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What's New In IF? Issue 17 (2024)

By Erika, Marjorie, Axelle, and Noi

Now Available!

Itch.io. - Keep Reading below

Note: Due to the links limit per post (100), some links included in the zine won't appear in this version. It is, however, on both the PDF and .txt versions on itch.

~ EDITORIAL ~

Another Milestone!

This week, we were surprised to see we passed a few milestones! Our reader base grew quite drastically, ever since we started this zine four months ago. It is being shared in places we didn't even know discussed IF!

We are very grateful for your unwavering support! It means so much to see people cheering for us, and most remarkably helping us!

Without you all, this zine wouldn't exist!

On to the zine!!

We had a wonderful discussion with Barbara Truelove this week, who let us bombard her inbox with many many questions!

In our exchanges we learned some really neat stuff about her work and her trajectory as a creator. And if you want to know what we learned... check out our interview with Barbara Truelove on Small Talk...

We hope you enjoy this extra long issue!

ERIKA, MARJORIE, AXELLE, AND NOI

~ BE PART OF THE ZINE ~

WHAT'S NEW IN IF? HAS EXPANDED!

Since the release of issue #14, we've enacted some changes with the zine. It is now expanded with interviews of creators from all around the IF world, as well as direct contributions from you, our readers!

THIS ZINE ONLY HAPPENS WITH YOU!

Want to write 1-2 pages about a neat topic, or deep-dive into a game and review it in details? Share personal experiences or get all academic?

WRITE FOR THE COLUMN!

Prefer to be more low-key but still have something to share? Send us a Zine Letter or share a game title for Highlight on…!

WE WANT TO HEAR FROM YOU!

Excited as we are about next week's interview and have questions for our guest? Or want to see a certain author answer questions next? Message us!

SMALL TALK... IS WAITING!

Came across something interesting? Know a release or an update announced? Saw an event happening? Whether it's a game, an article, a podcast… Add any IF-related content to our mini-database!

EVERY LITTLE BIT COUNTS!

~ EVENT SPOTLIGHT : Bitsy Jam ~

Tiny bites of games, with a retro feel…

The Bitsy Jam is a series of short unranked game jams, focusing on the use of the bitsy program and its forks (e.g. mosi, bipsi, ...). The jam is organized by Adam Le Doux, the creator of bitsy.

Happening monthly, based on a previously voted theme (follow Ledoux!), the Bitsy Jam brings together creators from all corners of the game development world for two weeks, to create itsy bitsy games.

Bitsy is a program to create interactive and visual short games, with a retro-pixel feel on a 2D format. Allowing for short and linear stories, as well as lengthy puzzly branching games, bitsy is a great starting point for tiny interactive fiction and pixel art.

Bisty was used in many prominent creators like cecile richard, dreamingamaris, christine mi and @cerberus-writes. A fork was used in the 2023 ECTOCOMP winning game InGirum.

The current edition (#82) is ending in two days, with the theme INTENTIONALLY BAD!

~ ENDED ~

If you like “murderboys”, the 72h Murderboys Mayhem Jam ended last weekend, with 15 entries. Check them out!

Currently in closed voting, the Ukrainian Visual Novel Jam saw 49 entries submitted last weekend. Come show your support before the results!

~ ONGOING (VOTING) ~

You can now check out the entries submitted to the IntroComp and vote for your favorite demo!

~ ONGOING (SUBMITTING) ~

If you are looking for a challenge, the yearly Velox Fabula just started! For the next ten days, this ranked jam is looking for visual novel submissions around a theme: “You Shouldn't Be Here”.

If you still want thrills but in a chiller way, the Tales to Thrill Jam also just started. Take your pick from the three themes and try your best at emulating the creepy campfire vibes!

For those who created an intent to participate at the IFComp, you have until the end of the month to submit a full game… or wait for next year! (Or you can look our for beta-openings, create an account to vote when the games are released, or offer prizes!) @ifcomp

Less than a week left to create a short game with only One Choice, for the Single Choice Jam!

For the francophones, the French IF community is organizing a summer-long camp to create parsers. Join the Confiture de Parser if you're interested!

Ending at the end of August, is the summer-long unranked SuNoFes Jam (Summer Novel Festival), where you can only submit one IF/VN game!

On the CoG Forum, Halloween is already there! Until Oct 31st, submit to the Halloween Jam - it has funky themes!

Looking for motivation to try your hands at Visual Novels? The Phantasia Jam just started, and will run until Halloween! Three months to create a fantasy VN, with the theme of “Hidden Magic”.

Do you understand or write Ukrainian? Until the end of the year, the Ukrainian IF Festival is happening on itch.io!

~ OTHER ~

Over on the IntFiction Forum, the Review-a-thon is continuing its initiative to get more reviews for games. Check out this post by Tabitha if you want to participate! It ends on the 30th. This is also a sponsored event, aiming to raise funds for one of the Forum members.

The Interactive Fiction Showcase is still running! If you have completed an IF piece this year, consider submitting it! It is happening only on itch!

SMALL TALK…

WITH BARBARA TRUELOE (@barbwritesstuff - Web)

Joining us today is werewolf enthusiast, IF creator and author: Barbara Truelove - Author of the “Blood Moon”, “Thicker Than” and more!

Links included in this interview were not included due to the Tumblr links limits. Please download the itch.io version!

⟶ Welcome Barbara on Small Talk…!

Happy to be here!

⟶ Let’s jump right in! Who are you and how did you find IF?

The line I usually use is: I'm an Australian writer, game developer, and a werewolf enthusiast. I think that sums me up pretty well. I've been writing since I was little (my mum has the scrappy, incomprehensible notebooks to prove it) and have always had a particular soft spot for stories about monsters.

My journey to IF was a bit meandering. Compressing things as much as I can: In 2018 I wrote a book [Crying Wolf]. It was about werewolves in prison and I ended up selling it in 2019 to a small, independent publisher. I was editing it throughout the later half of 2019. Unfortunately, in hindsight, I don't think the editor and I were very well suited for each other. The process left me feeling really insecure about my writing. So insecure that I actually stopped writing for a while.

In 2020, I moved to South Korea. Covid arrived in the country only a couple of weeks before I did. The pandemic made it much harder for me to make friends, so I ended up playing more games and stumbled across IF. I've always liked interactive stories (I had an unhealthy love for Dragon Age: Origins back in the day) and in October 2020 I decided to try and write my own. I used ChoiceScript, because it seemed like the easiest coding language to learn, and almost gave up half a dozen times that first night. But, I was having fun writing again which was amazing.

A month later, I posted the first couple of chapters of Blood Moon which is my first Interactive Fiction project. About half a dozen people messaged me telling me they loved it and encouraging me to continue, and so I did. It might seem corny and cliche, but I'll be forever grateful for this community. IF made me enjoy writing again. Writing interactive stories is so stupidly fun, and it was wonderful having a creative outlet and a little online community during the pandemic.

⟶ Anything about IF you’d like to nerd about to start?

IF is in such a weird, odd space in the market. Is it a book? Is it a game? Is it both? Is it neither? When I'm talking about it in person I always find myself saying stuff along the lines of: “It's like those old choose-your-own-adventure books from the 90s but on your phone”. This hazy definition makes it hard in some ways. For example, the Hugo awards are happening very soon [tomorrow]. There is an interactive fiction/game category, which is awesome, but the nominations are things like Baldur's Gate 3. Obviously, that's a game. A very gamey game. IFs like the kind made in ChoiceScript or Twine aren't going to compete.

I hope IF grows in popularity and we start to see a distinct niche for it in mainstream pop culture and media. I think that would be nice. Not saying we have to get our own Hugo Award... but I'm not not saying that either. Shoot for the moon and all that.

⟶ Could you tell us a bit more about your interactive work?

My IF projects are:

Blood Moon - A ChoiceScript game about dating werewolves and fighting vampires.

Thicker Than - Another ChoiceScript game and sequel to Blood Moon. It's about surviving vampire politics as a young fledgling. Currently in development.

Something A Little Super - A game I made in Ren'py, free on itch.io. It's about raising a super powered child. A love letter to my favourite superhero: Martha Kent.

A Fairy Tale - A Visual Novel made in Ren'py, also free on itch.io. You play as a young fairy noble seeking an advantageous marriage. It's very silly. Murder is optional.

Drown With Me - A dark mermaid tale made with Ren'py. Development on his game is currently on hold.

⟶ Your ChoiceScript games are pretty chunky and inter-connected. How do you manage creating such intricate stories and keep track of everything?

I'm a VERY bad planner. I write in Choicescript and use CSIDE. I have a thousand little notebooks filled with badly scribbled ideas. I usually have a rough idea about where a story is going but I won't know 100% how it'll happen until I'm writing it. Editing is my best friend. I also just use a lot of variables and (when in doubt) go back and look at my variable list to remember what I was doing and what different choices players may have made.

Variables are still a tricky thing to keep track of! I don't have a good system for it, honestly. I just use my brain which sometimes makes mistakes or forgets about certain choices, and the variable list. But that's what editing is for. I try not to be too hard on myself if my first draft isn't perfect. I'm really grateful for readers who send me discrepancies or things they've encountered that don't make sense in my demos and WIPs.

⟶ When you started Blood Moon, did you ever think it would end up being published under Hosted Games?

When I started Blood Moon, I didn't know what I was doing. I had no idea if I'd be able to finish it, let alone get it published. The whole thing was a learning process. Hosted Games is very upfront about the requirements of publication. I followed those and submitted the game when it was finished. They reviewed my submission, asked for a few minor edits, and then gave me a publication date. Overall, I think the whole process went very smoothly.

⟶ What about Thicker Than? When did you know you wanted to write a sequel?

I didn't think there would be a sequel, just because I didn't think I would be able to do that much writing again. But then the idea of flipping the script and telling a story from a vampire's perspective happened and I just couldn't hold myself back. 😅 This happened after I'd finished writing Blood Moon, but before Blood Moon came out. I wrote a short demo for Thicker Than, but didn't start work in earnest until after Blood Moon's release.

⟶ Blood Moon is told from the perspective of werewolves, while Thicker Than is from the vampire's. How was changing that perspective between the different titles?

It was so fun!

The werewolves are very modern and have a strong rough 'n tumble found family vibe. They'd go to hell and back for each other, that they're not afraid to have distinct and loud personalities, and that they're low-key epic. They don't realise how scary they are because they're used to being the biggest, meanest thing around.

The vampires are shady, sneaky, and old fashioned, both in the way they talk and the way they do business. The most powerful vampires are really powerful, but the average vampire is much more humble and blending in is how they survive. They've also hilariously bad at team work.

The fact that these two monsters are so different makes them so fun to write. They really are the opposite sides of the same coin. Two types of paranormal monster living in the same city, but with very different struggles, cultures, and experiences. I really wanted to show that difference and give the vampires (who were very unsympathetic in Blood Moon) their due... without taking away their darkness.

⟶ You are really passionate about werewolves. What's so cool about them?

Werewolves are fun! They're my go-to monster. But I like all kinds of monsters. Vampires, fairies, evil robots. I'm a fan of stories that explore humanity through the inhuman.

I think inhuman characters are fun because they can reflect us (our thoughts, our feelings, our experiences) in unique and sometimes fantastical ways. So, for example, in Blood Moon, a major theme was family. But, rather than write about humans with families, I'm writing about werewolves with packs. It makes those themes pop. But also, monsters are fun! It's fun to imagine the world as seen through the eyes of a werewolf, or a vampire, or a robot, or an alien, or a god.

⟶ Are there other themes you'd like to explore in future projects?

I never know what I'm writing about until I'm writing it, and sometimes not even then. I process my life through my writing, so the themes often reflect what I'm thinking about and feeling at the time. I can't really predict exactly what it is I'm going to zero in on and explore until I'm already doing it.

⟶ Then, what inspires and influences your creative process?

Inspiration can come from anywhere. From books I've read, to places I've been, to people I've met. I can never predict what will spark the next idea.

Blood Moon has some obvious inspirations. The city setting is inspired by Seoul. When I wrote Blood Moon I was trying to make the city setting feel generic enough that it could be any city. I wanted players to be able to imagine it was taking place in their hometown, which is why I never named the city the characters were in. But, in my mind, the inspiration for the city is Seoul. Seoul is both a remarkably beautiful and remarkably ugly place. It's polluted, built up, and bathed in neon lights with tiny traditional alleyways twisting through the modern buildings. Magical and sinister and wonderful all at once. The perfect city for vampires and werewolves.

The various characters are all pieces of myself and/or people I've met. The vampires and werewolves have been informed by all the vampires and werewolves I read and watched growing up. I drew inspiration from: Underworld, Interview with the Vampire, Twilight, Vampire the Masquerade, and (of course) Dracula. These things are what helped shape my idea of what werewolves and vampires could be throughout my teen years.

⟶ Is there anything you wished you’d known before starting creating IF or using ChoiceScript?

I chronically underestimate how much work writing IF is. When I first started Blood Moon I naively thought I would be able to finish it in 8ish months (ha! It took about 2 years.). IFs are big. Much bigger than novels. They take a lot of work and a lot of time to write. It's also hard sometimes just holding all the different narrative threads in my brain and weaving them together in fun and satisfying ways. I want the different routes to feel unique and dynamic while also not overwhelming myself with too many variations and options. That balancing act is a skill I'm still learning and developing to this day. I think I often bite off more than I can chew and have to slow things down for a while as I try to untangle and work through it all.

⟶ Are there things you wish you’d done differently with Blood Moon?

Blood Moon is not a perfect game, but I did the best I could at the time, so I'm not going to be too harsh on myself when it comes to things I could've done better.

⟶ Then, let’s focus on the positive. Do you have a favorite scene from all your games?

I don't think I could choose a favourite scene. 😅 There's a few oddballs I'm very fond of. Marco's 'octopuses' rant in Blood Moon is so weird and wonderful, I can't help but think of it. The flashback scene in Something A Little Super is exactly my brand of corny. I'm also thinking of some more epic things I've written that I really enjoyed bringing to life. There's some moments like that in my book Of Monsters and Mainframes that'll be coming out next year.

⟶ What about a scene that was particularly challenging to put together, but satisfying to complete?

The scene I worked the hardest on was probably the final showdown in Blood Moon. I really wanted it to feel satisfying, challenging, and impactful. There's this moment (spoilers!) where the player's character gets to go toe-to-toe with the BBEG [Big Bad Evil Guy/Gal], who just so happens to be a vampire. Werewolves vs Vampires! It's an iconic match up. I wanted to write something worthy of it. I couldn't really figure out a way to make it special. Originally, it was going to be outside, in the snow. That way I'd get the dramatic visual of red blood splattering on white snow. But it also felt a little cliche. Then I saw a Say Yes To The Dress clip somewhere online and suddenly I'm writing this scene not in a snowy street but in a bridal boutique. Blood splattering on white lace felt brutal and messy and visceral in all the right ways. It really made that final showdown work. I think that flash of inspiration really rescued that scene. The early drafts of it aren't half as good.

⟶ Having branches can be hard to balance. Have you ever struggled with choices for which you can’t write a path? How do you handle it?

Some stories want to branch a lot. Some stories don't. I write the stories that don't want to branch as novels. However, sometimes I'll stumble across a section of an IF that I'm struggling to give interesting branches/stories to. In those moments, I do a faux pas and don't give the player a choice. I think it's better to have a few good/exciting choices than a lot of boring choices. And, if my brain doesn't want to write a certain choice outcome, that means that outcome probably won't be fun or rewarding for the reader either. I really hope that makes sense.

⟶ Last year, you branched out, and created 3 Visual Novels in Ren’Py. What was the driver behind this switch up?

I just wanted to challenge myself and see if I could figure out a different coding style. I'm really proud of my Ren’Py games. They're short, silly, and strange, but I learnt so much doing them. Also it allowed me to experiment with shorter interactive stories.

And I might do it again! It was a lot of fun. I'm just so overloaded with writing projects right now that I can't promise anything. 😅

⟶ Since two of these are text-only, why the choice of Ren'Py over other more traditional choice-based programs like Twine?

I don’t know why, but my brain doesn't like Twine. Totally subjective opinion! I've seen other writers do amazing things with it. I just have never been able to make it go.

Ren’Py is a really powerful tool and works in a way that is easy for me to understand. I love the built in features like the menu and save functions.

⟶ Unlike your other works, Something A Little Super is more of a slice-of-life first and foremost. What inspired you to write this story?

My mum! I wanted to tell a superhero story with a twist. Something A Little Super is inspired by Superman and Martha Kent, but the main focus of the story isn't flying around, saving the world. It's about the choices that parents make while raising their kids.

I've never been a parent, so I used my mum as my main inspiration. My mum was (and still is) a superhero.

I also really wanted to explore how different parenting choices can have a big impact on who a child grows up to be. I tried to write the game in such a way that there weren't any ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ choices. All the choices are reasonable and make sense. But they do shape who the super powered kid grows up to become. I'm so proud of Something A Little Super. It's such a personal wee story in so many ways. It makes me so happy knowing people enjoyed it.

⟶ Your other releases are more anchored in fantasy: one focusing on fairies, the other having a more nautical approach. Was there something specific that inspired you?

A Fairy Tale was my first Ren'Py game. I wanted to write something small while I figured it out... and fairies are very small.

Which is a joke, but also very true. The whole premise of the game is these tiny little creatures with very short life spans that meet and find love in one night. I used Tinkerbell and Peter Pan as inspirations but the motive behind the fairies was the ability to compress everything down into a very short, but also very high stakes story.

Drown With Me is a project I wish I had time to work on. Dark mermaids are always a ton of fun. As for inspirations... that'd be pirate music.

⟶ Did you notice differences when working on those VNs compared to more traditional text-only IF?

Writing a visual novel is much more like writing and directing a stage play than writing a book. It was fun experimenting with the script style.

⟶ You don’t just create IF games, but also write novels. How do you manage to balance all these different projects?

I don't. I'm very bad at balancing my time between projects. I often overcommit and underestimate how much work a project is going to need. I need to get better at balancing my writing in general. I just always want to do so much.

⟶ Still, you are pretty consistent with your updates (1/month). How do you manage this?

I update every full moon! It's a silly thing that I started when I was writing Blood Moon. It's a fun gimmick that I've kept up with. Some months I don't write very much, and that's okay. Some months I write heaps and that's awesome! I try to be kind to myself, no matter how much or little I get done. That's the only advice I can give. Have fun and be nice to yourself.

⟶ How do you assess whether your work is enjoyed by people?

I don't know how many people enjoy my work. That's a really hard thing to know! I know there's some very lovely people who message me sometimes. I think I'm very lucky to have found people who mesh with my style of writing. The internet is a big, tangly place and it's always wonderful when you find people who are on your wavelength. It's really humbling to know there are other humans out there who think about my characters and stories.

⟶ As an outsider, it is undeniable you are pretty popular on Tumblr, where parasociality is pretty common. Have you experienced this phenomenon yourself?

There are boundaries I set when I talk to people online. I think that's important. I'm kinda private, actually, and a wee bit shy in my day-to-day life. I don't always seem that way, but when I'm online I'm usually just talking about my writing. That's what I really enjoy doing.

⟶ Have you gotten messages, like feedback or reviews, that weren’t as nice? How do you handle criticism and negative comments?

Oh, all the time. I get some very harsh feedback in my inbox. I try to take it in my stride, but some days that's easier said than done.

I divide all feedback I receive into two groups: Actionable feedback and Unactionable feedback, i.e., something I can fix, or something that I can't. Examples of unactionable feedback would be stuff like ‘I don't like werewolves’. Obviously, my story isn't the right fit for that person, and there's nothing I can do about that. I ignore unactionable feedback. If someone sends me actionable feedback, I try to do my best to fix it.

The good thing is, I get a lot more positive messages than negative.

An author I met last year said something very wise that's stuck with me. She said, no matter what, there are some people who won't like what you write. And that's fine. In fact, that's good. You want people to love or hate your work. That means they're reading it!

There is no such thing as a game/book that everyone likes. Keeping that in mind, it's much easier to read the negative feedback, find the actionable feedback in it, then get back to work.

⟶ On days that are difficult to take the feedback in, do you take breaks or get right back to work?

I let myself feel my feelings and (if I need to) I complain to my friends. 😅 But it honestly doesn't happen often. I'm pretty good at taking negative feedback, bad news, rejections, etc... in my stride. It sucks, but it's also just part of being a writer.

⟶ Do you think your traditional writing background helped you process this negative feedback this productively?

I don't think so. I think being able to take negative feedback is just a skill writers learn over time, no matter the medium. When I was in university, I did a couple of units in scriptwriting, and some of the feedback I got then was very critical. Before that, when I was in school, I did a creative writing class which was also pretty brutal. I used to write fanfiction, and people didn't pull their punches there either. It sucks, but I think it's normal to get a lot of various responses to your writing. Like I said, I ignore any feedback which is unactionable.

That said, there are times when it gets to me. Like I said before, I was very insecure about my writing after editing my first novel. It's hard some days. But writing is my art. It's how I process the world. When I stop, I feel like I'm missing something in my life. I focus on the good because I want to feel good about what I do. It's not always easy, but it's important to me.

⟶ You started your writing journey publishing a book, with another one on the way. How does writing a novel compare to creating interactive fiction?

I'm really not sure how to compare writing a novel and writing IF. In some ways, they're not that different. The main focus of both is to tell a good story. There are some nitty gritty differences, but overall I think stories are stories. I will say, some stories need to be IFs and some need to be novels. Blood Moon wouldn't work as a novel. That story wanted to branch from the moment I started writing it. Similarly, my most recent novel, Of Monsters and Mainframes wouldn't have ever worked as an IF. That story felt more direct, contained, and character focused from the first word typed.

I guess it's just whichever medium suits the story.

⟶ What advice would you give to an aspiring IF creator, based on your experiences?

Write something you're passionate about! For me, it was werewolves. It doesn't matter what the subject is, just make it something you could stay up until 4am talking about. I worry a lot of new writers feel they have to chase trends, but the only thing that does is ensure you'll be behind the curve. Write what makes you happy, and that love will shine through.

⟶ Many people rave about your work, but are there any games you rave about? Anything you would recommend to our readers?

Recommendations are so hard! I feel like I'm just going to gush about the games everyone already loves. VTM: Night Roads, Fields of Asphodel (@chrysanthemumgames), The Northern Passage (@northern-passage), Choice of the Vampire, etc.

There are so many fantastic games out there and so many WIPs!

⟶ After Thicker Than, what is on the horizon for Barbara Truelove? And where will we be able to follow your progress?

Thicker Than still needs a lot of work. It's a very big, complex game and I think I'll probably be working on it in some capacity for at least another year. IFs aren't quick and easy but they're a ton of fun! I've also got a (non-interactive) novel coming out next year with Jaysen Headley at Bindery Books titled Of Monsters and Mainframes and I've got a couple more projects I'm working away on behind the scenes. You can find me on my website, Tumblr (@barbwritesstuff), and KoFi.

HUGE THANKS TO BARBARA TRUELOVE FOR ANSWERING OUR MANY BRUNING QUESTIONS!

~ NEW RELEASE ~

The Ghost and the Golem (CScript) is the latest release from Choice of Games @choiceofgames

Oh, Vagabond (Ink) is an atmospheric short text horror adventure about what remains. @an-excess-of-eyes

Nusantara: Bermuda Triangle (Ren’Py) is an eight-year-long in the making adventure otome visual novel.

Can't Buy Me Love (Ren’Py) is a visual novel based and all about the Beatles. @brummelliana

passenger9027 (Twine) is a short sci-fi game, where you wake up in a spaceship.

