibly irritated and his compassionate embrace has become rigid and uninterested.

Rindou swaggers from the hallway to the couch and rifles through the fruit basket. He picks up a juicy looking red apple, throwing it in the air once and catching it quickly as he brings it to his lips. Teeth emerge and a satisfying crunch pierces the skin, apple juice drooling ever so slightly down his chin.

“That basket was for you… and so is this,” you speak gently to Ran as you hold your letter out to him. You want so badly for him to take it, but he does nought but stare. “Can we go to your room?” you wonder, meekly, hoping he’ll soften as he normally does when you make yourself sound a might smaller.

“I told you not to come here. I’ve told you, so many times.” he replies. You gulp, carefully, nodding at your wrongdoing and outright defiance. His brother and Sanzu are looking over as they continue to eat the fruit you brought. Rindou has even put his glasses on. They smirk each time you look over, their presence is making every word you want to say evaporate from your tongue.

“Please?” you request, looking at him with pleading eyes. He nods, casually, lacing his fingers with yours after taking your love letter in his free hand.

You’re guided up the stairs and into his bedroom. The creamy curtains waving loosely from the outdoor breeze coming into the elder Haitani’s sanctuary. The sun is pouring through the open balcony door and kissing each and every object in his room with a grazing warmth. The Amalfi Coast air often consists of a lemon and jasmine flowers laced with the smell of the salty sea. Ran’s room was no different with only the addition of his natural scent intertwined with the hickory and sandalwood cologne he’s so fond of and his signature cigars.

He loosens his tie and kicks off his shoes, not even bothering to deign you worthy of his gaze just yet. Your heart tears in two when you watch him toss your carefully crafted letter onto the bed like it’s nothing. He lights a cigar with a silver lighter kept in the inner breast pocket of his blazer, walking out onto the balcony to smoke. You can only hope the fresh air and tepid breeze will offer him some perspective and clarity on what has transpired.

“Look,” you smile, slowly approaching and yet again tucking your hair behind your ears to flaunt your diamonds. “They’re beautiful. That’s why I came, daddy. Wanted to say thank you for my new earrings.” you tell him, truthfully. He smiles lazily, flicking some ash over the railing before taking another drag.

“You’re beautiful, baby. My pretty girl, they suit you.” he replies. You’re holding his hand again now, he recognises you’ll want his full attention and quickly stubs out his cigar, hoping to salvage it later. You pull him anxiously back into his room and to sit on the edge of the bed beside you. Your body rotates so that you can better face him. His legs spread a little as he rests on his elbows on the plush mattress beneath you both. “Well?”

“Well? Well… what, daddy?” you question. He obnoxiously sucks his teeth and shakes his head so quickly and minimally you would have missed it had you blinked. “I don’t understand—”

“Course you don’t. Pretty little head’s just filled with daddy, si? How good to you I am and how much you love me.” he declares. You nod, agreeing, despite it not being the whole truth. He likes to dumb you down, but you know it isn’t true. You’re more agreeable and mean more to him when he sees you as a little clueless and with no purpose in life outside of him. You don’t mind, though. You love him, after all. “I buy diamonds for my love, and all I get is a thank you? I think you can do better for me, baby,” he insists, his fingers reach up to tuck a fallen loose strand back behind your ear and lets his fingers trail and trace your jawline. His hand settles as his finger and thumb pinch the soft flesh of your chin and force you gently to better face him.

“Of course not, daddy. The fruit was s’posed to be all yours. And I wrote you… this,” you explain as your fingertips pad around on the bed searching for the letter you worked so hard on. You smile when you feel it, picking it up and practically shoving it in his face. “Please read it, daddy. You’ll like it, I’m sure!” you encourage him. He takes it from your hand again and inspects it like an art critic. His features soften and he can’t help but simper at the sight of your precious penmanship writing amore mio for him so microscopic he almost missed it.

“I’m sure I’ll love it, bella.” he nods concurring with you and recognising the lengths you’ve gone to with your little craft project. “But these are diamonds, bambina.” he reminds you. You nod, giving him your full attention as he talks. His fingers sensually caress your right earlobe as he inspects the jewels worth more than your life dangling from them.

“I love you, daddy. I wrote such nice things for you; I love you and I’m so grateful for the diamonds.” you express. His fingers begin to wander again, now playing softly with your hair, allowing his digits to smooth over the top of your locks as if you were his pet. His good girl. You suppose that’s exactly what you are. “Is it, my body? Do you want to make love to me, daddy?”

“In a sense, si.” he smiles. “Your body is of greater value than any diamond. I’m not in the mood to make love, baby. You’re meant to be thanking me, not the other way around.” he reminds you.

“My… would you like my mouth?” you suggest. He nods, finally, you got it right.

“Yes, my love. Your head is what is wearing the earrings, so you’ll thank me by sucking my cock. Let daddy fuck your face, mm?” he suggests.

Instantly, you’re nodding; you slip down from the bed and onto the uncomfortable tile beneath. He leans towards his plump pillows, picking one up and helping you place it beneath your knees. You watch him with a wanton dazzle in your eye as he takes his time undoing his belt. It makes him smirk, watching you wait so patiently and adoringly for him to pull his cock out.

It springs free, and your jaw lowers hastily; the expression not going unnoticed by Ran. His breath is heavy when he allows his cock to spring free. You’re hesitant to make a move without his say so, ever the obedient good girl. You wiggle on your knees, looking pensively between his dreamy lilac irises and his pink blushing cock. Only when you hold your stare with his, and flutter your long lashes at him, he nods his head at you. Go ahead, the gesture implies.

Oral sex with Ran Haitani is as much of a pleasure for you as it is for him. It’s a romantic, teasing dance in which you vow to make him feel good and that he trusts you to do as you’re promising. You take your time slowly rubbing his shaft and caressing his sack with the pads of your fingers, and even this simple beginning is enough to rob him of an almost imperceptible moan. They take hold, spread fingers guiding his tip into your mouth before slowly wrapping your plush lips around him.

And you’re cheeky, it’s something he loves about you.

You’re unable to refrain from teasing him to start, only encasing your lips around the tip before pulling off of him and pouting. Looking up at him like a sultry little harlot; the pout displayed on your face is to tell him that you miss it. You miss his cock as if you aren’t the one who pulled away. And you do it over… and over… and over… making out with his swollen cockhead each time.

With every painful neglectful pull from him, you return, taking more of his length into your mouth. He’s big. The biggest cock you’ve ever had, not that the number of those is particularly substantial. You’ve never been able to take the entirety of Ran inside of your mouth. And he’s never made you feel bad for it. You suck his cock like you were the person who invented it, so full of love and fervorous desire.

