#this is probably the most fucked up thing I’ve written so far

[alfredosauce50]

Requests are closed, but this has been sitting in my head for months. A white picket fence-themed story with slasher undertones! This is a little different to my other posts (and longer) because it has a concept and build up, but I hope you guys enjoy it anyway!

Content warning: Slasher horror, adult themes, and overall fucked-upness. Viewer discretion advised. R18+ only.

The reader is referred to as she/her.

Yandere America headcanons

Everyone says the same things about him. That he’s friendly, charming, and reliable. The boy-next-door, the type you’d trust your drink with. What nobody knows is that it’s all an elaborate guise to hide his true colors. Once he reveals them, there’s no going back. You’re never getting away from him.

The worst part is, nobody suspects a thing. Everyone would think you’re the crazy one for accusing him. Thus, his untouchable reputation (and cunning) makes him the most dangerous yandere of all.

The office romance

Alfred is the most popular guy in the building. He’s a hard worker, a people person, and lights up the room with his smile. It feels like he has everything going for him: a great job, good looks, and lots of friends that can’t get enough of him. What he can’t seem to get is your attention.

You’re married to the Danish ditz from customer relations, Mathias Densen. HR usually frowns on that sort of thing, but you were cute together. Either way, you’re friends with Alfred for the same reason everyone else is. He’s charming. The only difference is that he makes an effort to see you outside of work—to see a movie, to grab dinner, or to catch up over some coffee.

“So, what do you say? Me and you at Mastro’s?”

You’re walking out of the break room when he jogs over, his blue tie swinging from side to side. He’s been going on about having a steak dinner with a friend, then complaining nobody wants to go with him—only because he hasn’t asked anybody yet.

“I don’t know, Al. Isn’t that place expensive?”

“Hey, it’s not like I’m paying for the both of us.”

“Okay,” You laugh gently, turning toward the cubicles. Everyone is clacking away on their keyboards or speaking into their telephones. Your husband is one of them, only he’s more animated than the rest, nodding away and chuckling every now and then. “I’ll try and get Mat to pick me up at ten.”

“Great! I’ll be sitting in my office pretending to do stuff until we get off.” He beams.

He likes getting on your nerves. It’s that one trick that gets you to feel closer to him. And it works. During work hours, he’ll drop by your desk to steal your snacks for a reaction. He will literally pluck a candy bar or pastry out of your hand and stuff it in his mouth while walking away. When you get mad at him, he’ll just laugh and go, “you’re not supposed to eat at your cubicle. I’m just saving your ass from trouble. If you don’t believe me, you can take it up to HR.”

If he’s not picking on you, he’s a total sweetheart. Alfred will make you coffee without being asked. Mathias usually keeps an eye out for stuff like that, doing favors for you when you need them, but not when he’s predisposed with work. He’s easily distracted, unfortunately. And Alfred is an opportunist. “You look tired. I’ll add in an extra bit of everything to give you the energy.”

Being closer to him, he can act more like himself when he’s around you. That means less of the laughing, small talk, and all that nonsense. He can actually give you a straight answer. You’re willing to let him explain, and if not, you seem to trust him for his judgement. He loves that. He thrives off validation. But by the rare occasion you do disagree with him, you mostly just poke fun at him. “Doesn’t that seem kinda stupid? Or am I just an asshole? I’m the asshole? Okay, fine.”

He starts obsessing over you. It’s refreshing to be around someone he doesn’t need a social battery for. Alfred is also lonelier than he’d like to admit. He can’t count how many superficial acquaintances he has. You’re an outlier, so he make it clear he’s high-strung about you in a ‘guy best friend’ way. He won’t stop competing with Mathias over everything as a joke. It’s really not. “So, is the husband gonna take you to Field of Screams this weekend, or am I gonna have to?”

He makes his attraction to you glaringly obvious. Alfred doesn’t care to hide it. It starts off subtle, like looking at you when he’s laughing in a group setting. Then, he’ll start gazing your way when you aren’t even paying attention to him. When it gets to that point, he has the balls to hold your waist when he’s around you. When I say he’s an expert at playing things off, I mean it.

That’s when he starts scheming. He will match his schedule with yours and sabotage Mathias’s. You start seeing him more during the work week, not knowing it was his doing. Alfred will catch you in the break room every day, making sure to get in every ounce of interaction there is.

What gets him to blow his cover is jealousy. And not from the third-wheeling he’s already doing. That, he can keep a lid on. But telling him you hope to have a baby soon? With your husband?Alfred will turn red in the face and lose his composure. His reaction is visceral, rambling about why you shouldn’t, that it’ll ruin your career, that kids aren’t economic, and any other bullshit reason he can come up with on the spot.

“You’re too young,” He laughs breathily. He’s already rubbing you the wrong way, but he drives the stake in with this comment. “And plus, do you really wanna have a baby with that guy? I mean, look at him—”

You slap him right across the face.

His head turns in the direction of your hand. He falls silent, his smile gone. That’s the end of your friendship. But to him, it’s the start of something else. And it isn’t half as holy as what you have with Mathias. Or what anyone has, for that matter.

“What, do you hate me now? Just say it and I’ll leave you alone.” Alfred gives you a side-eye.

“I really want to hate you.” You fume, wrapping your arms around yourself. Your voice is hushed to hide the hurt in it. “You’re an asshole. But I just want you to apologize, even if I shouldn’t talk to you again.”

“Fine. I’m sorry.”

When you argue

Alfred is manipulative. He victimizes himself or over-exaggerates to make it seem like something is not his fault. “I’m sorry for giving my opinion. I was just trying to be honest,” or “Great. Now I’m the bad guy.” are typical responses when you confront him. He hates being confronted. He will do anything to avoid the blame, even if it means pinning it on you. He never admits he’s wrong.

He needs to have the last word in an argument. He will go back and forth with you for hours if he has to. He only ever stops when you give up, meaning you storm out on him. He’s knocking on your door, pleading to work this out with you. Shut him out all you want, he’ll force himself into the room. “Babe, just hear me out. I’m sorry for being an asshole—wait, don’t lock the door—you locked the door. You know I have keys, right?”

If you’re crying, he turns gentle and affectionate. Kissing, hugging, whispering how sorry he is for hurting your feelings. Alfred then makes it up to you with a romantic dinner, a movie night, or flowers. Even then, he still won’t double-down. He only feels bad for making you cry, not for the point he’s making. Egocentric is his middle name. He thinks his opinions are always right, and can’t see things from another perspective.

Psychology

He has a sense of entitlement like no other. Being close to him will give him the confidence to do anything. He will go from a friend to a homewrecker pretty fast. Why? Because he can. It comes from his undying belief that you’ll always forgive him. That you like him enough to let everything he does slide. And he won’t think twice to take advantage of your soft spot for him.

He has a major superiority complex. Alfred loves what he is—his intelligence, charisma, and wit. He also believes he’s far better for you than Mathias is. What he has with you is more special, and he’s dying on that hill. “You can be with him in another life” is bullshit. Fuck that. Having a husband won’t stop him from chasing you, let alone your rejection. You just need to give him some time. You’ll warm up eventually.

He’s mastered the art of seduction. Once he admits his attitude is out of jealousy, he will try and get you to give in to him. If he can kiss you, or better yet, get you to have sex with him, your marriage will be over. He’ll have you all to himself. “I didn’t want you to have his baby because I want you to have mine. Okay?”

Alfred is very traditional. He loves the idea of having a nice big house in the suburbs. He has a thing for kids too, so it’s no wonder why he freaked out so much in the first place. He’s also happy to play along with gender roles, however obsolete they are. He wants to be the provider. That’s one thing he mentions to persuade you to dump Mathias and marry him instead.

He’s obsessed with his image. Alfred needs to look like a perfect poster boy to compensate for everything he’s thinking about doing, or what he’s already done. Being admired is a coping mechanism for him to be at peace with himself. He’s deluding himself that he’s a good person. There’s a practicality of a good reputation too—he can avoid any and all suspicion.

What’s unique about him is that he never ‘snaps’. He retains a level-headedness throughout, even while doing the most unsound things. Making threats, stalking, you name it. He can look Mathias straight in the eye and say, “I’ll kill you,” before smiling and playing it off as a joke. It’s not. He’s already thinking about how he’s gonna do it.

He feels no empathy for his victims. There’s a ‘necessity’ in his actions, and he refuses to think they’re really just violent impulses. He associates aggression with unrefined criminals, which he feels he’s above. He’s too clever and classy to be a criminal. He’s too ‘in control’ of himself. Alfred could be the most dangerous out of all the prisoners behind bars, but he’d get pretty pissed being treated like the same—like an animal.

He’s a true-blue psychopath. It’s hard to gauge how much love he’s capable of, but his obsession with you goes without saying. Keeping you in his grasp is all he can care about. Controlling how the world sees him will make sure of that. Killing anybody in his way is just maintenance. There’s a satisfying finality of death, the absolute silence of possible witnesses. His victims will never get him caught if they’re in the trunk of his car. The soil in his garden. When they let out their last breath, all they see is the million-dollar smile that everyone fell for. It’s a final display of power, a cruel reminder that he will never be caught.

His first target is your unassuming husband. The trigger is simple—your plans to start a family with him. Alfred needs to get rid of him before that happens. He will study his schedule before following him in his car. When Mathias is alone, he will sneak up from behind and hit him in the back of his head with a bat. Alfred will pack his body in his trunk like he’s packing for Summer.

He’ll comfort you while you’re grieving your husband’s sudden disappearance. When you’re anxious in the middle of the night, he’s more than happy to talk to you over the phone. Alfred is now closer to you than ever, and makes it a habit to swing by and keep you company. What he can’t change is how you feel about Mathias. He’s long dead and gone, but your love for him is undying. Sometimes, you might even cry about how much Alfred reminds you of him.

That’s how he comes up with this: impersonating and replacing your late husband. An opportunity comes along when you get in a car accident. Alfred rushes to the hospital to see you, only for the doctor to inform him of the brain trauma you endured. You have retrograde amnesia; you can’t remember major details about your life. Not your friends, family, or a Mathias Densen being in your life. Alfred would be a fool if he didn’t take advantage of that. He will sit by your bedside and lie that he’s your husband, the Mr to your Mrs.

Home life

Alfred is a con artist. Not only will he convince you of your new marital status, he’ll get rid of any evidence of Mathias being in your life. He’ll photoshop his face out of your pictures and replace it with his own. It’s easy to do because they look similar. Then, he shows it to you to ‘refresh’ your memories of him. You’re sitting in your hospital bed, bonding with him over events that never happened. Not with him, anyway. “And these—” He flips through a photo book before wiping his eyes. “—these are our wedding photos. They’re really, really pretty, I know. We rented out a National park and everything.”

He takes you ‘home’ to the middle of nowhere. The house is a huge, rustic, and gorgeous manor in the mountains, i.e., miles away from your next door neighbor. It’s the perfect getaway for fresh air, quiet, and enjoying the wilderness. Alfred can live the life he’s always idealized, and with the woman he’s idealized it with. He won’t have to worry about anybody finding you here, either. “Once you get a little better, we can try out the pool. It’s heated.” He grins, turning to you with a spatula in hand. You’re sitting in the patio while he barbecues some meat. As for the apron, it’s a bright pink one with ‘kiss the cook’ on it. And you do, thanking him for how sweet he’s being.

He’s a dedicated husband. Alfred is incredibly sensitive to your mood, and will do anything to keep you comfortable. He has no problem going to work, doing the chores and being there for you when you need him, especially while you recover. You worry you’re not doing enough, but he always assures you otherwise. All he wants is for you to get used to moving around on your own. Deep down, he knows that having you is more than what he deserves. Being the perfect hubby is almost like his redemption for what he did.

He works on himself. He can’t ruin what he has with you, so he tries to mellow out his more undesirable traits—narcissism, apathy, etc. Alfred will go to therapy for it. Separating from him isn’t on the table. Ever. What are people gonna say when you tell them you divorced a man you never married? What is Alfred gonna do when they tell you about your real husband? Keeping you happy is his number one priority, and he’ll feel good while doing it.

Alfred manages all your affairs. You don’t know where everything is, all your files, documents, and important passwords. You don’t ‘remember’ them, apparently. But that’s no problem. He can handle it. He becomes the more dominant one in the relationship, being responsible for the bills and bureaucratic side of things. There’s nothing you can do without asking him first, but it never feels restricting, or demeaning for that matter. He’s always kind about it, doing things for you and taking the lead, so you feel protected.

He’s very sensual. Alfred values the physical aspect of the relationship, and, of course, the time he spends with you. He loves taking you on long walks where he can just hold your hand and ramble about all the animals he wants to find. Deer, chipmunks, even butterflies. He loves it when you take off his glasses just to kiss him. Suddenly, he doesn’t want to look for animals anymore. “Wanna go home and kiss in the pool?”

He likes sleeping in on Sundays. That gives you the chance to get up and make breakfast for him. Alfred is a pretty heavy sleeper, but it doesn’t take long for him to wake up when you’re not next to him. He will get out of bed, throw on a robe, and saunter into the kitchen with the worst bed head of the century. While you’re frying up some pancakes, he will hug you from behind. “Can you put in some chocolate chips for mine?” Alfred mumbles, squeezing you tighter. You ask him to let go of you so you can get it for him, and he’ll just change his mind on the spot. “Nah.”

He has to be in the same room as you. The house is pretty damn big, but it doesn’t feel like a home when he can’t be with you. If you’re folding laundry in the bedroom, he will walk in, flop onto the bed, and clack away on his laptop. If you’re watching TV when he comes home from work, he will put his head on your lap and take a nap. Alfred is clingy when he’s tired, but who doesn’t sleep better when they’re around loved ones?

He’s the most affectionate when he wakes up in the morning. Not only is he comfortable in bed, he’s turned on by your smell. You’ve been under the covers with him for hours, so your scent is the strongest now. Alfred will cuddle you for a good hour or so, kissing you until you memorize the taste of his tongue. He also has to deal with morning wood, so morning sex becomes a bit of a routine. It’s the first thing on the menu, after all.

Not a month goes by before you find out you’re pregnant. Either from him, or Mathias. You think it’s Alfred’s. Alfred doesn’t know that, though. But it’s not like he’s gonna check. A paternity test could potentially be evidence for his crimes. Either way, it doesn’t matter. He’s excited to be a father, and there’s nobody else out there that can claim the baby is theirs. The baby will look like him too, so it won’t make much of a difference.

He’s happy, you’re happy, and Mathias has germinated into a flower. There’s a pretty patch of daisies in the backyard, which you see Alfred tending to every now and then. He’s picked up gardening as a hobby ever since he moved here.

“I didn’t know you liked flowers,” You comment mindlessly, staring into the yard from the balcony. The daisies sway lightly to the breeze, and you stand watch. He’s hugging you from behind, kissing your head and cheek. “They look really nice, by the way.”

“Nice enough to not be dug up, I hope.”

“Why would I dig up something you planted?”

“You wouldn’t.” Alfred smiles. “You wouldn’t.”

[blkgirl-writing]

Hi, I saw your smut requests post and was wondering if you could write one about touch starved Gale finally being alone with reader/Tav and getting his satisfaction? (Yeah, I got inspired by your nsfw headcanons about him, how could you tell?) Please and thank you!

PS Can I be 🧀 anon?

What happened at the moon lit pond

Gale X Fem!Reader

Baldurs gate 3

It’s been, probably three years since I’ve written a full fanfic? I’ll admit I’m probably a little rusty. Thank y’all for hanging in, and I hope this fulfills our nerdy wizard boy needs. thank you so much 🧀 anon for the request! I hope you stay and request some more.

Important tags: lots of pining, some angst (no sad ending), smutty (male and female Masterbation, male giving female oral), spoilers for gales mid game story, romance, Gale is an anxious mess, The thought of gale brushing his hair from his face got me GOING 😩

Word count: 1.9k

(Part 1.5 HERE) (PART 2 HERE)

(Gale headcanons that inspired this here)

-

Gale didn’t know how to handle these new feelings for you. He makes a fool of himself everyday, it seems. He always offers you a slice of his bread, even if you gave your own, he saves some of his own morning coffee for you, since he wakes up earlier, and even warm it up for you with a spell.

He simply wanted you to like him. That would be all he needed, but anything else that may follow that would be a true blessing. Gale wanted nothing more than to make you laugh, to see your smile and know he was the reason why, to camp and be the first and last person you’d speak to before sleep.

Gale wouldn’t let his mind wander much past that, or he tried to not let it. The occasional dream would slip through where you were his, and he was yours. It simply put him in panic mode In the waking hours, trying to not be obvious, scared you’d find out, what exactly? He wasn’t sure. You were too kind to break his heart so effortlessly, like he feared you would.

Endless scenarios danced in gales head of rejection, humiliation, and what would happen if he let himself go, life he was tasked to do. It wouldn’t take much, to convince him to live. Friendship, a place to call home, even if it was ever moving. Company he could entrust his life to. It was all so appealing. Luring him into life, breathing a new passion into his purpose, one he’d lost many years ago, sometime when he was alone for so many years.

Those thoughts seemed to linger on forever, sweeping over his barely conscious brain to awaken him again, rustling him from what could be a good nights rest. Eventually, Gale decided to just get up and go for a walk.

Camp had been set up in one of the most beautiful places any of you had seen. Waterfalls tinted emerald green, sand fine and shimmering in the light, may it be sun or moon. I’m one of those waterfalls, he found you.

Waist deep in the pond. Skin and hair dripping wet, shining more than usual water would, adding a silver glow to the night. You looked better than a goddess could ever imagine, and still, his eyes never dipped below you shoulders, even though he deeply wanted to look lower. Instead, he stood there, looking like a fucking idiot, gods know how long. Maybe a tree branch snapped, or maybe you finally snapped out of your trance, but your head whipped in his direction, eyes darting across the small beach, only relaxing when you realize only gale stands before you.

“Oh, Gale, it’s just you…” you let out a deep, jagged breath, the anxiety flowing out of your body just as quickly as it racked through it.

“Just? Are you disappointed?” Gale smirked, although his heart raced in his chest, one word and he'd sulk back to camp, but gods he wanted to stay and spend the whole night with you under the stars.

“Far from it, really. I was just thinking about how much you’d enjoy this view if you were here” you tore your eyes away from Gale, focusing on the stars. “I thought it may remind you of waterdeep. You paint a very beautiful picture of home.”

“I can think of a few things much, much more beautiful than Waterdeep,” his voice low, raspier than usual. Easily explained away from the lack of sleep or old sleeping bags, not for what it really was. Deep yearning, wanting, needing.

“I’d love to see them someday, then.”

“We’ll just have to get you a mirror, then,” “All the beauty in the world would reflct

"Gale, I-" You finally looked into his eyes, he wore his heart on his sleeve, at least for a moment. Those puppy eyes, dark bust glistening in the full moonlight, his hair messy from turning in his sleep, he wanted you, in many more ways than one. Gale's emotions could never be that simple, of course.

"Well," you walked towards him, water inching lower and lower, revealing more and more of your body, yet gales eyes stayed on yours. "Why don't you join me for a swim. It's a beautiful night."

"an offer I could not refuse." Gale's face was plastered with that cocky smile, the one that could melt anyone into a puddle in seconds.

He might have been a gentleman and kept his eyes upwards, but you were not so much, Gale untied his robes, gods why were there so many damn layers? It was quite a sight, his little mannerisms that showed more of him to you than he had shown to you. He was nervous, his fingers missing the simple ties frequently, he got annoyed by his hair getting in his eyes, a grimace appearing before he swept his hair behind his ear.

Your eyes lingered on his circle smoke tattoo, his toned arms, his downright massive hands. he was more tan than you realized, To be fair, he's always covered in those loose robes, leaving you to wonder what was underneath. You were more than happy to finally be finding out. But not below the waist.

"Isn't it a bit cold to be this naked?"

"The water is warmer than the air, I promise." You extended a hand out to Gale, even though he was feet away from you. "Come on, Gale from Waterdeep being afraid of some cold water? Sounds redundant."

"You got me there." He finally stepped into the glimmering pond surrounded by rocks and sand, enough to have your own little corner, to lessen the echo if it was needed. The whole camp didn't need to know all of your business. It must've been a magical lake, as both you and Gale noted separately. Unnaturally still, even when you moved freely, small glowing lights pooled at your sides, occasionally bubbling into the air once you leaned against a large, bright rock.

"May I ask what you were doing out here at this hour?" Gale spoke, still much further away from you than he wanted to be,

"Can I not take a mid-night swim?" You raised your brows in a questioning glance his way "A woman needs time to herself. These days and nights have been very stressful."

Gales very audible oh, slipped through the silence. "You don't have to relax alone." His eyes finally gave in to the need, scanning your body with a low moan slipping past his lips. His excitement was immediate, brushing against your lower stomach all the way past your navel.

"You've wanted this." You stated, brushing your hand against his thigh.

"There's plenty of magic around us, I want the Gale right in front of me." You dared to inch even closer, his thigh fully slipping between yours, inches away from touching your pussy. His hands floated inches from your waist, "Let me give you everything"

"Give me everything" With that, Gale's hand grabbed your waist, gently guiding you onto his thigh, motioning your hips down and swaying only him. The sensation sent sparks flying through his body, you were right in front of him, completely bare and rocking with pleasure onto him. Better than any dream he'd thought up, any fantasy that ran through his head even at the most inappropriate of times. Yes even during the throws of battle. Even in hard times like that, he was so drawn to you.