The Robot (Twine) is a short sci-fi game, where you have a conversation with a robot.

TECH // LOOP (Twine) is a cyberpunk game where you play a looper.

As always, don't forget to check out the submitted entries to the events mentioned in the previous pages. They deserve some love too!

~ NEW RELEASE (WIP) ~

Small Charms (Ren’Py) is Visual Novel project about daily use magic, a coffee date and a terrible decision. @viscereye

We Troubled Souls (CScript) is a high fantasy project involving godly and mystical beings, and survival.

to the place where death rests (Twine) is a sapphic project where a woman falls in love with the lady of/in her dreams. @bntarwarn

Intensions (CScript) is a high fantasy project where you play as a fae, with the weight of your people on your shoulders.

Vessel of Harkahn (CScript) is a fantasy project where the survival of the world resides in your locked memories. @vatiiagames

That Distant Shore (Twine) is a supernatural fantasy project where your curse will be your undoing, unless… . @exkowrites

Aphni's Quartet (Twine) is a cyber-punk fantasy project where you play a loath prophet. @marblesstorystudio

Press Play (CScript) is a slice-of-life project where you are part of a mysterious band. @pressplay-if

Tale of the Dragoons (CScript) is a fantasy project where you are a dragoon.

Carrion (Twine) is a mermen adventure game where you must defeat an ocean cult. @kinglyoverlord

~ GAMES UPDATES ~

Social Democracy (DendryNexus) has received multiple updates.

Dice & Dungeon Masters (CScript) added extra content to the demo.

Echoes of Kingdom: The Last Stand (CScript) updated with dozens of new words.

Honor Among Thieves (CScript) added extra content to the demo. @leoneliterary

The Judgement of Tarkar (CScript) came back with 2 new chapters.

Summer of Love (Twine) added a new chapter to the demo. @summeroflove-if

Dance of the Night (CScript)'s demo now includes Chapter 2.

Remnants of the Past (Twine) started its second act in this update. @remnantsofthepast-if

The Abyssal Song (Twine) added Chapter 4 to the demo. @ri-writes-if

The Bureau (CScript) added extra content to the demo. @morbethgames

The Game of War (CScript) updated with extra content.

The Night Market (Twine) added Chapter 6 to the Patreon demo. @night-market-if

Path of Martial Arts (CScript) added new paths to the demo. @nicky-if

Love in a Time of Earthquakes (CScript) completed Chapter 6.

Vendetta (CScript) updated the Patreon demo. @vendetta-if

The Bastard Crown (CScript) updated with major re-writes. @eddyiewriting

The Ultimate Magic Student (CScript) updated the Patreon demo.

Abnormal (CScript) updated the demo with major re-writes. @abnormal-aninteractivezombiegame

The Six That Thrives (Twine) added Chapter 3 to the Patreon demo. @the-six-that-thrive-if

Dragon of Steelhorn (CScript) has put out the demo for bonus chapters for beta.

~ OTHER ~

The last HG release, Halls of Sorcery has been withdrawn from sale due to AI-generated content. If you have bought the game, and have not received a refund yet, you should contact HG support.

Magehunter: Phoenix Flame's demo (CScript) will be soon removed from viewing, as it is expected to go into beta testing. This might be your last chance to play it.

Heavens’ Revolution (CScript) is looking for official beta-testers.

Drew Cook started a new series of articles: Let's Write IF. @golmac

If you are fan of podcasts about IF, Adam Cadre uploaded the latest episode of Radio K, discussing Lost Pig, Child's Play, and An Act of Murder. @adamcadre

The 55th issue of the Indipocalypse was released recently, including multiple IF games.

On IntFiction, mathbursh completed the Brief History of the SpringThing, ahead of the release of his IF History Textbook.

As always, we apologize in advance for missing any update or release from the past week. We are only volunteers using their limited free time to find as much as we can - but sometimes things pass through the cracks.

If you think something should have been included in this week's zine but did not appear, please shoot us a message! We'll do our best to add it next week! And if you know oncoming news, add it here!

~ A CYOA Poem ~

1 Catered with abundance, the player peruses the IF wares, meticulously thinking about what to take next. Go to 2.

6 There isn't a single choice. You are bombarded with options. Your commands push the story seamlessly. It only returns failed actions. Your fingers go numb from clicking, pressing, typing... Go to 7.

4 The world is simple but immersive. The world is large and neverending. You only stand in your room. You travel wide distances. It is a peaceful journey. You get hurt at every turn. Go to 5.

3 The adventure doesn't start before a character is selected. Or maybe it has already. There is so much to choose from. There is nothing to choose from. Go to 4.

7 And it's already the ending. You won't get there for another dozens of hours. You wait patiently for the next update. The experience is complete. You lurk. You ask for details. You rate. You comment. Go to 8.

END You played an IF game. Return to 1 to restart.

8 You spam everyone with links so they play it too. You never speak of that experience ever again. You make fanart and daydream about everything. Go to END.

5 You meet a bunch of characters. You are utterly alone. You romance one, or maybe six. You only find peace with yourself. You love them. You hurt them. Go to 6.

2 Yesterday was slice-of-life, tomorrow surely sci-fi. But for today, a simple fantasy will do. Go to 3.

IFLover2495

~ HIGHLIGHT ON ~

A couple of games that we thought were cool.

(Don't) Save Me by Coral Nulla @nullamirrors (Decker - itch.io - IFDB)

What happens to the ‘manic pixie girl’ at the end of the story? This is what the game tries to find out, giving a voice to the trope we love but never wonder what is under the surface. A wacky adventure filled with choices, with a funky UI.

//recommended by anonymous//

Swooning over Stans by sovonight @gfdatingsim (Ren'Py - itch.io - VNDB)

“Recent memes reminded me of the insanity that is this game. You barely need to know any lore of Gravity Fall to reach the endings and feel fulfilled by this weird fan-game. And it's not just SO GOOD story-wise, it's so freaking well made too! Fans are the best, they make the coolest shit.”

//submitted by (peace sign emoji)//

The Dying of the Light by Amanda Walker (Inform7 - itch.io - IFDB)

A heartbreaking text-adventure told from the perspective of an older woman with dementia, as she struggles to communicate her needs, wants, and fears.

Though fighting the engine may be frustrating, it displays an effective manner to convey the difficulties of dementia.

Linear progression. Input HINT for help.

//recommended by C.//

Your favourite game here?

Do you have a favourite game that deserve some highlighting?

A old or recent game that wowed you so much you spam it to everyone?

Tell us about it! And it might appear here!

WE LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU ALL! WETHER IT'S GOOD OR BAD, OR EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN...

Hi What's New in IF team! This is a tiny zine letter for you, to thank you a whole lot for including my game in your zine. It was really nice of you! and I got a whole lot of new people checking it out thanks to you. Keep up the good work! - anonymous

I hope @catskets sees this, because I really enjoyed their interview. It was so fun and insightful, and honestly, pretty inspiring. And now I have 30+ new games to play, and links to link between all the stories! - a new fan

Hi ThereIsMoreButICantFindIt, Thank you for the links, it was pretty enlightening. Please keep me in mind if you do find other sources about Modern IF! -Rich

is this section limited to authors only? because i wanted to give a shout-out to @elfroot-and-laurels, my favourite artist, who's done imo the best (fan)art of IF projects i've ever seen. -aureuslaureus

Have something to say? Send us a message entitled: Zine Letter!

As we end this issue, we would like to thank:

a new fan, aureuslaureus, C., ghostlykittenshark, Rich, (peace sign emoji), and a bunch of you anonymous users!

For sending news, interview questions, helpful tips, cool links, filled form, written Sheet line, even emails... all these help us so much to make this Zine possible!

And as always, huge thanks to all you readers to liked, shared, and commented on last week's issue! What might be tiny actions are huge support and motivators to us! Thank you for cheering us on this journey!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

We also hope you join us again next week, for we have a very special guest on the zine:

Award-winning creator, retro-IF enthusiast, parser craft writer, Drew Cook @golmac sits down with us next week!

Want to know more about his work? How he found IF? Or learn more about his non-dev projects? Send us all your burning questions!

And see you again next week!

ERIKA, MARJORIE, AXELLE, AND NOI

WHAT'S NEW IN IF? 2024-ISSUE 17

155 notes · View notes

thearchercore · 10 months

Text

how rbr socials are trying to control the public narrative around charles (a short essay)

as you may have noticed, rbr socials started posting charles in an oddly increasing pace recently. and there may be more behind it!

you could notice the first big feature of charles in singapore, when they included a video of max and charles with a lestappen sound on an ig reel (carlos was also in that video but not mentioned in the post). then, a few weeks later during the triple header we got max doing the inchident challenge on tiktok. max is known for not enjoying tiktok trends so his input on their tiktok is mostly trivia and challenges because they keep him entertained enough to do it. that post, however, caused a certain inchident renaissance. the old moment between them was already explained in their early f1 years and wasn't really full on brought up after that. HOWEVER, red bull has decided to bring this moment to light with that tiktok.

ferarri, being the reactive masterclass (sarcasm) managed to respond to red bull a day later with another inchident meme (joking about the front row in brazil). over that time, both ferrari and red bull were interacting with each other (for example the old sticker war between the two) and ferrari engaged with charles' paddock endeavours that included max.

the last social post that seemed to include max on the ferrari socials was the infamous "charlie i have some space for you" ig story (which is really funny in handsight). after that, ferrari stopped posting any content with max and charles and has not interracted with red bull in any way. red bull has tagged them in all posts that included charles, but no response from ferarri. which we could see as the first switch.

then, back at it with rbr. charles and max are basically glued to each other in las vegas, they reposted the joint sky interview they did, and kept posting charles throughout the week as if he was their third driver. during that time, charles and max are asked not once, but TWICE about their karting days, and get pretty personal with their answers. during those, inchident is referenced once again.

it seems like red bull wants to highlight max and charles as a pair, not exactly as rivals as they were always painted to be. they may be rivals on track, but they seem more than friendly as of late, so there's no point in saying they're not getting along -- what if rb put this old moment from their karting days in the spotlight bc it highlights their entire childhood dynamic. it seems to me like they want to create a public narrative of max and charles being friends with long history instead of the classic rivarly, and ferrari clocked it before vegas and banned anything from their own socials because of it. it may also reflect the stage of negotiations between charles and his possible contract renewal with ferrari / possible pre-contract with rbr. because this is the exact process of how to soft launch a press announcement: organically drop hints -> create speculation for engagement -> ignore the speculation but continue pursuing the hints to spread the speculation narrative further -> proceed with the process and let the speculation die down right before the announcement -> drop the announcement

i'm not saying that they're cooking something major, they could be, but it's definitely interesting how they're trying to twist the general public's opinion on max and charles as a duo, a pair. and ferrari's sudden silence on their interactions with red bull/features of max on their instagram makes it even more suspicious.

#lestappen gate 2023 #charles leclerc #lestappen #max verstappen #formula 1 #f1

521 notes · View notes

candycandy00 · 7 months

Text

The Doll House - A Gojo x Reader Fanfic Part 4 (Final)

You sell yourself to the Doll House to pay your mom’s medical expenses, only to discover your trainer is the guy who bullied you relentlessly in high school: Gojo Satoru.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Read Geto’s Part Here!

Read Toji’s Part Here!

Read Nanami’s Part Here!

Read Sukuna’s Part Here!

Read Choso’s Part Here!

Note: Please remember that these stories don’t take place at the same time, or even one after the other! Consider each one its own timeline. So if you see Geto and Toji with other dolls, don’t be alarmed lol. I had to do it this way because if I don’t, by the time I get to the last trainer, there won’t be any other trainers left to interact with!

AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Gojo’s. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Chubby Reader. Dubcon. Pet Play. Bullying. Collars/Leashes. Fingering. Anal sex. Vaginal sex. Bondage. Dildos. Humiliation. Oral sex. Tons and tons of cum. Gojo being an asshole.

Gojo looks confused, as if you just spoke a different language to him. “Hurting you? Was I too rough with the training? I’m sorry, I thought you liked-“

“No, not the training!” you yell. The training was the only part of this whole thing you enjoyed. “It’s all the sarcastic remarks about me being cute or little or ‘highlighting my best features’! Saying all those things when I know what you really think of me! And now saying you love me?! You want to keep me?! How stupid do you think I am? How cruel do you have to be to try to get my hopes up just so you can laugh at me?!”

“What are you talking about?” he asks. “Why would I try to trick you? I wasn’t being sarcastic! Fuck, why are you so insecure?!”

You stare at him with your mouth dropped open, totally stunned. “You made me this way!” you scream, tears flooding your eyes. “You gave me this insecurity!”

He actually looks offended. “How?!”

“You made fun of my looks for two years! You, the most beautiful person in the school, laughed at me, said horrible things about my clothes and body, gave me that awful nickname, made me feel ugly and disgusting… made me hate myself!”

“I never made fun of your looks!” he says, his voice getting loud. “I thought you were beautiful! Why would I make fun of your looks?!”

“You called me Chubby Bunny!”

“It’s a cute nickname!”

You shake your head in disbelief. “Even if you thought that, didn’t you notice that everyone was laughing at me because of it? You started that! And you laughed right along with the others! You made my life hell!”

He draws back as if he’s been slapped. “I… I just teased you… I-“

“That was more than teasing, Gojo! I was terrified of you! You were my boogeyman. If I heard your voice coming down the hall, I ducked into a room or hid around a corner until you were gone, because I was so afraid of what you would say or do to me!”

“What? No! I never hurt you! I couldn’t have… I was crazy about you!”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. Is he actually rewriting history to make himself feel better? “What about when you tripped me in the hallway? I twisted my ankle. I couldn’t even get up by myself. Geto had to help me! And while I was on the floor, another boy walked by and said I looked like a seal! A few of them made seal barking noises at me for days after that!”

The outrage in his expression is gone, replaced by a look of uncertainty. “I didn’t know anyone said that. I was just joking around. I tripped my friends all the time, even Shoko! I just wanted to see your reaction.”

“So you saw it,” you say, your voice a little more quiet now. “Did you enjoy it? Watching me limp away in tears?”

“No! I actually felt bad about it, I swear! I even thought about apologizing, but Suguru said I should just leave you alone.”

“But you didn’t leave me alone, did you? You took my things, you made constant comments about my clothes. You laughed so loud whenever I made a mistake in class or even dropped a pencil, which got everyone else laughing too. You made me the laughingstock of the class! Why did you do that to me?! What did I ever do to you?!”

He looks hurt, almost sad. “I wanted your attention. You always ignored me. Every girl in the whole school paid attention to me, except the one girl I wanted. And the only way I could get that was to make you mad. I just… wanted you to look at me.”

“I did look at you then, didn’t I?” you ask. “I looked at you with fear. You made me dread going to school.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, taking one step toward you. “I didn’t realize I hurt you so much. I was just a dumb kid back then. I can make it up to you, I can-“

“No, Gojo, you can’t.” Tears are running down your face. You wipe them with the back of your hand before going on. “Do you remember when you grabbed that love letter I was about to put in someone’s locker, and read it out loud?”

He flinches. He definitely remembers. “Yeah, and I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have done that, I know!”

“There’s something you don’t know about that letter,” you say. “I actually wrote it two years before that. I wrote it for you, back when I was in love with you. But I was too shy to even anonymously sneak it into your locker. I was afraid you would somehow find out it was from me, and be disgusted. But I couldn’t throw it away, just like I couldn’t completely throw away my feelings for you, no matter how badly you treated me. So I held onto it. And when I started liking someone else, I realized all those same feelings applied to him. So I tried to drop it in his locker. But you grabbed it, and read it, and laughed. What you were laughing at, Gojo, were my feelings for you!”

Horror is written on his face. He has the same expression as someone who has just been informed that a family member has been in an accident. “I didn’t know… I was jealous… I’m so sorry!”

You don’t engage with his apology. You don’t have the mental strength to do that right now, so you continue airing your feelings. “Even after graduating, I had a complex about my body. I wouldn’t let anyone see me naked, not even my boyfriend. He probably broke up with me because of my hang ups. Eventually I was able to bury my feelings for you, the love and the hate. But then… I came here…” you say, your voice breaking as you begin crying again. “And all those feelings came rushing back to me! I worked so hard to forget about you! And now… now my heart is in tatters!”

There’s a flicker of light in his eyes. “So you do have feelings for me! Even now!”

You scoff, wiping your eyes again. “Yes, but that’s the problem! Loving you is hurting me! Because it makes me feel low and weak and pathetic. I even started feeling lucky that someone as perfect as you could hold back their disgust long enough to fuck me.”

“Don’t say that!” he practically yells, his face twisted in pain. “This whole time I thought I was the lucky one! Fuck, I’ve practically been permanently hard since you got here! I spent my high school years dreaming of touching you. Even when I’ve been training dolls, even when I was fucking them, I imagined they were you!”

You shake your head. “It’s too late. You already did the damage. I can’t be your doll. Whether you knew it or not, you’ve owned me for far too long. I can’t let you literally, legally own me for ten more years. It would destroy me.”

He seems to be at a loss for words, his eyes shimmering and wet, like he’s about to cry.

You wipe your face again. “I can’t stay in here tonight. If you touch me, I might crumble. If you’re serious about feeling anything at all for me, you won’t do that to me. I’ll ask the owner if I can sleep in one of the empty rooms.”

“No, I’ll go. You can stay here,” he says, his voice unusually gentle. He grabs a few things and then heads for the door. Before stepping out, he looks at you again. “I really am sorry,” he says to you, and then he’s gone.

************************

Not long after, Gojo is knocking on Suguru’s door, not caring what he might be interrupting. It takes a few minutes for his friend to answer, his long hair slightly messy and his face annoyed. “What is it, Satoru?”

Gojo doesn’t even say anything, just looks at him.

Suguru’s eyes narrow. “Let me guess. You told her you’re keeping her and she told you to go to hell.”

“It was so much worse than that!” Gojo practically whines.

With a sigh, Suguru says, “Let me clean up in here and I’ll meet you in the dining hall.”

An hour later, the two friends are sitting at a table, cups of tea in front of them. Gojo has told Suguru every word of the conversation he had with his doll, twice.

Suguru takes another sip from his cup. “I tried to warn you when she first got here, but you wouldn’t listen. You never listen.”

Gojo is leaning over the table, his head on his arms. “I thought it would work out. I thought making her fall in love with me again would be easy. And it sort of was. She said she still has feelings for me!”

“Yes, you’ve mentioned that part a dozen times already,” Suguru says, sitting his cup back on the table. “But for her, you’re the person who ruined her life just to get attention. Loving you only makes her feel worse. I don’t blame her for wanting to get away from you.”

Gojo looks up. “But I didn’t know! I didn’t know so many other people were making fun of her because of stuff I did, I didn’t know about the letter. I didn’t know I was hurting her so much!”

“Now you know,” Suguru tells him. “The question is, now that you know, what are you going to do about it?”

************************

The next morning, you wake up in Gojo’s bed. It smells like him, and you can’t help remembering all the things you’ve done in this bed with him.

But it’s over now. You’re going to talk to the owner and tell her to find a buyer for you as soon as possible. Gojo can move on to his next doll and hopefully both of you can put this whole mess behind you.

The owner agrees to meet you in the welcome room to discuss your situation, and you find her standing in the center of the room. A folder is tucked under her arm.

You open your mouth to speak to her, but Gojo suddenly rushes in. “Did you bring it?” he asks the owner, not even looking at you.

The owner opens the folder and pulls out a paper. “Here it is, her contract. She is now your doll.”

“Wait!” you yell, confused and angry. How dare he do this after everything you said last night! You read your contract, you know you can reject him as your owner if you give sufficient reason. You’re pretty sure your history with Gojo would qualify. Still, the fact that he’s ignoring your wishes makes you livid.

Before you can approach him, he turns to face you and holds your contract up in front of him. “You probably won’t believe me, but I planned to do this from the very start.”

With that, he rips the contract into tiny pieces and lets them fall to the floor.

You freeze, watching the shreds of paper falling before your eyes.

“You’re free,” he says. “You’re not a doll anymore.”

Your eyes widen. The owner sighs and shakes her head, saying, “Gojo, do you understand what you’re doing? This was your one doll to keep. You can’t ever pick another.”

“I know. I’ll never want another doll anyway,”

he says, then looks at you again. “I know this doesn’t make up for what I did to you, but I hope it can be a start.”

You feel your eyes becoming wet again. You’re free! You don’t have to give up ten years of your life after all! You glance at Gojo, unsure of what to say.

“I never wanted to own you,” he says, his face a little sad. “I just want you to be happy. If you believe anything I’ve told you, believe that.”

“I… uh…” you flounder for a moment, trying to decide what words to use before finally settling on, “Thank you.”

He smiles at you. “Maybe someday, if you want to, we could try being friends? No pressure or anything. Just think about it.”

You nod, somewhat dazed. In the end, you leave with his phone number and return to your normal life.

It takes over a month for you to text him. Just an awkward, “How are you?” that he replies to within seconds. You can almost feel his excitement to hear from you.

“I quit my job as a trainer,” he tells you. “I just wasn’t all that into it anymore.”

You wonder if it’s because of what happened between the two of you, but don’t ask. A small part of you is relieved that he doesn’t currently have some other woman on a leash in his room.

For the next couple of weeks, you and Gojo talk via text and phone calls. He never asks to meet up, and never tries to pressure you in any way. You do discuss your past some more, calmly this time. He listens quietly to everything you say, apologizes over and over, and (only when you’re ready to hear it) explains why he did all those things.

His reasons were so childish and petty, it makes you realize he was just fifteen or sixteen years old when he did those things. Maybe it’s not fair to keep punishing someone for things they did at that age, if they’re trying to make it right as an adult.

One night you have another anemic spell, and your friend is at work. The only family you have is your mother, and she’s still hospitalized. Nervously, you text Gojo. He’s already told you to let him know if you ever need anything, but the thought of seeing him face to face again makes you uneasy.

Still, he shows up at your door in a flash, a bag full of food and DVD’s hanging on his arm. Seeing him standing there in your living room, so tall and so beautiful, makes your heart race.

“Did you faint again?” he asks, looking so worried.

“No, I just felt dizzy and weak,” you tell him.

“Then just relax,” he says with a smile. “I’ll take care of you.”

And he does. He cooks for you, brings you hot tea, and sits on the couch with you watching movies. He stays until the next morning, and you’re a little surprised that he never tried to tempt you into sleeping with him. You remember that the last time you weren’t feeling well, he did the same thing.

To be honest, you’re a little disappointed.

After that, the two of you are officially friends. You talk often, always checking in on each other’s days, getting to know each other’s habits and schedules.

The friendship doesn’t last long.

The first time you go to his place to “hang out just as friends”, both of you give in.

One minute you’re sitting on his couch, laughing and talking, and the next you’re wrapped in his arms, his tongue in your mouth, his hands tugging at your clothes.

He spreads you out naked on the cushions and eats your pussy like a man starved, saying how much he missed you, missed tasting you, missed watching you cum. He goes at it for over an hour, making you climax so many times you practically forget how to speak, only able to whimper and gasp.

Then, he fucks your ass, absolutely railing you. You’re so overstimulated by this point that you just want him inside you, no matter what hole he uses. Overwhelmed by your own feelings, you start crying. Gojo holds you close to him, hugging you gently, rubbing your hair, whispering sweet words into your ear as he fucks you relentlessly.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re so beautiful. Feels so good inside you… Fuck, you’re incredible!”

You know what he’s doing, and it only makes you even more emotional. He wants you to know what he thinks of you. He doesn’t want you to question how attractive he finds you. He doesn’t want you to feel insecure.