Your eyes flutter shut as you take him, getting lost in your own little perfect world that no one but you and he occupy. The sound of you sucking his veiny manhood fills the room with an obscene suctioning. With each suck you enact, tiny lustrous moans escape you. Ran makes a noise not too dissimilar from a gasp when he sees a lewd spit string attach his leaky tip to your puffy lips. He allows himself to groan in appreciation when you drool around him, your saliva drooping and connecting with the floor beneath you.

He looks down at you with a heavenly stare when you eventually open your eyes again, only doing so because you wanted to see how he’d react to you willingly taking his throbbing erection deeper into your welcoming mouth, tumescent lips protruding around him.

“Baby, heh, your diamonds are swinging while you suck my daddy cock.” he laughs lightly. You pull away completely while looking up at him, a wide smile overtaking your face. You had felt their movement but didn’t think Ran would have commented on it. It’s only fair they give him as much of a show as you are, given the small fortune he spent on them. The two of you share a laugh before you return to him.

You house him perfectly in your mouth, sucking him in completely. And he’s got such a messy cock, now. What, with you licking and laving all over him the way you are. The sticky sound of blowjob lips making a sodden state of his drippy, aching length is deafening. You begin to kitten lick at his weeping slit, looking up at him with lust-filled lidded eyes.

The corner of your mouth leaks, garnering his attention. A sinful mixture of your spit and his pre glinting in the sunlight flooding the room. It’s enough to earn another moan from him, making you want to work harder. You suck his cock at an ever so slightly increased pace while moaning around him, the noise gratifying him into throwing his head back.

Your mouth opens wide for him enough to look down and see your tongue, using it to lick the underside of his tip. Drool spills from your lips and onto the ground again in the process, holding your mouth open a bout too long. Lazy, loving eyes close once again as you continue, truly beginning to lose yourself in the moment.

Your head turns so that you can run your cute, desperate tongue along the left side of his cock to the base. Slowly… slowly… slowly… and then it returns back to the tip at the same painstaking pace.

“Such a little tease, bambina… Good girl,” he praises, smirking at the way your thighs squeeze at the compliment. You receive him past your lips once again, moaning around him. “Good girl, good fucking girl. You look so pretty like this, baby.”

You begin to suck, mewling with each and every bob of your head. Your diamond earrings move in tandem, an item so respectable and grandiose now laced with such salacious connotations for him. Whenever you move your head and they follow suit, he’ll remember that you’re his good little cocksucker.

And you are good.

He wouldn’t have hung onto you otherwise. He wouldn’t be buying you diamonds and defending you to his roommates if you weren’t a perfect cock whore. Despite only being able to take a little more than half of him, you’re still so damn good. You never fail to make him cum, never fail to make him feel good.

Your cheeks hollow around his tip, keeping there for a moment more than necessary as you bat your eyelashes at him. Like your mouth isn’t stuffed open wide with his heavy, cherry tip. And then you pull away with a dramatic pop. Ran can’t help but moan at the sound. You come back to him with your jaw hanging low and tongue pressed into the underside of his tip yet again. A copious amount of drool pours from you, enough to make a dripping sound when it connects with the floor tiling. He grunts at each sound you make. Every drop of salvia and string of spit that you create because you’re losing yourself to worship him. His cock, his pleasure, just him. You lick the tip tenderly, puckering your lips around the head to physically kiss it.

You love it.

You love his cock and everything it can do for you.

He still doesn’t pressure you to take anymore of him that you can handle into your mouth, somehow moaning more. Enjoying it more and more with each guzzle and sucking sound you produce and every romantic gaze you offer him.

Ran’s hand reaches down to cradle your head. His fingers run through your hair as you consume him, you’re almost too distracted to notice his hand is on you. The angle of your head alternates a few times to better satisfy him. Your spit slicken cavern is perfect for him. Every suck is composing a boisterous amount of noise. And Ran can’t help but moan loudly, loud enough to make pride bloom in your beating heart. And he’s moaning because he has done this to you. His cock has turned you into a slobbering, slippery mess. He almost can’t stop himself from moaning, carrying on when he sees you quicken the tempo once again. You angle your head just enough that he can see your cheek bulge with his delicate desire.

His free hand reaches down to hold himself from the base. Your mouth immediately opens to form a large ‘O’ shape. He guides his cock around your lips as if he’s applying a lipstick the shade of precum to them. More drool waterfalls out from your swelled lips while his large veiny hand guides himself from tracing around your top lip to smearing across your tongue again and again.

You murmur a mewl in anticipation. Entirely desperate to be stuffed with his cock and thank him in the way he desires for his oh so generous gift. He pushes his cock straight into your mouth and pulls it out just as suddenly, leaving you almost begging desperately for more. He repeats it, leering as you begin to lean forward to chase his cock for another taste rather than be teased a second more. You sink halfway onto him, but he slips his cock out again and urges you to follow.

“Daddy…” you moan, so whiny and needy for him as you follow after all. His broad palm holds your head in a very guiding manner, helping you find your way back to him. He wants his cock to return to its rightful place in your mouth. Your cheeks hollow again, sucking rapidly and pulling away to make the loudest squelching suctioning sounds you can, the pair of you can’t help but moan at the eroticism of it all.

You don’t pull away anymore, sucking and sucking as best you can. He sees how hard you’re working, how badly you want him to cum. But you’re being removed from him carefully.

Ran knew before you did that you weren’t breathing properly; you gasp as if you’re lungs are physically clawing to drag oxygen back to them. The loss of Ran’s cock is a crushing loss, you know he doesn’t care for whining, but you can’t help yourself. But you cease when you’re returned to him, thanking him by taking a little more of his length than you had previously.

Ran moans in sympathetic appreciation, hand lingering to brush your face, hold your chin, feel your throat.

His cock slides out of your mouth and rests on your cheek. He holds you assertively by your chin and leads you back to where he needs you; and you’re looking up at him as though Ran Haitani is everything. He holds you carefully, helping you along in what you’re more than capable of doing yourself. But you don’t mind. Why would you mind extra attention from daddy when he’s being so sweet? More slickness is formed inside of your drenched cavity, making his light thrusts sound even more scandalous.

“So wet, baby. Sounds like I’m fucking your little pussy.”

You moan for him and his naughty love language, head lolling from the feeling of contentment. Neither of you can help the raucous desperation you’re emitting into the afternoon air. His hips thrust a slight more urgently, fucking himself gently into your mouth. He moans passionately as he cums inside of your mouth. His cock visibly pulsing and twitching as he deposits his cum onto your tongue.

Your own volume lowers and slows, as does your performance. And for a moment, you still. Looking up at your daddy with a shimmering stare. His cock still pulsating in your mouth, his sack emptying all it has to offer to you. He holds your chin in his hand as though it were made of glass.