Gales other hand came up to your jawline, tilting your head so he could latch his mouth around your neck. Deep marks left behind while he inches his way in hickeys up your neck, jaw, and finally to your lips. Any semblance of anonymity flew out the window, not a single person could miss what he gave you, artfully placed dark spots painting your skin. "I have never seen such a beautiful being in my life"

"I could say the same about you gale," You said betwixt breathy moans, picking up the pace of your grinding hips against his thigh, his hand on your waist moving between a tight grip on your ass, and a light but so effective caress of your clit. Every time you got so close, his fingers moved, he was teasing you. His cocky smirk felt even through his kiss.

"I want you to come on my mouth." As if he was reading your slightly frustrated thoughts, "I want to taste you in my dreams."

All you could manage was a frantic nod, a mumbled yes, and shakily hoisting yourself up onto a rock that was perfect for gales pretty head to be between your thighs. Gale pushed your thighs apart with one hand, which stayed firmly grabbing onto you. The other sneaked up your thigh, tracing patterns along your skin. "Gale, please," you whispered out of pure desperation. The only warmth coming from your feet still in the water, otherwise your skin exposed to the biting air.

"All you had to do was ask, my lady" Gales fingers easily slid into you, curling up and pumping in and out, while he leaned into your pussy, maintaining eye contact as he placed one kiss just to the right of where you needed him to be. All he needed was to be touched, to touch you. Your legs wrapped around him to get Gale even closer, urging him closer.

"Touch yourself" Barely a whisper, but Gale caught it, and certainly didn't need to be told twice. Secretly, he could cum from this alone, your taste, how soft you were, how loud you could get. It was more than enough to orgasm right there with you, however, that is not exactly how he wanted your first sexual experience to go. His hand clutching your thigh came to his cock, rubbing much faster and harder than he was fingering you. he was eager. He wanted this to last forever, he wanted you to cum again and again and again into his mouth. He wanted his face even more dripping from your juices.

"Gale I can't hold it-" You nearly screamed, his tongue swirling and sucking, lightly biting, it was almost too much. Then, he moaned. A loud, deep moan and that was it. Vibrations running through your body from his mouth. there noise that left your mouth could've been heard across Baldurs gate, you silently thanked this magical pound for being so secluded, as you would be borderline embarrassed if people heard. Gales didn't come back up for hair until he was sure you were finished, getting every last drop of you.

"You certainly are loud" Gales tone was so smug it almost made you laugh. You gripped onto his shoulders as he swept you down from the perch, pressing his whole body to yours. After all that, after her definitely came, he was still so hard, and so pressed against you that you couldn't help but gasp. "I want to hear that again."

"Hear what, exactly?" you teased, lifting a finger to trace his chest.

"To hear you cum," his lips dipped down to your ear, slightly nibbling on it, before he rasped "and to feel you on my cock."

-

Part two, here

(Requests Open)

[nohoney]

Bakugou would listen to you rant all about work. Even though he’s the one out on the streets with more exciting stories to tell, one of his favorite things is to hear you talk about your own work. He follows and nods along with whatever work story you have for him for the day, always attentive but never telling you what you should do to handle it (as he had learned from a prior relationship).

“I can tell he fuckin’ hates me, you know?” You continue on about your current work events as you sit on the countertop and watch Bakugou cut vegetables, “He keeps on bringing up my old manager as if she has anything to do with it now. Like, no motherfucker! You answer to me now and I’m saying pay your stupid invoice!”

The vegetables for dinner are set aside while the oven is still preheating. Two pieces of pork chop are taken from the fridge and is set aside on a clean plate as Bakugou looks for spices to rub into the meat. “So what happened baby? Did he pay? Y’said you were dealing with this for almost two weeks.” He asks you, genuinely curious if your annoying client is actually complying with you. The thought in his head is wondering how you handled it.

“I have to read you this email that I wrote. I gotta say the professional ways of dissing someone in email is something I finally understand now.” You laugh as you pull up your work email on your phone. Word for word you read out your well thought out response to your difficult client, not backing down and upholding work policy as you are expected to. Bakugou had never really bothered with any type of skill of being professional through communication in his job; it’s what his team is for while he gets the really privilege to cuss as he pleases and have his team handle it for the public. “Here is how I signed off, I think it’s probably my most eloquent and business-like ‘fuck you’ I’ve written so far.”

You clear your throat first before reading aloud, “‘I hope that the explanations of how to navigate your account has cleared up any confusion you may have and that you are able to move forward in compliance with our company policy, if you have any further questions then please let me know.’ God I know he’s going to hate me as soon as he reads it!”

He chuckles, happy that you know how to stand your ground in such a manner that Bakugou knows he struggles in. “You tell him, baby.”

“I fucking did Katsuki!” You boast with a proud little smile as you hop off the countertop and go to his side as he heats oil in a pan. “Sorry, I’ve been going on about this annoying client for a while. I wanna hear about your work today Tsuki.”

Bakugou shakes his head though and urges you to talk about what else happened at your work. The meat sizzles as he presses it into the pan, crackling and sizzling in a way that’s reminiscent of his quirk but to a much lower degree. The oven beeps to indicate that preheating is finished and you move to put all the vegetables into the glass pan and stick it in for him, already setting a timer before he can even ask. “What about that other guy? The one who keeps on saying that he’s getting investors so he wants to make you wait a little longer?” He asks you when he recalls another client you complained of a few days ago.

You excitedly pop off about your work again, unknowing how you calm Bakugou down with your own work stories. Your series of responsibilities that he wouldn’t know the first clue how to handle are interesting to him to hear how you handle yourself. It’s simple compared to what he does but in no way is it easy either. To see you struggle sometimes with your own career wasn’t easy for him but you were also strong enough to handle it all the same.

And he liked to think that he made it easy for you to handle because he wanted to hear anything and everything about your job that’s so different from his. “Tell me about the parking permits, did that get solved yet?” He asks as he starts to set food on the plates.

“No! I’m on week three of dealing with it and it’s ridiculous! I sent everything in so early and they deal with it so late!!”

Bakugou listens with a happy heart to hear you talk, never wanting you to apologize over the things that frustrate you. And by the end of your rants, even he feels a little lighter as he readies to get in bed with you.

And the next day as he’s just about to enter a meeting in his agency, Bakugou gets a text from you.

[1:57 pm] omg i need to tell you what this mofo emailed me when we’re home

He looks forward to it, letting a little smile come onto his face. He can see you all cute and puffed up and mad, and he can’t wait to hear about it.

[1:58 pm] can’t wait baby. love you.

You text him back within seconds.

[1:58 pm] love you!!!

Bakugou can’t wait to be home and listen to you.

[hanaruri-tunes]

The avatars of sin ganging up on y/n, making them their pet

⚠️ MDNI

Tags: possessive/ownership, overstimulation, taming, shaming

Y/N can be any gender in this one.

Probably the most slutty fic conceptually, yet ironically the less provocative/descriptive thing I’ve written thus far. It is really short but I’ll put it under a read more nonetheless. Enjoy!

You had always been cheeky but lately, you might've gone a bit too far. Some of your actions could in fact be seen as you looking down on the avatars of sin which was in extension an insult to the devildom. You would play around with them, challenging them, then happily tease them once they lost. Or even straight up play with their hearts, switching 2 to 4 times a day with whom you're hanging out with. They had started to slowly feel like some hookers or like easily replaceable toys for you to use. It was frustrating, at times they even felt outright disrespected. Like some side pieces for you to choose from and juggle between at will.

Oh, how exhilarating it was when you came to them to ask for help, desperate after you had been struck by a curse. Making you weak and desperate for touch, asking them to fuck you while looking all hot and bothered.

Lucifer was the one to break first, leading all of his brothers along to "teach you a lesson."

They were planning on humiliating you, on making you beg, on completely destroying your ego and making you feel mortified. But, well… they quickly realized how difficult it was for them to be mean and commanding towards you once they surrounded you, each trying to put their hands on you to rip your clothes off. In reality, all they managed to do is to slowly and gently take your clothes off.

Why was that? Because despite how you usually act with them, once you were cornered you started acting all shy, obedient and vulnerable. If you had been more provocative it would be easy to be mean, to strip you off of your dignity but as it turned out, that wasn’t the case. You were just so cute that they instead treated you carefully and lovingly, measuring your reactions.

Of course, some of them took the reins on teasing you and mocking you a little more once they got comfortable with the situation at hand. Those demons being Lucifer, Asmo, Belphie and in some instances Satan as well. Meanwhile Mammon, Levi and Beel were still very gentle and kind, telling the others off the moment it looked like something had hurt you or a movement was too sudden, too rough for your sensitive body to handle.

They take turns using you, making you say their name, making you apologize for being so full of yourself before and while some may try to act like it’s not working, they’re all absolutely smitten and have already forgiven you or even completely forgotten why they got mad at you in the first place. They caress your back, squeeze your thighs, pet your head, kiss your cheeks. They can’t help but find you adorable, especially seeing the contrast between how you usually act and how you are right now in front of them.

Eventually, they start treating you like their plaything. Dressing you up in cute and slutty outfits for their eyes only, filming and taking pictures of you, telling you to sit on their laps and so on and so forth. It doesn’t take long for them to make you into their beloved pet. They start fighting over you, wanting to hog you all for themselves. At some point they decide to come up with a schedule, indicating which day you’ll spend with which demon in order to avoid "unfairness" in your interactions with them. You’re their precious little darling and they go absolutely stupid over you.

They love making you tired, so weak that you can’t even keep yourself on your hands and knees. Once your arms give out, you’re a mumbling and drooling mess, ass in the air only because they’re holding you by the waist to pound into you. When that happens, you’re the most adorable thing ever in their eyes. They love watching you squirm, whimper and cry under them as they’re overstimulating you. All the while you can’t help but shudder under their pressing gazes on your entire being, the cute faces you make along with the pretty sounds that escape your mouth, the way you tremble when you’re about to cum, your little hands flailing only to grab either the sheets beneath you or one of them. They want to witness it all.

Puppy, bunny, darling, baby. The nicknames keep piling up, your name getting called less and less. They’ve successfully made you into their obedient little pet and they damn well will make sure to spoil you every single day...

[anisespice]

“ the fuck-it list ” || hq! pt. 2

one || three

synopsis: there’s a list going around consisting of hot guys on campus that are deemed “fuckable” with theories as to what they’d be like in bed. it’s all fun and games until somehow your boyfriend ends up on this list. 

pairing: various x gn!reader [ hinata, bokuto, kuroo ]

warnings: cursing, suggestive language, hinata’s is SUPER long lol mild objectification, bo and kuroo’s are criminally the shortest ones i’ve written so far ugh (but they get the point across), and I think that’s it :D

notes: first of all, can i just say THANK Y'ALL SO MUCH ♡♡♡ i did not expect that headcanon to blow up, so i will do my very best to make the following ones just as juicy and entertaining for y'all :))) special thanks to @melanatedkink for helping out with this, she helps bring out my inner whore lol hope you guys enjoy !!

notes ii: didn't want the situations to get too repetitive, so these may take me a little longer for the other characters i do in the future, but i appreciate the love and patience for the series thus far !!! you guys are awesome

tagged: @daedaep69 , @ahahadumbo , @viktoryn , @mdsb , @ourgoddessathena , @ushygushybaby , @hyori2 , @lumpywolf , @fantasycantasy

HINATA knew all about the list. Being the social butterfly he was, it would be impossible for the topic not to come up in conversation, especially since a lot of his friends were on it. He found it interesting, to say the least, but never really took the whole thing too seriously. It was just for shits and giggles after all, right?

During a water break in the gym, Hinata aimed for his mouth while squeezing the bottle. Most made it inside, but the rest dripped down his chin. Thinking nothing of it, the spiker used the bottom of his jersey to wipe his face dry, be it water or sweat. And even though it was for a split second, it was more than enough time for the damage to be done to the hearts of those chilling up by the railing on the first level. Beneath the LEDs, in all their sinful glory, were Shoyo Hinata’s nipple piercings. 

The gates of heaven have opened, and the choir sings a hymn. But, along came Satan, as he rubbed his seedy hands together in mischief. The groupies were shellshocked and knew they must alert the masses, eyeing their prey all the way until the end of practice. This caught the attention of a certain blonde setter, who brought it to Hinata’s attention right off the bat as they cleaned up the court.

“Oi. Don’t wanna alarm ya or anythin’, but…those spectators up there been eye-ballin’ you for quite a while. Could be trouble.”

The tangerine gave a confused grin, looking over his shoulder in their direction. Sure enough, their eyes never wavered, not even after being caught. However, he merely shrugged it off. “It’s probably nothing.”

Atsumu hummed, skeptically. Though, he didn’t push it any further.

Once they were dismissed and sent to the showers, by the time Hinata was done he'd be the only one left in the locker room. He had to take his time and be extra careful not to bump his piercings, still kinda sensitive. Kageyama offered to stay behind so they could walk back together, "HINATA-BOKE, HURRY UP BEFORE I LEAVE YOUR SLOW ASS IN HERE."

But, Hinata politely declined. "SUCK A DICK, BAKAYAMA. I'm going over [_____]'s tonight, so go on ahead!"

With a nod, the stoic setter took his leave. "Cool. Tell 'em I said hey. See you tomorrow."

"See ya tomorrow!"

And then, all was quiet.

The only sounds filling the space were the running water, his humming, and the flickering overhead lights. When he stepped out with a towel wrapped snuggly around his waist, Hinata heard the sound of his phone ringing in his bag. His tired expression soon melted into joy at the cheesy love song he used as your ringtone.

Pressing the answer button, Hinata greeted you with his face all in the camera, and a bright, "Hi, [_____]!!~ You here already?"

Your eyes were on the road but you grinned, adoringly. "Hi, Sho. And, no, almost there though. I stopped by the canteen to grab some dinner. Know how hungry you get after practice."

"Mmm, starved. You're an angel, angel."

Staying on the call as he changed, the two of you conversed about each other's day as normal. However, when the topic of those groupies eventually came up, it instantly made you tense. Even though most of his fans were harmless, there were still a few rotten apples in the bunch that made you wary. "God, don’t tell me they asked you to spike their ass like a ball again."

Hinata snorted, throwing on a clean shirt, "That wasn't me, remember? That was Sakusa-san. Never seen him look so horrified." You laughed, having recalled. "But, according to 'tsumu-san, they hardly took their eyes off me tonight.”

“That’s old news, babe. Those vultures are always watching you.”

“Not always-”

"ALWAYS." You affirmed, pulling up to the building. Parking outside the doors, you teasingly said, "We can continue talking about how wrong you are in the car, I’m outside. And hurry, the food's gonna get cold."

"Yes, boss," he chuckled, gathering up his things. Throwing the duffle over his shoulder, Hinata made haste for the lobby, making sure to turn the lights off behind him. “See you in a minute, sunshine.~”

With that he hung up, walking with a spring in his step. He had a surprise for you, and couldn’t wait to finally show them off later. Now that the piercings had healed enough, Hinata couldn’t fight the obscene images clouding his mind of all the things you’d do once you saw them. It made him dizzy just thinking about it…

Unfortunately, someone would beat him to the punch. Or, more specifically, something.

‘Shoyo Hinata. 5’6ft sweetheart, and a ball of energy who’ll light up any room he walks into. He may look all innocent, but clearly, we’ve been underestimating him. Kinda has everyone wondering what other piercings he may be hiding…and where.~ What he may lack in height, he makes up for in girth. Expect to go for several rounds back to back, ‘cause he’s got STAMINA. This man will also be very vocal—Talk you through an orgasm, how good you make him feel, dirty-talk, begging, you name it—He is BIG on communication. He's also a cuddler, after-care will be disgustingly sweet, and pillow talk will be a must. 100/10.’

Wow. You suspected those parasites were up to no good, but never would’ve expected this. The picture attached to the thread was of your boyfriend, mid-air from blocking a ball, with his arms straight up. As he was coming down, his shirt was coming up, exposing his whole torso. It was a little blurry, but whoever took the photo zoomed in enough to where you could easily make out the silver on his nipples.

You pursed your lips, uncertain on how to feel. On one hand, you were kinda annoyed they, let alone the whole campus, got to see them before you even knew about them. But, on the horny hand…

“Hey, gorgeous!” Hinata exclaimed, startling you out of your thoughts. He had opened the back door, and threw his bag on the seat before eagerly joining you in the front. Leaning across the console to give you a kiss, he was taken aback when you stopped him, placing a finger on his lips. “Mmm?”

You gave him a blank look, making him a little nervous. He was just on the phone with you and things were totally fine, what could’ve possibly changed in the five minutes it took him to get to the car? Hinata didn’t have to ponder for long, though. Not when you used that very same finger to hook around his collar, yanking it downward. He yelped, pulling away in the last second, but his reflexes couldn’t save him this time.

You confirmed it with your own eyes now.

“I uh—…T-Those are…,” he spluttered, scratching his cheek. You happily watched him squirm, arms crossed with a knowing grin on your face. Hinata sweat-dropped. “I-I was gonna t-tell you, I swear, but I wanted them to heal a little before I did, so that you could…”

“Could what, Sho?”

His face was pure vermilion. With a huff, Hinata whined, “How’d you even find out? I had a whole thing planned and everything! Was it Bakayama? Did he tell you?? Dammit, I knew I should’ve asked someone else to come with me to the appointment!”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “No, it wasn’t Kageyama. I told you so, those vultures are always watching.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll tell you later. For now,” you reached over again, this time with both hands as lithe fingertips slid underneath the thin cotton of his shirt, trailing up the smooth skin until you brushed against the perked nubs. Hinata twitched, immediately biting back a moan as you began teasing them at once. If he got any redder, he’d surely pass out from all the blood rushing to his head. Luckily, it was also rushing elsewhere. “Let’s hurry and get you back to mine’s, hm?"

"...S-So I uhn," he keened when you lightly tugged on one, hand reflexively grabbing your wrist, but not to stop you. His eyes fluttered as he let you feel him up as much as you pleased, mouth hung open as he began panting like a dog. "...I take it y-you like them, then?"

"Oh, baby, I love 'em. Best investment ever, honestly. Can't wait to put them in my mouth," you sighed dreamily, gently pinching to elicit a moan from the ginger. Music to your ears. From the look on his face, he could probably cum from this feeling alone. You pulled away at the thought, smirking as he instantly began protesting.

"Aht, not so fast, we still gotta eat. But, don't worry. You'll get your dessert."

Homie nodded so quick, you were sure he gave himself whiplash. Adorable.

By the end of a very long night full of debauchery, you eventually told him about the list and how exactly you found out about the piercings. And you know what? He couldn’t even be mad. At least it wasn't Kageyama.

“Oh! He says ‘hey’ by the way.”

Now, BOKUTO thought he knew about the list. But after the whole…misunderstanding with Akaashi, it turned out he knew absolutely nothing. Granted, how he felt about it didn’t really change after his friends spent over an hour explaining it to him. If anything, it fueled his distaste for it even more. When he showed up on your doorstep looking absolutely distraught, fat tears rolling down his face as he proclaimed his unwavering devotion to you, you only needed one guess. 

‘Kotaro Bokuto. 6’2ft of GAWD DAMN. He's sweet, confident, and R E S P E C T F U L?? We love a triple threat. Not to mention how MASSIVE he is, and don’t even get me started on his ass. Would literally be unable to keep my hands to myself, just saying. Like how you see him dominate the volleyball court, the same could be said for the bedroom, without a doubt. Bokuto loves to give, but he’s also a taker. Definitely gives off Switch with service Dom tendencies. Plus he’s greedy. He doesn’t care if you already came four times, give him some more!!! ∞/10. He is beyond the standard. Argue with the wall.’ 

You remembered reading it while taking a break from studying, merely brushing it off. It was only a matter of time he’d end up on their radar, you had prepared for it since the list first started circulating around campus. Frankly, you had completely forgotten about it; up until now. 

“Ko, baby, please calm down-”

“I don’t care how many people wanna touch my ass! They can’t have it, it’s for you to touch and nobody else!” 

You quickly pulled him into your room before he screamed any more embarrassing stuff in the hallway, knowing your neighbors probably recognized his voice by now. The last thing you wanted was another noise complaint, your RA already despised his visits enough to consider banning him altogether–Whether or not they had the authority, you’d rather not find out today. 

Once behind the safety of a closed door, the behemoth of a man came crashing down to his knees, arms circling around your midriff as he buried himself in your stomach. You jumped slightly as your room shook from the sudden action, deeply exhaling in order to reconfigure your thinning patience. Taking a page from Akaashi’s book, you knew getting snippy with Bokuto while he was in this state would only worsen it, so you approached cautiously. 

“Ko,” you cooed, reaching down to caress his deflated hair. He sniffled, hugging you closer in response. Gently, you pushed him far enough to see his face, wiping away the tears as you offered him a soft smile. “Look at me, do I look upset to you?”

Bokuto took a moment to search your eyes, then shook his head.

“Exactly. Which means you don’t need to be, you’ve done nothing wrong. Now stand up, I’m sure that drop hurt your knees, didn’t it?” 