The two of you begin dating after that. You couldn’t ask for a sweeter, more supportive boyfriend. He takes care of you, pampers you, treats you like a queen. He even goes with you to visit your mom in the hospital. And through all this, you feel like you’re finally beginning to heal.

And when the two of you are alone, and very horny, sometimes you go back to being his Bunny. Not Chubby Bunny, he’s never called you that since finding out how much it bothered you, but just Bunny.

Right now, you’re in the living room of his apartment, all the curtains closed and the door locked. You’re wearing your collar, bunny ears, and thigh high stockings, and nothing else. Your hands are handcuffed in front of you, and you’re on your hands and knees, your legs trembling as you crawl toward Gojo, who is tugging on your leash.

It’s hard to crawl with two huge dildos shoved inside you, one in each hole, both of them vibrating and rotating wildly. Earlier, Gojo got on his knees behind you and jacked off until ready to cum. Then he stuck just the tip into your pussy and filled it full. With his fingers, he scooped up the cum that leaked out and pushed it into your ass. Then he put the dildos in, leaving them to churn and stir up his cum, telling you not to let them fall out.

It feels so good, being full of his cum, the sensation of it swirling inside you. But there’s one more hole that hasn’t had any yet. So you crawl between his spread thighs while he sits on the couch, looking down at you lovingly. You nuzzle his clothed crotch with your face and say, “Please fill my mouth, Satoru~”

You’ve only recently started calling him that. It felt a little weird at first, after calling him Gojo for all these years, but you love the effect it has on him when you purr out his name like that.

You hear his breath catch in his throat, but he manages to compose himself. “Such a naughty, greedy Bunny! I’ve already filled two of your holes! Why don’t I just put the third dildo in your mouth?”

“No, please! The real thing… in my mouth… please,” you whine, staring up at him with glossy eyes. “Your cock tastes so good, Satoru… please feed me your cum!”

His eyes go wide, and you can just barely hear him mutter, “Holy fucking fuck!”

You’ve leaned by now that he’s totally weak to your begging. You’re the one handcuffed and leashed, but Gojo would move heaven and earth to please you, to watch you lose yourself to pleasure.

“Th-then I guess I’ll fill that pretty mouth,” he says, his hands fumbling with his pants in his hurry to get them open. He stands up, towering over you. There’s a faint blush across his pale features, and he’s breathing a little harder than usual as he pulls out his cock. You open your lips, your tongue partially out. He grins. “You’re gonna have to open wider than that, Bunny, or this huge dick won’t fit.”

You lick your lips, then open your mouth wider, and he immediately shoves in. He fucks your mouth, thrusting into it, hitting the back of your throat, groaning when your tongue laps at every inch it can reach.

“F-fuck! Your fucking mouth… so good…”

These moments together are so much hotter now that you can fully enjoy them, knowing he finds you irresistible. It makes you feel sexy, desired, loved. Knowing you can make him lose his mind gets you wet every time.

Just when your jaw is starting to get sore, he pulls out so that he’s barely in your mouth, and shoots his load inside it. There’s so much!

“Don’t swallow it yet,” he says, his face slightly red, his hair messy. He grabs the third dildo and pushes it into your mouth, turning it on low so that it can slowly stir his cum in your mouth, spreading it to every inch. Then he stands back and watches as all three of your holes, full of his seed, are fucked by the gyrating toys.

You moan around the dildo in your mouth, locking eyes with him. He’s panting, his eyes wild with desire. Before your eyes, his cock gets hard again, standing tall and gorgeous just like him.

He drops to his knees behind you and uses his hand to pump the dildo in your ass, in and out, making obscene squelching noises. With his other hand, you feel him pull the dildo out of your pussy. He holds it up, and you look at it over your shoulder. It’s dripping with his cum and your wetness.

“Gotta be inside this pussy,” he mumbles, and then he’s thrusting into you, deep and hard enough to make your body jerk with his motions. You’re sore from being fucked by the dildos, which are almost as big as Gojo’s cock, but you wouldn’t pass this up for anything in the world. He pushes the dildo into your ass to the same rhythm as he fucks your pussy, making your eyes roll back as you release muffled cries.

Gojo is grunting behind you, losing himself, babbling out words.

“Fuck… fuck… I love you so much… this cock belongs to you… every ounce of my cum belongs to you… everything I am… yours…”

He thrusts in deep enough to make you scream, and shoots loads of hot cum into your core. After pulling out, he quickly pulls out the dildo in your ass, sticks his cock in, and shoots out the rest of his load.

He’s panting as he turns you over, so that you’re lying on your back, your legs splayed, creamy cum dripping out of both holes. He reaches over and gently pulls the dildo from your mouth, watching as your tongue continues to lick at it, collecting any remaining cum from the sticky object.

“Just how much do you love my cum?” he asks, staring down at you in awe.

You run your tongue around the edge of your mouth. “It’s delicious,” you say.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he says, pulling you up and unfastening the collar.

You snuggle into his arms as he helps you to the bathroom, enjoying how incredibly sweet he is during after care.

The two of you have come a long way. Even now, you’re not certain you’ve one hundred percent forgiven him. And occasionally you remember something terrible he did to you and it makes you uncomfortable around him for a few days. But he’s putting in the work to make it up to you, and you’re having a wonderful time enjoying being his girlfriend. You couldn’t ask for a happier ending than that.

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dreamingofep · 2 months

Text

Forbidden Love pt. 3💔❣️

Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: Reuniting with Elvis was supposed to be the highlight of your summer, but with unresolved tensions between you two, things aren't what they seem. [Fem!reader]

TW: Cussing, TENSION, ANGST, kissing, fingering, oral

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6k

A/N: Hello everyone! Cannot wait to have you all read this next part🤭 This is a very important day for Elvis in his career! July 17,1969 is when From Elvis in Memphis was released! It’s an important part of the story and you’ll find out later why this album is so important to Elvis too! Enjoy!

•

You could not let go of how Elvis was treating you. It was so immature and childish. You couldn’t get over how he made you feel when he got so close. It was suffocating and thrilling all at the same time. He shouldn’t have done any of that though.

You decide to sit back down on the couch and wait for John. You’d rather be at home right now and get away from Elvis before he did anything else reckless. The house was very quiet and could only hear the guys talk outside. There was a bookshelf in the living room that had dozens of books. Some were classics that you had read a million times and some were spiritual and philosophical. Those really caught your eye. You didn’t know Elvis was interested in those things.

You pick one off the shelf and start sifting through it. The way it talked about life and the meaning of it was something you had never thought about. It was beautiful and could see why Elvis might like to read something like this.

The sound of clicking heels coming down the hallway turns your attention to see who is coming. It didn’t sound like Elvis walking in. These sounded like stiletto heels. A girl wearing a yellow dress passes the living room and does a double take when she walks by, not expecting you sitting there. She looks like the girl in the photo with Elvis you saw earlier. She stops dead in her tracks and has a confused look on her face.

“Who are you?” She says sharply.

You place the book down on the coffee table and stand up.

“Hi I uh-, I’m y/n. You must be Dianne?” You ask politely.

“Yeah, I am. You still haven’t answered my question though, who are you?” She snaps.

You stare at her dumbfounded. She was so rude. Is this how she interacts with all of Elvis’ guests?

“I’m a friend of Elvis. My husband is going to start working for him,” you tell her flatly, not putting up with her crass attitude.

She takes a few steps into the living room to get a closer look at you.

“Hmm. Elvis has never mentioned you,” she says, her voice snobby and pretentious.

Your jaw clenches at her rude comments. You’re doing everything in your power to not blow up on her too.

“I’ll get out of your way then. It seems you were not prepared for company,” you say walking past her annoyed.

You make your way to the front door and don’t get the chance to open the door yourself as someone comes barreling in quickly. It was Elvis opening the door and coming in, inches away from face again. You stand there paralyzed, not expecting to be so close to him. He has a spry smile on his face like he is all too pleased to be this close to you again.

You quickly step back, making room for him to come in. You realize John is also behind him looking confused at the situation. Elvis’ smile slowly fades when he sees Dianne right behind you.

“Hi darling,” she says chippy and quickly moves past you to hug him. She makes it look like such a show when she embraces him. She wraps her arms around his neck and runs her hands in his hair. You wanted to roll your eyes, it was pathetic she was trying this hard. You didn’t care who Elvis was with. What has become abundantly clear, he didn’t care about you either and you had to deal with that fact later.

You look back at John and try to smile at him.

“How did it go?” You ask him.

“It went fine. Elvis wants me to work security for him,” he explains. You’re a little shocked that’s the job he gave him. John has no security background and doesn’t even know how to use a gun. You also didn’t know Elvis needed that much security nowadays. You couldn’t help but worry a bit for John’s safety doing this… as well as Elvis’…

“Oh wow… I wasn’t expecting that. Are you okay with doing that?” You ask gently.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ll just need some lessons and I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it all,” he tries to assure you.

“Honey, you didn’t tell me we were having company,” Dianne says behind you, a slight agitation in her voice.

“Yeah, I must have forgotten. But these are old friends, they don’t need to be fussed over. They can come by any time,” Elvis says with a smile walking back over to John. He puts his arm around him and pats his chest in a friendly way.

You almost believe this act he’s putting on. He learned a thing or two from being in Hollywood that’s for sure. The way his voice lit up and how his whole demeanor was relaxed and calm. John couldn’t be happier to have his friend treat him like this. You hadn’t seen such a big smile on his face in a long time. You look back at Elvis and your eyes lock onto each other’s. He knew you could see past the act and the smile he was faking right now.

“Why don’t we all have dinner together here Friday night? It would be so nice to get to know you both. Elvis never talks about his friends with me,” Dianne says.  You watch as the rehearsed smile on Elvis’ face slowly turns into a scowl. Oh, that look was a dangerous one. He couldn’t hide any longer how uncomfortable he was in this situation.

“Why don’t we talk this over later dear,” Elvis says flatly, letting go of John.

“No, I want to have dinner with them, What is there to talk about?” She snaps back. You watch as Elvis gives her a cold stare. He lets out a slow, deep breath as he stands there searching for the right thing to say.

A smirk forms on your lips when the most devious thoughts pop into your head.

Throw more fuel on the fire that is Elvis Presley.

“Oh no, that sounds like a wonderful idea! I can make a dessert! I make an amazing cherry pie! Elvis, you would love it! If I remember correctly you love cherries right?” You say excitedly. You quickly turn back to John, “Wouldn’t that be nice John? We can catch up like it’s old times! Besides, I haven’t seen you since your goodbye party Elvis. I would love to know what you’ve been up to in these eleven years,” you quip.

Elvis’ jaw clenches as he now turns how scowl to you. You look straight into his fiery eyes and have no fear in your body. He had to know how pissed you were for doing this to you. Dianne’s face was a bit shocked at your admission.

“Oh, you both have known each other that long and kept in touch?” She asks warily.

“Well, he and John have stayed in touch. Whenever I would call, the phone seemed to magically disconnect and never take my calls,” you say, acting confused looking at Elvis. He knows what you’re doing and he is doing everything in his power not to snap at you.

“I think I should be going,” you say looking at your watch, “I have work soon and need to get ready. What time would you like us over Dianne? Six okay?” You ask sweetly.

She nods her head and smiles at you, “yes that would be perfect! We can’t wait,” she says looking back at Elvis and his unpleased expression aimed at you.

You force another fake smile at him and go to hug Dianne goodbye. You didn’t want to, but you knew it would irk Elvis more than anything. You stop in front of him and give him a pathetic hug. “Can’t wait for dinner,” you say flatly, matching his expression. He continues to stay quiet. You’ve never heard silence so loud before.

June 17, 1969

You worked the morning shift at the diner today and you couldn’t help but worry about this dinner tonight. As much as you were proud of yourself for getting under Elvis’ skin as he did to you, you couldn’t help but feel nervous again in his presence. You’re sure he knew your game and you were afraid of what he was going to say around Dianne and John. The last thing you needed was for him to expose what you two did at his goodbye party. You had never told a soul about what happened that night. And admitting it now, eleven years later to your husband and his girlfriend would be disastrous.

You surprisingly got off of work on time and quickly ran to the store to get the ingredients for the cherry pie. Baking was one of your favorite things to do when you had any free time. You loved to measure all the ingredients and mix them just enough to make something sweet and delicious. It took a while to cut everything up and roll out the dough but it was all a labor of love. You hoped Elvis would like it. You always remember he loved it when you brought it over for barbecues…

You let the pie cool on the counter and start to get ready. You were once again plagued with the worry of what to wear and how to look for this dinner. You sifted through your closet and tried to find something casual but you ended up going with a red swing dress. You focused on doing your hair and makeup next, taking your time with your winged eyeliner and curling the ends of your hair just right.

The creak of the door startled you and you quickly go to make sure it was John coming in. He looked tired and sweaty when he walked in, barely looking at you when you greeted him.

“Hey, are you okay?” You ask.

“No, I’ve had a long day. I’m tired and just want to sit down,” he snaps.

“Oh, I didn’t know. What did you do today?” You’re doing your best to not roll your eyes at his attitude.

“We ran around doing errands that Elvis made us do and Jesus, that guy just ran us ragged. We drove all over LA in this sweltering heat and he was just in a shitty mood all day. I don’t know what his deal was,” he says frustrated.

“Well, I’m sorry. People can have rough days sometimes. Elvis is just a man,” you try to say gently. “Maybe he’ll be in a better mood at dinner.”

“I’m not going to dinner,” he spats.

“What? Why?”

“I don’t want to. Plus Elvis didn’t even want to have this dinner! It was you and Dianne making a huge deal about it. Just call him and cancel,” he says as he walks away into the bedroom.

“What? No, I’m not canceling! We’re supposed to be there in half an hour! I’m sure the food is made already and everything. It's just rude to cancel so late,” you try to reason following behind him. He sifted through his drawers to get new clothes as he headed to the bathroom, completely ignoring you.

“John will you listen to me!” You say raising your voice.

He quickly turns around, “Then go by yourself if you’re so worried! I don’t care, just go, I don’t want to be there,” he snaps.

You didn’t say anything at first, his words were so cold and it hurt you more than you thought.

“Yeah I know you don’t care,” you mumble under your breath as you walk away.

Going back into the bedroom, you slip into some heels and grab the pie off the counter. You snag the car keys off the counter and angrily get in the car.

It wasn’t a far drive to Elvis’ house but your head was swarming with angry thoughts the whole time going up there. You felt like every man had an issue with you at this point. Elvis purposefully blocked you out of his life and John couldn’t stand to be with you in his spare time. It made you feel awful about yourself and had so many reservations about going to this dinner alone now. It wasn’t a great look for you. He had already supposedly told Elvis things weren’t going well for you two. This only made it look worse.

You pull up to the gates and someone opens them for you. You try to prepare yourself to put on an act for the whole night to get to know Dianne. It was going to be a long night you feared. You couldn’t give a damn about her. You wanted to get to the root of the problem between you and Elvis. If John was going to work for him, you were in Elvis’ life whether he liked it or not. You’d be around much more and you weren’t going to let him take jabs at you any chance he got.

You grab the pie from the passenger seat and head for the front door. You gently knock on the door and wait patiently. You can hear the turn of the lock and you prepare to put a big smile on your face for whoever is going to answer the door. Your smile drops when you see it’s Elvis who opens it. It was something so trivial, but you just never expected Elvis to open his own front door. He looked devilishly good once again. Damn it he was so distracting. He wore a blue silk button-up that was unbuttoned to the middle of his chest with a silver and turquoise belt. A gold chain hung from his neck and just drew more attention to his exposed chest. He looked good without even trying and those black pants were tailored to perfection.

Focus, you idiot.

“Hey,” you say sheepishly.

His face had the same shocked look as it did the other day when he saw you. You didn’t know what to make of it. He looks past you and peers his head to the side of the door.

“Where’s John?” He asks.

“Umm, he’s not coming. He wasn’t feeling well,” you try to explain. Elvis presses his lips together and opens the door for you to come in.

“Great,” he mumbles under his breath.

You hesitantly walk in, not liking his attitude already. You walk in through the foyer and turn to the dining room to set down the pie. The long marble table was set with napkins and silverware already and a tall candlestick centerpiece. There were four placemats set on the table, two on each side of the table facing each other. You set down the dish to the side since it won’t be served right away.

The house was stone quiet. It didn’t seem like there was anyone in here but you and Elvis. One of his housekeepers emerges from the kitchen and gives you a courtly smile.

“Can I get you something to drink dear?” She asks you.

“Just some water please,” you say politely.

She returns quickly with a glass of water for you and you turn back to Elvis, standing there with his arms crossed at his chest looking down at the ground.

You don’t exactly know what to do or where to sit. The whole room feels awkward with just the two of you in it. You decide to move to the living room and wait for Dianne to come downstairs. Elvis follows behind you shortly after. You look out the window and see the city below. The view was truly beautiful. There was a large pool in the backyard and lounge chairs along the edge of it. You could see why Elvis liked this house so much. It was perfect for entertaining. You could feel Elvis staring at you from behind. It ticked you off he doesn’t even try to have a conversation with you.

“Does Dianne know I’m here this time?” You ask him.

“Yeah well… she’s not here,” he tells you.

You turn around quickly, “What? Why? I thought she wanted this dinner,” you say confused.

“We got in a big fight this afternoon and is staying at her sister’s for a bit,” he says a bit uncomfortably.

“Oh, I’m sorry about that…” you say quietly. A heaviness fills the air and you both don’t know what else to say to each other.

“You shouldn’t have come,” he says, breaking the silence.

“What? I didn’t know that you and Dianne got in a fight and John wasn’t feeling good before we left. It would have been rude to just cancel like that!” You try to reason. He shakes his head, not liking anything you just said.

“It wouldn’t have mattered,” he grumbles.

The housekeeper pops her head into the living room and tells you both that dinner is ready on the table. You smile at her and head for the dining room. You probably should just leave, he doesn’t want you here, but you couldn’t give up on Elvis that quickly. Sure, people change over the years, but you didn’t buy that Elvis became so irreverent about everything.

You sit down and place your glass of water in front of your plate. It was a classic Southern meal with pot roast and mashed potatoes. It smelled delicious. Elvis sits down reluctantly across from you, sighing softly when he looks down at his plate. The house was all too quiet for your liking.

You spot a record player behind Elvis. One of your favorite memories at Graceland was always having music playing and everyone having a great time. You spot his new album sitting on the side of the speakers. It just came out today and was titled, From Elvis in Memphis. It had a picture of him from the ’68 special in front of the background dancers that mirrored his silhouette.

“Can we put on your new album?” You try to sound bubbly. You were genuinely curious to hear it. This was his first album since his big special. His whole career was heading in a new path because of it and the buzz around this new album was on everyone’s mind.

“Maybe later,” he says as he picks up the napkin and puts it on his lap.

It was disheartening to hear him not care about his new work.

“You were always so excited to share your new albums…”

“I know, I’m just not in the mood,” he says flatly.

“Is it because I’m here?” You ask bluntly.

His eyes shoot up to look at you and his silence speaks loud and clear.

At this point, it ticked you off this was the way he was treating you. You hadn’t had an actual conversation in a decade with him and he acted like you were the worst person he could interact with. The housekeeper checks in on you both to see if you need anything else.

“No, thank you. We’re fine. You can go home and rest, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says pleasantly.

She thanks him and leaves a few moments later.

Now you two were really alone and it made you uneasy. Neither of you has touched your plates and you try to scramble for where you want to start. You needed to hear what his problem was with you. Even if it ruined your relationship forever.

“What did I do wrong?” You say forcefully. He looks at you a little shocked at your tone.

“Nothing, you’ve done nothing wrong,” he says coldly.

“Bullshit,” you snap, his eyebrows furrowed by your outburst. “You took one look at me the other day and hated my very presence!”

“What did you want me to do? Did you want me to pretend like I was waiting for you to show up? Catch up like old times,” he hisses.

“No, but show me a little bit of decency! It wasn’t my fault that I haven’t heard from you for years! I did everything in my power to try and keep in touch with you. You chose not to reciprocate that, why?!” You press.

“I had nothing to say to you, did you think of that,” he spats.

It hurt, you thought you knew him so well but you don’t know where your friend went after the Army.

“I’m going to be around whether you like it or not. The least you can do is give me answers,” you tell him. He stares at you intensely, his eyes too dark for your liking.

“Fine,” he says.

You shift your food around on the plate, knowing your next question might open a can of worms.

“You regret it, don’t you?” You ask, looking back up at him.

“Regret what?” He asks through his teeth.

“You regret having that night with me before you left,” You tell him.

“No I don’t-,” he tries to tell you but you cut him off.

“How can you say that?! It was one of the first things you brought up after not seeing me for eleven years! I can put two and two together,” you say disgustedly.

Elvis looks down at his plate again and shakes his head.

“I don’t regret it, but it haunts me every day,” he says low. You were taken aback at his confession. You were afraid to have him explain himself but you needed the truth.

“What does that even mean?” You ask hesitantly. He flashes his heated eyes back at you, making your heart race a million miles an hour.

“It means I think about it much too often and wish things were different,” he admits. Your blood boils at his words, you can’t hold back your anger.

“You wish things were different?! How do you think I have felt for the past decade! I miss my old friend! I miss someone that I can talk to any time I want and who could help me in any situation. I barely have a husband who can tolerate my presence! Now I have to add you to that list!” you seethe.

You can tell he’s taken aback by your words. He wasn’t expecting for such emotions out of you today. You get up from your seat, too much anger flowing through you to sit down any longer.

You don’t let him speak just yet, there was too much racing in your head to stop you.

“What we did, it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. You’re acting like we actually…” you stop yourself from saying it out loud. If you said it out loud you might hurt your own feelings. You don’t want to feel rejected again.

“We did enough, that’s all that matters. We didn’t know what we were doing,” he tries to say nonchalantly.

God, he was infuriating! Everything that was coming out of his mouth made you want to scream your head off at him. One more snobby remark and you were afraid you were going to do just that. You come to the front of the table to get closer to Elvis which was a dangerous move but you didn’t care.

“I wanted you, Elvis! There was not a doubt in my mind that you were the one I wanted in that moment. I had never felt for anyone like that before! Don’t you dare try to downplay my feelings,” you snap.

“We were both drinking and let it get to our heads!” he tries to reason.

“No! I was so sure! I wanted you. That was all I wanted for that night. I didn’t care you were leaving. It was so much more than that. My feelings would not have changed,” you seethe. He sits there holding the armrest tightly, his chest rising and falling faster than normal. You try to have patience for him, try to let him speak but he just sits there. He looks at you like no one has ever looked at you before.

Was it anger? Frustration? Lust?

Lord, it cannot be that last one.

“You know what, I’ll go. It’s clear that you’re not going to change,” you hiss at him.

You start to turn away and stop when you hear the screech of his chair moving back and the sound of shattering plates hitting the floor. You look at the mess on the floor and Elvis’ fierce gaze. He quickly grabs your wrist and stills you from going any further.

“What are you-,” you start to say.

He picks you up and sets you on the table, your heart racing uncontrollably as you look up at him.

“Enough.” He growls. You try to squirm but he holds you firmly on the table as he hunches down to get eye level with you.

“And you don’t think I wanted you? I never wanted someone so badly in my life. It terrified me. I couldn’t though. I couldn’t have my way with you. You had never been with a man and I wasn’t the right person to do that.” He admits looking away.

“I-, I didn’t care about that. I wanted you to have me,” you say low.

He straightens out his posture, taking in a deep breath before speaking.