“Keep going, bella.” he commands.

Your head bobs and your earrings shake, allowing your lovers cum to dribble out of your mouth as you follow orders. A low, breathy ‘Ohhhh’ falls from him when he bears witness to it. His fingers travel from your chin to the side of your face, and then lets go completely.

Your mouth widens, allowing him to see all of his cum settled on your tongue. He’s sucked into you again, moving your head along him fast enough for him to force his cum to pour out of you. He watches on in amazement as you kiss the sides of his sensitive tip, coating it in cum. Two thick strings of cum ooze and connect to him, too heavy to remain and falling to the ground.

Spit and sperm bubble at the corner of your mouth as you lick and slobber all over him. You kiss down the left side of his cock, taking your time to show love to his cock with gentle affection. You smother the base in soft pecks, tickling him only enough to warrant a heavier breath and his abdomen to clench. He watches as you opt to carefully move to his cullions, lapping and gargling them into your mouth, all while holding eye contact with Ran.

“Doing so good, bambina.”

A strained moan exists you as you lick, cum dripping from your chin and attaching to his sack and keeps the two of you linked as you alternate between giving your attention to his cock and balls.

A long, heavy string of cum dangles from his cock. You gather it on your tongue from the bottom and bring it back to his length, massaging it over his cock. He holds the base again as well as your chin, wanting to be sucked a little more.

But if you’re a tease, daddy is worse.

He removes his length from you at a slight angle, echoing a bawdy pop as it leaves you.  Ran smears his messy cock around your open mouth again, cum permeating your tongue and spilling from your mouth yet again. You keep your eyes closed as you feel him move his cock around your face. Your tongue begins to swirl, your only hope of searching for him with your eyes shut.

Ran pushes past your lips again, giving you the opportunity to suck. But, for once, you’re the one to remove yourself. It comes with a shocked, almost amused, gasp. You’re realising how much cum is cascading from you both. He holds his hand out to cradle your cheek, your head tilting to the left to meet his hold.

More cum gushes out of your mouth once you suckle on his tip. A thick, white creamy string of cum dangles from your chin. You resume making out with his heavy tip and hear your daddy chuckle above you.

You’ve dribbled some cum onto one of his fingers.

You move your attention from his cockhead to his fingers, wanting to get your daddy’s fingers nice and clean. He leers as you take them into your mouth, only his middle and ring fingers. Every inch of your daddy is so perfect, even his fingers between your lips is enough to make you moan.

“Messy girl,” he states. He had noticed another dollop of cum drooping from your chin. He takes his fingers from your mouth and scoops it up, fingering it back into you. “Such a good little sucker. Thaaaaat’s it. Nearly done baby, back to my cock now.”

He steers your face with the pads of his fingers back to his aching tip. You hum around him, making an even bigger mess of the two of you. You suck him as loud as you can knowing how it makes him leak and flutter when you do. You’re winding down, now. Hollowing your cheeks one final time to offer him one last lascivious pop, bobbing your head a handful of times before you calm.

You kiss his tip like it’s so heavenly delicate. A few feeble pecks before coming off entirely. The two of you an unseemly mess, completely covered in spit and cum.

“Thank you, bambina, you did so well for me.” he informs you, reaching into his pockets, eager to attempt to reignite the flame of his cigar.

You help yourself up, dusting off the pillow you’d been using to protect your knees before returning it where it belongs. It upset you to see he was more enraptured by his Cubans than your letter. He, once again, had cast it aside in favour of pursuing his own enjoyment. There’s a difficulty in understanding why he wouldn’t want to read a love letter you poured your soul into. You pick it up, carefully, holding it sweetly between your fingers without making eye contact.

He side eyes you, watching you without seeming to care about what you’re doing. And that is when you decide to leave his side; walking to the balcony to stare out at the view instead. There is a temptation brewing fiercely inside of you.

You want to throw the letter.

You do, but not really. There are tears in your eyes being fought back with a vengeance as you hope to God they won’t spill over. What’s the point of hanging onto it? He doesn’t care about it, not enough to read it. He’s happy enough with an afternoon delight of mind-blowing head. He doesn’t care about love.

Blood frosts in your veins as you feel his presence behind you, looming over you as you know he does with so many of his other victims. He’s paralysing you. You’re unsure how your daddy, who you know to be sweet and gentle, is able to instil you with so much fear without doing anything.

He walks closer to you, his arm brushing yours as he stands by your side. You observe him take a few final drags of his cigar before tossing it over the balcony. There’s a snicker from him when you yelp as he snatches the letter from your hand.

“Did I upset you, sweetheart?” he asks. You gulp shallowly, unable to respond as you watch him take a better look at your letter. “Ah… ‘amore mio’, hm? Did daddy make you sad for not reading your letter?”

You nod, a little dumbstruck. He holds your chin between his forefinger and thumb, tilting your head down to kiss your forehead. His left leg raises to rest on his right thigh while standing, pulling a knife from his garter belt attached to his sock. He slices the rope you tied around the envelope, making sure the flowers didn’t fall to the ground. Instead of discarding them, he tucked the flower stalks behind your ear and admired how your face seemed to blush in the evening sun.

He takes the letter from the envelope and brings it to his face, smelling your floral perfume infused into the paper. Ran unfolds it, but before he reads, his head sags. It’s as if he is disappointed in you.

“I don’t want you to see that fruit grocer again.” his statement coming across more as a subtle command. You mange to prevent yourself from scoffing, knowing it will only pour gasoline onto the flames.

“He’s my friend. He’s best friends with my boss, Ran.” you remind him. And at that, he does scoff. “I’m sorry I overstepped, today. It was just a friendly kiss! But there’s no way I can avoid him.”

“Your papa is a very rich man. As am I. You don’t need some little job when we can give you anything you want.”

“My papa would skin you if he knew we were screwing, remember. I like my job… I’m sorry, Ran. But I promise I’ll… I’ll make sure to keep things more respectable between Hakkai and I.”

Ran’s eyes roll gradually up into his head before returning to normal. He doesn’t offer a response, instead unfolding the letter to read what you have written for him. It’s a slow read, taking his time to read each and every word you’ve written. He smiles a lot as he does, making you fill to the brim with pride.

“Hm… ‘I’d do anything for you’, interesting.” he quotes. You keep quiet, not wanting to be reprimanded because what you had written was a lie. He finishes the letter and folds it back up, tucking it away nicely into the envelope. His hand holds the crown of your head before he bends down to kiss your forehead once more. He keeps eye level with you, not letting your head go as he decides to speak. “I don’t want you to see him, my love. Don’t good girls do anything their daddies ask?”