He sniffled once more, then nodded. Slightly embarrassed, Bokuto stumbled back up to his full height, and sure enough, his knees were red. You tsked, gesturing to your desk chair for him to sit on while you fetched an ice pack from your fridge. 

“Although I appreciate the reassurance, I already knew you were on the list, babe.” 

Bokuto’s head shot up from looking at the floor, mood instantly doing a one-eighty as he gaped at you in shock. “HUH? Why didn’t you say anything to me about it?”

“I didn’t think you cared,” you replied, chuckling. “It’s been up for weeks. I figured you saw it and just ignored it, or something. Besides, I’ve gotten used to people openly expressing their attraction to you, so it wasn’t anything new.” 

“You shouldn’t have to get used to it! People need to respect our relationship, no matter how fantastic I am!” 

You snorted, but couldn’t help the chuckle. Returning with an ice pack, you kneeled by his legs and placed the cooling relief upon the irritated skin. “Mm, you are pretty fantastic. But, I don’t mind the attention you get, Ko. Because I know I’m the lucky one who gets you all to myself.” 

Bokuto beamed down at you, lower lip quivering at the praise. 

Effortlessly, he swooped you up from the floor and held you in his lap, the ice pack long forgotten as it slipped out your hands. With a loving squeeze, Bokuto nuzzled into the side of your neck, forcing soft giggles out of you from the ticklish feeling as you hugged him back. You felt so warm in his embrace, and he smelled like home. Even if you’d never say such corny things out loud, the way you melted in his arms was enough for him to know exactly how you felt; it was mutual.

"Plus, you can get a bit intense. They wouldn't last the night."

"Hey, hey, hey, you got that right," Bokuto grinned, smugly. "No one could ever handle me as well as you do, baby owl..." he purred, warm breath fanning over the skin of your shoulder, signaling goosebumps up your arms. You hummed in thought, snuggling in closer, whilst also not-so-accidentally grinding back against the flag pole in his sweats. He grunted, hips jerking upward in surprise.

"Hm, I dunno. It's been a while, I may have forgotten how."

Bokuto chuckled at the tease, the vibrations deep within his chest as he squeezed you a little tighter. You bit your lip to hold in your giddiness as his large hands began to wander, feeling a different kind of warmth as he began to overwhelm your senses. Trailing wet kisses from your shoulder to the side of your face, he playfully nipped at your cheek, eliciting a tiny squeal from you as you wiggled in his hold. And doing so only made you grind back on him even more.

His breathing grew heavier with each passing second, letting out a guttural groan before he flipped you around, making you straddle him. To anyone else, experiencing his sudden mood changes would've given them whiplash. Just moments prior, he'd been on his knees, crying with his head buried in your stomach like it was the end of the world. Now, he looked about five seconds from being on his knees for a different reason. For you, it was just another Wednesday.

"That so? How 'bout I remind you then?"

KUROO thought the list was the most hilarious thing to ever occur on campus, hands down one of his go-to's for entertainment when he’s bored. 

Like right now. 

The lecture dragged on for what felt like forever, the professor mumbling about absolutely nothing of value as everyone in the class busied themselves with whatever would keep them awake. Some played games on their laptops pretending to take notes, while others blatantly chatted with their deskmates.

With an airpod in, Kuroo had you on facetime in the corner of his screen so that you could keep each other company while he scrolled through social media, and you put away dishes. You tried to convince him to leave the class early, "Clearly you aren't paying attention, so you might as well."

"Unfortunately, he only counts attendance if you sign your name on the exit sheet at the very end of the lecture. So leaving early's out of the question." He muttered. You hummed in understanding, then chortled.

"Oh. Sucks to be you, then."

Kuroo glared half-heartedly at you, but it completely softened at the sound of your laughter, despite it being at his expense. He kissed his teeth after checking the time, mildly annoyed that he still had less than ten minutes. “Why’d you even take the course if you couldn’t care less about it?”

“I needed another elective. And…Kenma was the one who recommended it. Said it’d be an easy pass.”

“And you believed him?” Cue another round of your laughter.

He grumbled, off-screen for you but clearly pouting as he chose to ignore your question. No matter, his silence was answer enough.

With a mere shake of your head, you continued putting away dishes on your end. Kuroo, on the other hand, found himself stumbling upon something that perked him up instantly. After refreshing the feed for more mindless content, the user-handle he knew all too well showed itself like a beacon of hope, beckoning him with the promise of filling the next ten minutes with something way more interesting than…whatever this class was about.

@/FckIt22.

After the last fiasco with Bokuto, then later on Kenma, the ravenette contemplated blocking them. As golden as those situations were, something told him that deep down he could be next. But, it was days like this he was glad he didn’t. His boredom was becoming unbearable…and it was so tempting. What harm could it do to look at this one little upda—“HAH?!”

‘Tetsurou Kuroo. 6’2ft gentleman that you’d proudly take home to mom, and even get your father’s approval. With his charm and roguish good looks, it's no wonder his reputation screams 'playboy'. But, he can’t fool me. I know what he is. A whole SUB, no sandwich. I’m sure being as tall as he is, and how he carries himself, people automatically assume he’s a Dom. False. If you’re looking to be dominated, keep looking. Kuroo wants to be babied, told he’s a good boy, and edged until he nearly passes out. Definitely a little brat, but his hair defies gravity for a reason, PULL ON IT. Boss him around, take control, and watch him literally melt in your hands. 8/10 because he's also a stubborn mofo. Literally would pay to see this man cry from overstimulation ugh.’ 

Kuroo shot out of his seat, practically piercing right through the air of humdrum. He not only startled you, but the entire lecture hall including the professor. Comically slapping a hand over his mouth, Kuroo’s face immediately began to burn from not only his outburst but also at the fact that his karma came way sooner than he was prepared for...

He wanted nothing more than for the ceiling to collapse on him and him only.

“Tetsu?? Are you okay, what happened?? Hello??”

"U-Uh, I'll call you back." He squeaked, double-tapping his airpod to end the call.

The professor crossed his arms, "Mr. Tetsurou. I understand that my lecture may not be the most enjoyable part of your day, but I would appreciate it if you endured it for just," the professor checks his watch, "six more minutes. Is that alright with you?"

Before he could even open his mouth to give an excuse, a chorus of vibrations, dings, and whistles from various phones instantly made the business major shrivel up. Next thing he knew, what used to be a room full of the undead was now livelier than ever before. Kuroo could feel every single one of their searing gazes; like being an insect under a microscope.

"Bro, this you?" A student sitting behind him leaned forward, phone in hand as he shoved it in Kuroo's face. The picture stared back at him, smugly grinning and shirtless as he ironically thirst-trapped the camera. Out of all the pictures…

He internally cringed. "U-Uhh..."

"Please, everyone settle down, so we can continue-" The professor attempted to redirect focus, but he had already lost it way before all this happened. A few more students jumped straight into bombarding him with questions, eager to push for more info now that this supposed new side of him had been revealed.

“Whoa, how much of this is true??”

“Kuroo-san, I’ll happily baby you!~”

“Aw man, thought for sure you’d be the type to take control, not give it up. What a bummer. No offense.”

He absolutely took offense to that.

With no help from the professor, as he tried and failed to recollect everyone's attention, Kuroo thought of the next best course of action to get him out of this sticky situation. Jumping out a two-story window didn't sound so bad, and the broken bones would be a great distraction from the suffocating feeling of public humiliation.

In the midst of all the theories and queries being thrown at him from every angle, his phone went off multiple times. Mostly from you, but the rest were no doubt the groupchat clowning him once they caught wind of the news. The guys weren't gonna let him live this one down, that's for certain. And to make matters worse...he still had four long minutes left in the class.

He exhaled, "Should've blocked 'em when I had the chance..."

Gathering up his stuff, Kuroo used his long legs to evade the ever-growing crowd of prodding students, all most likely not even caring about the post itself, but more so just wanting to kill class time; he refused to be a scapegoat.

Marching right up to the professor, who gave up trying to round up the class, the rooster-head mustered up the most pathetic look possible to evoke sympathy outta the wrinkly man. "Hey, so uh… may I please be excused a little early for this one time, sir? I'd really hate to be such a distraction from your insightful lecture-"

"Just go, Mr. Tetsurou." Didn't need to tell him twice.

As soon as he made it to your dorm, you could imagine his shock that his friends were already there, waiting as if they knew he'd come running straight to you. You offered him a teasing grin, shrugging as you said, “They came for…emotional support.”

He didn't know if he was mortified or mortified—Yaku, Yamamoto, Bokuto, Akaashi, hell, even Kenma rolled out of bed, wrapped in a blanket burrito and all, just to see the look on his best friend's face. He grinned, sardonically, then patted the empty spot on the couch right next to him. "Welcome to the club. We've been expecting you."

Oh, he was definitely blocking that godforsaken list now. And finding a new elective.

© 2023-2024 anisespice ッ all rights reserved. likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!

[katshelluvacritic]

Charlie Morningstar is probably one of the worst written characters I’ve seen in the series.

(This one’s gonna be a long one…)

Ok…. So I watched all six episodes and to be honest I’m pretty much pissed off by this character specifically. This might be more of a rant rather than a critique, so I do understand that not everything I say in this will end up being as constructive exactly but I genuinely need to get this off my chest, especially since she is a character I’ve specifically and recently been hyper fixating on before the show released…

(Side note: I realized the post was very long so, to have it be easier to read I added titles for each section! Hope this helps)

!!WARNING FOR SPOILERS FOR THE SERIES BTW!!

> Charlie lacks the qualities of being a main character.

Now besides the piss poor excuse of an introduction for her (and the rest of the cast) in the main series, I honestly question why exactly Charlie specifically is the “protagonist” in the first place (and I say protagonist with the biggest of quotes here, you’ll see why).

In the first episode of the series “overture”, we don’t really see much of her character, most of the time we’re shown screen time of Vicky (a nickname I made for v*ggie since I’m not gonna call her by her genitalia thank you) trying to make an ad for the hotel and even when we do get the screen time of her, she’s barely doing anything other than hearing viv’s self insert- I mean- Adam just go on and on about whatever he’s talking about.

And when Charlie does go on to explain her plan to redeem sinners she’s just interrupted and then stands there when they start singing hell is forever, she doesn’t “go off” like the hazbin Twitter says, she just stands there and then tries to say something only to get interrupted again and again and then gets pushed out of the meeting room before going back to the hotel to see it’s spread across in the news that the next extermination happens in 6 months.

Now although one might argue “Well didn’t Charlie at one point said in the show that giving orders is so mean?” Well yes but again, Charlie is literally the princess of pride ring, you would think that since her parents are literally rulers of pride, they would’ve probably teach her how to stand on her two feat, especially if your RUNNING A HOTEL. And the thing is, she has stood up and did so in episode 6 and the goddamn pilot (which is at this point is probably canon due to Charlie calling it the hazbin hotel instead of happy hotel), even going as far as to fight Katie Killjoy because she thought it was stupid.

Not only that but the episodes after overture, her screen time lessens until somewhat in 5 and 6. She doesn’t really appear that much in the between these episodes to the point where she feels like a supporting character rather than a protagonist. And when she does get screen time, she’s either forgettable at best and infuriating at worst.

> Charlie’s character is poorly written and just dumb.

In the episodes past overture, she’s literally rock solid stupid that I literally screamed in real life multiple times “you’re a fucking idiot” because of how frustrated I was from what she was doing, In episode 2 she literally trusted sir pentious to go to her hotel even though he almost destroyed her place and in episode 6 thought it was a hunky dory idea to let a person who literally exploded buildings to take charge of giving her employees a “good time”. Yes it could be played off as her being naive but if she’s that naive of a person then maybe she shouldn’t be a boss of a hotel to rehabilitate sinners.

Heck, in episode 4, Charlie gets pissed off and turns into her demon form because val literally started hurting Angel when he followed him into the room (and rightfully so) but when angel tells her to leave and drags her out of the studio, she’s just in her normal form and fucks off??? Reminder she’s literally the princess of hell! She could beat the shit out of val if she wants to, why did she just fucked off after angel had her leave?

“But Kat, what if something bad happens to angel if valentino dies?” Like what? If it was explained that if an overlord dies then the sinners that made a deal with them die too or something like that then yeah, that would make sense but we don’t know that whether or not that’s the case, if anything angel could be just fine after Valentino dies but we don’t know that.

And even when Charlie had the opportunity to go out there and apologize to him herself after he stormed out of the hotel, she and Vicky just send Husk to do it. And I have to ask, WHY? HUSK didn’t know what was happening to Angel earlier. HUSK wasn’t at the porn studio that Angel was working at. CHARLIE WAS….

“Well Kat, what if Charlie was scared about making things worse?” Fair enough, but again sending Husk is a stupid idea, I feel like it would’ve AT LEAST made sense if she sent Vicky out there. Because Charlie didn’t know if husk could fight (if you could even call it that, all he did was throw cards at people), BUT SHE KNEW VICKY COULD THOUGH. But nah we gotta do it for the ship right?

And then Charlie had the gull to be crying that angel forgave her after she fucked up, like shut the fuck up… it’s like if viv looked at a bunch of chars that had the optimistic care-free ‘ish personality and thought that meant making her as pathetic as a baby crying that they didn’t get a lollipop from their mommy.

Like I’m gonna be honest with you, it’s literally gone to a point where I think Orel Puppington (aka the 11 yo Christian kid who worships Jesus and gets harmful lessons from other Christians) makes a better Charlie Morningstar than the Charlie Morningstar herself!

And that thought is justified when he tried to go help people in Sinville, “Kat he ended up turning into a pimp at the end of the episode” yeah but AT LEAST HE TRIED TO ACTUALLY DO SOMETHING! Which leads me to another question….

> How is Charlie gonna redeem sinners exactly???

Like honestly, I’m serous with this one. How is Charlie gonna redeem these guys?

I ask this because in the series, she barely does ANYTHING to help these guys, she and the rest of the characters just sit around and then do an activity that is the equivalent of something you would do in kindergarten except it’s with ADULTS.

I don’t know about you but If your idea of helping people is doing just that and nothing else, then the only thing the people around you are gonna get is them being annoyed at first and eventually walking out with thinking your not helping them but rather just treating them like a baby who doesn’t know anything, and the only thing your gonna get personally is nothing because you did dick all.

Like other than that she pretty much just whines about sinners not going to her hotel and oh gee I wonder why, it’s not like your not doing anything to help these sinners not committing sins anymore, oh definitely not, your absolutely being helpful.

“Oh but Kat! Charlie was born in hell, how can she know how to help people? She’s not from the human world so, she wouldn’t exactly know how to help these people!” I would tell you to look at the world building for the series and it’s spin off but that’s a whole other can of beans that I don’t wanna cover today and this is already getting to long, so y’know what? We’ll go with that.

If Charlie didn’t know how to help people and was trying to figure out what she can do to help sinners get better, then why didn’t she just ask her employees for suggestions? Y’know, the other sinners who were from the human world and had experiences while they were alive and such?

Yeah, I get that not all of their advice would be exactly good or healthy (since they’re sinners who’ve done many bad things after all) BUT ITS AT LEAST SOMETHING FOR FUCKS SAKE!!!

She literally does nothing, she just expects you to immediately get better after some improvisations or whatever other activities she does and once you’ve done one nice thing then boom you’re close to redemption.

> Conclusion.

Charlie Morningstar is (like I said in the beginning) probably one of the worst characters in the hazbin hotel series, she at best a stereotype of the “everything is sunshines and rainbows” character tropes and at worst is a pathetic excuse of a main character and is nothing but a rotten shell of her character from the pilot.

I would go on about how her design’s also bad but I’m sure millions of people have already said the same issues and I’ve already posted my redesign of her before the show dropped.

I might plan on posting a rewrite of her or maybe explain my problems with another character or episode but I don’t know.

But until then, I’ll see y’all later!

[bunicate]

YES!!! u n me r on da same wavelength…. n e ways i have my thoughts ready now :3 it’s been so very long since i’ve written anyting but i hope it’s good…!

when word got out that you, the youngest child of the ragnvindr family, planned to move away from the dawn winery and into the city of mondstadt, most people expected diluc to shut that down completely. and yet, he gives it his approval. “it would be good for you to broaden your experiences,” he tells you.

(he doesn’t tell you that every day, it becomes more tempting to throw away his morals and breed his lil sister like how he wants to…!)

so you move out of your home, and into a cute little apartment. you decorate it all pretty, tying ribbons wherever you can and covering your furniture in frills and lace. it’s lotsa fun living by yourself, even if it means you gotta do everything for yourself too… but you’re a big girl, so you can kind of probably maybe handle it!

meanwhile, diluc tells himself that he’ll leave you be… but he can’t help but to watch over you while he’s out doing his darknight hero duties! you don’t even realize how dangerous the world is, just traipsing around as if there aren’t a million people who’d happily try to rob the baby of the ragnvindr clan… it’s your big brother’s job to make sure you’re safe!!

you do eventually meet the darknight hero, and diluc does his very best to treat you like any other citizen, but he can’t be stoic n distant around his little sister :( he was just trying to make you smile by showing you what mondstadt was like from the rooftops, he really didn’t mean to end up on the roof of the kof headquarters with his head buried between your thighs…! it just kinda happened, you know?

at first, the darknight hero says that it’s a one-time thing. diluc isn’t ready to taint his sweet little sister and damn himself… but he comes back the next night, grinding you against his thigh until you cum all over his pants. then he’s telling you that it won’t go any further than him making you feel good - but that doesn’t last long, and he has you on your knees a few nights later with his cock in your mouth. that’s as far as he’ll go, the darknight hero says, before he slips up once more and finds himself fucking your thighs n cumming all over your cute tits.

diluc tells himself that he needs to stop, that it’s sick of him to essentially trick his little sister into sleeping with her big bro.. but then again, it’s okay as long as he doesn’t go any further, right? as long as he doesn’t actually take your virginity, then it’s fine… he can keep on seeing you as the darknight hero, you’ll be safe and happy, and diluc won’t completely lose his mind longing for you.

(spoiler alert: he goes further :3)

um um yeah! it’s a lil messy but i had so many thoughts n i didn’t wanna leave any of them out bc what if they get lonely :( in other news!!!! i got a manicure n a super DUPER kyute set of nails and i finally bought mi first binder!!

- sweet prince

[sintiva]

cw: eren has bad anxiety and anger issues, a little angst, penetrative sex, nipple play, grinding, cowgirl, lmk if i missed anything !

notes: the first request i’ve done in ages, i hope it’s not too long (it is), and it’s definitely written differently compared to other things, but do enjoy, (the ending was rushed shoot me )🫰🏽 feedback appreciated!

connie threw thee biggest and best parties known to man. they were always a vibe, and if you weren’t in attendance, you were missing everything that went on, on campus. hookups, new faces, more drama, and the best weed to float around campus. connie made sure everything was in order, and most important to him besides his friends, good drinks and pretty girls, was weed.

“yo, where’s eren at?” connie asked as he smoked on a roach. he was nearly out of weed, and his party had only just begun, and per usual eren was late as fuck. the roach burnt his fingers and lips, but he was desperate and he held on to what little he had left.

“probably out with some other bitch.” you snapped. connie chuckled and fixed his hand around your waist. you sat on his lap, and he fondled every inch of you. your thighs, your tits, your ass. he wouldn’t admit it, but connie springer, was fucking sprung when it came to you, and the one time you let him tap, he came… too quick.

his eyes were extremely low, he was faded, slowly treading the line of being cross faded, and you looked too damn good. “why’d you say it like that, ma?”

“hmmm, no reason. it’s just what i’m thinkin’, and we both know it’s the truth. that’s your friend ain’t it? ” you tick your tongue, and lower your gaze to the fiend who just won’t quit stroking your skin; hand skimming freely under your dress, fingers grazing so closely to your panties! down to your slit, thumb poking at it.

n-not out here.

he smirks and lowers the tempo; it was all just to make you squirm on his lap. he’s trying to hint at you — let you know that their is something lingering. your nips perk up and and like thin air, the topic of eren evaporated. just like that.

just that quickly, he was forgotten. so there you were in the back of this party, so close to being fingered on a couch as you straddled connie’s lap. so far in the back, so drunk. not even aware of how quickly you straddled connie’s thighs. how quicky he tossed the roach aside, focused on your dress, pulling the neck of it down, so he could sit up and suck on your tits in the back of the party.

“c-connie, someone — he might see us.”

connie heard he, and instantly didn’t give a fuck. he, was eren, who was somehow appearing as a fuzzy hue in the back of your mind.

“and? when’s that ever stopped us, mamas?” his lips found purchase in your skin. the sweetness, the butteriness; his lips tracking your skin made his dick leak ad throb in his sweats, and you practically straddled the tip of it anyway.

what started as innocent playing and kisses turned into you full on grinding on him in the back — his hands were cupping your ass, and he was carrying you back and fourth on his dick; through the cloth it was more than enough. you both knew were things were going, but neither of you wanted to stop, nor had the intentions to.

until… connie felt you levitate off the couch, his lap still cold, and loud arguing, waking him up from whatever delusions were running through his head. he blinked a couple of times, smacked his cheeks, shook his head to clear any and all thoughts that he just had of you. the weed and drinks have long settled in his system. he was totally unaware of the mini altercation that was occurring between you and…

“eren, what the fuck.”