“I know, I know you did. I could feel how much you needed me,” he sighs, brushing your hair off your shoulders. His fingers brush your skin and makes you have goosebumps all over. “What an idiot.” He murmurs.

All you can hear is the sound of you two breathing shallowly and quietly.

“And those sounds you made when you were on me… they play way too often in my head,” he says softly, leaning in your ear. Your hands grab onto his arms, unable to hide the way his words are affecting you. Images of that night flash in your head again. It felt like it was yesterday and you can see how his face made those beautiful expressions when you were moving on him. His hands slide down your arms and gently slide down your legs. Your body tenses and you take a sharp breath in. His hands feel so good on you and burn through the material of your dress.

Looking up into his eyes, you feel yourself melt. You remember this exact feeling eleven years ago… but things were very different now.

“Am I too late to have sucha night with you?” He coos. His entire presence was suffocating and intoxicating. Each breath you made was harder to take with him this close to you.

“Elvis,” you say in a breathy sigh.

You’re nine years too late, you think anxiously. That ring on your ring finger seared into your skin, making it abundantly clear you should not have found yourself in this situation. It also burned as a reminder of how unhappy you were. How it weighed you down in chasing your hopes and dreams for years now.

Damn it Elvis was wildfire. One look from him and he consumed all reasonable logic. You loved how it felt to have all of his attention on you. It was something you didn’t realize you craved. You craved a man’s attention and affection.

A smirk forms on his face after hearing his name come from your lips.

“Hmm… I’ve missed you saying my name like that,” he says pressing his forehead to yours. You feel yourself losing the battle with him. He’s pulled you in too far and you love it.

You can’t hold back anymore, you need him. There was no other voice in your head other than it screaming his name.

“Kiss me,” you whimper as you slide your hand on the back of his neck and through his hair. He puts his hand on your cheek and leans in.

Passion and fireworks explode in your head. His lips felt better than they did before. They were so soft and plush and had you craving more. You can’t catch your breath in between kisses as he continues to move his hands on you. The soft material of his shirt had you clawing at it, needing to feel his skin.

Small, soft moans come from your throat as you kiss him more. You never wanted him to stop. You were suddenly transported back to that night but this time it was somehow so much more intense. His hands move up your legs again and move your dress up with it. His fingers rub and tease the soft, sensitive flesh near your core. You felt like you were on fire from every touch of his. Your core began to throb and ache for more. You feel his hands spread your legs open wider, allowing him to step in between them and get closer.

You needed his hands to touch you more, to touch you in places you’ve only dreamed of since. You guide one of his hands lower and he understands exactly what you need.

He takes two fingers and rubs them up and down your folds. The friction felt so good and you instantly moaned in his mouth. It had been so long since you’ve felt any pleasure and this was on a whole other level. He responds with a moan too and slips his tongue in your mouth. You felt completely breathless as he teased and had you reeling for more. His fingers were gentle when they moved on you and knew where you needed the most attention. He puts more pressure when he rubs your clit, liking how your body bucks into his hand. Then he teases your entrance, rubbing and pushing his fingers slightly into you. You gasp as you feel the material of your panties get pushed inside of you.

“Oh God,” you moan.

His incessant teasing has you on the edge of dying. You knew you were embarrassingly wet from all of this and he was just making it worse. He kisses you again and groans while he does so. You feel his finger pull your panties to the side and let his other fingers slide through your sopping-wet folds. You have to break the kiss as you feel his curious fingers give you exactly what you need. You watch as his face also forms into pleasure the more he discovers you.

“Jesus baby,” he moans, his face looking shocked and turned on.

You hold onto him tighter, your eyes silently pleading for more from him. He nods his head at you, getting the message you need him. He gently pushes his slender finger inside of you, pumping it in and out of you slowly. You can’t help but throw your head back, it all feels too good as your core squeezes around him.

“Fuck honey, you’re so damn wet,” he groans. You can’t speak as so many different sensations are flooding your body.

You continue to hold onto him, too afraid this is all a dream and you’re going to wake up any minute now. But he keeps you focused on him and what he’s giving you. He enters another long finger inside you, making you moan his name. You weren’t expecting any of this. How he was making you feel euphoric with the smallest movements of his hands. You look back up into his eyes and he has that droopy, lust-filled look glassed over him. Just looking at him had you weak and breathless. You close your eyes as you feel the coil in your belly become tighter and tighter.

Your eyes pop back open as you feel him gently grab your ankle and push your leg up, having your foot rest on the table’s edge. He then starts to slowly sink down on his knees in front of you. You silently cuss under your breath watching him kneel before you and look at your weeping core.

He licks his lips slightly, pumping his fingers slowly into you again and making you squirm. He only does this for a few more moments before he gently takes his fingers out of you and looks up. You gasp when you feel him no longer inside you and feel your wetness come leaking out of you. You look down at him with your cheeks burning red. He doesn’t mind your blushing embarrassment, no, he’s enjoying this so much and wants you to feel good.

He leans in close and you feel his tongue swipe through your folds. You loudly moan, you have never felt anything so good. He teases and knows just what you want without you saying a word. Your hand tangles in his hair and encourage him to keep going. You felt yourself edging closer and closer to finishing and he knew it too. His hands squeezed around your thighs, keeping your legs spread apart for him.

His tongue teases your entrance and plunges it inside of you. You cry out for him, loving what he’s giving you. It all felt too good to be true. This wasn’t how you expected your evening to go. What started as raging hate for him turned into passionate lust that clouded over everything. He slithers his hand to your clit and starts to rub it as he continues to eat you.

You gasp for air and feel your entire body tense. You look down at him helplessly and watch how his eyes are closed and completely focused on you.

“Oh God Elvis, please,” you cry for him.

He doesn’t stop and knows he’s got you on the edge of falling apart. A few more movements from his tongue and your body shudders hard. Your core squeezes around him and you buck into him. You gasp for air and hold onto his hair tighter. Your vision grows blurry and you don’t even feel like you’re on this earth right now. You felt like you were in another world and it only consisted of you and Elvis there. He makes his own pleased groans as his tongue continues to go to work on you. You can’t help but cry out for him, telling him how good it feels.

You hadn’t felt this much pleasure in ages. It was new and enlightening. He gradually slows his pace down and moves up to tease your swollen bud. It was like a zap of electricity running through you as his mouth teased. He stops to look up at you, his mouth and chin covered in your slick. He slowly gets up, his tall stature looming over you and making you feel so small.

He stares at you with awe in his eyes. You felt the same. He leans in to kiss you, passion overflowing with his lips. Your head is spinning once again with how he’s kissing you and the way his hands hold onto you tightly.

You pull away to get air and see he’s just as breathless. Your thumb gently wipes his face to get it clean once again and he smiles. He then picks you up off the table and has you stand once again. Your legs shake slightly and you hold onto his arm tight.

He takes your hand in his and starts walking away from the dining room. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you the entire way. You stop him as he starts to lead you further into the house.

“Where are we going?” You ask a bit nervously.

He smirks at you and pulls you in for another kiss. You melt as you feel him pressed against you for the first time in a very long time.

“I wasn’t done making you feel good,” he says coyly. “Is that ok?”

You nod your head at him, knowing he has you in the palm of his hand now, liking it more than you thought possible.

•

Tagging: @loving-elvis @neptuneismysister @velvetelvis

@ccab @presleyenterprise@theresalwaysep

@prompted-wordsmith@sillybookmarks @dkayfixates

@ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog

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@idontwanttoputanything. @ohjustpeachy-

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@returntopresley. @iloveelvis @rimartin11 @that-hotdog.

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#elvis presley #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis smut #elvis presely smut #elvis fic #elvis imagine #elvis x reader #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #60s elvis #sammykinz fics

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demonslayedher · 1 month

Text

Today I went to the Zenshuuchuu-ten (Total Concentration Exhibition) for the Swordsmith Village and Hashira Training arcs today!

This is basically a chance for Ufotable to be like, "remember that cool thing we did?" and for we the fans to be like, "yup, sure do, that's why we're here."

It's not quite as extensive as other KnY events I've been to, and it doesn't particularly provide any new information, but it's fun to see some glimpses of the process from animation cells to finished clips. There's always a handful of fun displays to interact with, scrolls of character designs, and nice panels to display screenshots, especially centered around character arcs and impactful moments.

This time it was roughly as follows:

1. A room with large screen shots of Muzan the Upper Moons that appear in time with lines from the show and twangs of a biwa

2. A small room with a small swordsmithing game that they hurry everyone through. You need to strike the sword with just the right amount of force to get a ball into the middle of three slots, which I did, so I got handed a little piece of paper which is my certification as a master. I mentioned this to a friend afterword and her response was "of course you did."

3. A room in two parts dedicated to Muichiro's arc in SSV, with a hazy curtain you pass through sort of like Muichiro gaining his memories, and a model of his sword backlit in turquoise

4. A room dedicated to Mitsuri's arc in SSV, including a model of her sword which curves all the way across the room, and a little Mitsuri whom you could challenge to arm wrestling. She beat me pretty easily.

5. A Genya room of screenshots, and models of both his short little sword and his gun. Forgot to mention that their lines were playing overheard in each room!

6. A Gyokko and Hantengu room. A Gyokko only appeared over a model of the vase if you took a photo with flash, and there was a little Hantengu figure to look for, and if you found it, they'd give you a piece of origami paper on your way out of the gallery (pretty much everybody found it, but it was tiny).

8. The dedicated to Nezuko's mastery was not in-your-face triumph, but instead had a TV screen playing the Nezuko tribute music video version of her song, with the lyrics as scattered across the grey walls as the stream-of-consciousness lyrics.

9. Right after that, the staff ushers you in to the Hashira meeting, as though you were late.

Next to the meeting taking place, there is a model of Tanjiro's new old sword.

8. After that is a room dedicated to Giyuu's back story. I liked the design of the hanging screenshots in this one. Although the overall image is "water" because of the blue, the water design with light cast on the floor, and water droplet sounds mixed in with Giyuu's lines, the half-and-half effect was perhaps not intentional, but it was there. When you turn back to look through this room, the hanging screenshots--memories of Sabito and Tsutako--are all black.

9. The rest is a room dedicated to the different stages of Hashira training, with 3-D displays like riceballs, paper airplanes, pancakes with honeycomb and a ribbon, a board with ropes and sword cut marks (yikes), scuffed wooden swords, and a boulder you could push on. Along the tops of these displays were some eyeballs scoping everything out...

10. After that they put you in a theater room with three wide screens and headphones. At the last Zenshuuchuuten they did a reedit of the Akaza and Rengoku fight across three screens, so I figured this would have has plunging into the Infinity Fortress. After a preview review of Hashira Training highlights and Muzan's walk, yup, sure enough things got explosive and they plunged us in via the big screen, including some extra disorientation by zooming really closely in on some moving shots, or having multiple things happen at once across the screens.

11. Then they funnel you into a place with a TV playing the announcement for the Infinity Castle movies. No new content or news.

12. After that, these things tend to have a bright and happy Kimetsu Academy room! You could take photos, but there was a chalkboard with the voice actors have let their signatures and messages for the fans. I appreciated how they seemed to reflect their characters in their comments and handwriting, to some extent (certainly not Matsuoka (Inosuke) or none of it would be legible, but Hayami (Shinobu) has very legible, handwriting, and Hanae (Tanjiro) has comments like "I hope you'll feel like GUWAAA and GAAAAA!"). You could not take photos of the signatures, but you could take a photo of Mitsuri's art and figment of her imagination who says disparaging things to her (despite how she wants her art to make the world happy?? Oh, the irony):

13. The gallery concludes with a hall eyecatch illustrations, and a hall of Ufotable staff art paying homage to their favorite characters and scenes. Always treat seeing things in Ufotable style, but with individual craft and taste!

14. After that, you buy things. This is where they get ya.

Kind of thankfully, it's late enough in the exhibition's run that they've already run out of a lot of the smaller items I was intrigued by, so I behaved myself. I got the t-shirts I was planning on (I love the simplicity of them so so much, and really had to resist getting the paper airplane one too), a Daki ribbon item leftover from the last exhibition (though what I really wanted was Daki shoelaces), and an official pamphlet of the event. My friend got a couple Osaka-only badges,but since she got doubles of Zenitsuup the Umeda Sky Building, she gave one to me.

I really love that "nanikore" ("what the...?") design. It's so simple, and if you don’t know KnY, you might think they're just silly little circus dudes. But people who know will be like, "!!!" and their day will be a little brighter for having seen it.

Gonna do a quick self-reblog now with some extra photos!

#reblog with more photos coming in a minute #kny in real life #kny merch

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novlr · 9 months

Note

Hello. Not sure if this was asked yet, but do you have any advice on how to write enemies to friends, then friends to lovers, considering there was romantic tension between them before when they were enemies? Thank you very much in advance!

The enemies to lovers trope is a beloved narrative device, especially in the romance genre. As a creative writer looking to explore this trope, there are key elements and techniques to consider in order to craft a believable and engaging story. Here’s how you can turn animosity into affection and keep your readers hooked.

Understanding the trope

Before diving into writing, it’s important to understand what makes the ‘enemies to lovers’ trope so interesting. It’s a classic plot device where two characters start with a contentious relationship and, through various plot developments, end up falling in love. This trope thrives on tension and the gradual breakdown of barriers, creating a rollercoaster of emotions for both the characters and the readers.

What are the key components?

Conflict: The bedrock of this trope is the initial conflict between the characters. It can be rooted in a misunderstanding, ideological differences, or a rivalry.

Chemistry: Despite the conflict, there needs to be an underlying chemistry that hints at the potential for romance.

Character development: The evolution of the characters’ relationship must be believable. Their growth, both individually and together, is crucial to the plot.

Pacing: The shift from enemies to lovers should be gradual and well-paced, avoiding any rush that could undermine the build-up of their relationship.

Build authentic tension

When writing ‘enemies to lovers,’ the tension must feel authentic. Readers can easily spot forced conflict or chemistry, so it’s vital to create situations and dialogues that naturally showcase the friction between your characters.

Create obstacles: Design situations that challenge the characters and force them to interact in high-stakes scenarios.

Dialogue: Use snappy, charged dialogue to convey their conflict while also revealing their begrudging respect or fascination for each other.

Inner conflict: Develop the characters’ inner conflicts to add depth to their external quarrels and eventual reconciliation.

Have a strong turning point

The transition from enemies to lovers should feel earned. It often involves a pivotal moment where the characters’ perspectives shift, allowing them to see each other in a new light, becoming friends

Shared experiences: Design scenarios where the characters have to rely on each other, creating a sense of camaraderie.

Vulnerability: Allow the characters to show vulnerability to each other, which can be a powerful catalyst for changing emotions.

Moments of understanding: highlight moments of empathy and insight into each other’s motivations and vulnerabilities.

Foster the romance

Once the groundwork for the characters’ relationship shift has been set, you can focus on fostering the romantic connection.

Mutual respect: As the characters overcome obstacles, their respect for one another should grow, forming the basis for their romantic feelings.

Intimacy: Create instances where the characters share intimate moments or thoughts, further deepening their bond.

New Conflicts: Introduce new conflicts that can only be solved together, cementing their status as a team.

The payoff

The ultimate goal in the ‘enemies to lovers’ trope is to deliver a satisfying payoff that feels both surprising and inevitable. Here are ways to ensure the romance culminates in a fulfilling resolution:

Growth and sacrifice: Show how the characters have grown since the beginning of the story and the sacrifices they are willing to make for each other.

Full circle: Bring their relationship full circle by referencing elements of their initial conflict, now resolved through love and understanding.

Public acknowledgment: Include a scene where the characters acknowledge their feelings for each other in a significant way, often in public or in front of previously opposing forces.

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moonjxsung · 1 year

Text

Not Allowed

TV GIRL / NOT ALLOWED

⇢ Pairing: Lee Felix x fem reader

⇢ Summary: You and Felix are childhood friends turned fwb, with no strings attached. Felix leaves to pursue his idol dreams, and you begin your life as a college student. When he comes back to visit your town, he’s drawn to you again- but you’re both leading very different lives.

⇢ Warning: smut lol

⇢ W/c: 15k?

⇢ A/n: inspired by the TV Girl song “not allowed” <3 this has a lot of smut bc the whole song is abt sex so if ur uncomfortable with that, please don’t interact!

// MINORS DNI // DO NOT STEAL OR REPOST MY WORK

Disclaimer: All characters in this story are 18+. the actions and story represented in this work do not represent Stray Kids in any way; everything described is purely a work of fiction!

“What’s on your nasty old mind?”

Your childhood was by no means perfect. In fact, things seldom worked out in your favor. Born an only child in a middle-class working household, your parents were absent for long periods of time. Mom worked late nights at the hospital in the week, and dad was always away on business trips or out at company meetings. How many of these were actually late-night corporate gatherings and not just another woman he’d sneak off to see, you had no clue.

School was difficult, although you excelled in your courses, the stress ate away at you and withered you down like a dying flower. Decaying petal by petal, thorn by thorn, you’d find yourself questioning what the purpose of all this was if just to slave away at a desk and make money.

It seemed most everything was at the cost of your time, money, and sanity- except your friendship with Felix.

Lee Felix- even the name brought back distinct memories. Lazy, carefree afternoons when the two of you would spend hours upon hours scattering the sidewalks with chalk drawings of sea animals and hopscotch squares. Racing each other to the ice cream man’s cart when you’d hear the jingle from a block away. Laughing between singsong acrostic poems over colorful popsicles, the heat melting sticky sweetness onto your fingers, where you’d run them over your tinted red sunburns for some relief.

Most nights you’d spend at Felix’s house, tucked away in makeshift blanket forts in his bedroom- doing your best to keep hushed while you’d devise plans for tomorrow’s equally carefree July summer day.

Sometimes his sisters would join the two of you, learning all about your games as you’d walk them through the rules and dedicate one of them to the role of referee (per Felix’s sore loser request). But as you grew older, they made their own plans and friends, leaving the two of you to grow up alongside each other.

Days turned to months, which quickly turned to years that the two of you had been best friends. You observed as Felix grew taller and leaner, his short brown hair framing the introduction of freckles scattered all over his face- cheeks, eyes, and button nose. He couldn’t help but comment when you painted your nails for the first time, remarking he’d forgotten you were a girl sometimes.

Before you knew it, you and Felix made it to high school, where you each formed your own friend groups. You, a solid group of girls who shared your newfound interest in horror movies and girls nights. And Felix, a group of guys from the soccer team, the sport which he spent most of his teenage years wrapped up in.

Although you had your own lives, you and Felix remained close. You greeted him with a gentle wave every time you passed each other in the hallways, even if you were with your own groups of friends. Felix admired your newfound love for fashion, often complimenting your outfits when you had a second alone. His favorites usually involved anything olive green- which he made known was the best color on your naturally tanned skin tone. He gave his approval when you got highlights for the first time, experimented with different piercings, and even showed more skin than usual as the spring transitioned to summer.

You didn’t go unnoticed by the others in your grade- in fact, you became a particularly hot topic when you got your first boyfriend. He was a nerdy little member of the water polo team, with whom you’d spend your days after practice in his car listening to music and sharing stories of his day. It was also then that you shared your first kiss- a short, sloppy encounter in the front of his mom’s green minivan. Nothing that stuck with you in the long run, for the two of you broke up just two weeks later, citing “conflicting schedules”. He was with a new girl a week after that.

Felix was also a popular topic on campus. Girls visited his away soccer games just to watch him play, squealing when he’d score a goal and give them a little wave from down on the field. He had a girlfriend almost every year of his high school career- ranging from the most popular girl in school, to one a year older than him, and even rumors of some from rival schools (none of which were very serious). You often passed him locking lips with a girl when you passed his locker, looking awkward and a bit too happy to be there. It was those times that he had failed to acknowledge you, which you never cared about, considering you indulged in crushes on most of his friends anyway.

But he still kept you in his thoughts, making small talk when he passed you alone, and even bringing brownies from his mom when she baked a little too much (the famous recipe passed to Felix shortly after). You assured him that things were well, your parents still just as busy, your cat doing just fine, your college applications taking too much time these days.

He was just as giddy as his younger self, beaming when you shared good news and sending you off with a hug when his girlfriend or soccer buddies would drag him away. You weren’t sure any of them liked you, but they acknowledged you with a small thin-lipped smile every time they came around, which was enough for you.

Your final year of high school was a turning point for the two of you. You had made it into your first choice of university, a mere two hours from your household, with grades that reflected your hard work. Felix, on the other hand, chose a different career path.

When he knocked on your door one night, the last person you’d guessed it would be was Felix. You opened the door for him, wrapping your arms around your oversized hoodie that swallowed your frame.

“Hey!” he said enthusiastically.

“Felix!” you exclaimed quietly. Nobody was home at this hour, but the way the streetlights lit the dim world beyond your door, it felt odd to talk any louder than this.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” he asked politely, to which you furrowed your brows.

“Yeah, sure... I mean, is it bad? You’re kinda scaring me.”

He chuckled lightly. “It’s nothing bad. I just wanted to give you the news first.”

You squint your eyes, unsure if you should invite him in. It felt odd considering he hadn’t been over in a while, but you didn’t want to make things weird.

“Yeah- do you want to come inside? Should I sit down for this?”

He chuckled again. “I won’t be long.”

You stepped aside as he passed through the door, standing with his hands in his pockets as you shut it behind you.

You led him to the living room, where he sat on the edge of the couch and smiled up at you. You took a seat next to him, facing your body toward him and smiling back.

“Okay…” you said timidly.

“Okay,” he began. “You remember when we were little, and I took those dance classes?”

You furrowed your brows at that. “Yeah, the hip hop ones? When you had that little performance?”

“Exactly,” he said.

“Yeah, I remember. We were so little!”

“We were!” he replied. “Anyway, so I did this tryout at an audition a little while back. It wasn’t really something I told anyone about, you know, in case they rejected me.”

You nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“And… well… they want me to keep at it.”

You cocked your head slightly, trying to make sense of his vague tone.

“You mean… you passed the audition?”

A small smile began to form on his lips.

“Kind of? They want me to keep practicing as a… trainee? And then if I get picked, I could possibly get… signed?” he finished with a questioning tone.

The smile on your face grew as he finished his sentence.

“They want to sign you?!” you exclaimed, a warm feeling overtaking your chest.

He laughed. “Not yet, not until I go there and try out officially. But there could be a chance, I guess?”

You jumped up, waving your hands with frantic excitement. “Oh my god, Felix! That’s amazing! You have to do it! When are you- I mean, where are the tryouts? I want to watch as much as I can! How’s that gonna work out with school?”

He sighed. “That was my next point.”

You paused, watching his expression grow worrisome.

“It’s… in Korea.”

Felix expected you to cry, to choke up or even to bawl your eyes out. But you didn’t- instead, you gasped with an even bigger smile and gave one solid nod.

“Go,” you said firmly. “You can’t pass this chance up. There’s always university, and the people here, and life. You may never have this again. Go, and I’ll be rooting for you.”

His smile returned, his eyes narrowing into little crescent moons as he beamed across from you.

“You think so?” he asked.

“Oh I know so,” you reply. “Besides, if you get all famous, maybe this stupid town will be known for something other than being a shithole. They’ll say ‘you know that Felix kid’? He’s from there!”

Felix laughed, throwing his head back a little. When the two of you stopped laughing, he looked back at you, appreciation in his expression.

“You’ve always been here for me. I won’t forget that. Not ever.”

You shook your head, waving a hand.

“I’m just being a friend, Felix. That’s what we’ve always been to each other.”