“I’m… sorry. It’s just, this isn’t something that’s possible.”

He nods, accepting your words. The letter is tucked into the inner breast pocket of his blazer for safe keeping. And then, before you can register, his hand is holding yours.

He’s guiding you out of the room.

“W—”

“You have to go. Clean yourself in the bathroom and then go home.” he instructs. You can’t say a word before he’s shutting you out. Literally. He doesn’t slam the door in your face, but he may as well have.

And now you are crying, running across the hall to lock yourself in the bathroom and shield the sound of your tears by running the taps on full blast. You look at yourself, eyes red raw and stinging from tears. And you can’t help but feel used. You’ve been used like a whore and tossed aside. It doesn’t take long for you to wash your face and tidy up your appearance.

The flower he’d placed behind your ear has fallen into the sink. You wish you never came here. You wish you never gave him that God damn letter or any of your time. In that moment, a temporary flash of red blinds your vision. You douse the flowers with water from the taps on the highest setting until they’re being swallowed by the plug hole, never to be seen again.

It doesn’t make you feel the least bit better.

You lightly dab your face with a towel and then decide to take your leave. When you leave the bathroom, you spy Mitsuya’s basket of oranges outside of Ran’s bedroom door. You huff, picking it up and trudging down the stairs.

“Ahhh, is the mob princess going home?” Rindou laughs at your expense, earning approval in sniggers from Haruchiyo and Takeomi.

“Yes, I’m leaving. Try not to follow me this time.” you bite back. Instantly you duck as Sanzu picks up a plum from your gift basket and throws it like a baseball at your head. A mirror shatters behind you, the reflective glass smashing by your feet.

“Watch your fucking mouth, princess. Just because your papa is in charge don’t go thinking you’re untouchable. We know how to clip people without leaving a trace.” he eerily reminds you.

“I’ve told my papa should anything to happen to me that you be the first person he suspects. He doesn’t like you, y’know?” you inform him. His teeth grit at you as he growls like a beast.

The commotion summoned Ran from his bedroom, who rushes to your side when he sees the broken mirror at your feet.

“Bastardo. Fucking dick. How many times have I told you to leave her alone?” Ran snipes at him. He only has himself to blame, of course the rest of his roommates were going to be crueller to you without him there. “Rindou, walk my baby home.” Ran insists. His request is denied in the form of his sibling flipping him off.

“I can walk home by myself, I walked here by myself.”

“See,” Rin speaks without looking at either of you.

“No, you walked here with Rin keeping an eye on you. So, my bratty bambina and little shit brother, do as you’re fucking told for once in your lives.” the two of you find yourselves ducking again as Rindou decides to hurl a peach at you both. More of the mirror breaks and rains around you. “AH! Dickhead!” Ran yells when he stands back up. He rushes over to his little brother and punches him in the face.

“Fuck sake.” Takeomi grunts.

Rindou punches him right back, both of their chests heaving with rage. Lavender eyes engage in a staring contest that has more at stake than just competitive loss. Ran grabs his brother by the shirt, pulling him up and throwing him to the ground. You shake your head, turning on your heel to leave so that you don’t have to witness anymore of this sheer nonsense.

“Ah, fuck!” you shout, realising you’ve been pelted with fruit on your bicep. Sanzu. You make eye contact with him, menacingly shaking his head at you. Warning you. Forbidding you from leaving the building without permission.

You watch for a few minutes as the Haitani brother’s continue to fight each other. They’ve broken the coffee table due to Rin pushing his big brother so violently he fell into it. Ran took a cheap shot, kicking Rin in the balls, forcing him to collapse to the ground. The two continuing to punch and kick the shit out of each other in the debris.

“Just fucking take her home!” Ran yells, punching his brother’s cheek.

“She’s your bitch, why don’t you?!” Rin responds, returning the same punch to Ran’s opposite cheek.

“Because I asked you, fucking little shit. And she’s not a bitch! Don’t fucking call her that!” he angrily replies. He wraps his hands around Rin’s neck and applies enough pressure to have him kicking and gasping, his whole face becoming as red as a cherry.

“Fine—! S-Stop, I’ll do it—!” Rin manages to choke out.

He lays in the broken remenants of the coffee table for a while as Ran falls backwards to sit against the couch. Both of them fighting for air, chests expanding dramatically with every inhale. After some time, Ran stands to his feet and offers his brother a hand up. They smirk at each other before Takeomi and Sanzu stand beside them. The other brother’s slapping them upside the head to put an end to the dramatics.

Rindou pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and then he looks at you. Both brother’s approach, Ran kisses you on the lips one last time before bidding you farewell. He retreats to his room and leaves you to the devices of his roommates.

“Be a good girl!” he calls to you, shutting his door with a soft click.

Rin smacks your ass and guides you out of the door.

Looking at Rindou Haitani from behind makes you feel unusual. The inverted black and blonde hairstyle that he and his brother share is enough to make you believe you might be looking at the elder sibling, like you’re intoxicated and out of your own head. There’s two of him. An ever so slightly shorter Ran is walking ahead of you. Hands in his pockets and effortless swagger in his steps. Cigarette smoke lightly twists and spirals into the evening air, spinning until it ultimately dies in the breeze. You hear a noise spill from him. A grunt or a ‘hm?’ quiet enough to be a trick of the mind. But you know you heard it when he turns around. Round glasses helping you remember he isn’t your lover, not even close.

He's the younger brother that loathes you.

He grabs the fat of your upper arm flesh, pulling you closer to him. Rindou bends over so that he’s eye level with you. It’s another disparity from the Haitani that you fell for. The Haitani that you love with everything that you have. When Ran bends down to talk to you, to look intently into your eyes, it’s loving. He’s a good daddy, he cares about you, he worships you. He wants to protect and adore you, making you feel small and oh so cute makes you love him even more.

Rin, however, is intimidating. He isn’t scary in the way that Sanzu is, but he still manages to send a chill down your spine. There’s lingering undertone of mania hiding behind his dull, heavy eyes. He always looks so tired, but the smile is what gives him away. Lumbering eyelids can’t hide what a garish smile presents.

Anger. Insanity. Impatience.

“Walk ahead of me or beside me. Not behind.” he instructs. You scoff, picking up the pace as you decide you’d rather drop dead than walk by his side. It prevents you from seeing the way his face sours as his eyes roll at your petulance. “Am I so bad?” he wonders, knowing the answer that is already bulging from each and every braincell you possess.

You ignore him, instead. You’re a smart girl – smarter than anyone gives you any credit for. Why would you say something that could antagonise him when you can keep schtum and get back home without being bothered?

“Rindou, go home.” you tell him.