“what the fuck my ass, you don’t see how he’s staring at you right now? he’s practically eye fucking you and you like that stupid shit?”

“first off, i don’t know who you’re yelling at like you’re someone’s father. second of all, you be out all day and when i text you, you don’t respond to nothing and now you pop up like a fucking lunatic. i don’t owe you anything eren.”

“you’re joking right?” you scoff, completely baffled.

“i will tell you time and time again, i don’t care how big you think you are, you will calm the fuck down when it comes to me.”

and there he goes. blunt in between his fingers, faded, eyes red and low. all black fit, hair down those silver rings <3. “i leave you alone for one da—“

“and that’s the problem, we had plans today and you forget about them.”

“y/n, i texted you three hours ago telling you that something popped up and we’d have to push it to tonight or tomorrow evening.”

“when?”

“at around 4 o’clock.”

your nails tapped at your phone screen, and the moment your palms tightened around your sage green bubble case, you were met with the same text you were sure you sent three hours earlier with nothing after. no confirmations or anything.

“not a single text, reaction, or call, and to make it worse, it was for our anniversary.”

it was eren who looked dumb now, coming to the party causing a scene, forcing yet another stupid, pointless fight. another headache, another upset you and you walked away before he could get a word in, but your got yours in.

“you want me to be your partner, i do everything to make sure we’re good — always — but you can never be a decent human.”

wait y/n… baby—“ he throws his arm out to reach you.

i don’t care anymore. do what you want that’s what you always do anyways.

“it was an honest mistake.”

fuck!

you fixed your dress and simply walked away. with a couple twitches you were gone as quickly as he pulled you in. time and time again, he proves to fuck everything up.

it would seem as though he had countless things on his mind, but you were always at the back of it. and when i say always, you were always the one putting in more effort it seemed.

he flicked his blunt out his fingers and stepped on it. the flame died under the tip of his shoe, and beneath it a black circle of ash. “my floor??” connie’s mouth stretched; his arms flew up in the air, “i don’t give a fuck, stay away from y/n and we won’t have an issue.”

“like i’m the problem? when you figure your shit out you’ll realize i’m not the problem.” connie stood up rolled his eyes and held his hand out. “you’re not getting shit from me.”

the thing eren hated the most was a lecture; how big or small didn’t matter. getting told about himself was a total bust, and fucking things up with you was a consequence he’d always have to face.

the next few weeks were dreadful. eren felt like and looked like shit, but businesses was business. he had customers, deliveries and a shit ton of other things that filled his schedule. internally, he was collapsing, it was all too much. he couldn’t think clearly and he was just working and smoking himself to exhaustion.

but his delivery after the party, after watching you disappear in the crowd, fell through the floor.

nothing could stop him, not armin, not looking at pictures of you. standing outside of your door hoping you’d come downstairs to hop into his car to accompany him for his deliveries. eren’s anger was bubbling over, and the prime suspect was nobody but himself.

he had planned to deliver to connie the day after his party, because you wrote it into his calendar. you had his entire day written out in the calendar, to pick you up, go find somewhere to eat so y’all could have brunch, then you’d take your rightful position as his passenger princess; he’d drive a little ways out the city to go and deliver to connie.

for starters he was late, he didn’t have the usual brunch and he was strongly irritable. he didn’t get to sleep with you, or wake up to you, and all that anger was being channeled towards the wrong person.

305-245-6755

come outside to get your shit.

another thing that eren didn’t do was communicate with his clients, because he knew he’d lose his cool with them. for some reason they would all hit on you in awkward ways, so eren just lets you text them on his behalf. you would always draft a mass message to send out, it’d be all cute, typed with courtesy and delivered like a real business. today there was none of that.

eren sat in his car, wasteland on repeat, arm flung over his eyes to curb his headache. then came tapping against his window, courtesy of connie.

“about fucking time.”

eren rolled his window down and flung a plastic baggy filled with a scarce looking zip being the contents.

“what is this?”

“what you asked for?” eren shrugged his shoulders, and put his seatbelt on. “don’t play eren, this looks like a half at most.”

“i’m surprised you know that much.” eren reached for a blunt out of his pocket and lit it. he blew the smoke right in connie’s face. “since you know so much, use that brain of yours to not piss me off right now.”

there relationship has always been rocky. eren still hasn’t gotten over the fact that you two were once a thing, and whenever he sees y’all together it irks his nerves real bad. even after you tell him time and time again, your feelings for connie are long gone, but his still linger and tug at his heart.

“if this is about y/n, you can grow up. whatever shit y’all got going on, ain’t got nothing to do with me.”

“i know you still like them, and it’s not up for debate. you can either stay away from ‘em or find out.”

even put out his blunt because for some reason it wasn’t working to calm his nerves. it was getting him hotter than when he arrived the longer the conversation persisted.

the more connie countered, it triggered fight instead of resisting. he reached for his door handle, seething and as soon as be was about to pull it open connie’s friend came outside to see what all the commotion was.

“what’s going on?”

nothing eren snapped, vexed that he was really letting connie of all people get up under him like that. of course, it pleased him knowing that he got under eren’s skin, but that was all he had on him.

he rarely spoke to you anymore, and when you too would interact; the exchange’s would be short, inauthentic, almost scripted like you were never really interested.

“i’m out. don’t ask me for shit else.”

connie turned to his friend and shook that baggie in his face, “he’s delusional.”

eren sped home, tapping his fingers against the wheel, biting his lip, things were dreadful without you like experiencing a tropical storm with no shelter. he was thinking of stopping by your place, just to see it, just to make sure your car was there, and maybe your blinds would he open and he’d see you laid up in bed. so he swung by, but only for a short while, and it’s like he expected. peace.

he finally drove back to his place, car boxed, and his head banging. just a nagging feeling of ‘i fucked up and i need to talk to somebody’. the person he resorted to was none other than his best friend, armin. he gave him the whole run down, he told him everything from what happened last night at the party to what happened today. eren articulate ld his feelings perfectly, and at the end of it all armin gave him a simple answer, “you two just need space, it could be for a day, five, two weeks, a month.”

“if the love is there things will fix itself, if trust is reciprocated you both will come back to the other. y’all are both just hard headed and constantly clash.”

that’s all he could say and it seemed like it helped. there was a hint of worry. considering the fact that you two may give the other space, waiting for the moment the other would reach out first made him anxious. he didn’t like to wait, he was impatient.

which lead to him cracking first. he showed up to your door, severely high, psyched out and sweaty. it was afternoon time and you had just woken up. it’d been two weeks and the reality was you missed your boyfriend so much so that you just slept your days away to ease the thoughts, until he started visiting you in your dreams.

the next day was awkward for eren. he thought about what armin told him and figured it was time to visit you. when he pulled up to your place it still carried that same aura.

to say the least. you woke up with tissues around your bed, 16 text, 20 missed calls and the faint sound of someone calling your name and knocking on your door.

just like how it was a couple weeks ago. you saw eren in your notifications, in your dreams and on your ring doorbell app. ‘go away’ you mumble into your phones microphone.

his face lights up and he walks up straight into the camera’s frame, “don’t be like that, baby.” it were his first words he’s heard from you in weeks— he needed i. that evil man can pout once and place those pretty eyes right into the camera and it feels like you were ovulating.

i know you miss me, cause i’ve missed you.

and he wants you to know that, so he sings it like a sweet ballad, when you decide to let him in, like always. a sweet hug, wet kisses on your cheeks two big bouquets of your favorite flowers (apology notes written within each, your favorite m&ms, and some sweet talking secured himself into your place.

‘you know i wouldn’t do anything intentional to you. it was an honest mistake, trust me… let me make it up to you.”

“i planned a trip… just for the both of us — we can go anywhere you want.”

he holds your face in his hands, and gives you the softest look he could muster. he brings your face closer, tilts his head to the side and just licks your your lips with the tip of his tongue till you open up.

“let me kiss you, princess, pleaseeee.” he whines.

you kiss him back gently as if he did no wrong. hands thrown over his shoulders, fingers running through his air. through the kiss you could feel the smirk teasing at his lips, cause the both of you knew arguments fail each time. they never hold weight, and eren was already paying back his debt.

he pulled away nearly out of breath and lips glossed from saliva. “i sent you money already did you get it? for some clothes to get your hair done, nails and a little extra for whatever you need to get.”

“i didn’t see it — cause i blocked you and i know you had armin call my phone on your behalf.”

while you spoke he held onto you so tight. his lips were soft and smooth from the chapstick that transferred from his lips to yours.

“i know,” he chuckled and settled his hands behind your back. “you’ve always been like that.”

“ i have, but you can send me a little more to get unblocked though, and for almost fighting connie; min told me.”

his cheeks grew red out of sheer embarrassment, he knew armin would talk, but he didn’t think it’d be to that extent.

“of course he did. he can never keep his mouth shut.”

“it’s your fault, you can’t blame anybody else and you know better.”

he sighed and took out his phone, went to your name in his messages (the first and only pinned :)) , clicked the apple pay button and sent you an extra 900 on top of the 1,500 he sent you.

he showed you, his phone screen illuminated against your face and you immediately brightened up some more, that smile, those lips, everything he loved to see.

“see — happy now?”

“yes, but you seem happier than me.” he is, his stomach is bubbling with anticipation. he’s been a nervous wreck for the past two weeks.

you feel him straining against your thigh, “and you smoked before you came here, you don’t do that a lot, were you nervous to see me?” he squeezes tighter.

“i-it calmed me down.” he cleared his throat and squished your thighs. it would have to work since he didn’t have anything else to squeeze.

you switch your seating, over to his left thigh, you stroke his head, his pants. familiarizing yourself with his outline, applying enough pressure to his tip to make his thigh jump. “why are you so nervous ‘ren?”

“cause you’ve been the only thing on my mind for the past two weeks, and now my body just feels like super stimulated or whatever shit it is that you talk about…” an innocent blush creeps up his cheeks.

“i’ve been seeing you in my dreams and shit, i thought i would die if didn’t see you sooner.”

it would take you forever to admit that he too was in your dreams, cause they weren’t the most innocent one’s.

“you can be a real sweetheart when you let things out, you know, and when you’re being honest.”

he rolled his eyes, and fondled your skin. “it’s only cause of you, i don’t want to lose someone that makes me so happy.”

here he was making it up to you, with gifts and pleasure: a cocktail that never failed.

his words only made him dreamier, “you’re forgiven, just don’t leave me wondering again.” you place a soft peck on his forehead and flash a smile.

those dreams and longing lights guided your lips together again. they made you strip down to to nothing. he needed to see every inch of you cause two weeks was torture. he craved to feel how warm you got when you were on top. the two of you were so pent up, all that bundled up energy was spewing everywhere.

leading to his fingers circling your clit. slow circles that made you grind against them for more. your legs were spread over his thighs. he looked in your eyes to let you know he meant every word that he breathed, and he meant every action acted upon.

the longer you two twiddled your thumbs, the more he teased, the harder it got to resist. “i know you want to.” he whispered. 

you did. you really did. this whole time you could feel him poking at your ass. and you just needed to. you raised up off his lap and he made everything easier. you could feel all the stress leaving his body once you sunk down on him. every single inch throbbing the deeper he got.

“you want all of it?” he grabs your hips and gives you all of it. he bites his lip and winces.

“yesss,” you whisper in defeat, his plan worked he has you nipping at his lips. fingers stretching along your ass to get a nice, full grab, to hold onto you, to spread your cheeks so he can help you take every inch. “wait wait, let me do it.” you sigh into his mouth, twitching from feeling him in your guts. “too much?” he smiles and takes a nice hand-full of your ass and jiggles it.

“it’s enough for me.”

“cause you’re greedy.” you suck your teeth and giggle, “can you blame me?” he tilts his head; eyes roaming your face and body.

but he adjust his hands and lets you take control. your arms feel light around his neck, you take charge with slow bounces; it’s more of a grinding motion cause you just wanna cum, and feeling his hands roam all over your body encourages you on.

“ ‘rennn.” he’s infatuated. hands gliding all over you. playing with your tits, rolling your nipples in between his fingertips the hastier your pace becomes. “make yourself feel good.” he groans over and over then wraps his lips around your nipples and sucks. with every slurp around your chest he groans and tightens his grips on your hips. everything melts onto his tongue, your taste forever lasting. “oooh, erennn, ‘m gonna cum.” his head falls back as you squeeze him tight; your nipples and clit thumping from stimulation. the stimulation you get from your clit grazing against his stomach makes you desperately chase after your orgasm.

“me too.” he strains, his thighs dance around; head bobbing from side to side. being so pent up and high depleted his stamina.

you feel him throbbing harder in you as your grinding becomes more desperate and sloppy. he thrusts his hips up, your eyebrows knit and thighs tremble as you cum over and over on his dick, bringing him to his own, “good fucking pussy, baby.”

the steady rhythm of your ass clapping against his thighs felt like heaven. the constant squeezes to your ass boost your ego. his fingers sink into your ass cheeks to gain leverage to pound his self into you as your legs tremble from cumming.

after sex you two showered together, which led to more sex, and decided to watch a movie and order takeout. eren ended up falling asleep, so you decided to do his makeup and post it on twitter for your followers to see. the caption being, “ p***** his ass to sleep, now he calling my nyquil”, corny but it got the job done. that was a whole nother story when he woke up, but you decided you two were even, and the glam made him look even prettier.

[lillian-gallows]

Kinktober Day 8: Breeding with Simon "Ghost" Riley

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader Word Count: 794 Warnings: Breeding kink, P in V sex, Unprotected sex (Wrap it before you tap it, unless the goal is to get gregnent that is), Dirty talk, Lil bit of Cock Warming, Probably badly written British slang (is that a warning?). Kinktober Master(sub)list.

Minors DNI

Your whole body ached. It ached in the way that it does when you’ve gone for a really good hike, the kind that leaves muscles twitching from use, and your veins buzzing from the endorphins.

The main difference being it wasn’t a hike that left you like this.

No, it was the man currently behind you, pounding you face first into the mattress, gearing up to fill you with his third load of cum that day alone.

See, you and Simon had made the decision that you were ready to start trying for a baby. And then promptly decided that the best way to go about that, was to fuck as many times a day, in as many positions as possible, and in as many locations in your home as you can find.

It was currently 10 in the morning and you both had just finished breakfast, which was the followed by a good morning fuck on the counter, then some coffee on the couch had led to you riding him with the weather forecast playing in the background, and then when you both went to get dressed for the day, well, why not take yet another opportunity?

It’s been like this for two weeks now, and you both were far from bored of it. Spending whole days drunk on each other’s bodies, and still craving more, it was amazing.

It helped that Simon, being the wonderful man he is, always made sure you came.

Every. Single. Time.

That’s how you’ve found yourself here and now. Face down, ass up, with the thick cock of your British operator filling you over and over, tip kissing your cervix on every thrust, hands gripping your hips so tight you were sure it would leave a mark, not that you minded, you loved when he marked you up.

“Bloody hell…Still so wet from before…” He rasped as he gave particularly hard thrust, shoving you harder into the sheets and yanking a cry from your kiss swollen lips. “Such pretty noises…So loud for me…Think the neighbors can hear how good I’m fucking you? Hear how many times I’ve filled you up?”

His filthy words sent the most delicious buzzing through your body, he was only ever this talkative when he was fucking you, it’s like he’s always saving all his words for when he’s balls deep so he can say the dirtiest things he can think of.

“If-fuck…” You started but cut off with a gasp. “If they don’t know now…Ngh…They will soon…Shit, Simon…” You managed, knuckles white with how tightly you were gripping the sheets, hips shoving back against him to meet his with every movement.

The room was filled with wet noises, skin meeting skin, and ragged breathing, well, your ragged breathing that is. Simon has stamina for days; you don’t think you’ve ever heard him so much as pant.

“Hmm.” He purred as he leaned over you, pressing his chest to yours, and pressing his cock even deeper. “Love the way you say my name, but I’d rather hear you scream it.” He growled into your ear before his pace picked up, slamming home over and over.

And scream you did. His name, curses, incoherent babbling more than both of those.

You hadn’t even realized that your orgasm had been building till it came crashing over you. Every muscle buzzed and locked at the same time, your vision went white, and you could swear you passed out for a second, but through the whole thing Simon never stopped, not till you felt his cum flood into you, so hot it felt almost scalding with how sensitive your poor abused pussy was.

Rather than pull out right away, Simon turned you both on your sides and pulled you as close as possible. “You still with me, Love?” He rasped into your hair as gentle hands drifted up and down your side.

“Hmm?” You hummed as reality reached your brain once more. “Mmhmm.” You managed, wiggling back into him, and then promptly letting out a shocked gasp when you discovered he was still inside you. “Si, what the fuck…?” You grumbled quietly.

“What? Gotta keep it in, so it takes.” He answered, sounding smug as his hand came to rest on your belly. “I think this was the one.” Now he just sounded soft, and you adored hearing your big tough scary man, sound so sweet.

You let out another happy hum. “I think so too…” You said before a slow smirk spread over your face. “Doesn’t mean we can’t be 100% totally sure though, right?” You said before taking his wrist and guiding his hand down between your thighs.

Time to add another new position to the list.

[peachdues]

Seasons in Love (modern college AU: Part 1/2)

Sanemi meets Y/N in January and isn't a fan. As the seasons pass by, their evolving relationship becomes defined by a handful snapshots from the various holidays throughout the year.

A/N: part 1/2 of my college-AU fic to fulfill @shiverisms request for tooth-rotting Sanemi fluff. Part 1 covers January, the Spring and Summer festivals, Halloween and the week leading into finals in December. Part 2 will cover Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve. This is unlike anything I’ve really written before, so sorry if it drags!!

CW: swearing, some suggestive stuff but nothing too bad. College-typical drinking and debauchery.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

January 2nd – first day of the spring semester

Sanemi Shinazugawa hated many things. He hated the cold, because wearing too many layers made him feel like he was suffocating. He hated when the store was out of his favorite brand of dried seaweed. He hated whenever he saw that asshole, Douma, simpering his way across campus with a gaggle of unwitting freshmen trailing helplessly behind him.

But most of all, he hated change.

So, when Shinobu brought along a new face to their first family dinner of the new year, he’s not happy.

And initially, he felt vindicated by his reticence to welcome her as warmly into their friend group as some of the others, because, despite his friends’ kindness, she’d failed to even muster a grateful smile for her hosts.

Not once, during the entire affair, did the girl – Y/N -- so much as twitch her lips upwards; not when she met any of his friends, and certainly not at any of the jokes or fun they’d had.

It’s not that she’d been sullen and withdrawn — she’d participated in conversation just fine. But that bland stoicism on her face had really gotten under his skin, because it reminds him of Giyuu, and they’ve already got one of those.

Sanemi told Shinobu as much later that night as he kicked back in her worn, mismatched kitchen chair while the pharmacology student idly flipped through her biochemistry textbook.

“I’ll ignore the dig at Giyuu for now,” Shinobu said lightly, though her eyes flickered briefly up to his in warning, “but I would think you of all people would have a bit of compassion toward her, Sanemi.”

Sanemi reached out to snatch an apple from the little fruit bowl that Shinobu has on her kitchen table, taking a crude chomp out of it. “Why?” He asked, voice garbled by his thick mouthful.

Shinobu shot him a fleeting look of disgust at his lack of etiquette. “Do you remember that girl I was paired with in my mental health law seminar last semester? The one who dropped out of our final project last minute?”

Sanemi swallowed his mouthful of apple. “Yeah. You were pissed.”

And she had been. Shinobu had been stuck with doing the other half of an entire presentation just two days before it was due, and it had been on statutory interpretation which had not been Shinobu’s strongest area.

Shinobu’s scowled. “That’s because I didn’t know the reason,” she reached for a highlighter to mark text on the page open before her.

“Her little brother died. Cancer. He was only eleven.”

In one breath, all his prior irritation with the girl’s presence is extinguished within him.

Now, Sanemi felt like an asshole.

Because if anyone understood what it felt like to lose a loved one — especially one as young as eleven — it would’ve been him.

“Fuck,” Sanemi exhaled, apple falling to the table, forgotten. Absentmindedly, he reached his hand to rub at his chest, just over the jagged scar beneath his shirt that was one of the many souvenirs from the car wreck that had managed to kill everyone in his family but him.

That had been nine years ago — when Sanemi had barely been twelve.

He certainly hadn’t felt like smiling much after that, either. Truthfully, he’d probably be in far worse shape now had it not been for the people clustered in Shinobu’s and Mitsuri’s tiny apartment.

“She also got cheated on last semester,” Shinobu added after a moment.

Sanemi sighed heavily, feeling even worse. The poor girl had gone through what was arguably the worst semester, and he’d chapped her ass over not smiling.

“I didn’t know that — by who?” Tengen emerged from the adjacent living room, breezing by the table and into the kitchen to help himself to whatever was in the girls’ fridge.

Shinobu’s eyes hardened. “Douma,” her tone was poisonous.

Both Sanemi and Tengen groaned in unison.

“She deserves financial compensation for that one,” Sanemi muttered darkly, motioning for Tengen to toss him a beer. The sleazy, lazy, and arrogant student body President had earned the reputation of being a serial cheater around campus. Shinobu briefly had a fling with him their first year that she’d ended after only a few weeks, once it became all too clear that he was a master manipulator.