He nodded. “Speaking of my best friend, where are you headed after graduation?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, cocking your head in the direction of the acceptance letter on the coffee table. “I don’t think there was ever a version of this universe where I’d be okay with not going.”

Felix’s jaw hung open, head shaking in disbelief. “Well I think this version of the universe knows how lucky they’d be to have you,” he said, extending his arms out for a hug, which you gladly accepted.

Felix held you against his chest for a minute, rubbing small circles into your back as he remarked how proud he was of you. You parroted the statement, telling him you knew he was going to make it big.

When he pulled away, his eyes darted to your lips for a brief second, and then back up to your eyes. “I can’t tell if that’s the same lip gloss you wore when we were younger.”

You chuckled. “Why would I keep the same tube of lip gloss from a decade ago?”

He smiled, a little embarrassed at his own remark. “I don’t know! You always wore that one. Strawberries? Or something like that.”

“Raspberries,” you said with a smile, and he held his gaze on yours for a second.

“Raspberry,” he echoed. “She wore raspberry.”

And in the midst of lingering seconds, he gently leaned into you, a strand of black hair falling over one eye.

“y/n… Can I… Would it be weird if I kissed you?”

You were startled for a second, as the action hadn’t crossed your mind in the time you’d known him.

“I mean, nevermind… sorry, that was weird. I’m just excited and I guess I felt like that would… lock in the moment? God, I’m sorry, that sounds so dumb-”

You chuckled at his nervousness. “Felix, if you wanted to lock in the moment, I’m pretty sure that little tangent did it enough.”

He chuckled too, a little disappointed you didn’t agree.

“Right, that’s probably true. I don’t even know why I asked that. We’re just friends after all, and it’s not like I came here to do that. I literally just got out of my relationship and I promise I’m not hitting on you-”

“Felix,” you interrupted. “I’m happy too. Come here,” you said gently, pulling his face to yours.

He smiled before pressing a tender kiss to your glossed lips, smiling into it and instinctively reaching a hand up to cup your cheek.

When he pulled away, you laughed and wiped the sweet residue from the corners of his mouth.

It didn’t feel any different between you two, only your happiness for him was elevated by the emotions running through you following the encounter.

“I’m so, so proud of you,” you told him again. “And I know you’re going to do great things.”

“I’m proud of you,” he echoed. “I don’t leave for a few months, if you want to do something? I mean as friends, obviously…”

You rolled your eyes jokingly. “A celebratory kiss doesn’t change anything between us. Duh, we can do something as friends.”

He laughed lightly. “Cool. I should get going, but we’ll catch up later?”

You nodded, gesturing to the door. “You know the way.”

And with that, he slipped back out into the night, his own house only a few blocks away.

Graduation came and went, and the two of you seemed to have reconnected again in ways you hadn’t during the entirety of high school. Felix would stop by in the early mornings, sometimes with little desserts he’d baked, and you’d enjoy them in the warm summer heat that enveloped your front porch.

For the first time ever, the two of you connected as blossoming adults. He told you tales of his past lovers- girls you now learned he would usually meet at soccer games away from your campus. He said he only ever really cared for one of them, whom he later broke up with to pursue somebody else he had his eye on. Defeating the purpose of him stating he ever cared for her, in typical Felix fashion.

He recalled the time he got caught cheating on his final math exam in sophomore year, which the teacher excused for how “tired he looked” (his words), and let him off with a gentle warning. He shared that he stayed up late practicing his dance and recording little songs on GarageBand, files which he’d save under recipe names on his computer, in case somebody accidentally came across one. Chocolate Cheesecake was his most recent, one which he’d gone so far as to upload a little thumbnail of the dessert for anonymity.

You soaked in his tales like you did the sunshine, laughing at his ability to turn the most outlandish scenarios into an adventure. You envied the way he had this long list of stories to pass down before he was even in university. But you shared your own stories back to him, albeit not the most exciting ones. You failed your driver’s test 3 times before finally passing, to which your instructor tentatively warned you to avoid busy streets for a few months.You almost set your house ablaze one night when you slept with a candle lit on your window sill. Nobody was hurt, but your mom scolded you for what felt like a lifetime. Your parents were going through a difficult patch right now, one you could see the possibility of ending in divorce. At this, Felix’s expression turned serious, swallowing at your words and nodding empathetically.

After exchanging a series of comforting words, he smiled over at you, chuckling at the way you licked your fingers clean of his famous fudge brownies.

“Is there a lucky guy?” he asked suddenly, wiggling his eyebrows in a curious manner.

“What?” you replied, trying your best to recall if you’d ever passed his house in the presence of another guy. Nothing came to mind- you hadn’t even pursued another boyfriend since your little water polo romance.

He chuckled. “Come on, there has to be somebody. I just told you all about the relationship I got out of. Think that’s reason enough to distract me with your version.”

You shook your head, smiling. “Absolutely no one. I don’t think I can do another car seat romance right now.”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “A car seat? That’s risque! You weren’t afraid of getting caught?”

You shook your head. “What’s the harm in getting caught kissing? That’s hardly a big deal!”

He furrowed his brows. “Oh sorry, I thought… something else.”

You paused for a brief moment, understanding his implications. “Felix… are you… inquiring about my sex life right now?”

His freckles almost disappeared as his face turned a bright shade of red. He was afraid if you sat any closer, you might feel the heat radiating from the tips of his ears.

“No! I wasn’t- I just thought,” he stammered.

You laughed in response. “You could’ve just asked if I was a virgin, you know. That’s not weird.”

His blush grew brighter, if even possible. “Oh god. I didn’t come here to try and get details out of you, I promise. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You shook your head. “You’re one of my best friends. I would likely tell you if I killed someone, you know.”

He laughed, the flush of his cheeks dying out a little. “Right.”

After a brief pause, you tilted your head in his direction. “Never.”

He raised his eyebrows a little, trying not to offend you with his reaction. “Never?”

You shook your head no. “Never! It just never happened. Of course if the right guy came along, I wouldn’t be opposed to it. But I’m not going to have sex with just anyone. It’s not that important to me.”

He nodded, taking in your words. There’s a kind of admiration he had for your thought process. And then he began to speak.

“Me neither.”

You almost jumped up in the swinging bench bench from beside him. “What? No way, I don’t believe you. You’re just saying that to make me feel better!”

He shrugged. “I don’t think I was with anybody long enough to get to that point. Plus, it’s not like I was ever away from my parents or teammates to get up to that kind of stuff.”

You made sense of his words, a silence falling over the two of you.

“I mean…” he continued. “One of the girls at our second away game of senior year kind of… touched me? In the locker rooms?”

You stifled laughter. “I don’t need to hear the gory details of your almost handjob, Felix.”

He laughed back. “It was over my gym shorts!”

“Okay, okay! I get the gist!” you retorted, laughing into your hands.

The two of you fell silent again, the buzz of the cicadas bringing you back to reality for a moment.

“I should get going,” you tell him. “But thank you for the brownies. You really don’t have to keep bringing them. I’m going out with the girls later so I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“We could,” he said suddenly.

“What?” you replied, unsure of where his statement fit into your farewell.

“We could. Have… sex?” he clarified. You began to laugh, until you noticed his facial expression had turned serious.

“Felix? What are you proposing right now?”

He shrugged. “I’m not dating anyone. You’re not dating anyone. Neither of us have crossed it off our lists. It’s not like it has to be some big, emotional thing, y’know?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, and then quickly transitioned into a frown. “Are you just trying to get in my pants?”

His face panicked. “No, god no. I’m sorry. I just thought maybe you’d want to. I mean you’re going to college and there will probably be a ton of opportunities for it there. I’ll be living with like 20 guys for a while… I dunno, I just thought… It's stupid. I’m sorry.”

You thought over his words for a while. The thought of it didn’t turn you on- having sex with your childhood best friend. In fact, it was a little gross. But he was right- you hadn’t really checked it off your young adult list. And you wouldn’t see him for months, so any awkward emotions that arose would have months to pass by and dissipate.

“I’m gonna get going,” he said. “I’m sorry, I feel like I ruined things.”

“Okay,” you said. “Let’s do it.”

His eyes widened. “What?”

“You’re going to propose it and then act like I’m crazy for agreeing?” you replied.

“No, no! I mean- yeah. But only if you want to. Nothing emotional, if you don’t like it we can stop there. But we’ll have the story to tell when we’re both gone.”

“You make it sound like we’re dying, Felix.”

He chuckled.

“Let’s go inside. I’m not having my first time on a bench outdoors,” you finished.

He nodded, swallowing a big gulp of air. “Okay. I- do you want to take my hand? Or-”

You shook your head, chuckling at how awkward he managed to be sometimes. “Just go inside, I’ll meet you in my bedroom.”

Your bedroom was messier than you remembered. There were boxes scattered from packing for university. You realized Felix hadn’t seen it in a long time.

Posters of local bands scattered the walls, your mirrors plastered with collections of stickers. Your bed wasn’t made, the sheets sprawled over the edge and tangled from your morning slumber.

You were the first to lay down, gesturing for Felix to come over from his awkward stance in the doorway. He obliged, crawling on top of you and hoisting his weight up by a single elbow.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked nervously.

You smiled up at him, noting the way his freckles were yet again concealed by the blush across his cheeks.

“Yeah, you can kiss me.”

Felix smiled down at you, leaning in and pressing a gentle, yet firm kiss to your lips. His ebony hair tickled your cheek, which you reached up to move out of his face.

It was romantic and slow, and his hands traveled to the small of your waist, pulling you closer to his lanky frame.

He kissed you for a good while, and you could tell that although he hadn’t slept with anyone, he’d certainly had his share of kissing girls. His lips were plump and soft, and his eyelashes fluttered with pleasure every time you sighed against his mouth.

You’d almost forgotten the agreement by the time he slid a hand under your shirt. “Is this okay?” he asked, his voice a little out of breath.

You nodded quickly in response, helping guide his hand to the curve of your breasts. Felix’s breath hitched in his throat as he examined your curves with the pads of his fingers. He awkwardly ran his index finger over your nipple, sighing in response when you let out a little gasp. His fingers were smooth, and oddly cold.

“So soft,” he said in a voice just above a whisper.

With growing eagerness in your core, you pulled back and slid your shirt over your head, glancing over at Felix who couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off your chest. You chuckled softly at his expression, mouth agape and stars in his eyes at the sight in front of him. He sure knew how to give you an ego boost.

“Your turn,” you said, snapping him back to reality.

“Yeah,” he replied, pulling the back of his white shirt over his head and tossing it aside, getting lost in the pile of your clothes already on the floor.

You observed his body too, taking in every new freckle you hadn’t seen before. They were scattered along his clavicles, painting his chest with little beige constellations and stopping just before his toned pecs. Where there was an absence of freckles, his muscles accentuated generously, jutting out as if begging to be explored.

You nodded, as if to say nice body, and a knowing smile grew on his pink lips. “Come here,” he said, pulling you close again and pressing chaste kisses to your neck and collarbones.

You really liked neck kisses, you learned, as he took his time brushing a tongue over patches of skin before peppering them with kisses and nibbling with feeble hunger.

Your hands reached up to tangle themselves in his silky hair, which he moaned gently in between kisses in response to. With your hands busy, he took the opportunity to slide a hand down, down- all the way down to your jeans.

Pulling away from your neck, he didn’t hesitate to snap open the button of your jeans and free your pelvis of the zipper. He didn’t even ask for permission, knowing by your reaction that the answer was yes, absolutely yes, please don’t stop.

Your hands left his hair to help slide your jeans off, and he towered over you to mirror the action. In between innocent giggles, he gathered both articles of clothing in his nimble hands, before making a dramatic show of tossing those on the floor, too.

You were down to just your underwear, a feeling which made you nervous as you became aware of how exposed you were. But Felix didn’t leave a single spot untouched, showering your skin with kisses as your hands found their way to his hair again.

“Can I try something?” Felix asked, pulling away to gauge your reaction through his fluttering lashes. You nodded, observing as he positioned himself between your legs, and reached a single hand to your underwear.

It was your turn for your breath to hitch, growing goosebumps as he placed a single finger to your still-clothed wetness. You gasped in response, the feeling not far from when you’d squeeze your thighs together to sex scenes from your favorite movies.

“I don’t really know how to do this,” he admitted to you shyly. “Tell me if it hurts, yeah?”

You brought your arms around his neck, smiling up at him and glancing down at his hands.

“Just circle my clit. With your finger. Like- yeah. Just like that,” you were interrupted by his successful attempt at following your instructions.

He smiled at your reaction, adding a finger and rubbing slow, thoughtful circles around your clit. You gasped at the heat growing in your core, happily accepting when he leaned down to kiss you as he continued. You stayed like that for several minutes, sweat pooling between your thighs as beams of sunlight glared through the window behind you.

Slowly, he hooked both fingers in your underwear, moving them aside to expose you, and placed fingers on your now fully exposed wetness. You gasped louder in response, humming with pleasure and gripping his toned bicep.

“Wait,” you said. “Let me just take them off.”

“Okay,” he replied in a gentle tone, pulling away a bit to let you slide your underwear off and over the bed.

Once bare, his fingers found their way back to your clit, now working little hearts into your skin. “Hearts?” you asked through a smile, kissing him harder and noting the lewd sounds of tongues and sweat and wetness that now filled the room.

He hummed in response, bucking his hips against your thigh, and you suddenly realized how hard he was for you. His bulge tented nicely in his gray boxers, the tip of his cock already flat against a generous spot of precum.

“Sorry,” he said, scared the accidental motion would make it look like he was moving too fast.

You grinned, shaking your head and propping yourself up on your elbows to look at him. “Take them off,” you requested plainly.

He gulped and nodded, admittedly scared of baring himself in front of you. You were already fully naked, and he’d forgotten the fact that he still had one article of clothing left to lose.

“You okay?” you asked, growing concerned at his silence. He nodded, responding by pulling his boxers down over his cock, which grew slowly against his abdomen.

He was just as you expected, veins bulging at his hardness, following the shape of his curvature to the wetted pink head.

“You’re so pretty,” you said, eyes fixated on his cock. He was flushed a rosy shade of pink as you stared, aching to explore every inch of him. Felix greeted your compliment with a toothy smile.

With a newfound confidence, he leaned back down to kiss you, his bulge sitting patiently at the entrance of your sex.

“Do you have a condom?” you asked, and he responded with a nod.

“I never got rid of this after health class,” Felix said, as he fished a silver packet out of the pocket of his jeans which hung off the bed.

“You’re such a nerd,” you replied, and he laughed lightly as he tore open the packet with his teeth.

You helped him slide the rubber down his length, careful not to pinch any part of his sensitive skin. His breathing was heavy, and you could tell he didn't have much time before he gave in.

“Ready?” Felix asked, as he positioned himself in front of you again.

“Ready,” you replied, and you both kept your eyes locked down below as he gripped his shaft and slid just the tip in.

“Oh god,” you remarked, surprised at the sensation even though he was barely in. “Does it hurt?” he panicked, and you shook your head. “Just a little. Do more, if you can.”

At this Felix, pulled out slightly, and then bucked his hips forward so that he was just barely halfway in.

“Fuck-” you heard, and you looked up to his eyelids shut tight and nose scrunched. His hair hung lazily around his face, sweat pooled at the ebony roots.

“Are you-” you began to ask if he was okay, when he slid out and let out a deep sigh.

“I finished,” he replied. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think it would feel that good.”

You smiled in response, relaxing your hands by your side and sitting up.

“Don’t apologize, Felix. It’s just your body.”

You took note of the tears welling in his eyes, and your expression shifted to that of concern. “Felix?”

He wiped with the back of his hand, sitting back on your bed like a scolded child. “I didn’t mean to finish so fast. I wanted it to last. I didn’t come here for sex, I promise. I just thought it would be a good idea and now it’s over and I did so badly.”

He hiccuped through tears, and you sat up to wipe them from his eyes. “You didn’t do badly, Felix. You did amazing. That was an amazing first time. Don’t apologize for a natural reaction. We’re not pros at this.”

He nodded slowly, sniffling and looking around for his shirt. “Well I guess I’ll go,” he said rather dryly.

You knew he was going to beat himself up for this, and you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

“Felix, don’t go,” you said. “I’m not letting you leave like this.”

“I already ruined things,” he responded.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” you said. “Plus, we always have next time?”

You surprised yourself with your own remark, blushing as he locked his eyes on yours again.

“Next time?” he questioned, his voice still frail and quiet.

You nodded. “I mean… if you want to? As friends, of course. I liked it,” you shrugged.

The last of his tears trickled down his cheeks as a small smile grew back on his face, illuminating the room with comfort once again.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’d like to do it again.”

You nodded, mirroring his smile. “Then we can do it again. It’s not a big deal, right?”

He shook his head, wiping tears with the back of his hand. “Just… practice I guess? That’s all it is.”

You nodded. “Just practice. Exactly.”

With bleary eyes, Felix rid himself of the condom and clothed himself again, pulling his shirt over his head and buttoning his jeans back how they were. You laid on your side, still nude in your bed, one hand tucked under your cheek, still entranced by the way the sun kissed Felix’s freckles in the June air. You hummed softly as the birds chirped outside, the sounds starkly contrasting the filthy moans emitting from your room just moments earlier.

“I’ll see you later?” he said, turning to you, his eyes flickering curiously to your chest and and between your thighs again. You tugged the sheets up to your chin, keeping your gaze on him for a minute.

“Busy later, remember?”

He nodded once. “Right. Are your parents home tonight? Or… what are you doing tomorrow?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his helpless words. “Gosh Felix, you’re needy already. I’ll call you okay? I’m not gonna leave you hanging.”

He smiled in response, cocking his head to one side and taking one last look at you.

He’d never seen you like this, more skin showing than ever before. The way your mascara pooled around your eyes from shutting your eyes in pleasure. The way the last of the sun rays set little orange patches aglow on your olive skin, highlighting your clavicles like an oil painting. The way your smile said so much yet so little at the same time, as if to tell him you’ll be right here the next time. And the next, and the next- and hopefully several times after that.

He wanted nothing more than to touch himself and stay in for round two, but he was dying to go home and shower the lingering embarrassment off his body. With nothing else to say, he raised two fingers and gave a little salute, trying to send you off in the most casual manner he could, fearing you might change your mind about there being a next time.

“Catch ya later,” he said a bit awkwardly, and turned on his heel to stride out of your bedroom.

You said nothing in response, shutting your eyes and letting the evening drowsiness overtake you.

“You should hear when you’re not around, when it’s just us horny poets”

It didn’t take long before you and Felix were fucking like rabbits for the remainder of summer.

Handjobs on your porch when it was too early in the morning to be caught. Blowjobs in the backseat of his car, Felix strategically parking on little off roads where no one could interrupt, while his hands pulled mercilessly at your hair. Kisses all over your neck during movie nights, where you’d fold almost immediately and wind up under him for the remainder of- what was that film again? You’re not sure. You were sure of his nimble fingers, and the way his lips could work up just about anything out of you.

You’re sure he’d been studying pornography, the way his lips pressed little butterfly kisses all over your aching pussy, coming up to suckle your clit and spread your juices all over your thighs with more hungry kisses and nibbles.

Felix even felt comfortable enough to present you some of the videos he got off to, shyly angling his phone at you mid-makeout session, inquiring about your interest in sucking off his fingers. You challenged him, making him suck your fingers instead, while you edged him over his sweatpants. Note: he really liked that move.

The two of you were different tunes working in perfect harmony, your erotic ideas playing off of each other, resulting in some of your most intense memories together.

Not every idea worked out as you’d planned, but the time was never wasted. Nights where you couldn’t finish from penetration alone, he’d spend hours working you up with an old massager, his deep voice whispering sweet nothings into your ear while he fondled your breasts.

His words were so carefully picked, diligently selected from your favorite erotic fiction works you’d send him. “You like that? Is your pussy aching for me? Always so wet when I touch you. Could do this for hours…could hear you moan for hours.”

His breath tickled your neck, the sound of his own labored breathing growing louder and then quieter again as he’d brush his lips over your ear and fill your mind with little moans and filthy thoughts.

And the nights would always end safely. He’d bring his signature baked goods, massaging you in his lap as he fed you little bites of brownies and cookies and pies.

His words never stopped at sex, showering you with compliments and sweet nothings even if not to arouse you. “You did so well today. Thanks for letting me try that. I’m sorry if it hurts. Let’s try something more gentle tomorrow, yeah?”

And the weeks you couldn’t have sex, Felix never seemed to mind all too much. Sometimes he’d let you watch him pleasure himself, sometimes he’d brush off the idea all together. The stories you shared, and the laughs you got out of each other, were reason enough to spend just about every passing second together.

2:15am.

Felix pulled out, rolling over on his back again, letting out an exasperated sigh and shutting his eyes.

“Fuck. That was good. Are you okay?”

He forced an eyelid open, glancing over at your still lying body, too tired to speak but nodding through labored breaths.

“Yeah,” you managed a minute later.

The two of you remained like that for a few minutes, basking in the silence of the atmosphere around you. The world was quiet without the loud moans and cuss words that erupted when you were normally together.

And then came the sniffles.

When you began fucking, you quickly understood that you were learning things about Felix that maybe nobody knew before you. Not even Felix himself. Like how he scrunched his nose right before he finished, his open mouth following shortly after. The way he apologized after he let out an accidental slut or whore in the bedroom. They helped him get off on occasion, but he detested the thought of you internalizing the words. Or maybe the way his hands cramped quickly when he fingered you- he wasn’t used to using his hands as much as his legs or upper body. Soccer player problems.

But the most interesting thing you’d come to discover about Felix was his tendency to cry after sex.

Mornings, afternoons in his car, quickies in your room, it didn’t matter. 90 percent of the time, he’d cry after finishing, his whole face contorting into that of a guilty boy’s, eyes reddening as they welled with tears and found their home on the sleeves of his sweaters or corners of your sheets.

The second time it happened, you grew concerned for him, thinking it was something you’d done. You tried to break things off, saying “maybe this isn’t a good idea” and “I don’t want to do this if you’re not emotionally ready for it.”

But that only made him cry harder. Wrapping you in his arms and letting out gentle sobs in your knees. Begging you not to go, that he’d work on himself instead.

It never stopped, and although Felix tried to vocalize it, you always felt sorry for him.

“Sorry,” he’d explain through sobs. “Just felt so good.”

You never invalidated his feelings, always simply nodding at his words and holding him for as long as he needed to be held.

The truth is, Felix felt emotions so deeply, deeper than even he himself was capable of handling. The orgasms were an emotional high for him every time, pure bliss exiting his body and filling yours, you returning the favor with your praises for him.

When he came down from his high, it snapped him back to reality to remember that this was all temporary. That he’d be gone soon, that you’d be fucking somebody else in this bed within the next few weeks. That he didn’t buy you flowers, nor did he properly introduce himself to your parents, although you weren’t dating. That you’d be so generous to try just about anything with him, going at it for hours to determine what the two of you liked and didn’t like. That you sacrificed your body for his pleasure on nights you weren’t as horny as he was, and that you never made a fuss when he made a mess of you and your sheets.

That you held him after sex every time, massaging his hair with a gentle caress, telling him about how “amazing he did” and that he was “so, so good to you.”

And through tear-stained eyes, he’d do the same for you, thanking you until sleep overtook you both.

Tonight was no different.

“Hey, hey,” you said to him soothingly. “Come here.”

He sat up, face in his hands for a moment as he let out quiet sobs and shook his head. “It’s no use. I can’t st-stop c-crying…” choked sobs trailed his voice away from you.