“Hah?” it isn’t enough to stop him in his tracks, but he certainly slows. He looks down and notices the way your hand is holding the basket full of oranges for your boss. Trembling fists as you take a tighter grip of the handle. “Are ya that scared of me?”

“’m not scared.” you protest.

“Oh?” he snickers. “Then why are you shaking like a fuckin’ leaf, piccola?” the volume of his amusement raises as you stop walking. Your shoulders drop and you can barely stifle the sigh that you want to exhale.

“I’m not scared of you, Rindou. It’s chilly tonight, s’all.” you fib.

Of course you’re scared of him. You know how much he hates you and would prefer you to be tossed over the edge of the docks with cinderblocks bound to your feet. Wouldn’t anyone be scared if they were you? To be loathed by every single member of the most prolific gang in The Amalfi Coast save for one, you wouldn’t wish that on your worst enemy.

“Bullshit. It’s boiling, one of the hottest nights we’ve had so far.” he laughs, as though your lie was so outrageously stupid. You suppose it was. “’m not gonna hurt ya. Your fuckin’ daddy scares the shit out of me. Think he’d rip my insides out of me while I’m still breathin’ and feed them to his dogs.” he smiles, it’s not quite a joke as the possibility is very real. But he knows he won’t hurt you, so that particular fate is not one he’ll ever meet.

He catches up to you, his hand settling in the small of your back as he attempts to push you further along on your journey. Your steps follow his, walking in tandem with him as he escorts you home. The smoke from his cigarette wafts in your face; a scent that has given you a pavlovian response to think of Ran whenever it invades your senses. An inhale that you had intended to be discreet becomes obnoxious as you allow the gorgeous, cancerous scent fill your airways. He hears a familiar sound. The sound he coaxes from many a woman when he has the time and the funds for one of life’s simple pleasures. Though he doesn’t think he’s ever heard it so softly. A meek, wanton moan as you imagine your lover. The things you have done and will do with Ran Haitani. All while he smells of burning tobacco and covers your body in nicotine kisses.

Rin smiles.

You’re quite cute, aren’t you?

He stays at the bottom of the stairs, observing each step you take up to your own house. You don’t want him here anymore. You don’t want him to watch you or to wait around while you let your guard down in the safety of your own home. But he isn’t leaving. He’s staring as you put the front door key inside the keyhole. He doesn’t stop when you lower the handle and open the door.

What is he waiting for?

“Did you need something, Rin?”

“Go inside and lock the door.”

You can’t help but smile. It’s a soft smile, though. Your features filled with warmth from the pink and orange sky and the fading yellow sun. The apples of your cheeks are swelling as you try to stave off your little smile turning into a fully-fledged grin. It’s sweet, really, that Rin is being so protective. You know it isn’t for your benefit, it’s for his brother.

He knows his brother is sweet on you. He knows how crushed he’d be should anything happen to you. So, by default, your safety is a high priority of Rin’s, too. Although… it probably helps that your father would have them all killed if they let anything happen to you.

“Get home safe. Goodnight, Rin.” you speak. His brows furrow, like you spoke a foreign language he’d never have any hope of understanding.

“Huh?” he sounds, the perplexity that he’s experiencing bleeding into his voice. “What did you say?”

“I— goodnight, Rin?”

“Before that.”

“Um… oh! Get home safe?” you wonder, what could be so perplexing about such a simple sentence?

“Ah, no one’s ever said that to me before.” he chuckles. “You really give a shit about me and my safety? Or are ya just sayin’ it?”

“Rin…” you exhale. “I love your brother, a horrendous amount, actually. He loves you… of course I give a shit about you. Contrary to what you might think, I actually like you. All of you Bonten boys, even though you don’t much care for me.”

He drops his cigarette to the ground and extinguishes it with the bottom of his shoe. When he looks up from the squished cigarette, there is a look in his lilac irises that you’ve never seen before. Empathy, maybe. A little bit of sorrow might be in there too, his gaze boring into your own and seemingly unable to break away. It’s intense, neither of you finding any words to say. His eyes fixated onto yours as the uncomfortable silence floods the atmosphere around you.

Rindou is the one to turn away first. His eyes squinting and teeth gritting for a split second before his lazily cool and calm exterior returns to him once more. He tilts his head in the direction of your front door, a silent instruction for you to head on inside.

“Go on.” he speaks, so mildly, the sentence could almost be drowned in a sea of the crickets singing their night-time chorus. “I’ll get home safe… goodnight.” he smirks.

“I’ll be seeing you… g’night, Rin.”

Your heart pounded a million beats per second when you closed the door behind you. You hadn’t expected Mitsuya to be awake. He’s lying on the couch, his back against the armrest with a glass of merlot on the tiled floor beneath. One of his knees is almost at his chest, his sketchbook resting against it as he sketches away calmly. His glasses seated at the end of his nose make him look so wise. You’ve never known anyone so relaxed and at peace when truly in their element.

“Sorry I—” you stop yourself, unable to continue when he looks up at you with such a positive warmth diffusing from him. He isn’t mad, he’s never mad at you. But still, you know you owe your boss an apology. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back to work, and I’m home so late. But… I have your oranges.” you inform him, bringing the basket to him and leaving it beside his glass of wine.

“It’s fine, bella. Grazie.” he thanks you, peeling one of the many oranges you’ve gifted him with. As he places an orange segment into his mouth, he turns his sketchbook and shows it to you.

“Oh, Suya… This is beautiful.” you smile, astounded by the stunning and complex design. He nods, the gesture filled with gratitude and appreciation. “Now I see why you’re in such a good mood! Is this going to be a new dress you fill the boutique with?”

“Nope,” he shakes his head, swallowing the orange piece in his mouth. “The most glamorous woman I’ve ever seen came by the boutique not long after you left. She told me she wants a one-of-a-kind dress for her wedding day, and that money is no object.” he beams, utterly ecstatic over the prospect of what this one client could do for his boutique.

He sits properly on the sofa and allows you to come and sit beside him as the breaks down his vision for the extravagant wedding gown. It’s so nice to see him like this, so truly fulfilled by what makes him happiest in life. You rest your head on his shoulder as he carries on talking, though your focus begins to waver.

Flurries of blonde and black hair invade your memories. It wouldn’t worry you, normally. What could be so bad about thinking heart-fluttering thoughts about Ran Haitani? But that’s just it. You can’t bring black on blonde on black to the forefront of your mind. Instead, the opposite. Blonde on black on blonde. Why? Why? Why can’t you get his lethargic lids out of your mind? His violet vision studying you like a he had seen a mythical creature in the very flesh. His hands gripping into your arm, violent skin so much softer than you would ever have thought. No one ever telling him to get home safe, so filled with anger and pain the very statement bewildered him.

Oh, he wants to be adored.