And, as Shinobu had referred to him, an utter man-whore.

Tengen padded out from the kitchen, beers in hand. “That explains why she doesn’t really have a friend group anymore, then.” He quipped, handing the extra beer to Sanemi before plopping down next to him at the table.

Shinobu hummed in agreement, hand seamlessly moving across the glossy page of her textbook as she made a small, precise note. “You know how Douma is — first he fucks you, and then he fucks you.”

Sanemi snorted, shaking his head. “So that’s why you feel so protective of her, huh?” He nudged her with his elbow. “You know what she’s going through.”

Shinobu shrugged him off. “Maybe; but so do you.” She said pointedly, hand flipping her textbook shut. “So maybe just try to be nice?”

“When the fuck am I not nice?” Sanemi demanded indignantly, and Shinobu shot him such a pitiful look that he felt his cheeks heat.

Tengen just laughed. “I think the real question is when are you ever?”

Sanemi glared at his loud-mouthed friend, but before he could respond with a snappy retort, Shinobu spoke.

“I’m not saying you have to be a saint, but I want Y/N to feel like she at least has some support here,” her tone was light but it carried that signature soft threat she used whenever she meant business. “so promise me you’ll at least try to get to know her.”

Sanemi groaned but acquiesced. “All right, all right,” he’d muttered, reaching back for his earlier-discarded apple. “I promise.”

------------------------------------------------------

March 23rd – Spring Festival

As winter melted way into spring and the cherry blossom buds had begun to bloom, so did Sanemi’s friendship with Y/N.

He promised Shinobu that he would try to make the girl feel part of their group, and Sanemi is a man true to his word – but in retrospect, he hadn’t expected it to be this easy to become friends with her.

It started when they realized they shared three out of their four classes together. Sanemi walked into his first seminar at the crack-ass of eight in the morning on the first day of spring classes when he’d spotted her sitting in the second row from the front. Sanemi didn’t like most of the other people in his class, so sitting beside her had seemed like a no-brainer.

It had been the best decision he could have made. Y/N was smart as a whip, and often went toe-to-toe with the self-professed “devil’s advocates” during class discussions, managing to weave in Shakespearean insults while simultaneously ripping apart their inane arguments.

Soon, they began to meet up for study sessions at Mitsuri and Shinobu’s apartment, as Y/N had also become incredibly close with the two girls. Sanemi began to find himself at the girls’ apartment far more than he was at his own. In March, he discovered they had precisely the same tastes in music; within a day she had sent him several specially-curated playlists that featured bands similar to his favorite artists.

By the end of March, Y/N had announced her plan to move in with Mitsuri and Shinobu.

It wouldn’t happen until the end of the semester, when Y/N’s solitary lease ended, but she’d planned to move in right before she spent a month at home with her family – which also marked the first time she’d return home since her brother had died.

Sanemi wasn’t surprised at how quickly Y/N had bonded with his other female friends; she had a sharp, dry wit that matched perfectly with Shinobu’s lofty, passive-aggressive attitude, yet also seemed to find delight in spending time with Mitsuri, with whom she’d rapidly become attached to at the hip. Part of Sanemi had hoped that her friendship with the two women would lighten the shadows that crossed her face every so often, and that maybe she would finally crack a smile.

It wasn’t as if Y/N wasn’t expressive – she was, particularly around her eyes. More often than not, she was scowling at him or rolling her eyes at his barbs, but there had been a few occasions when he’d thought that he’d caught something softer as she looked at him. Other times, he saw an amused twinkle in her eye whenever Mitsuri challenged Tengen to an arm-wrestling contest, as though she were on the precipice of laughter, though none ever came.

Shinobu had suggested Y/N’s failure to smile was just a way of her processing her trauma and grief, and that she was doing everything she could to cope. Sanemi had not yet broached the subject with Y/N, not wanting her to feel compelled to open up wounds she was trying so hard to stitch together, but he worried that she wasn’t getting the support she needed.

Near the end of the semester, Y/N had become slightly more irritable, constantly jiggling a foot whenever she sat down, or wringing her hands in her lap whenever she was in deep thought.

Sanemi had agreed to study with her for their last final, but was on his last nerve as she continuously clicked her pen, each press of her thumb against the cap harder than the last.

“You have to stop.” He finally snapped, throwing his own pen down on his notebook before him to glare at her. “I can’t hear myself think.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise at his outburst before lowering, her arms folding insecurely in front of her chest.

“Sorry,” she murmured, her foot beginning to twitch beneath the table.

Sanemi sighed and slammed his book shut, folding his hands under his chin as he braced his elbows on the table. “All right, out with it; what’s got ya all bent out of shape?”

Y/N didn’t meet his eyes, instead toying idly with the ends of her hair. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Sanemi rolled his eyes and huffed. “You’ve been squirming nonstop for the last two weeks, and it’s only gotten worse,” he nodded pointedly at the way she kept twisting and untwisting a lock of her dark, silky hair around her index finger. “Somethin’s bothering you.”

Y/N remained quiet for a moment, but contemplative, weighing out the risks and the rewards of opening up to the scowling man sitting across from her.

“I haven’t been home since – since he died,” She began, shifting slightly in her seat. “And I’ve felt really closed off from my parents ever since the funeral. We haven’t talked much at all.” She bit her lip, staring intently at the wooden grain of the table. “I guess I’m just anxious about going back.”

Sanemi clicked his tongue. “I gotta say, I don’t envy you right now,”

“Thanks.” Y/N interjected coolly, but Sanemi held a hand up to quiet her.

“I mean, that car wreck just killed my whole family, so I didn’t have to deal with anyone else’s grief but my own,” Sanemi continued, and Y/N fell silent. “I can’t imagine having to deal with someone else’s.”

Y/N’s hand had fallen from her hair to the table, and it twitched toward him. She hestitated for a moment before finally reaching over and placing her small hand on Sanemi’s broad, scarred forearm.

“Sanemi, I had no idea,” she said, softly. “I’m so sorry.”

Sanemi surprised himself by not immediately shrugging off her touch, but he found it hard to meet her eyes. Most people looked at him with pity, and he’d long since lost the ability to stomach it.

Y/N slowly pulled her hand back from his arm, moving to wipe furiously at her eyes.

“Ah hell, I didn’t mean to make ya cry-“ Sanemi said, cursing himself for trudging up what had to be painful memories.

She shook her head furiously. “No, it’s not that,” she batted the tears from her eyes before meeting his gaze head-on. “I’ve just felt so…alone these last few months. Like I was drowning in my grief.”

Sanemi felt something within him stir at the intensity of her stare, something warm and comforting spreading through his chest. “But you’re not,” he said with equal quiet, offering her a small smile. “It’s the worst club to be a part of – the dead family club – but it’s nice knowin’ someone else in it.”

Y/N nodded, and Sanemi could swear he saw something like a ghost of a smile on her face, but it was gone as soon as it came.

“If things at home get too hard to deal with this summer,” Sanemi said after a pause, “just call me. Any time.”

And damn him if he didn’t feel like he could soar at the look of hope in her eyes.

--------------------------------------------------------

July 15th – Mid-Summer Festival

Summer had passed by slowly and lazy in the blazing heat.

Sanemi had spent the majority of their break at the Rengoku family lakehouse, working alongside his best friend as a lifeguard at the local swim club. When he wasn’t shouting at kids for being walking lawsuits as they ran alongside the pool and drinking cheap beer with Kyojuro, he had been texting Y/N – outside of their active group chat.

It was insane to him that she’d become as close with him as he was to Kyojuro. Sanemi had found her so easy to talk to, even over the phone, and eagerly checked for her messages the moment he awoke and the moment before he fell asleep. Once or twice, Kyojuro had even grumbled that Sanemi rarely texted the group chat back but seemed to have no trouble responding to one of Y/N’s many memes or song recommendations.

But now, the whole gang had reunited for a holiday weekend at the Rengoku lakehouse to celebrate the mid-summer festival with a cookout and fireworks.

Translation: they’d all come to get absolutely plastered while enjoying some fun in the picturesque water surrounding the generous estate.

It was day two of the festival weekend, and six of them were in the water, locked in a fierce battle of chicken. Y/N was perched on Sanemi’s shoulders as she wrestled Mitsuri, who was close to strangling a sputtering Kyojuro with her thighs as she desperately tried to remain upright. So far, he and Y/N had knocked out the other pair — Shinobu and Giyuu -- and were vying for the title of Chicken Champions.

Sanemi wouldn’t lie that he’d initially felt a bit smug over how Y/N had darted forward to grab his arm when Mitsuri announced the need to partner up. He’d thought it was because of his strength — he knew he was jacked, and he assumed that she had (correctly) concluded that she stood the best chance of winning if she climbed atop his shoulders.

“I won’t let you fall, princess.” He’d crooned, winking at her. She’d rolled her eyes at the use of his nickname for her, and he’d puffed his chest out, feeling a cocky sense of pride.

As it turned out, he’d been dead fucking wrong. Y/N hadn’t chosen him because he’d looked the strongest.

No. She’d chosen him because he was the only one she could get away with outright abusing in her ruthless play for the championship.

“Left, left, left!” She screeched, fingers snaring in his hair to wrench him harshly to the side, her heels digging sharply into his abdomen beneath the water as she desperately tried to steer him away from Mitsuri’s incoming flailing limbs.

Somehow, despite the searing pain in his scalp and the spray of lake water in his eyes, Sanemi had managed to follow her directions and the pair managed to narrowly avoid catastrophe. But Y/N wasn’t finished, as she tightened her shapely thighs around Sanemi’s neck to twist him back so she could lunge for the pinkette now unsteady atop of Kyojuro.

Sanemi had never been more grateful that the water covered him from the waist-down, as Y/N’s thighs clenched around his head once more as she shoved at her best friend with all her might.

Mitsuri had been too unbalanced to resist Y/N’s attack, and she finally toppled off Kyojuro’s shoulders and splashed into the water.

“Chicken Champs!” Tengen declared from the shoreline where he had been refereeing, more interested in working in a tan than he had been in getting in the water.

“I knew we’d win.” Y/N sniffed, tapping Sanemi’s head lightly. “I didn’t scalp you, did I?”

But Sanemi couldn’t answer because he was fighting a losing battle to conceal the growing bulge in his trunks, fearful that if any of his friends saw, they’d never let him live it down.

He’d known he was in trouble when she’d first emerged from the girls’ room in that tiny red bikini. For the last three hours, he’d been constantly reminding himself that she was his best friend and was therefore off-limits every time he’d caught his eyes lingering a second too long on her exposed skin and that he valued their friendship above all else.

But those rationalities were getting harder to remember the longer he felt her legs dangling over his chest, and his self-control was rapidly slipping.

So, upon Tengen declaring their victory, Sanemi did the only thing he could think of to escape his predicament— he slid his hands under her knees and dumped her into the water behind him, Y/N squeaking as she fell.

By the time Y/N’s head breached the surface of the lake, her eyes blazing and ready to fight, Sanemi had already been halfway back to the lake house, with nothing but a cold shower on his mind.

-------------------------------------------------------

Later that night, once everyone was thoroughly shit-faced and Kyojuro and Tengen were itching to light the fireworks, Y/N was nowhere to be found. Sanemi broke away from the group, heading towards the boat dock just down a grassy hill when he’d spotted her sitting on the edge of the pier. She was leaning against one of the posts, legs dangling into the water below as she gazed up at the brilliant expanse of stars twinkling in the night sky.

“It’s about time to watch a bunch of drunk assholes blow shit up.” He said, crouching down to sit beside her.

Y/N merely turned her head toward him before looking away again, remaining quiet. Her eyes were clouded and wistful as she peered up at the sky, her lower lip wobbling slightly.

In moments like these, Sanemi had learned the best thing he could do was stay silent. If she wanted to talk, she would, but sometimes, she just wanted him near.

The two were quiet for a moment, the only sounds being the slow lap of the lake water as it broke against the wooden pier, and the distant echoes of laughter as Kyo and Tengen drunkenly tried to set up the firework display.

“It’s been eight months since he died,” Y/N broke the silence, her voice soft. “And I hadn’t even realized. I was so swept up in having fun that I forgot about him for a moment.” She looked down at her lap, fingers twisting nervously together. “I must be awful.”

Sanemi shook his head, his hand itching to reach out and pat her back, to offer her comfort, but it remained still on the wood beneath him. “Nah. Not awful.” He lifts his gaze up to the stars twinkling above them, the mid-summer night sky resplendent with light. “It’s shitty to say, but sometimes you’ve gotta remember that you’re still livin’— even if they’re not.”

Y/N snorted, bringing a hand up to wipe at the tears that had begun to cling to her eyelashes. “That’s a harsh way of putting it.”

Sanemi grimaced, resenting how poor he could be with words. “I meant that he wouldn’t want you to keep yourself from living just because of him.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “What brought it on, anyways? I mean, what reminded you?”

Y/N leaned her head back against the worn post of the pier, chewing on her lower lip in thought. “I guess when Kyo mentioned it was almost time for fireworks. My brother loved the summer festivals, but he really loved the fireworks.” Y/N’s eyes slid shut momentarily as she reminisced, echoes of vibrant colors and the sounds of her brother’s laughter echoing in the corners of her mind. “He’d beg my parents to stay up past his bedtime to watch them. They used to tell him ‘No,’ but he kept sneaking out to watch them anyways. They eventually just gave in.”

Y/N paused, as she wove the connection between the memory in her head with the heaving feeling in her heart. “I guess that’s why I came down here.” She shrugged, as though to deflect the pain and loneliness that curled her shoulders forward, that still lurked in the shadows beneath her eyes. “Didn’t wanna drag the group down, you know?”

Sanemi looked back to Y/N, so beautiful beneath the starlight, so kind, and so very sad.

“I don’t think anyone would think you’re bein’ a drag,” Sanemi murmured. “But tell ya what — if you’re ever feeling down again while we’re all together, how about you give me a signal and we can dip out together ‘til you feel better?”

Y/N sniffed eyeing him incredulously. “A signal?”

Sanemi nodded. “Yeah, like — I dunno — a code word or something?”

Y/N pursed her lips as she looked back over the still water of the inky lake, considering.

“How about ‘chicken?’ In honor of our win today?” She said after a moment.

Sanemi grinned. “Perfect.”

The telling whizz and whirr of fireworks being launched into the sky cut Y/N off before she could reply. With a resounding boom! the night sky filled with bright streaks of red, white, pink, and yellow. Between the pulsing claps of the thunder of the fireworks, Y/N and Sanemi could hear the distant whoops and hollers of their friends.

Y/N’s eyes were locked on the dazzling display of fire and spark above them, a mixture of sadness and wonder glistening within them.

Later that night, just as Sanemi had been on the precipice of sleep, he’d realized he had not seen a single firework that his friends had launched in celebration of the summer festival.

Because while Y/N’s eyes had been fixed on the beautiful show of color in the night sky, Sanemi had not been able to look at anything else but her.

--------------------------------------------------------

October 31st -- Halloween

“Stop moving your face,” Y/N said exasperatedly to the scowling, white-haired man sitting before her. “You’re going to mess me up.”

Sanemi wanted to crack an eye to glare at her, but he feared she might stick one of her makeup brushes in his eye socket if he did. Instead, Sanemi clenched his jaw, fists balling in his lap.

“You’re taking for-fuckin’-ever,” he muttered, wincing slightly as Y/N dabbed a cold, gel-like substance against his cheek.

“I’m not the one who picked the most high-maintenance costume out of our entire group,” Y/N scoffs, pulling away from Sanemi to blend together a mixture of red, brown, and gray face paint to apply on the fake wound she has created along Sanemi’s sharp cheekbone.  “I mean seriously, a wolf demon? Why not just go as a regular werewolf?”

It is Halloween and Sanemi regrets ever agreeing to a group costume theme.

It had all started when Shinobu, Mitsuri, and Y/N had come to their weekly family dinner a month prior with wicked gleams in their eyes. They had waited until everyone else had been seated before Shinobu announced that not only had she gotten all their names down on an invite list for an exclusive Halloween party at the Wisteria House the following month, but they would all be dressing up as part of a group theme.

Tengen, Kyojuro, and Gyomei had each expressed excitement while Giyuu, Obanai, and Sanemi had remained silent, though the latter only did so because he was too busy gaping at the girls, his mouth full of food.

“Tell me you three’ve already figured out the theme,” Tengen had said, his magenta eyes alight with excitement. “I want to be the flashiest group in that fucker.”

Mitsuri’s smile had only grown wider. “Mythical monsters - specifically demons!”

Sanemi’s groan had been cut off by a sharp kick under the table from Y/N, who was glowering at him threateningly. One look from her, and he’d known arguing would be pointless.

And that was how Sanemi had found himself now, on Halloween night, sitting stiffly on the worn-out ottoman in the girls’ apartment while Y/N smeared liquid latex across his cheeks to create the fake appearance of claw marks.

Mitsuri was on the other side of Y/N, painting fake slits on either side of Obanai’s mouth to give him a more snake-like appearance to suit his Snake Demon attire. The moment Sanemi had seen Y/N’s hands free up after she had put the finishing touches on Shinobu’s Butterfly Demon makeup, he’d nearly toppled over the coffee table to claim her before Kyojuro could sit down and occupy her time.

Truthfully, Sanemi had just wanted the chance to be near her. She was already decked out in her full Spider demon costume; her face painted a ghostly shade of white and accented by red circles meant to mimic the appearance of spider eyes. Sanemi, however, had miscalculated one crucial detail in his haste to be the only one of the men that she touched to do their makeup — how skimpy her costume would be.

Y/N was clad in a thin, white wrap dress that cut short just above her mid-thigh. The dress, though sleeved, also boasted a deep v-neck, and Sanemi was avidly trying to avoid staring at her exposed cleavage, which had also been painted and dusted with a shimmering powder. Her legs were bare, covered in the same glitter as the rest of her skin, and she was already teetering around in heels that Sanemi knew damn well would not stay on her feet longer than an hour.

In fairness, Y/N’s costume wasn’t nearly as skimpy as her pink-haired friend’s. Mitsuri insisted she was going as a cat demon, but Sanemi failed to see the correlation between the black unitard with the plunging neckline and anything remotely feline.

Y/N’s fingers brushed against his cheeks as she dabbed a mixture of paint to create the appearance of blood and Sanemi wills them not to heat under her touch. The task is nearly impossible, however, because he felt like he was being electrocuted every time she brushes against him. That feeling was only accentuated every time she moved to lean over him and pick up yet another beauty tool, the sweet honey of her perfume more intoxicating than the shots Tengen had made them pound earlier.

Sanemi was so lost in thought as he reveled beneath Y/N’s heavenly touch that he failed to notice her step back, eyes scrutinizing his face as she considered her handiwork. Sanemi cracked an eye open and watched her nod in satisfaction, finally dropping her makeup brushes on the side table.

“You’re done.” She said, tapping his shoulder to motion him to stand. Y/N thrusted a tiny makeup mirror in his hand so he could inspect.

She’d turned his existing facial scars into fake, bloodied, fresh ones, but elongated them to give the appearance of claw marks. She added an additional vertical scar that extended from above his right eyebrow to nearly his cheek. All in all, Sanemi thought he looked -

“Scary!” Mitsuri exclaimed, eyes widening softly. “He’s sure on theme — he’ll terrify people!”

Y/N clicked her tongue in disagreement. “No, I don’t think he looks scary,” she tilted her head in thought, Sanemi feeling slightly embarrassed as the two girls continued to look him over.

“I think he looks…,” Y/N paused, her eyebrow quirking up suggestively as her eyes lit up, dancing with a challenge. “Feral.”

Sanemi grinned at her, purposefully bearing his teeth in an effort to look as wolf-like as possible.

Tengen came back into the living room from where he and Kyo were doing shots and winked at his silver-haired friend. “You’ll still be able to pick up girls looking like that, Shinazugawa.”

Sanemi doesn’t know why, but the comment irritated him, and he turned away from the group to hide his reddening face.

He doesn’t see the way Y/N’s eyebrows furrow at the comment.

--------------------------------------------------------

It was two in the morning, and they are all utterly inebriated.

The Wisteria House — an exclusive club that Shinobu had only been able to get them into because of her connections to one of its proprietors — had been pulsing with music and lights as throngs of costumed revelers had ground to the thunderous beat of the music.

The group of them had thrived beneath the black light of the club dance floor, getting drunk on endless rounds of shots and mixed drinks that kept flowing from the bar like a waterfall of spirits.

But now, it was after two in the fucking morning, and somehow Sanemi had been stuck with corralling not one, but two drunk assholes back into their apartment despite being intoxicated himself.

The two assholes in question were also arguably the biggest lightweights out of all their friends — Mitsuri and Y/N.

Six of them had agreed to call an Uber to take them all back home to their apartments, but Kyojuro had gotten the whole group kicked out after he’d thrown up all over the driver’s pristine leather seats.

The blonde had been nearly unconscious when Tengen and Giyuu dragged him out the side of the car, and neither of them could stand to haul their blacked-out friend back to the boys’ apartment by themselves. But someone had to stay back to walk the two drunk girls back to their apartment because none of them were stupid enough to risk letting the girls walk by themselves - which was how Sanemi found himself in the position of the official babysitter of the two, shit-faced girls who stumbled along the pavement next to him.