“Felix, you did so well. You always do. Are you overwhelmed? Talk to me,” you said, sitting up to embrace him.

He turned to hug you back, tears falling on your bare shoulder as you shushed him and pressed little kisses to his forehead.

“I’m… I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” You’d heard it a million times from him, but he always felt the need to justify himself to you.

“Don’t apologize,” you told him. “Don’t apologize for your body. Do you want to grab something to eat? I know it’s late, but McDonald’s is still open.”

He wiped his tears away for the second time today, nodding as you reached over and handed him his sweatshirt.

When his tears came to a halt, he smiled at you and leaned in to press a chaste kiss to your temple. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “I know it’s the least sexy thing you can do after an orgasm.”

You smiled back at him, standing up to gather your clothes from where they’d fallen. “Hey, I don’t care if you want to do your taxes after sex. I had fun, you had fun. That’s all that matters.”

Felix always admired your ability to downplay everything. No reaction of his was too much when he was around you. He felt normal, comfortable. Safe.

“Just gonna grab a new pair of underwear,” you said to him. “I’ll meet you back at the car.”

Felix nodded, scrambling out of the tangled sheets of your bed and grabbing his car keys.

As he exited your room, you took careful note of your disheveled appearance in the mirror. Bruises, messy hair, puffy lips. Tear-stained shoulders.

“Okay,” you began. “If you had to pick what you’d want your dorm mates to be like, what would you say?”

You popped a french fry in your mouth, watching as Felix thought over the question.

“I’d say…” his Australian accent was thick as he pondered for a moment. “I dunno, maybe outgoing? I guess I’m not the most extroverted so I need some balance.”

You laughed. “Be careful what you wish for. Sometimes outgoing can be a veiled statement for annoying.”

He scrunched his nose at you. “Oh god. More annoying than me? I don’t even know if that’s possible.”

You slapped his arm playfully. “You’re right, I think you already beat them in that department.”

He remarked a sarcastic haha at you, taking a sip of his McFlurry before crossing his legs onto his seat.

“What about you- what do you hope the people at university are like?”

You swallowed, giving a small shrug. “I hope they make me feel comfortable.”

His eyes remained on you for a second, and you continued your response. “I just want to experience everything. I want to go bar-crawling with my friends at 2am. I want to go to parties, and study at the library for finals with a group of people who make it all worth it. I just want that typical experience.”

He nodded, his throat suddenly feeling dry.

He was reminded again that he wasn’t going to be a part of your university experience. You were going to meet new people, make new friends. Fuck new guys. And he wouldn’t be around to be part of any of it.

“You know,” Felix began. “I’m rooting for you. Even though I won’t be here to see how it all plays out.”

You pulled your lips into a thin smile, nodding. “I know you are. I don’t doubt that.”

“And,” you continued. “I’m rooting for you. I’ll be tuned in to all the programs they put you on. I’ll shoot you little messages about your silly stage outfits here and there. The whole kpop fan image? That’s going to be me, like, times a million. Maybe I’ll drag around your album everywhere I go.”

He laughed at the idea, tossing his head back. “Hey, don’t speak too soon. If things fall through I’ll be back in less than a month. I don’t even speak Korean. Got a lot of learning to do.”

You waved him off. “You’ll catch on. I know you will.”

He held your gaze for a moment, smiling again before leaning in to kiss you. His lips tasted like oreos, and yours lingered of salty fries.

“2 weeks,” he said when he pulled away. “I can’t believe how fast this summer went by.”

You agreed with a slight tilt of your head.

He glanced out the window briefly. The cicadas had gotten quieter now that August drew to a close. You were at the usual spot you hooked up at, parked in his car across a vista point just off the highway. The view overlooked a canyon of trees, which looked like something out of a horror movie at this hour of the night.

He looked back at you and nodded in the direction of the backseat, a gesture you knew very well. You climbed over the center console, already pulling off your sweatpants and adjusting yourself so your legs were propped open.

Felix followed after you, slipping off his jeans and pulling you onto his lap.

Hasty kisses met your lips and neck as he gripped your waist and massaged little circles into the dimples that met your lower back. He let little moans meet your mouth as you palmed his already-hard cock through his boxers, rocking back and forth on his thigh to stimulate yourself first.

One hand reached up and snaked two fingers into your mouth. “Suck,” he instructed.

You wrapped desperate fingers around his wrist, pressing little kisses to the pads of his fingers before slipping them in and out of your drooly mouth. He didn’t break eye contact as you hollowed your cheeks and stared at him through long lashes, moving slowly and savoring the taste of his soft skin.

“Good,” he said, and you released him with a gentle pop, a string of saliva connecting him to you still.

He licked a stripe along his fingers too, sharing the flavor of your needy spit, before reaching down and moving your underwear aside.

You gasped as a finger pressed hastily to your clit, rubbing little hearts as he usually did, which he knew drove you wild. He rubbed back and forth, grazing down your slit and back up again, before finding his way to your entrance.

Felix gently inserted a first, and then a second finger, inside your soaking cunt, using his thumb to graze your clit and make you emit breathy moans from the sensation.

“Fuck,” you breathed, watching him tilt his head to one side.

“That feel good? Hmm?” He cooed with a smile, already knowing the answer by your pleasured response.

You nodded, eyebrows arched up in pleasure as he moved faster. Felix nodded with you as you gripped his wrist, digging nail marks into his veiny forearm.

“Felix, would you fuck me?” you asked him politely, your breathing speeding up.

“Hmm? I am fucking you, sweetheart.” The pet names, god, the pet names. He knew exactly what they did to you.

“Want your cock in me,” you specified, gripping his wrist again to slow his pace. He hummed in response, moving a strand of hair out of your face and pressing little kisses to your exposed neck.

Feeling he’d teased you enough, Felix pulled his boxers down and tossed them aside, gasping as you jerked him twice and thumbed at his tip.

“Fuck, stop,” he begged you. “I don’t want to finish yet.”

You, nodded removing your panties with ease and waiting patiently as he slid a condom efficiently over his length and positioned himself. Before you could lay back and spread, he gripped your waist again, lifting you onto his lap and rubbing against your soaking slit.

“Wanna fuck up into you,” he said. “Wrap your arms around me.”

You did as told, grabbing hold of his warm gray hoodie and taking a deep breath as he lowered you on to him.

Felix let out a hearty moan, soaking in how good it felt. You’d ridden him once before, but this was something else. Needy hands grabbed at each other, making desperate attempts to grope your flesh and bring you closer to him. His hands rested on your lower back and syncopated with your breathing as he lifted you down on to him and bucked his hips up into you.

You felt every inch of his cock twitching inside of you, about to fill you up before you caressed his jaw and pleaded. “Don’t move,” you instructed. “I just want to feel you for a second.”

Felix did as told, slowing his thrusts down and reciprocating as you leaned down for a sloppy kiss. His cock pulsated against your already throbbing clit, sending shivers down your spine as you kissed him again, and again. Making him feel every ounce of your want for him and only him.

His mouth was wet with drool, giant sultry eyes so full of want and need for your body. When you pulled away, you took in his face for a second. Although it was dark, you could still make out the flush of his cheeks around his freckles. Dark strands of hair hung loosely around his jaw, and the musk of his cologne filled the air as he sweated profusely in the steamy car.

“Okay,” you said finally. “Cum in me. Please.”

The words were all it took before Felix thrust up into you again, his nose scrunching and mouth agape as he shot thick, white strands of his pleasure into the rubber.

You let out a breathy sigh as he slid out of you, tying up the condom and tossing it aside.

But you didn’t move from off of him, instead holding him and pressing little kisses to his forehead. Like clockwork, the tears began to flow. You kissed them back up his cheeks, letting the salty taste melt on your already salted tongue.

“It’s okay,” you assured, and he sniffled with innocent puppy-dog eyes that looked up at you. You wrapped a hand around his hair, pulling him closer and ruffling his locks with empathy. “You okay? That was really good.”

He nodded, wiping his tears with sleeves that enveloped his hands like little paws. “Felt really good,” he said, letting out another choked sob.

“I know,” you replied. “I know it’s a lot. I’ve got you.”

It was usually at this point that Felix’s crying began to lessen, but he started crying even harder at your consolation.

“Felix?” you asked, getting worried with his growing sadness. He nuzzled his face into your neck, letting tears fall to your neck and wet your hoodie.

“Don’t forget me,” he said suddenly, and you were taken aback by his pleading tone.

You pushed him away, tilting his chin up to meet yours again.

“Felix,” you said. “Nothing could ever make me forget you. You’re my best friend. We’ll see each other again.”

He nodded, but a smile was still absent from his expression.

You pulled him in for another hug, rubbing circles into his hoodie and shushing him gently.

“My star,” you cooed tenderly. “Could never forget you.”

Your hands grazed the back of his neck as he held you too, feeling small and vulnerable, but safe. Always safe.

“You may not like it, but you better learn how, ‘cause it’s your turn now”

Felix left on a Thursday.

It was a dark September morning, the day too early to reveal what the weather would bring. He wore a hoodie and his favorite sweatpants, looking especially boyish with a bulky pair of headphones around his neck, his sleek black hair pushed back with a headband. One of yours- one he’d found in the backseat of his car.

He packed the remainder of his bags, glancing over at your street in the chill of the September air as his mom loaded the car with his belongings.

I’ll see her soon, he assured himself. After all, you had promised you wouldn’t forget him.

The day prior was spent with his family, enjoying one last home-cooked meal with his mom and sisters. They exchanged a few gifts they’d generously picked for him, knowing they’d miss his 19th birthday, just 2 weeks out from his departure date.

Felix cried at the gesture, the idea of a birthday spent alone suddenly filling him with dread.

And after double counting his bags, his family was off to sleep. “Don’t use your phone,” his mother had remarked several times. “We need to be at the airport very early tomorrow.”

And when he was sure she was asleep, little snores confirming his theory, Felix climbed out of his window and disappeared into the dimly lit streets, mentally apologizing to his mom for disobeying every one of her orders.

The air was more unforgiving than when he’d escaped in the summer months, painting little goosebumps on his bare arms and showing his breath back to him when he exhaled.

Still, he ran. He ran and ran, and he didn’t waste a second booking it to your place.

Your window was left ajar as it usually was, you sitting up in bed with a book. When the crunch of leaves drew your attention to the paned glass, you knew exactly who it was.

Felix usually did his best to lead into your sessions as a gentleman would, inquiring about your day and sharing little bits of his. But his heartbeat quickened with every passing second, knowing this was it. This was the last time he’d have you for who knew how long, and his body ached for yours already.

You wasted no time helping him climb inside, already attaching your lips to his, as he guided you back into your bed.

He pulled his t-shirt over his head, slipping off your nightgown too, pressing hungry kisses to your thighs and moaning against your soft skin.

He wanted to say something, he wanted so badly to tell you how sorry he was for brushing past your day, that he did in fact care, but that he needed all of you first. He wanted to apologize for all the times he ignored you in the hallways back at school, mentally punishing himself for not being a more prominent part of your teenage years sooner. He wanted to tell you that Oreo McFlurries all tasted like you now, and they always would. For as long as he remembered you.

Your hands in his hair brought him back to the moment, and he wasted no time attaching his drooly tongue to your clit, moving back and forth like a starving animal eating for the first time in days.

His licks turned into saliva-filled kisses, wrapping his lips around your clit and making loud sucking noises as he pulled back and left no inch of your folds untasted. Between his licking and ravenous kisses, you felt your body tense as you reached your high. It must’ve been a new record, you thought to yourself, as your legs trembled and you leaked cum all over his pretty face.

Your orgasm was intoxicating, but your need for him kept you aching, and you knew you had a lot more left in you still.

Felix’s mouth met yours again, letting you taste yourself on his wet lips. He smiled in between kisses, trailing kisses down to your breasts and suckling each nipple with soft hums.

“Gonna make you feel so good tonight,” he said for the first time tonight, in between breathless kisses. “Just lay back. You don’t have to lift a finger.”

You shivered at his words, an agreement you normally didn’t do when you linked. You always returned the favor in one way or another, but tonight, he wanted to prove himself to you.

As he pressed kisses down your torso, he complimented you between gasps for air, making you giggle as you looked down at him. “So… beautiful…” he’d say. “So soft… love how you’re always ready for me…”

His mouth found his way to your clit again, and you didn’t care that you were already overstimulated from your first orgasm. He kissed you all over, paying careful attention to your swollen clit, moaning as you stifled screams and gasps.

Felix tasted you for what felt like hours. You’d finished all over him a total of three times already, and well into the fourth, you pulled him up by his hair. “Need you,” you said, your insides aching to clench around him just once.

He didn’t waste any time demanding you specify your words, knowing exactly what you wanted from him. His boxers were stained with dark gray spots of wetness, and you realized he must’ve been aching for you too. The thought of his straining bulge made you even wetter for him, if that was even possible.

Hoisting your legs up around his waist, Felix wrapped himself up and thrusted into you with more force than you’d felt from him before. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, your nails scratching red marks all over his forearms.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, pausing for a moment. You shook your head no, moving a strand of hair out of his face.

With that, he thrust into you again, and again, loud moans and whimpers escaping his lips like you’d never heard before. As he watched your fucked-out expression, he snaked a hand around your throat, lining your eyesight up with his.

“Look at me,” he demanded. You kept your gaze on him, pondering how this was the same person who so delicately kissed you and held your hand when you weren’t underneath him like this.

“You gonna miss me?” he asked between rhythmic thrusts. You nodded.

“You gonna think of me when you touch yourself?” he asked, and your heartbeat quickened at his tone.

“Yes,” you replied, barely above a whisper.

“You gonna tell me when you’re all wet and needy for me? You gonna touch yourself and think of how I fucked you?”

Your heartbeat kept quickening, his words both dizzying and unexpected.

“Felix…” you said, but your voice trailed off as he quickened his pace again.

“Say it again,” he ordered.

“Felix.”

“Louder. Want the neighbors to hear how good I fuck you.”

“Felix!” You said louder as he moved even faster, your nails clawing into his back as your own voice filled your ears.

When you opened your eyes, his nose was scrunched in pleasure, followed by his plump lips parted, which chased his high. He moaned for what seemed like several minutes, thrusting himself empty, and slowing inside of you, making sure you were completely overstimulated before pulling out.

You sat up quickly, knowing he was going to cry himself silly tonight. As you pressed your hands to his cheeks, already rubbing your thumbs at his lashes, he nuzzled into you and pulled you closer.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice shaky with overwhelming sadness already.

But this time, you felt yourself start to cry, too. Your eyes welled with tears at the sight of him, holding you like a small child clutches a teddy bear, crying into your knees and letting little sobs escape his parted lips. When he heard your sniffles, he looked up at you, pouting through tears at the sight. It was his turn to pull you close, placing a gentle hand to the back of your head and holding you close to his chest, afraid he might break you if he didn’t maintain his fragile embrace.

He didn’t ask why you cried. He just stayed like that, holding you close to him, listening to your quiet sobs like music and grazing his hands over the skin he’d previously bruised and made a mess of.

3:56am.

Felix hadn’t meant to lose track of time this badly, and you knew he was supposed to leave for the airport in just an hour.

“Felix,” you said to him. “I didn’t mean to keep you up this late…”

He shook his head firmly, wiping his cheeks with the corner of your sheets.

“I can sleep on the plane,” he responded. His eyes were puffy and red, and you thumbed over his eyelids in attempts to soothe the irritated skin.

You pulled away, sliding out of your bed and pulling on your nightgown. “Have a little surprise for you,” you said, hoping to get at least a smile out of him before he left tonight.

It worked, his lips pulled into a curious grin as he slipped a shirt on himself, too.

“What is it?,” Felix remarked.

You didn’t respond, instead digging through your drawers and pulling out a small tube.

You tossed it over to him, his skilled fingers catching it quickly and observing it under the moonlight peering through the window.

“Your chapstick!” he said with a smile. “Raspberry.”

You smiled back at him and shrugged. “Little taste of home.”

He twisted the tube between his slender fingers for a bit, uncapping it and bringing it up to his swollen lips.

You watched as he glided the cherry color across his smile, running over the tint with his tongue and smacking his lips together lightly.

“Tastes like you,” he remarked.

You shrugged again with a smile. “We match now.”

You urged Felix to go home and get at least an hour of sleep, but he refused defiantly, asking to be held in your blankets until he had to leave.

So you did. And for the last time he was able to, Felix asked about your day. He kept his eyes on you the whole time, careful not to blink excessively in case he missed the way your face lit up at the mention of your future college life. He took note of the way your chest rose and fell with slow breaths, clearly tired but not enough to leave his side.

You told him all about what you still had to pack before leaving for university. About the book you started this morning, the second one in a trilogy. You recounted your favorite songs, suggesting a few to him, which he added to a playlist for his flight.

The two of you reminisced the summer days, which had slipped by you in the blink of an eye, taking all your carefree thoughts with them. You voiced your favorite moments in his car- both sexual escapades and late-night McDonald’s runs, and he shared his own discoveries and favorite moments back to you.

He said he hoped your next lover would appreciate the smell of your raspberry lips as much as he did. And you silently wished he’d find someone who held him after intense sessions the way you learned he needed.

But before you knew it, the clock read 4:48am.

You knew Felix’s mom would be waking him any moment now, and he needed to be back in his own bed fast.

“Go,” you said, as he propped himself up and scanned over your alarm clock once again. “You’ll get in trouble.”

You followed as he slid out from your warm comforter, fixing up his hair and towering over you.

With a straight, yet heavy expression, he looked down and tilted your chin up with one finger, placing a gentle kiss to your lips and pulling away after a few seconds.

“It was fun,” you said, and he smiled in response, though saying nothing back.

You followed him back to the window, where he hoisted himself over the ledge and back into the cool September air.

Turning on his heel, Felix brought two fingers up to his forehead, giving you a little salute and a smile.

“Catch ya later,” he said, and disappeared again into the morning fog.

You hoped so. You really, really hoped so.

“I’m starting to suspect you don’t intend to do anything you say at all.”

The months that followed were tainted heavily by Felix’s absence. The lulling clouds and light drizzles that spanned far into November reminded you that the seasons did in fact change, whether you wanted them to or not.

Your college dorm was small and cramped, and the smooth white walls felt like that of a prison most days. But your roommate was nice, and the two of you hit it off fast. Late nights were spent snacking in the dining hall, where the two of you would gossip about the boys you shared classes with, making lewd remarks that remained a fun game between the two of you.

You spent most of your days in the library, a favorite spot of yours on the 8th floor that overlooked the busy streets and provided ample content to people-watch.

And you never heard from Felix.

You didn’t reach out, knowing he was busier than ever, his phone usage probably monitored heavily by the executives there. And such was life- the summer interactions like the games you now played with your new college roommate; between the two of you, and not meant to be an object of permanence by any means.

But some days, you took it harder than others.

Some days you were angry with yourself for sacrificing so much, barely recognizing the curves and birthmarks that painted your nude frame, upset that anyone had ever touched them.

Other days, you stifled toothy smiles in the palms of your hands, when you remembered the activities both of you got up to that summer. Some of the most incredulous, dirty-minded positions came flooding back to your memory, and no one around you would ever suspect such a pristine girl to have tried the things she did.

You did touch yourself to the memories of them, hoping your roommate wouldn’t hear the little gasps you let out with your hands between your thighs at such an ungodly hour. But as time passed on, the memories were less vivid, melting colors and tastes into obscurity, until you couldn’t get off to them anymore.

And then one day in your second year, Mark entered your life.

At first, you were convinced there had to be a catch, when he approached you in the library to borrow a pencil, slipping his phone number to you in exchange.

His dusty blue hair and stylish outfit had caught your eye in passing once, but you’d never considered the possibility of him noticing you.

Yet that he did, sealing his action with a closed-mouth smile, gesturing to your phone and miming a texting gesture at you. “Yo, like, you should text me or something. I always see you around here.”

You couldn’t help but laugh lightly, fascinated with the casual way he talked.

“I don’t even know your name,” you remarked jokingly.

“Oh my bad,” he said, reaching a hand out to you. “I’m Mark. My friends usually call me Mark.”

You laughed again, meeting his hand halfway with yours and shaking once. “Y/n.”

“Dang, that’s a cool name,” he said. “It totally suits you.”

You cocked your head slightly, his words igniting a spark in you. “I’d hope so,” you replied. “Had it for 20 years.”

“Oh cool, you’re like a year younger than me,” he replied. “Second year?”

You nodded, taking in his features for a second. His warm smile and doe eyes were inviting, yet the way his chiseled jawline framed strands of sapphire hair was hot.

You stayed quiet for a second, before he broke the silence. “Listen, I gotta head to my evening class. But would you wanna like, grab a coffee or something? Or like, maybe get dinner? It’s a 3-hour lecture so I’ll be out kinda late but I’m probably gonna grab some takeout-”

His rambling was endearing. You cut him off with an eager nod, swinging your bag over your shoulder. “I’ll like, totally text you. Yo.” you said.

With an amused smile, you looked back once as you made your way to the elevator and disappeared between the twin doors. He kept his gaze on you from across the room, sticking his hands into the pockets of his baggy jeans and smiling back.

The amusing encounter was the start of a whole new chapter for you.

“How quickly they turn sour, so be careful who you screw.”

College came and went quicker than you imagined it would. What took years of mental preparation seemed to fly by, the end of every semester always catching you by surprise.

You and Mark stuck together through the end of your college career. While he graduated a year earlier than you, he still visited every week of your last year, bringing you iced coffee and showering you with kisses as you studied in your same spot at the library. His friends also took a liking to you, and you were happier than you’d ever been before when you were around him.

Mark graduated with a degree in biology, getting a prestigious post-college internship at a research institution almost immediately after graduating. You completed your courses in business, excelling in all of them, grateful you had so many friends and a loving boyfriend for a support system.

And then you graduated, walking the stage in a dark blue dress (per Mark’s request), basking in the cheers of Mark and his friends, who made obnoxious neon signs and bought you the biggest gift basket you’d ever seen.

You began your work at a small ad agency, spending hours producing digital ads and writing pieces, coming home to your little shared apartment with Mark. It was a dingy box on the South Side, but with a little decorating, the two of you fell in love with the way it brought you closer together.

You enjoyed the months you couldn’t afford a mattress yet, keeping each other warm on the carpeted floor and using spare jackets as blankets. You bargained for furniture at secondhand shops, scoring the jackpot when you picked up the velvet couch of your dreams, one which you’d quickly come to spend most of your time on. The little kitchen table that only seated two, which proved a problem when you had friends over. But one that the two of you enjoyed home-cooked meals and greasy takeout on together, every night that you possibly could.

Mark was gentle with you. He was funny, outgoing, and smarter than anyone you’d ever known. You wondered sometimes what you did to deserve him. The two of you grew up together, much like you and Felix once did.

After graduation, Mark dyed his hair black for the first time in years, which you simply couldn’t get enough of. You lost weight after college, transitioning your closet from comfortable hoodies and sweatpants to dresses and blouses. The two of you coordinated outfits on errand days, which his friends never ceased teasing you for.

And you were happy. Truly and honestly happy.

One rainy Wednesday night, Mark took you out, deeming it a celebratory event following your raise at work.

“Here’s to… money,” Mark said with a smile, bringing his glass up to yours with a little clink.

You weren’t hard to please, requesting the celebratory meal be at your favorite ramen shop a couple blocks away. Mark insisted on something fancier, but let you pick your first choice in the end. He never pressured you, one of the many things you loved about him.

In between slurping noodles and telling tales of work, you were interrupted by music playing on the television high on the wall, drowning out Mark’s story with loud rap.