You’re fucking his brother, though. Aren’t you meant to be in love with his brother? So, then, pray tell, why are you thinking of Rindou as opposed to the one you’re actually screwing?

“She’s coming tomorrow.”

How did you manage to fabricate such a tall tale about a monster like Rin Haitani? He is a monster. But, you suppose, every member of Bonten falls under that illustrious title. Each and every member has blood on their hands. They are all cruel, cold, calculating. But for whatever reason, Ran softened for you. He let you in and allowed himself to love you and to love you in turn.

So stop fucking thinking about his brother.

“She said her fiancé is some hot-shot businessman.”

Overthinking such a simple thought will lead to your undoing, the death of your rationale. For once, just this once, you have seen a man you loathe in a different light. A man who puts the fear of God into you, in a way you never thought you would. He isn’t anything. He isn’t anyone, to you. He is only, and will be nothing more than the brother of Ran Haitani. He is not a man you should be fantasising about. Imagining what your children would look like and how you’d feel in his arms. Whether he’d kiss your body as softly as Ran or comfort you just as sweetly. Would he appreciate your love letters and thoughtful gestures more than Ran had, today?

“I think she’s marrying a mafioso, but that’s just me.” Mitsuya continues, unaware that you haven’t listened to a word he’s said since you sat down. “You hear me?”

“Hm?”

“Why don’t you go to bed? You look like you’ve had a hard day. I want you working extra hard tomorrow since you ran off today.” he informs you light heartedly. You stand up, and then bend down so that you can give each other a kiss on the cheek before you retreat to your bedroom. You knew he’d be spending another few hours lying on the sofa and sketching his design to absolute perfection.

You suppose you should be sick of the sight of Mitsuya. Considering you live with him and work with him, you’re barely out of each other’s way. But, alas, it doesn’t bother you at all. He’s the kindest person you’ve ever known and you’re happy to be sharing so much of your life with him and have him do the same. Of course, your papa would have happily funded a place for you to live alone if that had been what you wanted. But living with Mitsuya makes you feel safe. You can’t imagine coming home to a dark house and no one to keep you company. His mere presence makes you feel that much more secure.

And knowing that there is no chemistry between you makes you feel that much safer. It means that everything he does for your benefit isn’t disguising any ulterior motives. Why would he try and seduce you when you’ve already slept with one another? He just cares about you. It’s really that simple.

And that is why you have no qualms about sleeping in your room naked. Rindou was right, after all. The heat is sweltering. Fuck. Rindou. You’re cursing yourself for letting him penetrate your thoughts again.

It isn’t this deep. It shouldn’t be this deep. It’s not as if you have a crush on him. It’s not like you even like him, really. A slither of a somewhat vulnerable hidden layer in the younger Haitani has you positively reeling.

You can’t deny what’s beginning to occur at the apex of your thighs. The slippery slickness that Ran can summon from nought but a look in your direction. He can make you wriggle and squirm in no time at all. But Ran isn’t here. He’s barely even on your mind.

You can’t touch yourself and think about Rin.

You can’t.

But you are. Thinking about how he’d manhandle you and make your naked body his plaything. His fingers deep in your pussy while his lips latch around one of your breasts, causing you to cream more juicy goodness for him to use to his advantage. All while whispering obscenities to you, specific language that your papa would put a bullet between his eyes for using in reference to his baby girl.

It's intoxicating.

Picturing your fingers weaving between lustrous locks as you attempt to stable yourself and just be with him. Experience him. Have him douse his cock in your slippery offering before pushing deep inside until you feel positively full.

The sex would be so dirty.

So filthy.

And you cum. You cum and you keep on cumming as you cover your mouth with your free hand, knowing you’ll scream out in overflowing ecstasy and chanting a mantra you absolutely shouldn’t be. And that, you know for a fact, because it’s the only thing repeating in your mind like a broken record.

Rin.

Rin.

Oh… Rindou!

“Rin…” you huff, desperate to fondle your own breast as you ride out the last remnants of your high. The fat of your thighs are so silky, completely sodden with your arousal. Your chest swells as your breath does all it can to recover to its natural rhythm. Your bliss surges through your body, aftershocks plaguing you as you continue to lightly tickle your clit.

When you finish playing with yourself, you assume a comfier sleeping position. Eyes feeling as heavy as Rin’s often appear now that you’ve made yourself orgasm, a sure-fire way to propel you into a paradisical slumber. You’re exhausted. Your mind is drained. And yet, your internal monologue can’t help but bully you.

How can you live with yourself? How will you sleep at night? Your poor boyfriend… You basically cheated! And you’re such a bitch. Of all of the people in the world, you touched yourself over his fucking brother.

You just came thinking about Rindou Haitani.

“Fuck,” you mutter.

You wake up late, unsurprisingly. Mitsuya has already left for work, the area he’d been working in last night now completely spotless. He’s so neat and tidy, just a generally wonderful housemate. There’s no trace of him, you wouldn’t have even known he was there if you hadn’t seen him for yourself.

The day is warm, as most are, prompting you to wear another little dress. It’s light and airy. White is your usual colour to wear, knowing it’s the best colour to wear in the searing sun. You leave your hair down and only apply a little bit of mascara. You’re late enough without doing a full face of makeup. Mitsuya is kind and understanding, but you’re sure even he will have his limits. You doubt he’d be pleased to see your face painted to perfection when you were meant to start work two hours ago.

He greets you warmly when you venture inside. The basket of oranges you got for him is placed on the corner of your desk, he and the woman he is chatting with each enjoying one each. Both of them are laughing and smiling, you can only imagine what is so funny.

“Bella, this is Signorina Gianna. The client I’m creating a unique design for.” he smiles, taking her hand in his as a sign of gratitude. She holds her free hand to her chest and returns his smile almost bashfully. She’s beautiful. One of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen. You wonder if she might be a famous model, perhaps that is how she can afford to treat money like it’s nothing at all.

“I’ve heard wonderful things about your dresses, Mitsuya. I trust you to create something beautiful for me.” she tells him. She’s making a good decision, you think. No one knows how to capture the beauty of a woman through the artistry of clothes better than Mitsuya does. You can feel the love, preparation and adoration he pours into each and every inch of the clothing he makes. “My fiancé wants me to be the happiest I can be so he assured me that money wouldn’t be a problem on any scale.”

“That’s so exciting,” you tell her, taking an orange and sitting at the cash register to continue conversing with the pair in front of you. “tell me about him!” you insist, earning a chuckle from her.

“Tsk. Behave yourself, don’t be so rude.”