“Kanroji — no, god dammit, st-op tryin’ to run,” Sanemi growled, his words a little slurred as he lunged to grab onto the pinkette’s arm as she tried yet again to take off into the night, giggling about how she wanted to run and feel free.

Mitsuri began wailing because Sanemi is a big meanie, but she shuffled along beside him in resigned obedience. Sanemi bit down on the litany of curses threatening to spill from his lips as he whipped around to lay eyes on the other girl he’d been charged with escorting safely home.

Y/N was limping along, about ten feet behind her friends, her legs quivering from exhaustion thanks to those fucking heels she’d insisted on wearing. How she’d managed to remain upright and not snap both her ankles was a mystery to Sanemi, but right then, he was annoyed and wanted nothing more than to slump home and pass out in his own bed.

“Y/N!” He barked behind him, the girl’s face blearily looking up in alarm. “March!”

“‘Nemiiii,” she whined, stumbling slightly as her balance shook. “I can’t — hiccup — go any faster.”

Sanemi ground his teeth. “Try harder.”

Y/N managed to flip him off before stumbling again. “Mitsuri’s right, you are a meanie.”

Sanemi had had it; it was nearly three in the goddamn morning, and somehow the man with the least amount of patience had been stuck with the two drunkest shitheads in his circle of friends, and those shitheads were keeping him from embracing the sweet oblivion of drunken sleep.

So, he snapped.

Hand still wrapped firmly around Mitsuri’s forearm, he stomped back to Y/N, tugging his other friend helplessly along behind him. Standing before her, Sanemi crouched and turned to glare up at his swaying best friend.

“Climb on. I ain’t arguing.” He ordered, and to her credit, Y/N complied, looping her arms across Sanemi’s sternum and locking her legs around his waist. He thinks she would have put up more of a fight had her feet not been about to fall off.

“No fair! I wanna be carried!” Mitsuri whined, tugging at his arm.

Sanemi just trudged along, relief flooding him as the girls’ tiny apartment comes into view. “You know how to walk in heels, Kanroji. She doesn’t.” He jerked his head back to the half-unconscious girl clinging to his back.

By some miracle, Sanemi and the girls finally arrived at the apartment, and Mitsuri was at least coordinated enough to fumble for her key to unlock the front door.

Once inside, Sanemi kicked the door shut behind him, and Mitsuri broke free from his hold, half-sprinting into the kitchen to chug some water.  Sanemi readjusted his grip on Y/N’s legs and moved towards her closed bedroom door, ready to dump her on her bed and go the fuck home.

“We made it!” Y/N’s sleepy voice murmured in his ear. Sanemi grunted in response, moving to deposit her on the soft down of her mattress when he felt her lurch forward on his back.

He was about to snap at her for being difficult when he felt the sloppy press of a soft pair of lips against his ear.

“Thanks, ‘Nemi.” Y/N said sleepily, falling off his back in an unceremonious heap on her bed. She sunk into the ridiculous array of pillows and blankets she insisted on piling onto her mattress.

Sanemi realized she’d been aiming for his cheek, but had missed in her drunken stupor. Nonetheless, his ear burned where her mouth had been, and he felt slightly hot under the collar of his flannel shirt.

“Drink some water so you’re not violently hungover tomorrow, idiot.” Was all he said as he moved to leave her room and finally, finally, return to his apartment.

“‘M-Kay. Love you.” Y/N slurred, and Sanemi froze. “Love my ‘Nemi. You’re my bestest friend in the world.”

Sanemi’s heart thumped wildly in his ears, though the slight lead of disappointment sunk in his gut. She loved him like a brother, of course — not as anything — as anything more than that.

Sanemi moved to exit the apartment, checking to ensure Kanroji hadn’t fallen asleep on her back, and pausing only to place a trash can next to where she was passed out on the couch. He softly closed the door behind him and began to make his way back to the apartment he shared with Kyojuro and Tengen.

Sanemi’s feet stumbled slightly on his journey as his mind reeled. His ear still burned from Y/N’s kiss, and her words echoed and clanged around in his head until he could hear nothing else.

Somehow, Sanemi ends up in his bed, sleep rapidly creeping up on him as his eyelids grow heavy. In his haze, he thought about how, despite being in a club surrounded by her friends and drunk off her ass, she’d still failed to smile even once.

As he drifted off, he thought about how empty and cold he felt now that he is no longer bearing Y/N’s warm weight on his back. Though he’d only been carrying her, she had felt indescribably good in his arms, and Sanemi cannot think of much he wouldn’t do to be touched by her again.

--------------------------------------------------------

December – one week before finals.

A snowstorm had blown through their city that afternoon.

Though, perhaps “snowstorm” was too light of a description; in a matter of hours, an outright blizzard had dumped nearly three feet of snow across town and had utterly and thoroughly fucked the roads. The university had no option but to cancel classes through at least the end of the week.

Sanemi had looked forward to a night in, preferably with some video games and maybe some of his boys. It had been a long, strenuous week; truthfully, he felt like killing some virtual monsters.

It seemed, however, that his friends had other ideas as to how to spend their newly-freed evening, and of course it involved doing the exact opposite of what Sanemi had hoped to do.

He’d been in the middle of frying an egg for dinner when his phone began vibrating. He’d ignored it at first, until it nearly buzzed itself off his counter, Sanemi having to jolt to catch it in his hand before it hit the cracked linoleum of his kitchen floor.

His phone was steadily buzzing with new messages in the group chat. Swearing slightly under his breath, Sanemi unlocked his phone and scrolled up to see the message that had prompted the flurry of reactions and enthusiastic agreements from his friends.

It had started with a message from Tengen.

Quad. 20 minutes. Snow ball fight.

Sanemi groaned and responded only to tell Tengen to fuck off. But then Y/N had replied that she and the girls were on their way, and she’d called him a baby bitch for sitting out, so he’d had no choice but to bundle up in his thickest flannel and sweater and head towards the quad.

By the time Sanemi trudged his way through the shin-deep wintry sludge, a full-on war was being waged on the campus green. Though it was nearly midnight, the snow illuminated the winter wonderland around them, and Sanemi could see all his friends and a few other straggling students engaged in a fierce battle.

He scanned the quad for a sign of Y/N and spied her about 20 feet away, swathed in a thick, wool coat and hat, crouched slightly behind a tree. Beside her was a small pile of densely packed snowballs, like a stockpiled winter arsenal.

“Ya know you’re supposed to throw the snowballs, right?” Sanemi chided, sidling up to where she stood, just off the snow-covered walk of the green. She had two snowballs clutched in her gloved hands, but her eyes were fixed on someone, her tongue darting out between her lips in concentration as she calculated her next move. “Like, actually throw ‘em at people.”

Y/N tore her eyes off whatever target she’d locked onto to give him a withering glare. “I’m trying, smart-ass, to figure out the best way to hit Gyomei in the face,” she turned away from him once more, resuming her careful assessment of the tallest target on the quad, who was busy pelting the back of Giyuu’s head with scary precision.

Sanemi’s grin turned wicked. “Kinda sadistic of you to target the blind guy, isn’t it?” He goaded, bending down to scoop up and a handful of snow for himself.

Y/N whipped around at him, eyes blazing. “He’s throwing snow chunks at people, you fuckhead, and all is fair in war-“

Y/N’s rant was cut off as a well-packed sphere of snow smashed into the side of her face. She dropped the snowballs she’d been holding, her hand jumping up to her cheek in shock, as the skin beneath it stung from the icy bite of the snow.

Sanemi let out a hearty laugh. Y/N stood there, mouth gaping and dark hair plastered to the wet of her cheek, an adorable mix of both shock and indignation on her face.

Behind him, Sanemi heard Mitsuri’s tinkling, mischievous laughter.

“Motherfucker,” Y/N breathed, staring after her roommate, her eyes lighting up with a promise of swift retribution.

“Oh come on,” Sanemi laughed again at her, open and deep. “You had it coming — that’s what you get for tryna hit the blind -“

An explosion of ice and water smacked into the side of his face, soaking his hair and the collar of his jacket.

Y/N whirled to see Obanai wink at her before he took off to join Mitsuri to guard her against the onslaught flying snowballs.

Y/N turned back to Sanemi and gasped.

Obanai had not just thrown a snowball packed from the generous coating of fresh, pristine powder that covered the green; rather, he’d made a small grenade, using snow and slush gathered from the side of the road.

Gray snow dripped from the side of Sanemi’s face, soiling his cheek, and staining the cream sweater he had on beneath his jacket. Sanemi was frozen in his surprise at being caught off guard until a small, unfamiliar sound snapped him out of it.

The source of the sound made his heart drop to his stomach.

It was Y/N, who was staring up at his soiled face, watching as the black snow slid down his cheek and dripped onto the ground below him.

And she was laughing. Laughing at him.

The sound that rattled from her chest was neither a snicker nor a snort; it was a raspy, raucous cackle. Her head was tipped back slightly, as she gawked up at him, her eyes crinkled with mirth as she vaguely gestured to the smear of gray on his cheek and dissolving into another fit of giggles.

Laughter subsiding slightly, Y/N stepped forward and swiped her hand through the sludge still gathered on Sanemi’s face in a poor attempt to wipe the gray stain away. She realized it was futile though and looked instead at her now-dirtied palm in slight distaste, wiping it against the black wool of her coat.

She peered back up at him and smiled, broad and radiant.

That exhilarating smile faded, however, as Sanemi stood there, motionless, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly parted, shocked into silence.

“Sanemi, what-“ Y/N started, a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Do it again,” Sanemi whispered, breathless. He’d not blinked or dared to do so in case he might miss it. “Smile again.”

Y/N’s eyebrows knit in confusion before softening. She’d not realized she’d even done it.

But Sanemi looked so awestruck, so desperate that she couldn’t deny him. So, she grinned broadly at him, cheeks almost burning after months of non-use, though she could not find it within herself to care.

Sanemi slowly returned the smile, pure joy illuminating his features. And they both began to laugh, without restraint, even as snowballs continued to whizz by them.

By the time the snowball fight had ended, Sanemi was soaked to the bone.

Admittedly, he hadn’t been paying attention to the slushy projectiles that had been lobbed with precision by the carefree college students who had gathered on the quad. His attention had been exclusively on Y/N as she pranced and ducked through the snow, smiling and laughing with abandon.

She’d been exquisite to watch.

One by one, his other friends had caught notice, had pricked their ears at the sound of an unfamiliar laugh that rang through the campus green, and turned to identify the source. As they watched Y/N run and duck and throw with that broad grin on her face, they too, had fallen still, their eyes going soft as they realized the enormity of the moment.

Because when Y/N smiled, she was a completely different person.

She looked bright, carefree, and more radiant than the sun. The resplendence of her smile made the snow look ugly and dull in comparison.

Mitsuri had watched her best friend with tears in her eyes, and Shinobu had looked close to joining her.

All the while, Sanemi had been unable to tear his eyes from her, and the warmth that he felt spread through his numb fingers and cheeks made him swear that he would do anything, anything at all, to make Y/N smile again.

—————————————————————————

Sanemi felt as though he was levitating even after he dropped Y/N off back at her apartment. He may as well have been floating on a cloud as he made his way down the hallway of the dimly lit hallway of the girls’ apartment complex, because he’d finally seen Y/N smile, had seen her laugh, and it was goddamned glorious.

Mitsuri emerged from the hall stairwell, cheeks pink and eyes bright from the evening of fun in the cold. She giggled as she saw the gray stain still on Sanemi’s face from the sludge ball he took.

“I would say ‘sorry,’ but honestly, it was pretty funny,” Mitsuri teased, nodding at his disheveled appearance. Sanemi snorted, but he couldn’t feign annoyance or irritation because he felt so damn good.

“Tell your boyfriend to watch out tonight, or else he might find his bed outside.”

Mitsuri giggled again, but then fell quiet, something more serious crossing her face.

“When are you going to tell her you’re in love with her?” She asked, her voice low.

Just like that, Sanemi felt as though a bucket of ice water had been thrown over him, as though he was crashing right back down to earth under the weight of the accusation she wanted him to answer for.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said gruffly, averting his gaze so he did not have to meet Mitsuri’s knowing stare.

Sanemi knew Mitsuri could see right through his bullshit — could tell by the way she huffed at him and could see it out of his periphery in how her head was cocked at him. He looked back at her and nearly recoiled at the vast pity swimming in her jade eyes.

“Fuck, Mitsuri,” he groaned, leaning against the hall wall and letting his head fall back against it with a thud. He ran a hand over his exhausted face, and slightly resented the fact his friend had always been so discerning in the affairs of the heart.

“I can’t put that kind of pressure on her,” Sanemi admitted quietly after a long moment, arm falling back down to his side, limp.

Mitsuri had been right, of course, he was in love with Y/N. He’d suspected it for a while, but seeing her radiant smile that night only confirmed that the persistent twisting he had felt in his heart over the last few months had been more than mere longing. 

But Sanemi also knew he’d long been toeing a line that he can’t cross.

“If things between us went south, what then?” Sanemi continued, “We’ve been friends since we were kids. She’ll feel like she’s the one who has to leave, and I-“ Sanemi hesitated, shaking his head. A lump formed in his throat, threatening to suffocate the emotions that have been fighting to break free from his heart. 

“It would be fuckin’ selfish of me to take that from her after she’s tried so hard to build herself a support network. I can’t do that to her, ‘Suri.”

The pink-haired woman sighed and joined him as he leaned against the wall, the two staring off into the empty space before them.

“She is a part of our group, that’s true,” Mitsuri agreed, though contemplative. “But you, Sanemi, have been the biggest source of comfort for her.”

Sanemi scoffed. “Well, that’s what best friends are s’pposed to do.”

Mitsuri shook her head, a ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. “No, I’m her best friend,” she nudged him playfully with her elbow. “You though… you’re different. And I think she knows that, too.”

She kicked off the wall, and made her way towards her apartment door, pausing just as she reaches for the knob.

“After all, you’re the one she smiled for.”

Mitsuri and all her pink disappeared into her apartment, the door clicking softly shut behind her.

Sanemi remained against the wall for a while longer, his head and his heart a tangled web of hope and doubt.

The walk back to his place is solitary, and so Sanemi tried to sort through the snarled brambles of his mind. As he shuffled through the winter landscape, Sanemi thought that he’d never fully appreciated the snow before. He hadn’t noticed how beautiful snow-capped conifers looked, branches heavy with the sparkling ice; hadn’t realized how beautifully quiet the world could be when blanketed beneath a thick coat of white.

He thought about how Y/N looked standing amidst the chaos of the snowball fight, cheeks flushed with the cold and her own adrenaline, a smile as wide and bright plastered on her face. He basked in the warm echoes of her laughter as she lobbed yet another snowball at the back of Mitsuri’s head, squealing in delight when her friend returned her attack tenfold.

And Sanemi thinks that the snow wasn’t so bad after all.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Stick around for part 2 if you want to find out if Sanemi will finally confess (and how he’ll likely screw it up 😉)

[melodygatesauthor]

Goodnight, Princess

Yandere Dad's Best Friend - Santiago Garcia X f!Reader

Not Beta Read - For @romana-after-dark's Dead Dove December event!

PLEASE READ TAGS/DISCLAIMERS/WARNINGS BEFORE READING THIS FIC. THERE ARE DARK THEMES!

Summary

Your dad's best friend accidentally discovers that you're a sex worker. He tries to let it go, but it eats away at him until things go way too far.

This fic was written in first person from Santiago's perspective. I know that's not normally something I do, but if you give it a chance I think you'll like it hehe <3

Tags/Warnings

NSFW, non-con, dubious consent, rape, sex, unprotected sex, praise kink, masturbation, obsessive behavior, possessiveness, porn with some plot, smut, creampie, breeding kink if you squint, non-consensual somnophilia, intoxication, implied murder, dad's best friend, age gap, voyeurism, hidden cameras. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT (that means that what you see in the tags WILL be in the fic, don't act surprised when you get exactly what you were warned about.)

Word Count: 5.7k

I should’ve put a stop to it the second I realized it was you on the other side of that wall.

Don’t ask me how I knew. A good guess? A hunch? Maybe I’d known you so long that I could tell, based on some deep ingrained instinct, exactly what your lips would feel like wrapped around my cock. You sucked on it like you knew what you were doing, like it wasn’t a challenge for you to take something so big in that pretty little mouth.

I recognized the sound of your moans almost right away. The hum of your voice when you started sucking my dick was the same sound you made at dinner the other night when you popped a spoonful of mashed potatoes in your mouth. Does your dad know you’re doing this? Do you care? Do you ever worry about what he might say if he finds out?

Don’t worry princess, I'll keep your secret. 

Our secret.

I bet you never thought I would find out about your slutty little side job. To be entirely honest, I didn’t think I’d find you working at a place like this. If you know me at all, and I know for a fact that you do, then you’d know I’m a lonely man. Years of serving in the military and the endless night terrors have made it difficult to find any sort of real relationship, so I’ve given up. That doesn’t mean I don’t still have needs, sweetheart.

Everybody jerks off, and I’m no exception. I don’t even know how many nights I’ve been in my room, cock in hand while I watch some crappy porno to get myself off. Every once in a while though, I like to treat myself to a little something more. Most people treat themselves to some kind of dessert, or a nice bottle of wine, but I like to treat myself to a night at Club BJ where all the dirty men go to get their rocks off.

I never thought I’d find you there.

Not a chance in hell did I think for even a second that you would be sucking random cocks on the other side of a gloryhole to earn a few extra bucks. You’re so good at it though, princess. How did you learn to swirl your tongue like that? Hm? Was it all the boys at college who taught you how to do that? Did they tell you what a pretty little girl you are while your lips were stretched around them?

They better have. They better have said thank you when they finished all over that beautiful face too.

I couldn’t speak to you. I couldn’t let you know it was me on the other side of that wall, so I hope the $200 tip I left you gets the point across. 

When I got home tonight, you were running through my mind like a fucking hamster on a wheel. I’m not sure what to do now, but I can’t shake how bad I want to go back to the club for another round. I’d pay thousands, probably even tens of thousands, just to have more…

But I can’t do that. Not to you, and not to your dad.

That was the first and only time I’m going to know what it’s like to feel you sucking my cock.

—

There’s no possible way for you to know what you do to me, well, for you to know that it was me on the other side of the hole that you were making feel so fucking good. I’m coming back again, despite promising I wouldn’t. I’ve been trying so hard to let it go, but I fucking can’t. You’re like a goddamn siren luring me back to that shithole, and I can’t resist your call.

I’ll be back on Friday, because that’s the night they set the girls up with their asses sticking out through the wall. I would assume the club has you bent over some kind of table on the other side of that wall? I’m not sure, but Friday can’t come soon enough. I feel like I need you.

Maybe if you hadn’t looked at me the way you did when I saw you today at your dad’s for dinner. Were you looking at me like that on purpose, sweetheart? I mean, you must be…right? Or have I completely lost my shit?

I probably lost my shit, let’s be honest.

I’ve known your dad since high school. I even helped him beat up a guy that was hitting on your mom back when she and your dad had just started dating. I’m really not a bad guy, and I’ve never looked at you like this. I mean it. But how can I look at you any differently now? How can I look at you any differently after what you did to me? What you did for me.

“Santi, can you pass the butter?” You asked, looking at me, probably no different than usual but I couldn’t think of anything other than those pouty lips wrapped around my dick again.

Did you notice the way my hand shook when I handed you the butter dish? Maybe not, but they were trembling and to be honest it was fucking annoying. I’m a man in his late thirties and I can’t get a grip on the feelings I’m developing for my best friend's goddamn kid. It’s wrong, disgusting, hell I’d kill someone if you were my kid.

But you’re not, and I can’t fucking help it, even though I tried.

Maybe someday, if you ever find out about any of this, I’ll tell you about how much I hated myself (hell, I still hate myself sometimes), when I came home with that post nut clarity. That might’ve been the best blowjob of my life, but I stood in front of my mirror for a good ten minutes trying to tell myself that I’d never go back to that hellhole, Club BJs. I meant it with all my heart when I said it over and over like a mantra.

Now I’m stuck though. I’m stuck thinking about you bent over with a wall separating the top half of your body from the bottom with countless men fucking you until you’re so full of cum you looked like a damn overstuffed pastry. You deserve to feel good. You deserve to have at least one of those men be someone that cares about you.

I guess I’ll have to be the one to do it. I guess this is how I’ll justify doing something I know I shouldn’t.

I’ll see you on Friday, princess.

—

It makes me feel a little bit better to know that every man in there is at least checked for STDs before he gets to fuck you. Surely you wouldn’t have signed up to work at a place like this if they weren’t. You’re smart, you’ve always been so smart. It’s one of the things I admire most about you.

Still not clever enough to know that I was one of those men who stood behind you that night. In fact, I was your last customer of the night. Your pussy was so puffy and swollen, those guys really stretched you out and fucked you good didn’t they? Don’t worry, princess, I took good care of you and gave your little hole a break. I won’t lie, it took everything in me not to use you the way they did, but I’ll do that another time.

Tonight I was on my knees for you, grabbing onto both of your asscheeks and spreading you out so I could clean up the mess those filthy men made of my little princess. You sounded so surprised, I heard you gasp, when I started eating you out. Did you like that? It sounded like you did. I could feel your thighs shaking and at some point you even started rocking back and forth like you wanted more.