“Jeez,” you remarked. “Can’t they lower that? That’s so annoying.”

Mark adjusted his body toward the tv, bobbing his head at the thumping beat. “I dunno, I kinda like it.”

You scoffed. “This garbage? You’re crazy.”

He kept his eyes glued to the tv, eyebrows furrowed in a teasing manner as he continued to bob his head along and ad-lib the loud singing.

“Maniac... Maniac,” he hummed along, laughing at the screen and craning his head to keep watching.

You watched too, eyes glued to the colorful outfits and coordinated dancing. Your eyes scanned over the lyrics on the screen, realizing at this point that the song wasn’t in English.

if you think I’m just pure and innocent, you’re wrong,

when a favor continues, people think it’s their right, toxic,

this is what drives me crazy, warning

As a deep voice filled the room, your eyes remained glued to the figure in a green coat and purple beanie, heart stopping briefly in your chest while your mind raced a million miles per minute.

The familiarity of every feature grazed your conscience with a rude awakening.

You watched as the screen panned to someone with red hair, and another with purple hair. It was a few seconds before you spotted him again, a longer shot of him looking up at impressive skyscrapers. But it confirmed your theory.

It was Felix.

Mark’s singing began to annoy you now, the whole restaurant flooding with the same catchy chorus, most eaters now also craning their necks to watch the colorful group dance in sync.

“Could you stop?” you said suddenly, and Mark turned to you with a confused expression.

“Stop what?” he asked, questioning your sudden change of tone.

You didn’t answer, prodding at the noodles left in your bowl with chopsticks. The song overhead finished, transitioning to a slower song sung by a Korean woman this time.

“Y/n?” Mark asked again, waving a hand in front of you as your brows furrowed relentlessly at the dinner in front of you.

“Nothing,” you replied. “I was talking to my chopsticks. Sorry.”

Mark nodded, glancing back up at the screen and evidently thinking nothing of it. “She’s good,” he said. “Do you think she’s actually playing the piano?”

You didn’t answer, your brain and heart still racing with emotions that made you want to scream from atop a skyscraper. Any appetite you previously had for celebration dissipated quickly.

Their group wasn’t bad. Not by any means.

You did your research carefully, strategically logging out of your shared Youtube account with Mark to binge their music videos and interviews.

Felix seemed to have gone through a million different hair colors already. Black, green, silver, red, pink, even a long blonde wig which you liked more than you cared to admit.

You watched his interviews, picking him out from the group of 8 every time, keeping your focus on his mannerisms and crafted responses to superficial questions.

You quickly came to realize not much had changed about him. They dubbed him brownie boy- a name which you chuckled at in a melancholy tone, remembering the taste of them all too well. He loved dancing. He smiled after almost everything he said. His freckles were still his most prominent feature.

He even spoke of his hometown, telling an interviewer how much he’d hoped to visit again someday. Something you scoffed at, knowing all too well he must be too caught up in the glitz and glamor to give two shits about all of this.

It became an addiction for a few weeks, picking apart anything he said and interpreting where he’d been, what he’d seen out there. Who he might have fucked after you.

But the clips pointed you nowhere, filling your mind with useless knowledge about his various taekwondo medals and first impressions of his members.

And just like it entered, your new fixation exited your routine suddenly.

You tossed your phone on your bed one night, letting out an exasperated sigh after closing three tabs of useless articles and finding nothing in them.

“You good?” Mark asked.

You pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration. “Just stressed.”

He turned to face you, placing his phone down by his pillow as well.

“Is it that new thing at work?”

You rested your cheek on your hand, turning to face him too, noting the genuine look of care in his widened eyes.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Something like that.”

He held his gaze on yours for a minute, his eyes stretching into a smile as he let out a little laugh.

“Well you know I’m always here for you. Do you want to, like, talk about it or something?”

You smiled back at him, shaking your head in response.

There was no feasible explanation as to why you were bothered by the whole thing. The whole affair was nearly 5 years old now- you were a completely different person at that time. Maybe it was the idea of giving your body to someone who was so unchanged by it, he’d moved on to a whole new life without so much as a phone call. You loved Mark. You wouldn’t trade the relationship between you two for anything- or rather, anyone. But the pent up anger from being a side piece to someone who only pretended to care about you to get in your pants was hard to ignore.

“Y/n?” Mark interrupted, and your gaze snapped back to his, humming in question.

“I asked if you were in the mood tonight.” He repeated shyly.

“Oh, uh. Yeah! Sure.” You tried to slide your shorts off awkwardly, the knot on your waistband getting stuck as you rushed to fulfill his ask.

“Stupid pants,” you said, fumbling clumsily with them and quickly getting angry.

He raised an eyebrow. “It’s okay, we don’t have to do anything tonight. I’m kinda beat anyway.”

You fiddled with the knot some more, keeping your gaze away from his now, hoping he wouldn’t notice any change in your demeanor.

“No no, it’s cool,” you replied dryly. “Seriously, I want to.”

Mark reached over, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead and retying the string on your pajama shorts.

“I’m not doing anything when you’re all distracted. It’s not right. Go to sleep. Tomorrow we’ll go somewhere for breakfast, yeah?”

With one hand gently grazing over your stomach, he reached over your small frame, turning out the lamp and pulling you closer as darkness washed over the room. A small sliver of moonlight through the window shone over your face, and you hoped Mark wouldn’t notice the single tear running down your cheek.

“Do the wires in your mind get sewn together, rubbed and severed by the heat?”

The whole thing was stupid. You knew that, and you couldn’t keep doing this to Mark.

He’d been there for you since the start of your life without Felix, and you never had to doubt the love he had for you. Mark was a permanent fixture in your otherwise monotonous life and the only interesting thing about it, at that.

Maybe this was the universe’s way of reminding you to be grateful for what was here.

And that you were. You made it up to Mark several times since that week, surprising him with new lingerie sets when you could, and cooking a week’s worth of his favorite meals.

“It’s not even my birthday…” he’d always remark through hungry kisses, barely having time to set aside his briefcase before you dropped to your knees and finished him off right there in the hallway.

And things seemed to go back to normal.

Or at least you thought.

The business campaign you were working on was stressful- that, you hadn’t lied to Mark about.

Late nights turned into early mornings in front of your laptop, typing away at spreadsheets and pulling together presentation decks for your boss.

Mark typically knew when to leave you alone, only interrupting to bring you hot coffee and little snacks late into the night, until he’d fall asleep in the bedroom and wait for you to join. Sometimes, your work consumed your ability to sleep.

Tonight, after dinner, Mark tended to his usual routine of brewing you a cup of coffee, knowing it was going to be another late night for you.

Just a few more days of this, you promised him.

He wasn’t mad at your dedication to your work, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss cuddling in bed together.

“Shit,” you heard him say loudly. “We’re out of creamer.”

You glanced up over your laptop.

“Darn. I’ll just have it plain.”

He bent down to the first level of the fridge, peering around like a bottle might suddenly appear.

“Nah, I’ll go buy some. I’ll just be a few,” he said, closing the door and adjusting the knit black beanie on his head.

You looked up at him again, feeling a sense of guilt as he scanned the granite counter for his car keys.

“No no, you stay,” you said to him, lowering your laptop screen but not closing it fully. “I’ll go. I need a break anyway.”

He cocked his head a little. “I don’t even think the grocery store is open this late. Let me go to the convenience store and get one of those small cartons.”

You shook your head again, standing up and reaching for the keys that had been in your eyesight the whole time.

“I’ll go to the one further away. No biggie.”

Mark smirked a little as you pulled on your sneakers. “You’re getting in the way of my plan to secretly buy those cookies I like.”

You let out a gentle laugh, pressing a kiss to his cheek and slinging your purse over your shoulder.

“Was already on my shopping list, silly.”

“Love you!” He shouted behind you, laughing as you jokingly waved him off and made your way to your car.

Your favorite convenience store was a few minutes away, by your parents’ house. They didn’t have an extensive selection of groceries, but they did have vanilla coffee creamer, and Mark’s favorite cookies. And that was enough to keep you coming back.

It was the same convenience store you’d practically grown up at, piling rice balls and mochi donuts on the counter after every drunken night out.

So much that the staff knew you by name, often “forgetting” to scan an item or two and keeping it a secret from the store manager.

The little bell chime indicated your entrance, and right away you were met with enthusiastic greetings from the employees.

“Y/n!” the regular employee exclaimed, ushering you to the newly placed display of rice balls.

You chuckled in response. “Just here for creamer, actually! But that is very tempting.”

You made your way around the display to the fridge, grabbing two bottles and hastily finding your place in line.

Only two people stood in front of you, and you scrolled through social media on your phone as they rang up their items and trickled out of the store.

At your turn, you placed both bottles on the counter, suddenly remembering Mark’s cookies you’d forgotten. “Sorry, let me grab one more thing!”

You sauntered two aisles down to the cookies while the cashier scanned, and then stopped when you noticed one box left on the shelf. One that was already being carefully examined by another shopper.

Feeling a sense of discouragement, you pretended to look over the other options, knowing very well Mark didn’t like just any option. He was always very passionate in his request for jam-filled shortbreads.

The shopper stood tall, back faced to you, as they scanned the nutrition labels and shifted the box around in their grip.

Just decide, you urged them mentally.

“Excuse me, are there any more of those?” You spoke suddenly, surprising yourself with your rather sharp tone.

He turned on his heel, a serious expression on his face as his eyes met with the rushed voice.

And you knew immediately.

Despite the black beanie pulled snugly over his locks, oversized hoodie that swallowed his figure, and a thin black mask covering his nose and mouth, you knew in his eyes.

Almond brown eyes filled with warmth and intensity, offset by the familiar beige galaxies that scattered across his eyelids, the rest concealed by his dark mask. What a shame it was, to cover something so beautiful.

You could tell he knew, too, his gaze fixated on yours for a minute, saying nothing as he maintained his tenacious grip on the cardboard box. Your thoughts ran at a record pace, swirling around your head like harsh waves in a tsunami, searching for something- anything to cling on to.

Say nothing, you told yourself. Leave.

And before he could get a word out, you dropped your gaze to the tiled floor below him. “Nevermind. You can keep them.”

The convenience store spun all around you, much like the storm brewing in your head, as you practically sprinted back to the counter and slapped a twenty in front of the employee, who’d already bagged your coffee creamers.

“Keep the change,” you said to him, before snatching the bag off the counter and making a beeline for your car.

Your hands shook as you put the key in the ignition, seeing him exit the store out of your peripheral vision. Like a lost animal searching for safety, his head scanned over the cars in the parking lot, stopping in dismay as he recognized you again, this time through your foggy car window.

Your head remained straight, forced tunnel vision on the giant soda advert plastered on the window of the store in front of you.

And without so much as a glance in his direction, you made your way out of the lot and back toward your apartment.

Hours spent replaying the interaction in your head quickly turned to days, and Mark could tell once again that something wasn’t right. You felt yourself sink back into that place of uncertainty and unresolved doubts.

On top of that, your daily routine was beginning to drive you crazy. Wake up, work, come home, work.

Sleep. Repeat.

It also didn’t help that things between you and Mark had fallen tense in the past few weeks.

Nights you worked late, he often did too, staying at the lab for a few hours extra and coming home more tired than ever. You tried to initiate intimacy with him, but it seemed he was the one declining lately.

During your few minutes together before work, you broke the groggy silence to speak.

“I need to go to my parents’ for a few days.”

He furrowed his eyebrows at you, cocking his head while chewing his toast. “Your parents’ place? Like, across town? Why?”

You shrugged, swirling a spoon around in your bowl of cereal.

“I need some time. And space.”

He swallowed his bite of toast dramatically. “Are you- I mean, are we okay?”

You reassured him with a small smile. “Yeah, we’re okay. It’s just the stress of work and life. Want to make sure I get time to say hi to mom and dad, you know?”

Mark nodded. “Yeah, for sure. When are you planning on going?”

You got up from your seat at the table, bringing your bowl to the sink and giving it a light rinse. “Tonight. I’m just gonna pack a bag and go straight there after work. I already let my boss know I’ll be out for a couple days.”

Mark nodded again. “Okay, well say hi to them for me. I’ll hold down the fort over here.”

You walked over to him, pressing a little kiss to his temple, and grabbed your laptop.

“We’re okay,” you repeated. “And I love you.”

He didn’t respond, looking down at his food as he pondered your words.

You left for work earlier than usual, stuffing a duffel bag of clothes in your trunk and letting your parents know you’d be there later. The work day went by slowly, projects and emails confirming that you did indeed need a few days away from all this. By the time the end of the day finally rolled around, you wasted no time booking it to your car and changing out your heels for a pair of sneakers.

Your childhood home was on the other side of town, but the rush hour of traffic on a Friday evening doubled the time it took for you to get there. When you did, mom was already out for her night shift, and dad wasn’t even home for the week.

Maybe coming here for the purpose of saying hi to mom and dad was a bit of a lie. But you had been honest to Mark about needing time and space. And several days off. Days you hoped to spend curled up in your childhood bed catching up on sleep.

Your room was largely unchanged. There were still little holes scattered on the walls from where your posters were hung with thumbtacks, but the walls remained void of any new decor. The carpet was the same too, down to the prominent coffee stain you’d gotten on it nearly a decade ago. Your window still gave a clear view of the streets beyond yours, framed artistically by overgrown vines in the front yard.

With a deep sigh, you leaned against the frame of the sill, soaking in the familiarity of it all. It was just like you remembered, and a part of you almost hoped you’d see something different. Maybe even someone.

There was no doubt that the room brought memories of Felix flooding right back. You still remembered the way he’d knock on your window, always giving three straight thumps so you’d know it was him. A habit you found funny, remembering that he’d warn you not to open the window for any less than 3 knocks- because “2 knocks could be a serial killer’s greeting. And one knock could be a bear.”

These walls had heard some of the most obscene confessions, seen some of the most indecorous outfits you’d wear for him and only him. And yet, you found solace in knowing that they also housed some of the most intimate crying sessions, giddy laughter, and a blossoming relationship that would follow you so many years later.

You stepped away from the window, finally making way to your bed and lying down with an exasperated sigh. Maybe a part of you hoped Felix was still in town. Maybe a part of you even came here on the off-chance he would come visit.

Thoughts you shoved to the back of your mind, not having the emotional capacity to deal with the idea that you longed to experience it all over again.

Mornings in your parents’ house were nothing like the way they were at Felix’s. Mom was always asleep for the day, having come home early in the morning from her shift. Dad usually wasn’t home.

Such was the way things were when you awoke the next morning, birds chirping outside your window to indicate the start of a new, sunny day. You rolled over in your tangled sheets, squinting heavy eyes at your alarm clock and catching a glimpse of the time.

9:46am.

You’d surprised yourself with how tired you were, stretching your limbs lazily and staring at the blank ceiling above you. When you finally sat up in bed, the smell of breakfast hit your nose instantly.

The house filled with scents of grilled meat and freshly brewed coffee, and you could make out the faint noises of the toaster popping and oil sizzling.

Mom must have prepared breakfast for your return today. You wasted no time putting on your house slippers and bolting out the door to greet her, already appreciative of her kind gesture. When you turned the corner into the kitchen, a foreign sight caught you off guard.

Your mom stood in front of the stove, scrambling eggs around in a frying pan as you’d predicted.

And sat at the dinner table, stuffing forkfuls of Canadian bacon and sips of hot coffee in his mouth, was Felix.

You audibly gasped, and Felix looked up from his plate to acknowledge you.

He wore a plain white t-shirt, his straight hair hung loosely around his face with no particular placement, yet still somehow perfectly styled.

A pair of silver earrings dangled by his neck as he looked up at you, mouth full of food. In an instant, he pushed his chair out from behind him and stood up, saying nothing as he continued to chew. Without the ability to talk, he gave you a small wave, which you ignored.

You were suddenly self-conscious of your own appearance, looking far too casual in a tank top and shorts, house slippers loudly announcing you’d only just woken up. Your hair was still in yesterday’s work bun almost falling out of the flimsy hair tie, and the lack of makeup was more than hard on the eyes.

Before he could finish chewing to get a sentence out, you shouted out to your mom, who still hadn’t noticed your arrival. “Taking a really important work call in the other room, could you keep it down please?”

She shouted back over the loud sounds of oil sizzling.

“Sure thing, but look who’s here! Ah, it’s burning! Hold on,” And she turned her attention back to the stove.

You looked over at Felix again, who’d finished chewing at this point, still standing awkwardly in front of his plate and fiddling his hands together like a lost child.

“Oh… it’s nice to meet you.” You said, with a little bow, turning around quickly and disappearing back into your room.

You refused to entertain this. You weren’t going to give him what he wanted, to pretend he was interested in your life just to get in your pants one more time. You’d humiliated yourself enough the first time.

Back in your room, you locked the door with force and shoved your desk chair under the knob, triple-checking to ensure it couldn’t be opened. You shut the blinds and hopped back into your bed, wrapping the comforter around you and trying your best to steady your breathing. But it was no use; the tears began anyway.

You can’t remember how long you cried- it must have been hours before you drifted off to sleep again. When you woke up for the second time that day, it was well past 5 in the afternoon.

Your skin was sticky with sweat and your hair was begging to be let out of its knotted mess. When you rolled out of bed, a pounding headache made itself present. Crying and sleeping for hours were always a lethal combination.

After a long shower and some time to think it over, you felt small and stupid again. Were you doing the right thing? What was the point of coming here if not for closure? Why were you even here?

A fleeting voice told you to ditch the whole trip and go back to the apartment. Back to your safe space with Mark, where the two of you could marathon dumb movies and make love on the couch like you always did.

But you quickly dismissed the thought, reminding yourself that you weren’t going to let some dumb fling drive you away from a much-needed vacation at your parents’ place. When you confirmed that the coast was clear, you made your way back out to the kitchen, where your mom sat at the dinner table with a book.

“Hi honey,” she said. “We waited for you, figured you got caught up in that work call of yours.” A slight raise of her eyebrow indicated she knew.

You sighed, sitting on the chair across from her.

“Want to tell me what happened?” She asked.

You shook your head. “Things are just difficult right now. I don’t want to get caught up in… things that I shouldn’t.”

She nodded, setting her book down. “He left you a little gift in the corridor.”

Then she got up from her seat and hoisted her purse over her shoulder. “Leaving for the evening- make sure you lock all the windows before you sleep.”

When she was out of sight, you made your way to the corridor, finding a little white box on the console table by the entrance. It was wrapped neatly with a blue ribbon, in typical Felix fashion. You pulled one end, watching the tie come undone, and carefully lifted one end to reveal the contents inside.

The scent hit you before the sight, and you knew instantly. His signature baked goods.

You were up much earlier the next morning. The fresh summer air beckoned you to go outside, which you did, completing an almost 3-mile jog. Post-exercise, you ate a full breakfast, and then called Mark, his phone going straight to voicemail.

It wasn’t typical of Mark to sleep in, but you knew he was busy at the lab late these days, so you opted for a quick text instead.

Late night again? Call me when you can. Love you :)

There was something so freeing about having no plans, no to-do list, and better yet, no monotonous routine like you had most days.It was like you could do anything you wanted while you were here- which you did. You watched old reruns of cartoons, flipped through ancient yearbooks kept in boxes out in the storage shed, and even repaired some of the flawed spots on your walls with a can of white paint you found. You also finished piles of chores around the house for your parents, going so far as to fold and hang all their laundry for them. By the time you’d put away the last of the socks, it was well past 5 in the afternoon.

The loud sound of the doorbell startled you from inside your parents’ shared closet. Had they been expecting any packages? The gardener, perhaps? You cautiously made your way to the front door, smoothing down your blouse and adjusting your shorts that had ridden up while you worked. You unlatched the door and opened it, feeling a drop in your chest as you locked eyes with the figure.

“Hi,” he said, keeping his gaze locked on yours.

You cleared your throat. “Hi…Can I…help you?”

His lips parted slightly, closing again as his expression changed to that of dejection.

“Um… I just came to drop this off.”

You looked at his hands; which clutched a little white envelope.

“Okay,” you replied, reaching out to take it from him. He pulled his hands back a little so that the envelope was just out of reach.

You looked up at him again with a questioning look.

“Did I… I mean, how are you?” He asked awkwardly.

“Me?” You said in reply, feeling annoyed at his persistence for an interaction. “Is this a new mailman greeting? I’m good. Can I get my mail now?”

Your heart dropped as soon as you finished speaking. It was a despicable bit you kept up, enough to hurt even yourself.

His lips pulled together in a thin line, raising his eyebrows and looking down at his feet.

“Ouch. Yeah, here you go.” He handed you the envelope, turning around and marching off without a word.

You watched his head hang as he took confident strides away from you, getting farther out of reach with each passing second.

“Wait,” you called after him, a moot point as he only kept walking.

As soon as he was out of sight, you slammed the front door, eyes welling up with tears as you slid down the door and dropped to the floor. Why had you said something so stupid? You imagined yourself in his shoes briefly, shaking your head at the thought of him reducing your existence to that of a delivery person.

It was the third time this week you’d fucked up a chance at making amends with Felix. And by far the worst one- there was no way he’d be back any time soon. Or ever again, for that matter.

You wiped tears with the back of your hand, suddenly remembering the letter he came here to drop off. After a few deep breaths, you examined it in your shaky hands, thumbing over the ink on the back that spelled your name. His handwriting looked the same as it did so many years ago- so neat and carefully placed. You tore it open timidly, pulling out a little yellow card.

Y/n,

It’s been a while

I hope you still like brownies!

I’m going to the new coffee shop across the street tomorrow if you’d like to join

9am?

PS- I’m sorry for dropping by unannounced!

You read the letter once, then twice, then six more times before you could even comprehend what it was.

Despite your ingenuous behavior all week, he was still willing to try and fix things with you. That was, up until a few minutes ago. The invitation still sat in your hand, but it would be a miracle if he agreed to go anywhere near you after the stunt you pulled.

You tossed the letter aside, burying a tear-stained face in your hands as you began to cry again at the thought that you’d likely never see him again.

He’d slipped through your fingers yet again, only this time, it was entirely your fault.

“You’re wasting your time with lame excuses and lies”

Why were you even trying? In what universe would Felix agree to see you again after the stunt you pulled?

It didn’t matter. Chalk it up to pure delusion and naivety, but you were up bright and early, all dressed up and ready to meet for coffee with him. If he didn’t show, you’d surely owe him an apology, which your ego silently prayed you wouldn’t have to track him down to deliver. And if he did, things would be unbearably awkward. You’d lose either way- but that’s not to say he hadn’t already had his share of loss dealing with your abhorrent attitude.

You were grateful you packed some of your nicer clothes while you stayed at your parents’. You’d settled on a feminine white peasant top, a pair of fitted slacks, and spent the morning curling your hair to convince him you weren’t always an unpresentable slob despite the way you’d appeared all week.

When you arrived, the shop was teeming with young couples and coffee connoisseurs. The lively atmosphere combined with gloomy warm lighting made for a romantic date location- forcing you to remind yourself that this was not in fact a date. You verily assumed it to be a working session- one where you two would sort out the awkward encounters and establish boundaries again. Followed by some brief small talk and a proper send-off so that you could finally shut him out of your mind for good.

A short staircase led you to the upper level, where most of the tables were neatly decorated with glass vases of daisies that thrived in the sun beams illuminated along the rows of windows. You clutched your bag, looking around nervously and trying your best to steady the rapid thump of your heartbeat in your throat. Couples. Couples. A family. A pair of sisters.

And on the last table, Felix.