“Haha! It’s fine,” she assures him. “He’s so beautiful. Very work oriented, he owns his own business. We’ve been together for five years. I started thinking he’d never propose, but, here I am! He said he’s ready to commit to me properly and… he wants to start a family with me.” she grins from ear to ear. It’s obvious how in love with him she is. The happiness of others rubs off on you so easily. Especially when it comes to romance, you’re such a romantic.

“Ah! So respectable, wanting to make you his wife before having children. I like that.” you tell her. She nods, agreeing.

“It’s very important to both of us that we don’t have children out of wedlock. And I know the babies we have will be gorgeous, like their papa! Would you like to see him?” she asks you, earnestly. You can’t say that you aren’t intrigued, hopping off your stool and standing by her side. She begins raking through her bag as she searches for a photo of him. “This is us a year ago in Venice!” she explains.

“He looks familiar… is he from here?” Mitsuya questions.

Their conversation turns to white noise. He looks familiar. He looks really fucking familiar. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. You can’t decipher whether you’re boiling or freezing. Your body suddenly perspiring at an alarming rate while an inexplainable chill in the air has you breaking out in goosebumps and shivering as if you’re in the North Pole.

“So beautiful…” you mumble. The look on their faces tells you that you’ve fallen a few conversations behind. The bride-to-be doesn’t know what to say, and Mitsuya isn’t sure how to recover the discussion they were having. Your eyes are dripping wet, sorrowful crystals inhabiting your lash line. “I need to… go.”

“You just got here!” Mitsuya almost yells at you.

“J-Just for a minute… I don’t— I feel sick.” you caution him. An eyeroll that is so quintessentially him is offered to you. But of course, it is always followed by some sincere kindness. A quick nod and tilt of his head in the direction of the door.

You don’t walk, but it’s not quite a run either. Not until you’re outside and out of their line of sight. A hand flies to your stomach as you try and keep your sickness inside. You’re fighting a losing battle, though. Knowing there’s nothing you can do to prevent the rising wave intensely rolling through you. You create a makeshift ponytail with your hair, realising you’re powerless to stop it. It’s humiliating. Vomiting right outside of your place of work. Where so many people recognise you. Know you. A man offering you a napkin and a woman handing you a bottle of water.

“’m fine, really. Grazie.”

You’re far from fine.

What a familiar fucking head of hair her future husband possesses. What an interesting style that you just so happen to recognise. It’s such a coincidence that her fiancé has dyed blonde and black hair. There are only two people you know in Italy with hair that colour. That style. And, fuck. Why has this happened to you? Of all the people in the world. Of all of the boutiques in the world, why did she have to come to this one?

But, more importantly…

Why is Ran Haitani fucking you if he’s marrying someone else?

© b-imbou 2022

please reblog and maybe leave a comment if u enjoyed this!!

[pipnchips202]

while i eat up practically every valgrace fic i see, down bad jason grace for leo valdez is always one of my absolute favorites; so, here are 5 valgrace fics where jason is the pining one :)) (for the most part)

1. hopeless case by restinreeses

rating: teen and up

warnings: none

“Nico,” Jason wheezes as he slams the door to the Hades cabin open. “Nico, I think I’m in love with my best friend.”

“No, really?” Nico drawls, barely looking up from his book.

Or: in which nico is jason’s wingman this time around.

AHHHHH!!!!!! this is REALLY good; i love the characterization and the many implications of jason having helped nico get with will prior to the events of the fic. also, platonic jasico will ALWAYS get me.

2. EP: things leo does; by jason grace by jacksonpercy (robertmontauk)

rating: not rated

warnings: none

God, he loves Leo’s laugh. It’s more like a giggle than anything - all high-pitched and bubbly; his mouth stretches into the widest smile Jason’s ever seen, and his tongue sticks out of his tongue just a little bit, and holy fuck Jason’s in love with Leo.

Shit.

[leo does things sometimes, and jason notices.]

i was very much obsessed with this fic at some point (still kind of am, actually). it’s basically a 5 + 1 of jason just pining for leo and i LOVE it. small warning though, there is a mention of kinks in the second chapter, if that’s weird for you. it’s really just an offhand comment and doesn’t get brought up again, so do with that what you will. they are teenagers after all, and as a teenager myself, i can confirm i’ve thought of similar stuff several times! but, anyway, this fic is really good.

3. staring at me (with your lips and tongue) by ethannku

rating: teen and up

warnings: none

“You really believe all that?” Leo asks, and if Jason were more aware of the world, he might’ve registered the hopeful breathiness in his voice. But as it is, he’s far too focused on the hand on his chest. He nods anyway, once he realizes Leo’s asked him a question.

Leo huffs and leans closer while simultaneously pulling Jason closer.

For a moment, they just look at each other, their noses inches apart. Leo’s breath comes in soft puffs on his face. There’s a hint of a smile on Leo’s face, but the corners waver as if he’s having second thoughts. Jason registers Leo’s eyelashes flickering, and his blood sings when he realizes he’s looking at Jason’s mouth.

Or; Jason is down bad, and Leo might be too.

this one’s really good, too. lot of kissing. a few suggestive references/jokes but no suggestive actions, just kissing. also has many piper moments mixed in :)

4. Crooked Glasses by thebigqueer

rating: teen and up

warnings: graphic depictions of violence

leo & jason confess their feelings for each other in an arcane-themed alternate universe.

~~

Leo has always been flirty. When he casually smirks at Jason and tells him how handsome he looks; when he bites his lip suggestively and tells Jason that no, he doesn’t mind if he changes his shirt in front of him; when Jason asks what’s for dinner and Leo responds, “Not sure, but I know you’re the desert,” Jason doesn’t make much of it. Sure, an occasional blush and an attempt at jokingly flirting back, but Jason knows he doesn’t mean it. Besides, he isn’t special. If Jason had to count the amount of people Leo had made out with just in the past year, it might take both his hands.

But lately it’s been different. There’s a softness in Leo’s eyes when he catches sight of Jason, a more soulful smirk when he offers that they sleep in the same bed, a hopefulness when he asks Jason if he wants to come with him on his next haul.

i’m gonna be honest: although i plan to someday, i’ve never seen arcane. and this is an arcane au. however, even though i know absolutely nothing about arcane, i did understand this, i think. i’m putting it here because a) it’s well written, b) it does in fact feature pining jason grace, and c) i have very limited options when it comes to valgrace fics anyway, so i don’t have much of a choice. yes, there is action and a mild fight with sherman yang and connor stoll, but it’s not that graphic in my opinion, but that’s just me; what’s more graphic is actually the gratuitous descriptions of leo’s gorgeousness from jason’s pov (understandably so). anyway, this is a good fic; if you’re not familiar with arcane, you can probably still read it, because i enjoyed it quite a lot!