Maybe you wanted me to fuck you. Were you hoping that the mystery man on the other side of the wall would clean you up and then fuck his own cum into you too? Or maybe you were happy to have the break. Either way, I licked your swollen clit until I could hear your pretty moans on the other side and feel your cunt throbbing against my tongue. Your slick tastes so good sweetheart, can’t believe you made something so delicious all by yourself.

“You’re not going to fuck me?” You asked me. I could almost hear the desperation in your voice, like you were begging me to come back and take you.

“No.” I said firmly, faking a deeper voice than my own.

Next time I will though, don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll fuck you so good you won’t want anyone else.

—

The same night I ate you out I rushed home to jerk off. It sounds crude to say, but fuck I couldn’t help it. The taste of your pussy was still on my lips. I could still smell you soaked into the stubble on my chin and upper lip. I’m making a mental note to snag a pair of your panties when I come over for the barbecue at your dad’s tomorrow night. Maybe that will help get me through this mess I’m in. Maybe it will help me stop this shit.

I know I can’t keep doing this, but the feeling I get when I’m scrolling through your instagram photos from last summer in your bikini with my cock squeezed in my hand is incredible. I’m looking at those perfect tits hidden beneath such a thin layer of fabric, and your pretty rear is barely covered at all.

When I came it’s like I was possessed, blowing up a picture of your face just so I could imagine myself coating it in all of me. I don’t even really want to talk about how hard it was to clean that mess off my phone.

I feel like I’m losing myself in the depraved thoughts and fantasies I’m having of you. I woke up with soaked sheets and I thought I fucking pissed myself, but I didn’t, it was…something else. I’d dreamt of you. I can’t remember exactly what was happening in that dream, but it must’ve been good, and I’m annoyed that I still can’t remember what it was about.

—

A small part of me, the part of me that still had some morals left, was hoping you’d be working your day job. (honestly I can’t even remember what your day job is, aren’t you a housekeeper? Or a waitress or something?) At least if you were working I wouldn’t have to see you. I wouldn’t have to think about you more than I already was. Not to mention, I wouldn’t have had to sit there and watch you laugh with your ‘friend’ that you’d invited over.

You told your dad when you introduced him, “we’re just friends dad.”

You said it with such an attitude that both your dad and I knew better. You might’ve thought you were just friends, but that guy wanted more, and I knew you were going to give it to him. I could tell by the way you looked at him when you thought no one was paying attention.

I bet you didn’t think I’d hear you both making out in your room that night, but your moans call me now like a moth to a flame. The other barbecue guests had gone home, and your dad was drunk and passed out in his recliner, and I heard you faintly over the hum of the crappy reality show on tv. I didn’t pause the show, I didn’t want to wake up your dad, so I went upstairs silently, masked by the sound on the tv.

Initially, I wanted to walk in there and rip this kid off of you, giving him a few vicious but empty threats before sending him on his way with his tail between his legs. Your voice stopped me in my tracks though.

“Shh, I don’t want my dad to hear us,” you whispered, followed by a sweet giggle.

He won’t, princess. I thought, as though it were me you were talking to and not this loser.

You’d left your bedroom door open, per your dad’s request, such a good little girl. Despite being a grown woman, you still did what your daddy told you, and that’s the only reason I was able to hide in the bathroom and hear you get fucked while I jerked off and imagined I was with you instead of…whatever the fuck his name is.

“Oh god!” You whined, making my body shudder.

That guy doesn’t talk much, and that made it all the easier for me to imagine myself in his place.

When you said, “mm, harder, please…”

I was right there to say, “anything you want, sweetheart.”

I tried to move my hand in time with the light thump of your bed against the wall. It helped. What didn’t help was the fact that I could tell how little you were enjoying yourself. You were making the same sounds you made when you were ass out at the gloryhole. I knew I could do better, I knew I could make your body shake with pleasure like when I was kneeling down behind you with my tongue working overtime on your sensitive clit.

You were pretty good at faking it though, good enough that I was a leaking mess, precum dripping all down my shaft while I worked myself behind the wall your bedroom shared with the bathroom. I really wanted to go in there, tell that guy to get lost and give you the night of your life, but I didn’t. Instead I stood there, spilling a few globs of cum into some toilet paper and calling it good enough.

I was quick to head back downstairs before you even knew I was up there in the first place. That guy had the audacity to say goodnight to me in the kitchen on his way out the door. I let that go pretty quickly because then it was just you and me alone in the kitchen while your dad slept soundly in the living room.

You have no idea how badly I wanted to ask you for the pleasure of taking care of you, of making sure that you got off too, but I bit my tongue. Instead we made small talk about how your college was going and you asked me about Benny, Frankie and Will. 

For a moment I had forgotten about all the things that transpired between us, or that I’d done while thinking about you, and you were just my best friend’s kid again. We were just two people who had known each other for a long time, catching up and making small talk. Then you had to bend over in your shorts, and my cock ignored its usual refractory period to spring alive and nag for attention again.

“You okay, Santi?” You’d asked so innocently, as if I didn’t know what that mouth was capable of, or what that body could take.

“I’m fine, sweetheart.”

I’m not fucking fine, but that doesn’t matter.

—

You slept like a rock that night, not even stirring in the slightest when I grabbed your panties out of your hamper by the closet. They didn’t look particularly fancy, so I assume you won’t miss them, will you? Doesn’t matter anyway, you’d never expect that I’m the one who took them.

I can’t even begin to tell you how disgusting I felt when I got home the next morning and I had placed your panties on my bed in front of me like a prize I’d won. I think I stared at them for at least a full ten minutes before I picked them up again and put them in my nightstand. I’ve never been a “panty sniffer” and I tried to convince myself that just knowing I had them in my possession was enough.

Have you ever read The Tell-Tale Heart? I remember when I was in high school I had to, and it stuck with me for some reason. Your underwear in my nightstand reminded me of that story in some ways. It’s like all I could hear were your moans in my ears and no matter where I went in the house the temptation to smell the remnants of your cunt on that fabric was following me.

So finally, here I am, two weeks after you first sucked my cock, and I can shamefully admit that I did it. I smelled them, and sweetheart, you smell so much better without all that cum inside of you. Of course the panties can’t compare to the real thing, which I don’t know if I’ll ever smell without six loads of spend inside, but god I hope I get the privilege one day.

Or maybe I hope I don’t.

I’m still so torn between the fact that you’re my best friend’s kid, and the way I want to bury my dick so far in that pretty little cunt that you’re seeing stars.

—

I was first in line tonight. It’s Friday night so your ass was out again and untouched this time. You weren’t wet yet which excited me for some reason. It meant I got to have the honors of making you nice and slick.

My hand looks so big against your ass, princess. I wish I could show you. That was me who rubbed your clit, making you shake and whine for more on the other side of the wall. I’m the one who slipped my thick middle finger in that greedy little hole, and then my index finger, and then the ring finger.

I’m guessing you liked it based on how slippery you got, and how much you moaned on the other side. Do you know how dedicated your customers are? One of them got pissed at me for taking too long with you. I can’t say I blame them, your pussy is perfect sweetheart.

God the feeling of sliding my dick between those pretty pussy lips is like nothing I’ve ever felt. As I bottomed out, I felt your walls were squeezing around me like you wanted me deeper, so of course I pushed in more, all the way until I couldn’t go further. You gasped like you hadn’t felt a hundred dicks inside you before mine. 

I slid back again and slammed into you. I heard you begging me to keeping going, and saying, “fuck you’re good, holy shit!”

It was so hard not to say all the filthy things I wanted to when I fucked you, princess. I wanted to tell you how good you looked like that, pussy lips split around my cock like it wanted to swallow me whole. I wanted to ask you if you would like me to stick my thumb in your ass but decided to just try it anyway and see how you reacted.

You liked it.

At least it seemed like you did, your cunt clamped down around my dick like a damn vice grip the moment my thumb popped through your tight little hole. Did you like having something in your ass sweetheart? It’s shocking how tight you are, given how often I know you’re getting fucked. Some of the guys coming in behind me were big, some even bigger than me, but you don’t like them as much as you do when I fuck you, right? Of course not, because you don’t sound like that when you’re with them.

I caught a small glimpse of your eye through the hole. There was a small gap between the wall and your hips and you were looking at the same time I was. Did you see me? Did you have time to realize who I was? Did you come right then and there because you liked the idea of your dad’s best friend fucking you until you were too spent for anyone else?

Your orgasm forced me to come at the same time you did. I can’t even begin to tell you what it felt like to spill my load inside of you like I’d wanted to for so long. I remember so clearly being pushed up against your ass, pulling my thumb out of your hole so I could squeeze your hips and pull you over my dick further. It’s like I was willing every ounce of it to fill you up so full that no one else could. It’s like I was trying to make sure that when you look in the mirror a few months from now, you’ll remember the feeling of the man who fucked a baby into you.

I’m not an idiot. Well, I am, but I know that you’re on birth control. I know that no matter how many times I fuck you, the chances of you actually getting pregant are slim, not that I’d want to get you pregnant anyway. That would be too much, and I don’t want to go too far.

I’m not going to go too far.

—

I went to your house today.

I already had an excuse planned if I somehow got caught while you and your dad were out. If you or your father saw me, I’d say I came back for my hat. It’s not a total lie, I did leave my hat behind, but neither of you needed to know it was on purpose.

Do you realize how much dust has collected on the little stuffed bear you have on the shelf facing directly across from your bed, sweetheart? I doubt it, but it does make for the perfect place to put the small camera I bought.

I feel so fucking gross I can hardly stand to look at myself. But I can’t stand not to watch you touch yourself either. The glory hole is great, but I want to see that pretty face when you’re coming so hard you can’t breathe right, and I can’t do that when I’m on the other side of a fucking wall can I?

Seeing you later that night while I was at my own house, fist closed around my cock and watching you play with yourself is worth all the self loathing in the world. I had the camera feed pulled up on my laptop, and I could see you walking over to your dresser. God, what an array of toys you have. Do you have all those toys because you like them? Or is it because you haven’t found someone who knows their way around your body yet?

If it’s the latter, I promise you won’t need those things once I’m done with you.

Fuck, princess. The one you picked out is so damn big. I’ve seen you fit some pretty big cocks in that little hole, but I was shocked to see you squeezing lube around the head of that thing and gliding it over your pussy lips. You took a deep breath. Does it hurt to take such a fat silicone dick like that? 

Fuck, I’m glad I put the camera where I did. Who had you so wet like that? Hm? Were you thinking about anyone in particular? Can you even get that entire dildo in there? I hated to admit how much I liked watching you struggle. My cock leaked so fucking much I thought I was going to come too fast, but I kept it together.

You finally pushed it in, and I’m so damn proud of you princess. You had a really hard time going all the way though, didn’t you? That tight little pussy of yours was stretched to its limit and you were only halfway in there. Why do you even have a dildo that size if you can’t get it all the way in your cunt? Are you trying to stretch yourself out for someone? You don’t have to stretch yourself for me, I’d be happy to take care of that for you myself.

I watched you push it in even more, I was so focused on the furrow of your turned up brow and the way you bit your lip while I stared. We both exhaled the moment you managed to fit the entire thing in. Your eyes rolled back like it was the best thing you’d ever felt. You really do enjoy being stuffed full, don’t you, sweetheart?

You started fucking yourself with it, the sounds of your wet cunt hit my ears like the sweetest music I’d ever heard. I stroked myself in time with your movements, my eyes focused right on your face, and my cock throbbed every time you moaned. Wasn’t your dad home tonight? Shouldn’t you be a bit quieter when you’re doing stuff like that? Maybe you just don’t care if he hears you.

You started fucking yourself faster so of course I was jerking myself harder, trying to keep up with you without losing it too quickly. It didn’t take long for you to come though. Did you like the feeling of that toy that much? You gushed around it, you choked back some moans but several other soft whimpers escaped, filling your room and hitting my ears through the camera feed. I came too, coating my knuckles and my stomach with so much cum I didn’t know I was even capable of producing that much.

Why’d you have to ruin it? Huh?

It was such a good fucking orgasm for both of us, and then I heard you say a name. It wasn’t my name though, was it, princess? I don’t know why that bothers me so fucking much. Maybe it’s because in some twisted way I’ve managed to convince myself that you were putting on that private show just for me. So if you did do it for me, then I don’t want to hear you saying some other guy’s name while you’re fucking your self like that sweetheart. 

I just don’t.

—

I lost it today.

I really fucking lost it today, princess.

I found that guy. You know the one who fucked you the other night while I jerked off in the bathroom? That ‘friend’ of yours? The one whose name you called out instead of mine?

I found him.

I…

—

Did you miss me, sweetheart? I’m sorry, but I had to leave for a while, at least until things quieted down, and until you weren’t sad anymore. I know I should feel bad, but I don’t. I would probably do it again a thousand times if I had to.

You seemed fine during dinner at your dad’s tonight. I don’t really think you were that upset over the guy anyway, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to hear his name come out of that pretty mouth again. Ever.

After too much wine during (and after) dinner, I carried you upstairs. You never could handle your liquor. Remember when you were only eighteen and I would let you sneak a few shots under your old man’s nose when he wasn’t looking? Your dad was sleeping when I put you down gently in your bed. Your skin is so fucking soft it killed me to step away from you.

Your eyes opened for a moment meeting with mine. I felt my gut stir at the sight of you biting your lip. Why were you doing that to me? Didn’t you know how that would affect me? I couldn’t resist the way you looked at me that night. No one would’ve been able to. It’s not fair for you to put me in that position and expect that I’m just going to walk away. When I think back to it, this was all your fault, princess.

“Santi,” you said sweetly.

I almost climbed on top of you right then when you grabbed my shirt and pulled me closer. I almost grabbed your throat and fucked you through your shorts, but I held back.

“What, princess?” I asked you, putting a caring hand on your shoulder, trying to fight back my more primal urges screaming in my head.

You shivered, “I-mm-need something towearto mm-bed,” you slurred out.

I could see the curve of your hip disappear into your too-short shorts. I really don’t want you going out in public wearing things like that. I gave you my shirt to keep you warm. I hope it’s comfortable, sweetheart, I can’t let you go cold, can I? When I leaned down to put it over your head, I felt such a fucking ache in my chest when your face appeared again through the hole. Such a pretty babygirl.

“Thank you,” you smiled contentedly and snuggled into your pillows.

I gulped, “princess,” I whispered, slowly creeping my fingers toward the hem of your shorts where they rested on your waist.

“Hm?” You hummed, but you weren’t really awake anymore, from what I could tell.

When I touched your soft, exposed hip you didn’t stir at all, and when I slipped my fingers underneath your panties, then your shorts, you didn’t make a sound. When I pushed both down to your ankles and dropped them on the floor, you didn’t open your eyes. You didn’t have any fucking clue what I was going to do to you, did you?

Did you feel my fingers when I slipped them between your thighs and felt your little wet cunt? I bet you did, even if you didn’t realize you were feeling it. I thought I would wake you up for sure when I pushed you onto your back and climbed over you. And when that didn’t wake you up, I thought, without a doubt, that when I pulled my cock out and touched it against your slick pussy lips your eyes would shoot open and you’d catch me in the act.

You didn’t though, you stayed deep in your drunken sleep, and I could get away with doing anything I wanted to you.

I’m still wondering what I would’ve done if you’d caught me. What would I say? How would I justify this feeling I craved that only you could satisfy? Would I even need to say anything? Surely you would recognize the feeling of the cock that made you come so good in that glory hole. Surely you’d be desperate for me to keep going.

Being able to look at your face, even if you were asleep, while I slid my dick into your wet heat made my brain stop fucking working. I couldn’t even think. It was like my body just took over, hips rocking into you over and over without a care in the world for how loud the bed was creaking.

You still didn’t feel anything when I dipped down and kissed you, my hips still thrusting slowly against you. This isn’t a Disney movie, and I’m no prince charming, but you’re still my little princess, aren’t you? You’re like my personal sleeping beauty, except my soft kisses didn’t wake you from your drunken slumber.

Thank god.

I kissed all the way down your jawbone until I got to your neck. You’re so soft, and you smell so nice. I kinda wish you’d been awake so I could’ve heard you whimper and whine in my ear. I want to hear you tell me how good it feels to have my cock slamming into your pussy, sweetheart. I want to feel your lips on my neck, my chest, all over my body.

“You take me so well, princess.” I whispered in your ear, hoping that somewhere deep in your dreams you’d hear my words and know I was inside you. “You feel so good, I can’t stop. Never felt anything-so-fucking-g-good-I-f-fuck…”

I came so much that when I pulled back my cum poured out of you as if my cock was a dam holding back a river. I still wonder if I should’ve cleaned you up, but I didn’t. Maybe you’d remember that I was the one who brought you upstairs and you’d put the pieces together.

I can imagine it now, you waking up in the morning with a dried up substance between your thighs. You might not know what it is right away, but I’m sure when you go to the bathroom and notice the hickeys peppered all over your neck, you’ll know that something must’ve happened to you the night before.

I’m not sure what to do now.

I need to have you for myself, that much is clear. The thought of someone else touching you ever again is killing me, so I have to take you. I’ll take you away from all this shit, and I’ll take good care of you. You won’t have to work at that nasty place anymore, I’ll be sure of that. And please don’t worry, princess. When your dad is looking for you, and he needs a friend to help him through the tough times, and the times he’s missing you, I’ll be that friend. He will only be sad for a little while. 

If things go wrong, and someone finds this…well I guess it’s a journal isn’t it? I won’t be able to deny the things I’ve done. I should burn it, but I can’t bring myself to do that. When I read it back, it’s almost like I can relive our time together. Someday I might show you this so you can understand why I did what I had to do, why I have to keep you.

Until then, I hope you sleep well tonight, your final night in your childhood home. I hope you enjoy your last breakfast with your loving dad, and that the two of you don’t argue before he leaves for work. Make sure you give him a kiss on the cheek and tell him you love him, because I’ll be over before he gets home from work.

Goodnight, princess.

Back to Main Masterlist

Back to Triple Frontier Masterlist

[evertidings]

— SEPTEMBER 2023.

accomplishments.

it’s always so interesting doing monthly updates because when i do them week by week on patreon, i always feel like i’m not doing enough. and then i’ll go read my last monthly update on here and i’m like ?? oh??? i said we were at 50% last time i updated and now i’d estimate we’re at a whopping 85%. 83% maybe. but !!!!! still. so exciting. i can see the finish line now. it’s in sight and it’s far, but it’s fucking in sight. we made it.

the final scene in this chapter (i say scene when maybe i should be saying act; it’s a lot longer than that) has been so fun to write for me. i mean, the opening branches were fun but because they were also kind of formulaic. i had to make sure the same information was conveyed through the five and all five addressed the points i wanted, meaning i was doing a lot of rearranging of words. point blank, it was a bit draining. with this final act, there’s only one route to go so i’ve been focusing a lot more on individual choices and flavour text.

i’m not exaggerating when i say that this is probably some of the most unhinged stuff i’ve written. a lot of what’s said is meant to rile the hunter up but even then i just- i stare at my sentences and go “damn. did we really have to take it there?” i’m hoping that some of your reactions will be similar. it’s so funny to me as a writer and i’m glad that this chapter allows me to let loose like this.

i don’t have a set date for when the chapter will come out but i will let you all know as soon as i can. in the meantime, i’ll be celebrating N’s birthday this month and (maybe?) getting the gears up and running for my second/side wip. it’ll have a secondary blog so i’ll be posting the username for that when i have things sorted.

hope you’re all well <333

stats.

462,205 (+13,663)

[stanfanfiction]

Taste of You - Ken x fem!reader - PART SEVEN

Ken goes to therapy. He has a lotta feelings okay. Very Ken centric chapter. (Yay?) and (possibly) some of the most intense sex I’ve written sooo…let’s go. Probably the longest chapter I’ve written this far, too.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY / there’s always smut there’s never not smut / lots of angst and angry feelings (Ken is trying to process all those hard human things because they’re getting to be too intense for him) / violent imaginative fears (domestic fighting, one instance of hitting 🛑 tread softly if you might be triggered by this (I don’t want anyone triggered or hurt!!)) / nightmares / rough sex / major overstim / size kink / sex toys / anal fingering / possessiveness / lots of crying tbh (Ken is emotional af) / dom!Ken / possibly bordering on some non-con ? Depending on how you view it / fuzzy sweet aftercare

Ken sat opposite the therapist, twiddling his thumbs, staring down at the floor. Occasionally he glanced up at the doctor sitting across from him, a kindly middle aged man (you had suggested he talk to a male therapist, saying maybe in some weird way it would help him deal with jealousy when having to be emotionally open with another man in the room), and he gave Ken a small smile.

“So when this strong jealous hits, what does it feel like?” The therapist asked. He had sensed Ken’s anxiety the moment he walked in the door and opted out of the sitting-with-the-clipboard-for-notes option, instead sitting comfortably in his chair, hoping a conversation-style approach would set Ken at ease.

“It’s like I’ll cease to exist if she leaves me.”

“And does anything help with that?”

“Sex does, kinda. Sometimes a lot, sometimes only for a minute.”

“Have you talked with your partner about it?”

“Yeah.”

“And how did that go?”

“She reassured me. She does every single time.”