He looked mature in a sleek white turtleneck and dangly silver earrings, his ashy locks tucked neatly behind both ears. As you approached the table, he looked up for a brief second, shifting his eyes away once again as you pulled out the chair across from him and took a seat.

You waited for him to say something, which he didn’t.

Conversely, your pride didn’t allow you to speak first.

“You’re blonde,” you said suddenly, your voice coming out much shakier than you had anticipated.

He focused on you again, expression unchanged.

“So you do remember me.”

Link to part 2 here

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sunlightmurdock · 5 months

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this is your psa to just be a kind person and respect other people tysm

okay so after being subposted about a lot, I just wanted to clear some things up on my end because this was not random and I literally refuse to be made the villain here.

About a month ago, I was sent an anon about some similarities between my fic Blow by Blow and another creator’s series of drabbles. I messaged this creator calmly and we had a really nice conversation where we both agreed that lines get blurred sometimes and it’s easy to forget if you were potentially inspired by another fic you had read a while ago.

So, they had read Blow by Blow and still followed me at this point. But, they acknowledged the similarities and apologised. I was more than happy to continue with my life bc who cares.

Then, I received another anon about the same creator but about similarities between another of their series of drabbles and my fic Trouble in Paradise. I took a look for myself, and it was astounding. Upset, I blocked them. After a really upsetting day yesterday, I published that anon. I have since taken it down because exposing their name didn’t feel like the right thing to do at that point…

But, after they made a series of subposts last night claiming to have never heard of me or read any of my works, I’ve had enough to be honest. I have screenshots of this person in the likes of that fic. Even if they haven’t read the whole thing, they posted two chapters to their drabble Masterlist that were strikingly similar to chapter 1 of Trouble in Paradise, which they have liked and read. One of those chapters has since been deleted (I can only imagine why).

I reached out to them this morning explaining the situation and giving them an opportunity to talk to me, but they decided to block me instead, so here are:

similarities from the not stolen fic from a creator who has never heard of me or this work, theirs highlighted in purple while the original work (mine) is highlighted in pink. If you’ve read trouble in paradise, you may also spot some more underlying similarities. sorry in advance for the long post 🙄

so the premise of their drabble plays out exactly like the second half of Trouble in Paradise 0.1. reader is wearing the exact same thing. male mc is a stranger to the island, who on his first day has found someone exciting, happy and much younger. description of the bedroom is also looking eerily similar… they are both bartenders, who after a shift drive the male mc back to their place.

So in this realm, we can see that the dialogue is not only the exact same but once again, the reader is wearing the exact same thing and performing the same actions.

and here we have their Drabble ending the exact same way my chapter does, with the dialogue being nearly word for word the same.

I am not claiming to own the silly girl on an island trope, but after specifically speaking to this creator before about another one of my fics which had wayyyy too many similarities of theirs to be a coincidence, and them apologising, I thought we were beyond this. This creator then claimed to have never heard of me or my work.

I have screenshots of them in the likes of this fic, I know that they read at least the beginning, which is where the similarities start and end as far as I’m aware. Up until I blocked them, they had followed me for 11 months. This is the second time I have had an issue with them, after handling the first privately.

It’s really upsetting 1. not only to have had the premise of my stories rewritten by someone else but 2. for them to pretend that they have never heard of me when we have had conversations, and when I have screenshots of them interacting with my fics.

@devinedoll not really cool

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venus-is-thinking · 20 days

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A Narrative Defense of Levi Accomplice Theory

Hello everyone! I’m finally back with this post to celebrate the fact that DRDT is back tomorrow! aaaaAAAAAAAA–

For any of you who have no idea what the title means, consider it the second part to my year-old Narrative Defense of Eden Culprit Theory. In this, I’ll go over the narrative reasons why I think Levi being the accomplice (to Eden as the blackened) would make sense and open up interesting opportunities for DRDTdev to explore, if they do choose to go in this direction. I’m not at all trying to prove, evidence-wise, why Levi is the accomplice in this post.

My thoughts on the functionality of the Chapter 2 murder method are basically exactly what @1moreff-creator (nickname FF) outlines in their A Summary of the Levi Accomplice Theory + How We Got Here post. I STRONGLY recommend reading it, both because I think it’s a great read and because as far as I know, the concept of Levi as an accomplice isn’t really talked about outside of it, so it’ll provide some useful context as to why I believe this is a possibility.

That being said, I do want to disclaim this by saying that this post will be a lot more open-ended and speculative than the Eden version. Levi accomplice theory, at least in the context of being paired with Eden culprit, is objectively less likely to be true than Eden culprit theory by itself, and I could definitely see a world in which Levi is either innocent or involved in the crime in some other way.

There’s also the fact that, because I don’t believe Levi will be executed this chapter, there’s a lot more question of where his character is headed. I predicted the trajectory of Eden’s arc to end in a handful of episodes; Levi will hypothetically be facing entirely new motives and twists that I have no way to meaningfully predict, so take all of this with a grain of salt.

Still, I’ve been meaning to make this post for literally an entire year, and I’m not gonna let the “Chapter 2 resumes” deadline pass! So, without further ado, here it is: the long awaited Narrative Defense of Levi Accomplice Theory!

SPOILER WARNING THROUGH CHAPTER 2 PART ONE!

T/W: Murder, blackmail, traumatic pasts

I’m going to follow roughly the same structure as the Eden Narrative Defense, which means that I’m going to be looking at the following topics:

Motive (Why Levi would choose to help Eden commit the crime)

Story Arc (How Levi being the accomplice fits into the overall narrative)

Relationships (How Levi’s relationships impact this writing decision)

Character Arc (How this plays into Levi’s individual character arc)

Wildcard (A specific topic that I think is relevant to discuss for this theory)

These are listed in the order they appeared in Eden’s narrative defense, with Eden’s Wildcard slot being taken up by her emotional breakdown in the Trial and justifying how that wouldn’t be entirely fake/how it would be possible with her still being the culprit. Hopefully that all makes sense!

For Levi, I actually think the best starting point is:

TOPIC 1: Relationships

Because this theory is dependent on Levi helping Eden commit literal murder, I want to start off by examining Levi’s relationship with Eden.

Interestingly, they don’t really interact much of all in Chapter 1; to my memory, the clearest example of them being highlighted in the same scene is when Arei throws a fit over Eden not inviting her to bake with her, where in the same scene, Arei manipulates Levi after he tries to defuse the situation.

However, we open Chapter 2 on the two of them having a rather important conversation. Notably, Levi gets “good person” name dropped in this conversation. For those who don’t know, beneath the “All That Glitters” chapter title, there’s a faint hidden text of “A Good Person.” Pretty much everyone who is called a good person is incredibly important to this chapter (Teruko, Eden, Arei, David, and Levi), so Levi getting hit with the “good person” right at the beginning definitely flags him for importance down the line.

Interestingly, what is said here is:

Levi is called a good person due to his reliability, which clues us into the fact that Eden might be open to relying on Levi, even if it’s for something important. Notably, here, Levi still wants to help others and try to be the best person he can be, despite his slip-up yelling at Ace in the Chapter 1 Trial.

The existence of this scene at all, and especially given the fact that it delves further into Eden and Levi’s mental states as the killing game progresses, seems to indicate that this is a pair to watch moving forwards.

Levi also notably has another relationship that heavily plays into the idea of Levi being an accomplice: Ace.

Ace has spent the chapter telling Levi to fuck off and leave him alone, holding the fact that Levi said he would strange Ace over his head. To me, Levi’s strong reactions to Ace play very heavily into his secret quote:

I always believed that a person is defined by their actions alone. But maybe that’s just a poor excuse for my heartlessness.

(If you don’t know what the secret quotes are, basically, on everyone’s profile page on the tumblr website, there’s a secret quote hidden that you can find by inspecting elements. This is the one on Levi’s page.)

I’ll get more into this later on, but this is a rather interesting quote when paired with Levi taking the action of threatening Ace, but doing it through words alone. You could argue that he didn’t actually do anything, but that’s not completely true. Ace certainly seems to think he did something.

Levi is caught at the crossroads of his words of intent to harm Ace being treated as the true him, but any attempts he makes to reconcile are being treated as “just words.”

However, any actions that Levi tries to take are rebuffed. He can’t repair things with his words, and he can’t take action without violating Ace’s wishes, so he’s stuck. This, of course, frustrates Levi.

This was clearly a big character moment from Levi. It seems like his will to repair things with Ace, at least, is fully gone in this moment. Notably, we haven’t really seen any demeanor change from Levi that I can think of as a result for this conclusion he’s apparently drawn, which raises my suspicions that he’s hiding crucial information from us this Trial.

But, most people who think Levi is set up to be suspicious and giving up on everyone think that he’s going to be the killer. Why do I think he’s going to be the accomplice instead?

Well, a lot of it has to do with the evidence itself, notably the grippy tape and the contraption used in Arei’s killing (see FF’s theory post). But, there’s also the fact that it’s not unreasonable to think that Eden and Levi could’ve gotten scheming here.

While Levi walks off before Teruko, we don’t know exactly what happens afterwards. It seems like Ace got bandaged up at some point (possibly because Eden helped him?), but either way, I could see Eden and Levi talking afterwards about their opinions on everything that happened. And, of course, about their secrets.

TOPIC 2: Motive

For the sake of this theory, I am strongly assuming that Levi’s secret is “You’re a murderer, and you hold no remorse.” If it isn’t, toss this entire thing out the window, because it doesn’t make any goddamn sense.

I think there are two conceivable paths to Levi’s motive for helping out Eden here. I know that in FF’s post, they outline one of them: the possibility that Levi would prefer that Eden escape and everyone else die over the continuation of the killing game as-is. This would be based on Levi’s belief that Eden is a good person, and his increased belief over time that everyone else (including himself) is a bad person, unworthy of living.

I certainly think this is possible, but it leaves Levi’s character off in a bit of a weird spot. Like, okay, he decided to gamble it all on Eden and he loses. Then what? It’s only Chapter 2. There are certainly ways for his character to go, but I feel like at that point, he’s either dragging his feet before dying or dragging his feet before he gets to do his survivor arc. I’m not sure if it would leave enough room to explore his character over the course of who-knows-how-many-more chapters. I have to imagine that, if Levi is the accomplice under this plan, he’d make it through Chapter 3, because otherwise, it seems like the message of Levi is that he gave up and that means he died. But, what would he be doing throughout those chapters?

So, I think that’s a possible read, but it’s not the one I favor. The second read is a little more complicated, but I think it makes sense. Give me a bit to explain it.

This theory really focuses in on my interpretation of Levi’s secret quote, which is again:

I always believed that a person is defined by their actions alone. But maybe that’s just a poor excuse for my heartlessness.

What this says to me, in combination with Levi’s secret, is, “I am only a murderer if I am actively murdering someone.” Sure, Levi was a murderer– but that was in the past!

(Levi makes many cryptic mentionings of his dark past. I don’t know what exactly it is, but I believe that Levi has killed someone, and might not feel remorse for at least one specific killing. It’s also possible that he feels no remorse because that’s just how he grieves– by feeling nothing– which he alludes to in the opening conversation with Eden.)

However, Ace is challenging that belief that Levi has. Can he really change so much just because he’s acting on his best behavior? Besides, it doesn’t really matter; if people think he’s a murderer, what difference is there in how they treat him?

To me, that’s what Levi’s “Why do I even bother?” means. He’s realizing that, with Ace, at least, but also maybe in general, if someone believes he’s a murderer, that’s as good as him being a murderer. In combination with his secret, that means that anyone who learns his secret will treat him as a murderer, immediately burning any relationship they have with him.

It kind of makes me think of the concept of Thought-Action Fusion, which is the psychological term for the belief that thinking about doing something wrong is just as bad as doing that wrong thing. It’s not quite the same, but it’s that kind of idea. Who cares if Levi kills someone or not? If people think he has, he might as well have.

That, obviously, is a bad thing. It’s an even worse thing when you consider that DRDT seems to be a TV show, and MonoTV is threatening to reveal everyone’s motive secrets to everyone in the whole world if no one kills!

This then creates a bit of a paradox for Levi. The only way to prevent everyone from finding out that he’s a murderer is to murder someone on national (?) television.

However, there is one out for him in this situation. If someone else kills before the motive timer is up, Levi gets out of this situation clean. And that’s where Eden comes in.

(For clarity’s sake, I largely think this scene is a joke. I do not think Eden is actually doing anything sinister by “blackmailing” Teruko here, nor do I think either Teruko or Eden would actually think anything malevolent of Eden because of it. However, I’ve noticed that DRDT is very good at slipping relevant ideas or information into jokes, which is why I want to look at this.)

Eden doesn’t need to blackmail Levi, per se. At least, she doesn’t have to actually put the threat out there directly.

What I’m envisioning is basically that, after helping bandage Ace up, Eden goes and checks in with Levi and sees how he’s doing. Levi explains his frustrations with the fact that Ace is treating him like a murderer even though he hasn’t done anything, and it seems like Ace’s belief that he’s a murderer is good enough to condemn him. In response, Eden lets Levi know that she knows what his secret is.

Arei is the one who received Levi’s secret, but I’d be, like, 0% surprised if Eden knew it. Arei said she’d do anything to prove her loyalty to Eden, and especially considering how Arei overheard the secret Eden received, it would make enough sense if she told Eden about the one she received to “even it out.”

So, let’s say Eden says, “but aren’t you a murderer? Your secret says so.” Or something like that. Levi is now obviously in a tricky position, because the answer is, yes, that is his secret, but people aren’t supposed to know that. Eden would then loop Levi into her plan to kill Arei, and they would come to a mutual understanding.

Levi has to cooperate with Eden and do whatever she says when it comes to the crime, because if he doesn’t, Eden could easily reveal his secret. To Levi, that’s a fate worse than death, because it means that he will never be able to escape his past. Conversely, Eden can’t throw Levi under the bus and spill his secret, because then Levi would easily throw Eden under the bus and reveal she’s the blackened in turn. By giving Levi a severe secret of Eden’s own– that she’ll be the blackened– the playing field levels out into one of mutually assured destruction, where both of them respect each other enough to take the other’s secret to the grave if they’re the one who fails.

Eden, I think, would be willing to take this risk in the first place, because Levi is reliable. If she understands how his internal logic operates, she can trust that he’ll see it through to the end. Having an accomplice could make it much harder for people to find out she's the blackened, which is a huge advantage.

For Levi, if you follow my read of his character, this makes sense. His best bet is to help Eden out from a neutral perspective, helping her commit the crime but not dying on the hill to help her win. If Eden loses, she can respect the fact that he didn’t out her and tried to help her. Then, Eden dies, taking everyone’s secrets and the motive to her grave with her. Obviously, the secrets ended up being more or less revealed anyways, considering Arei’s body wasn’t discovered until after the motive announcement, but David is proof enough that the students didn’t know that was how it would be ruled.

Hopefully this makes enough sense! To summarize, I think Levi’s motivation to help Eden is to protect his own secret and survive the motive. The only way to avoid being known as a murderer is to help facilitate a murder without the fact that he was an accomplice ever being exposed. To have his secret revealed is basically death anyways, so risking death if Eden is the killer isn’t the biggest deal in the world.

INTERLUDE 2.5: Arei’s Glove

So, this isn’t part of the narrative defense, this is me repairing part of FF’s theory. Because, Arei’s glove is missing from her body, and FF’s reasoning ended up being “Levi can drop the glove to frame himself as the culprit mid-Trial if needed.” However, because in my world, Levi is still hoping Eden loses (even if he can’t contribute), that seems a bit far fetched. So, I tried to come up with an alternate explanation of why Arei’s glove might be missing.

One of them kinda sucks, which is that Arei was wearing her glove when the water jugs broke, drenching it. Because the turf is weird, you can count on the turf not being wet by the Body Discovery Announcement, but the glove could still be too wet, giving away part of how the crime was completed. Thus, someone hides or pockets the glove so that it doesn’t give something away. This seemed halfway viable to me before I rewatched the investigation, but between the fish being entirely dried out (non-turf that was definitely very wet at one point) and the positioning of the tape marks on Arei’s wrists (which I think would mean the glove would have to be off her wrists when you taped them), I don’t think it’s especially viable.

There’s FF’s original reasoning from a while ago as to why it could’ve been missing, which is that to get a better grip on the spinny thing (carousel), Levi may have put on Arei’s glove. It could’ve gotten scratched up or stretched out as a result, making it key evidence. This is a bit presumptive, but it works enough.

The weirdest thing to me is that it does seem like Arei’s glove was taken off before her wrists were taped. I’d think taping Arei’s wrists would happen fairly early, considering it makes it harder for her to struggle. But, getting her glove off while she’s struggling seems pretty hard.

The third explanation I have is just that Eden asked Arei to take her glove off at some point before Levi showed up, because it would be annoying to tape her wrists with the glove on. Then, Arei’s glove went missing in the shuffle, or they didn’t have a good place to put it because it would be difficult to put it back on once Arei is hung up. They couldn’t throw it in the trash, because Eden planned on the class reconstructing the note they left in the trash. So, instead, Arei’s glove gets stashed somewhere and they hope no one notices it, because if people stop to think about how Arei’s glove was taken off before her wrists were taped, it could point to Eden.

I don’t love any of these reasons, but combined, I think they’re good enough that it’s not a dealbreaker for this theory, at least. Pick whichever one is your favorite and we can go forward from there.

TOPIC 3: Character Arc

If Levi’s relationships have set him up for this, and he has a viable enough motive, what does it mean for Levi that he’s the accomplice? What is his individual story telling us?

I think Levi’s character is meant to center around the concept of what makes a person good, and what allows a person to properly repent. It really seems like Levi has a not-so-good past, something that’s only heightened if he does have the murderer without remorse secret.

There’s also the secret quote, which talks about “excuses” for “heartlessness.” Levi is trying to put his dark past behind him, but it’s incredibly difficult. He wants to move forwards from it, but he doesn’t know how.

If Levi is the accomplice, it provides a really interesting opportunity for his character arc: Levi will then be exposed as an accomplice and be publicly known as someone dangerous and possibly, to some, unforgivable, but he won’t die for it. He’ll have to figure out how to navigate the fact that he does carry the burden of his past actions with him, and he’ll have to learn to cope.

If a character is meant to ask how possible it is to repent, doesn’t it make sense to give an extremely concrete in-universe thing that they need to repent for, and that everyone knows they need to repent for?

I’m not sure exactly where Levi would end up from there. A lot of it depends on the other characters, the motives, and the kill order. I still think it’s definitely possible for Levi to take on the classic Chapter 4 buff curse/sacrifice killer mantle with this, if he decides that the only way to repent properly is to put everyone else above him. However, I do think it’d be interesting to see him fill any slot.

He could be a victim, if his time runs out. He could be a killer, if he decides that he can’t repent, and his only option is to once again try to outrun his past. He could be a survivor if he figures out that the only thing he can do is try to move forwards, accept his past, and try to do better in the future. I’m actually quite partial to the survivor interpretation, but it’s hard to make survivor cast predictions this early.

Either way, I think this totally makes sense as a direction to take Levi’s character in.

TOPIC 4: The “Murderer” Rule

This is my Wildcard slot for this narrative defense. I don’t know exactly what it’ll amount to, but I think it’s worth discussing.

Rule 14: All murderers must be held accountable for their crimes.

If Levi is the murderer without remorse, I wonder if this rule will apply to him. I also wonder exactly what it means. “Held accountable” doesn’t necessarily mean that whoever is a murderer will get executed.

I honestly think a really interesting way for this to go is if Eden gets found out as the culprit on her own, but they don’t realize that Levi is the accomplice. Then, in accordance with Rule 14, MonoTV reveals that Levi was also involved in the crime, and is also functionally a murderer. This forces Levi to be held socially responsible by those around him.

Another option would be that, whenever his secret comes to light, he’s at risk of some kind of execution. I doubt Levi would actually get executed there, considering a lot of the reason I like Levi accomplice theory is because of how interesting it’d be to further pursue Levi’s character post-murder, but it’s certainly possible.

It could also be something that comes up in Chapter 6. This rule feels like it’s a direct result of the mastermind’s worldview or something. If Levi is a survivor, it’s possible that, at the end, the mastermind will try to execute him or something because he’s a murderer. Hell, maybe every survivor will have a claim to be a murderer in some way or another. That’s when the characters will rise up and say that people deserve a second chance, no matter their past. Or something like that, I don’t know. Again, it’s really hard to theorize about the whole game when we only have, like, 1.75 chapters so far.

Anyways, onto the last point:

TOPIC 5: Story Arc

Oh boy, time to theorize about the whole game!

Because figuring out the moral messaging and final result of the last Class Trial at this stage is nigh impossible, I’ve been reading the Story Arc category through Teruko. How would it impact the way we see the story through her eyes if Levi is the accomplice?

Well, an obvious point is that it emphasizes how much you can’t trust anyone. You can’t even trust that there’s only one person with killing intent per murder! I’m sure Levi would be somewhat outcasted if this does all play out, and that would likely tie into a greater feeling of distrust. Between David’s heel turn, the sweet and helpful Eden tearfully being the blackened and facing an execution, and the stoic but previously reliable Levi being both a murderer (secret) and an accomplice (crime) out of nowhere, trust throughout the group would be at an all-time low. I think that’s a good thing; as I’ve said before, at this point in the story, I think we’re still validating Teruko’s worldview. It’s too early for a major shake-up, and to Teruko, these patterns are repetitive. They have to repeat at least a little bit for the audience to truly understand why Teruko acts the way she does.

But, even more than that, I think that DRDT has the makings of a central message surrounding fate.

Everyone’s fate is already sealed, according to Teruko. The Lucky Student cannot die, no matter what. All murderers must be held accountable. There are a lot of big picture makings of the idea that people’s fates are already set in stone, no matter what they do.

Levi is, in many ways, “fated” to be a bad person. He’s fated to be a murderer. Whatever his past was, it seems like he was set up for moral failure no matter what. Seeing Levi fall into that trap of his destiny, being a murderer yet again after being deemed a murderer, also validates Teruko’s worldview that everyone is doomed because they’re already locked into their slots. Even if Levi didn’t die today, he will eventually.

Except, if he doesn’t die immediately, he also has a possibility to invalidate that worldview later. Levi’s survival to a point and (presumed) attempt to repent again, even after everything, could be something that shakes Teruko’s beliefs in future chapters. I’m not saying Levi would be the catalyst for Teruko’s entire character arc, but I think it’s going to take a lot of instances of Teruko being “wrong” to actually change Teruko’s mind. This is one way that we could set up Teruko being wrong, dating back to Chapter 2, so that when we get the payoff, the seeds have been planted all along the way.

CONCLUSION

Hopefully this made sense! It’s been a long time since I’ve fully watched the series, and I only had time to partially rewatch Chapter 2 before writing and posting this. But, I remember a lot of the thoughts I had back when I was in peak DRDT brainrot, and I still believe Levi being the accomplice would make a lot of sense and open up a lot of doors narratively.

Obviously, this is what I currently believe, but even if you disagree, I hope you still found it interesting. I think it’s important to remember, going into these next few episodes, a core principle that pushed me to write the Eden Narrative Defense in the first place: we shouldn’t call something bad writing until we see it executed. Please remember to respect DRDTdev’s writing decisions and creative autonomy, no matter how you feel about the result. I’ll do my best to do the same as well.

With that being said, OH MY GOD I CAN’T BELIEVE DRDT IS BACK WE’RE GONNA GET ANSWERS AAAAAAAA–

#drdt #danganronpa despair time #levi fontana #drdt spoilers #despair time #this is literally 13 months late #but hopefully it's worth? the wait

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