5. hold me, thrill me, kiss me by restinreeses

rating: teen and up

warnings: none

“You love me,” Leo declares, his smirk widening with every passing second. “You, the great Jason Grace, love me.”

He fumbles for his words, but they melt in his mouth as Leo's hands snaked up the small of his back – those delicate fingers tracing patterns into his skin that burnt worse than his SPQR tattoo.

“I wouldn’t call myself great,” he mutters at last. Leo leans in, raising one thick eyebrow.

“I dunno,” he says, “I’d say you’re pretty great.” His lips brush over Jason's, once, twice. “You know. For loving me.”

...

In which Jason falls and Leo catches him.

okay, so i was debating whether or not to put this one because jason is still dating piper during this fic. she doesn’t make an appearance, she’s only mentioned, but jason and leo kissing is referred to by the both of them as an affair, which might make some uncomfortable. however, this has absolutely gorgeous writing. is jason still in love with piper during this fic, though? no. a bit complicated. however, it is, once again, pining jason as promised. they kiss a lot in this one, too.

enjoy!

— piper <33

[having-conniptions]

Fluke and morals/guilt vs selfishness in DFF Ep 4

I find it very interesting how hard it is to see through Fluke and his motivations, not just in this episode but also the ones leading up to it.

Without context, some of his actions could be interpreted as compassion and even guilt.

His desperate attempts to save Por and Top and his devastated reaction when Por dies could be him truly caring about his friends and wanting them to be okay.

He's repeatedly shown staring at his bloody hands, stained with Por's blood. The imagery of blood on someone's hands is often connected to guilt, which fits especially well the second time he does it. When he's just told his friends that Por is dead and they rush inside, leaving him there alone. He couldn't save Por. The guilt is eating him alive.

But is that really what it is?

Because we've seen what he can be like. Threatening and hurting people so they don't talk about what happened. We know he's terrified of being a suspect, let alone being convicted of anything, because that would squash his chances of ever becoming a doctor. We know that this is the selfish motivation for at least some of his actions.

This puts everything he does in a different light. Him wanting to save his friends might just be the attempt to prevent more people from dying so he won't get into any trouble with the police.

And to get back to the blood on his hands, because I absolutely loved what I thought was very on-the-nose guilt symbolism, there might be a different type of guilt that's being played at here. Maybe, this is not about him feeling guilty. Maybe it is about him being found guilty, the blood on his hands proving that he was involved in his friend's death. So yes, this is about guilt, but possibly not the emotional kind but in a legal sense.

The thing is, none of this has to be just one thing or the other. Not all of his actions have to be selfish just because he is shown to act selfishly. None of his actions have to be purely selfish or purely selfless. They could be a mix of both, with endless possibilities for which reason is stronger in which situation. We simply don't know.

And that's what makes Fluke such an interesting character in my eyes and I'm so excited to find out more about him.

[chrollohearttags]

because I’m in bed sick af and bored..the musician au (reverb series) characters and who I kin/model them after:

no warnings, just a fun lil list and drabble. (Feel free to headcanon them after whoever you feel, these are just MY personal muses) this is a lil something until the next chapter is done.

eren aka ej the don: I feel like I’ve already stated this but I hc him after Bones. From the music, the looks..everything. He favors him so much. I feel like his music videos have this dark, mysterious aesthetic just like his. In the same turn, he also sings and makes these R&B esque, love songs (just take a listen to Bones’ 2 Million Blunts album, it’s what inspired this whole AU). His musical style also ranges a lot. He may play a guitar on stage and sing for one and then start a mosh pit with the next song. Bones calls himself the ‘Underground God and The Reaper’ and if Eren wouldn’t do some shit like that, idk who would. Just like him, EJ produces and makes his own instrumentals. Like the Grammys or these awards shows don’t have to give him his flowers but he’s adored by the underground and independent scene. Super talented all the way around. Gives me heavy $uicideboys vibes too.

connie aka prince cee: I know a lot of ppl say Central Cee (who I personally don’t care for but I can see it way more for him than eren) but I actually modeled him after Yeat. I feel like Connie can rap his ass off but he never takes himself too seriously either. He’s a meme rapper but every last one of his songs is a hit. His soundbytes go viral alllll the time on Tiktok. His music is super fun and hype. But put him in a freestyle, he’s devouring every time.

onyakopon aka ony the god: now he reminds me so much of a mixture between Bryson Tiller and MO3 (🙏🏾). He definitely has bars but he has an INCREDIBLE singing voice so he combines the two and does it sound godly (no pun intended). I also think he’s a very talented piano player. He’s probably the 2nd most multi-faceted behind EJ. His style is so unique and so many try to mimic him. But they can never out do the doer. Him and EJ be having a ball in the studio; just bouncing verses off each other and singing they asses off! 😭 I also think all 3 have a few joints EP’s together.

jean aka j. kirschtein: my boy is the only non rapper in the mix. But he is the epitome of a rockstar. I mirror him making music heavily akin to Coldplay or James Arthur..alternative but still with a touch of soul in it..simply put, he’s amazing. Skilled on bass, electric and drums. Also writes for a LOT of people as well. He was Mikasa’s bassist when she performed but she took one listen and knew it wasted potential to not have him at the forefront. The first time she heard him sang, she actually cried! He has such a strong register and can do a variety of genres. He might be the most popular behind EJ signed to AMG.

mikasa aka mika ASH: even though her music career was short lived because she preferred being behind the scenes, she was cold as hell as a performer. I personally have a few I mused her after and that was Saphir, AshNikko and Thuy. Some of her music was soft and melodic but she was the epitome of a goth girl or rather, the label played on that whole aesthetic and branded her as such! She was so good though. Mixing heavy metal type music with light vocals. She had a large fanbase and of course, the alt girls LOVED her but she just couldn’t handle the pressure of fame and stepped back to be a talent scout/manager. She’s much happier with that.

armin aka arminhammer: now armin is more of a producer than artist himself. He sticks to making the beats and directing the music videos. I think of him as like a Cole Bennett or Kenny Beats. When he’s not chasing half the hoes in Miami, he’s behind the mixing board and contrary to belief, he’s the best to do it and the man you want working on your projects. He’s HIM for sure. When he DOES make music, he sounds like Chase Atlantic or The Neighborhood. (He just looks like a Chase Atlantic song, I can’t explain it!)

christa reiss aka HISTORIA: we haven’t talked about her much outside of being Eren’s ex but she’s one of the biggest pop stars in the entire verse. She’s very similar to Zara Larsson, Dua Lipa and Maggie Lindemann. Very much Top 40, bubble gum pop. She had this whole good girl gone bad vibe going on for a while and EJ still heavily influences her music and even helps her music but she gives basic white girl (but in a cute bubbly way! ☠️)