“So this has become a consistent conversation?”

Ken paused, picking at nothing on his jeans. “I guess.”

“When was the last time you felt this way?”

“A couple days ago.”

“Did anything in particular happen to trigger it?”

“She’s having to take a class and her ex is in it.”

“Ahhhh.” The therapist mused, letting the silence sit for just a moment. “And you are worried about that?”

“I’m not worried she would do anything intentionally.”

“You’re afraid her former feelings might return for him, though.”

Ken nodded. “Yeah. I get she wouldn’t be able to help that, though. Feelings happen.”

“This is very true. Are you concerned about what might happen if those feelings return? Do you worry she would actually act on them?”

Ken frowned deeply. “I don’t think she would without talking to me first. But I don’t want them happening at all. The feelings, I mean. Because then there’s nothing I can….do.” The last word fell out as a whisper.

“You feel helpless in the relationship?” The therapist asked gently.

“Not…I.., I don’t know.”

“Have you ever been cheated on?”

“No. This is my first relationship.”

The therapist nodded. “Worries about someone leaving you are actually pretty normal, especially the first time you’re with someone.”

“Y/n told me that.”

“Has she ever shown any indication that she wants to leave you? Or that she ever might cheat on you?”

“No. I understand it’s all in my head. It still scares me, though.”

“Can I ask why you decided to come to me today? I assume this is the first time you’ve been in therapy?”

“Yeah…she’s just taking a lot of classes and she gets really stressed sometimes, especially because finals are like a month away.”

“I can understand that. You feel like your jealousy is interfering with her ability to study?”

“It stresses her out more.” Ken bit his lip. “I don’t want to do that to her.”

“So are you worried less about her randomly cheating on you, and more that you are pushing her away from you? Or, encouraging her potentially into the arms of another because she is getting stressed with how you handle your jealousy?”

Fuck. Ken hadn’t thought of it that way before. Now he was even more frightened.

When Ken didn’t answer, just stared down at the carpet, the therapist tried again. “It’s okay to be struggling with how you’re feeling. The fact that you’re working to understand why is healthy, it’s a great move on your part. It also shows her that you want to be supportive of her, and I’m sure that makes her less stressed.”

“I feel like sometimes I’m a bad person.”

“Why is that?”

“I hurt someone I care about before. She didn’t want me, and I….I tried to hurt her. I wanted to feel like I was in charge for once, but I was cruel.”

“Can I ask what you did?”

“It’s a long story.”

“That’s alright. You can tell me about it when you’re ready to.” The therapist paused, working to see how much he might be able to get Ken to explain without pressuring him and making him shut down. “Can I ask, when did this happen with your former friend?”

“Well, she’s still my friend, I guess. She’s really nice. But we don’t see each other.”

“I see.”

“It happened, I don’t know, maybe a half a year ago.”

“Was it around here?”

Ken shrugged. “Kinda.”

“Have you ever taken y/n to where that happened? Or revisited the area alone, just to see how the memories made you feel?”

Ken’s chest tightened. “No.”

“Do you think that is something you might be able to do? Sometimes being back in a physical place where we wronged someone can help us find closure, especially if the one we hurt has forgiven us, but we have been unable to forgive ourselves.”

“I don’t want to.” Ken quickly wiped away a small tear forming, pretending it was something in his eye.

“Do you think y/n would understand if you told her?”

“I’ve told her a little. She wasn’t upset.”

“Does she know the specifics?”

“Uh…no…she met my friend, though. They liked each other.”

“Well that’s really good. Do you think she might be willing to travel with you, be present with you if you decided to try and gain closure?”

“…..I don’t feel like that’s necessary.”

“Can I ask why?”

Ken was silent for a long time. The therapist respected letting him internally process as long as he needed.

“I just think it’s unnecessary.”

“How do you feel you are working to help the problem right now, other than coming to me? Is there anything you’ve tried?”

“Just sex.”

“And why does sex feel like something that can fix the issue for you?”

“Because I have her then.”

“Have her with you?”

“Have her focused only on me.”

“Does she enjoy those times with you? Do you feel like she gets stressed, maybe feeling like she has to have sex with you so you’ll calm down?”

Well, fuck. Ken hadn’t thought of that. That made him feel even worse, angry, even. Though he couldn’t place where the anger came from….oh, wait.

“No. She likes it. She always likes it.”

The therapist was taken aback slightly by the sudden, minor shift in Ken’s tone, noting the aggression suddenly appearing, but kept his external demeanor. Being surprised was a good thing. It meant his client was starting to break through their emotional barrier.

“And can I ask, why would you talking about her enjoying those sessions be something that makes you feel upset?”

“She has to like them.”

“Why is that?”

“It’s all I have to offer her.” The words tumbled out before Ken’s brain had even fully processed them, and he sat dumbstruck, his own sentence replaying in his head. He felt like someone had stabbed him in the chest.

“Ahhhhh. That sounds like that’s a lot of stress you’re dealing with, too. Feeling like you only have one certain thing of yourself to offer her that she sees as worthy of her time must be exhausting for you.”

Ken worked hard to hold back the new tears that were coming stronger than he knew what to do with.

“Do you feel that she actually only sees you as worth her time because of the sex?”

Ken shook his head genuinely. “No.”

“So that’s another lie you have told yourself.” The therapist kept his tone soft.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to know right now.”

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

The walk home was torture. He tried so hard to think through everything they’d talked about as “healthily” as he could - the therapist’s words. But all he could think about was silencing everything for just a little while. He thought of getting home to tie you to the bed again and just fuck you for hours. Every time you were lying trapped underneath him was the only time he ever felt like he truly had any control over anything. But maybe today he needed to to be free to move however you pleased, to experience however you would wrap yourself around him or grasp onto his muscles or grab his hair. He could easily still keep you underneath him as long as he wanted with just his body weight.

The closer he got to the front door, however, the more overwhelmed he became, the voices in his head growing louder and louder, and suddenly he felt like he couldn’t even fuck you if he wanted to right now. He felt like he might collapse.

Ken opened the door as quietly as he could, not wanting to alert you he was home. Unfortunately, since the kitchen was very close to the entryway, you heard the moment he stepped inside.

“Hi, baby,” you said, turning while holding your coffee cup.

Ken froze, feeling embarrassed. He still didn’t know why he did, but he had worked to stop crying the entire walk home, without success. His eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks wet.

“Oh, Ken,” you said, setting down your cup and coming up to him, your hands on his face, your thumbs rubbing across his cheekbones. “It was a hard talk today?”

Ken nodded, hanging his head, his hands wrapping around your wrists. “I feel like I’m nothing to you, but I know better.”

“That’s okay.” Your voice was like a warm tea coating his aching chest. “I know you struggle with that. I can keep reminding you that you mean so much to me.”

“What if…like, I couldn’t offer you sex?”

You cocked your head, confused, but went with it. “I would still love you the same.”

He forced his eyes up to meet yours. “You mean it?”

“MMhmm. I do.”

He sniffed.

“Do you feel like I wouldn’t love you?” You asked.

“I don’t know,” he said, looking down again.

“Do you need some rest? Anytime I get really upset and have cried really hard some time in bed always helps me.”

He nodded, and you took his hand in yours, leading him to the bedroom. You helped him out of his clothes leaving him only in his boxers and went to the closet, pulling something out.

“Here,” you said, walking over to the bed and tossing a huge comforter on top of it. “This is my extra soft, cozy one. I used to use it all the time on really hard days awhile ago. I had forgotten I had it until now.”

He smiled a little then, reaching his hand out to you. You went to sit on the bed next to him, keeping your feet on the floor. You kissed his palm as his hand went to rest of your face.

“I love you so very, very much, my love,” you cooed. “But I need to get back to studying. I have awhile yet to go. I had just taken a short break to make some caffeine when you came home.”

Came home. Okay. Focus on the good things, his therapist had suggested. “Listen to anything that makes you feel safe or calm, try to enjoy the moment while it’s happening. This might help when you get stressed out to remember those times and know you are safe.”

“I’m home with you,” he mumbled.

You didn’t understand but nodded. “Yes. You’re home with me.”

He hummed, snuggling underneath the covers. “Okay.”

You smiled at him and kissed his cheek before picking up your laptop from your desk and picking up a textbook, heading out of the bedroom, closing the door behind you. You’d study at the kitchen table while he rested.

The home was on fire. Ken rushed through the flames, yelling your name, panic rising every second he couldn’t find you as smoke filled his lungs. Finally he heard you as you screamed, and his heart jumped in his chest as he rounded the corner to find your hands restrained to the wall over your head, blindfolded. You weren’t screaming in terror, you were screaming with pleasure. A faceless man was holding your legs around his waist, fucking up into you violently. It seemed you had no idea about the flames about to consume you, or maybe even who the man was. Ken tried to make his legs moved, begged them to, but he was stuck on the spot. He cried out your name but it seemed you didn’t hear him, your head through back in ecstasy as you moaned in time with the man’s thrust. Ken found a rock next to him and threw it at the man. It bounced off of him as if he didn’t even know it had been thrown, but then the blank face slowly turned to stare at Ken, a wicked smile suddenly spreading across his face where a mouth hadn’t been a moment before.

Ken sat upright in bed, gasping, panicking as he grabbed at anything he could touch, stopping only when he realized he had only fisted his hands up in the comforter. He buried his face hands, shaking, trying to stop the sobs that threatened to take him over again. He couldn’t remember ever having a nightmare before. He’d heard of them, but couldn’t even remember having a dream, only knowing they were something that apparently were a normal thing for most people, yourself included.

He tried to pinpoint the emotions he was feeling - something else the therapist had suggested when he got overwhelmed. Okay. Angry. Scared. Angry. Heartbroken? Fuck. Really, really fucking angry. He fell back into the pillows only to realize the sheets were covered in sweat underneath him.

You would help him feel better. He could go to you and you would pause your homework to soothe him and pet him and sit on his lap while he held you and hid his face in your neck. You wouldn’t be mad at him, you’d be so kind and patient like you always were.

He didn’t deserve you.

He didn’t deserve anything good.

The idea of going to you quietly to ask for comfort left his mind as quickly as it floated in, being forced out by a memory he created himself that honestly would probably never happen: you ignoring him, you telling him to get over himself while he finally was trying to understand why he kept feeling so angry like you had asked him to, you yelling at him, throwing something at his face. Telling him to….

“I can’t leave,” he cried into the pillow. “You said this was our home.”

You laughed. “Our nothing. Get the fuck out.”

You slapped him. He felt like his entire being shattered.

Ken was gripping the pillow so tight that his wrist began to cramp. Why. WHY couldn’t he stop these horrific scenes that played through his head.

The therapist had told him to breathe, even showed him how to inhale for four seconds and exhale the same amount of time. The mental scenarios weren’t real. They just might feel real.

Maybe he did need to return to Barbieland for a day…? Maybe he was dealing with fear that throwing Barbie out of her home could rebound back onto him…

UGH. Fuck fuck. This was hard. This was way too fucking hard. How was this supposed to help him get better, especially when your soft, perfect body was right behind that door, just down the hallway. When your voice could be filling his ears and drowning out at least most of these horrible things he heard in his head. Your taste filling his mouth, the scent of you, every inch of you, making him feel drunk.

You looked up from your book, Ken standing in the doorway. Sweat covered his body, his hair erratic, his face still as wet as earlier.

The concerned look on your face soothed him…but just a little.

“What happened?” You asked gently.

“I had a nightmare.”

Oh shit. “I’m so sorry. Do you need to talk about it?”

He shook his head. “Wanna forget it.”

“I understand that. Do you want to come sit with me?”

“Want you with me.”

“Yes, Ken, that’s what I said-“

“Want you with me.”

Before you knew what was happening Ken had picked you up and set you on the kitchen counter where you became trapped between the cabinets and him. “Need you.”

“What did the therapist tell you to do when you feel like this?” You tried softly, reaching for the hand towel next to you and gently wiped at his chest to remove the cold sweat.

“It’s not working.”

“It doesn’t always work right away.”

He wanted to slam you into the cabinets, forcing his lips onto yours, making you stop talking about all the bullshit he had been fighting inside himself ever since that stupid appointment today. He knew that was the wrong thing to do.

“Can I ask what happens to you when you choose sex to deal with these emotions you’re struggling with?” The therapist had asked. “Anything in particular that seems to help at all?”

Ken didn’t want to answer. Would you call the sex violent is he asked? Or would it just be ‘rough’? He didn’t like the word violent…you had never told him that word, so it mustn’t be so. You would have told him. You would tell him if he ever hurt you.

“Ken?” The therapist had said, breaking through the long silence that had followed his question.

“I….I tend to be rough.”

“How does that help you?”

“I don’t have to think as much as usual. It helps block it all out.”

“It blocks all of it out?”

“Well…not everything, not always. But sometimes. Sometimes I get to have moments where everything becomes quiet except for her. I get to just hear her.”

And he desperately needed to hear you now. His strong hand ripped your crop top off, tearing the material from how hard he had pulled. You sighed as you watched it thrown to the floor.

“I liked that top,” you said.

“I’ll get you ten more,” Ken promised, biting down onto your nipple.

You cried out, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

Oh, thank god. The exquisite pain of the way your nails dug into his skin, the taste of your flesh, the sound of your voice. His mind quieted for a second, and he heaved a sigh of relief as his tongue circled your nipple, his hands on your back, holding you into him.

“Do you feel like you take your anger out on her during sex?” The therapist’s words echoed in his head. God fucking dammit, not now. He had you in his arms. He would have you underneath him any second now. He didn’t need these fucking questions interrupting any of his time with you, especially these times.

“I don’t know.”

“Have you asked her if she feels that way?”

“She wouldn’t feel that way,” Ken forced himself not to sneer.

“Why wouldn’t she?”

“Because she likes it.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“She would tell me if she didn’t!”

He slammed you into the wall now, your legs wrapped around him, needing to fuck that horrible image from his nightmare out of his mind. You had pleaded with him not to tear the pajamas pants you had been wearing and he had pulled them off swiftly, laying them in a single piece on the table before picking you up again.

“You like this?” He asked, voice breathless but harsh. He was terrified of your answer, but now that the question was on his mind, he couldn’t make it go away. God, the last thing he wanted to do was actually hurt you.

“Yes, Ken,” your head fell back against the wall when he bucked his hips up unto yours, the thin fabric of his boxers not doing anything at all to hide how hard he was.

“You’d tell me if I was hurting you?”

“Yes, Ken,” you repeated.

“Aren’t you going to tell me you should be studying?”

“Need a break anyway.” You sighed, angling your hips a little to try to get better leverage of him rubbing against your folds. “You feel good.”

Against his usual judgment, Ken pulled his cock out of his boxers and tested his tip against your opening before he tried fingering you to see how wet you were for him. Your hands clamped his shoulders tighter.

“Do you think you can take me right now?” He breathed into your ear and you giggled because it tickled a little.

“I can try,” you said, one hand traveling to grip the back of his neck as he started to slide into you.

Your cry was loud, and Ken’s mind once again quieted for a single moment, and he bottomed out in you as he experienced one more second of relief.

“I need her loud,” he had confessed as the session was ending earlier that day. “It’s the only thing that ever fully drowns any of the bullshit out.”

He thrust up hard again and your forehead fell into his, your eyes closed, focusing on your breathing as he stretched you out a little sooner than you probably should have been. His hips started snapping into you in a quicker pace.

“Can I lay down,” you shuddered as the pain became more pleasurable. “Wanna be comfy with you.”

“Need you. Need you right here for just another minute.” Ken tried to slow his thrusts but struggled for control as he tried fucking that image from his nightmares out of his mind.

His head hurt from all of the stress he’d been trying to process from the day. His head fell into your shoulder, closing his eyes, your moans becoming louder as he tried angling himself to hit your special spot. He left wet kissing along your neck, hoping it would help dull any pain you might still be dealing with, and when his name fell from your lips in a blissed out sigh he sucked gently on your pulse point.

The nightmare slowly melted from his mind’s eye and he slowed his thrusts until he had stopped completely, staring into your eyes.

“You’d tell me if I ever hurt you, right?”

You nodded. “You’ve never hurt me, Ken.”

He carried you to the bed, laying you down gently.

He had been saving a special something for you, something he had wanted to use on a special night, maybe after he finally took you out on a proper date. But he needed to hear you, see you react to it now. Maybe that was selfish of him. For the moment, he had lost the motivation to care.

“Close your eyes,” he asked, kissing your temple, and you smiled, doing as he asked.

You heard a buzzing sound and felt yourself becoming wetter. You hadn’t told him but you’d used the vibrator on yourself in the shower while he had been in therapy, loving a moment of personal release where you didn’t have to think about anything for a moment.

Your eyes shot open when you felt the strong vibrations covering your clit… all the way down your vulva, sliding into your opening. Your body jerked and you grabbed one of Ken’s forearms as he leaned himself onto the bed with his hand but remained upright enough to watch the way your opening clenched around the toy.

“Holy…ahhh.what…”

It was one of those vibrators were it had a clit stimulator but curved downward so it had a dildo attached to it that could slide inside you and stay without having to be held. The stimulation against your g-spot was delicious but automatically a little overwhelming, your vision going dizzy for a second while you worked to adjust.

Ken leaned over you fully, pressing your hands into the bed beside your head, wrapping his fingers in your own.

“Do you like it?” He asked.

It filled you up enough to compare to two of his fingers while having almost more of an intensity than it was when Ken nipped at your clit.

You nodded, gasping, and he smiled down at you, kissing your lips.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” he promised, slowly starting to kiss down your sternum.

“Alright, I’m going to ask you a hard question, Ken.” The therapist laced his fingers together. “What if she does end up leaving?”

“You don’t have the right to say that out loud.”

“It’s probably a good idea for us to address this idea head-on. Ignoring it, stuffing it inside makes it worse.”

“How does it help if I think about it?”

“Intentionally bringing up fears and talking through him often makes them less scary. You’re able to conquer the biggest aspects of those fears, learn exactly what fuels the, so they become easier to deal with when they come up.”

“I don’t want her to leave.”

“I know, I-“

“I don’t want to think about it.”

“Our bed,” he mumbled, his lips attaching to your hip bone. “My y/n.”

You didn’t hear him, your ears filled with the buzzing from the toy.

God, you were perfect, writhing underneath him, even giggling a little as his wet kisses as they got to your stomach then going back to bunching the comforter up in your hands when the vibrator caused another spark of pleasure. Ken had made sure to lay out the comforter over the entire bed so you’d be extra comfy, like you had said you wanted.

“Well now I’m worried she’ll throw me out if I can’t stop acting like this.” Ken leaned his elbows onto his knees, his face in his hands. “Why would you put that idea in my head-“

“You already had it there, you told me so yourself.” Ken saw the therapist cross his legs through his fingers. He hated him. Not that he had done anything wrong…he just…he hated all of this.

“I couldn’t handle it. I don’t know how on earth I’d handle it.” Ken loathed how his voice choked a bit.

“Our goal is to make sure, to the best of our ability, that that will never happen.”

“I can make her stay.”

“Mine.” Ken flipped you over onto your stomach, the pressure of the toy being pushed onto your clit more intense from laying on it making you cry into the comforter. “All mine.”

He dipped a finger into you from behind, turning it upward to caress your muscle opposite the toy. You let out a strangled, throaty groan.

“What if she grows to hate me.” Ken’s words weren’t a question, they were as if stating a fact that was already coming into existence. He glanced at the clock. Why was time ticking by so slowly in this god awful therapy room.

“I do think this one is all in your head. Based on what you’ve told me, it sounds like you’d have to really go too far for her to ever hate you.”

“I’ll figure out how to make that not happen.”

“Unfortunately, we only have so much control over -“

“I will make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Ken slipped his belt from underneath the comforter, his hand almost shaking. Somehow marking you with his mouth was never enough for him now. He needed more. He needed you to react more, and lately his lips claiming your skin had made you relax more than anything. He wanted to be a comfort to you the same way you were to him. Somehow his brain wouldn’t let him see things that way, though. He didn’t know if he was ever truly a comfort to you.

You’d promised him he’d never hurt you. Thank god, because he was desperate for this release.

Your mangled scream filled the room as he bought the belt down, alternating cheeks, harsh and without pause. Usually he would wait a few seconds in between each for you to catch you breath, especially the first couple times. Today he saw red as the conversation with the therapist wouldn’t stop echoing in his mind, your legs shaking almost violently, your ass cheeks clenching as he kept finger fucking you alongside the vibrator.

Your body shuddered hard and you bit into the comforter, your throat raw from your screams as your orgasm hit out of nowhere. Ken didn’t even realize you hit your climax until he felt the way your muscle spasmed, knowing exactly the way you felt every single time you peaked with him inside you. Oh fuck, how on earth had he not seen that coming, heard the way your voice always hit a higher pitch right before it happened? He dropped the belt, focusing solely on the way his fingers touched you, his free hand pushing into your lower back as your hips bucked up into him.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised, loving how long this orgasm was lasting. “Come on my fingers as long as you need.”

Your entire body was shaking as you came down from your waves, Ken pulling his fingers out slowly, wrapping his lips around them.

“Ken,” you shivered. “The vibrator.”

“Mmhmmm?” He knew what you meant, but loved the way you were remaining in a zone of overstimulation. He leaned over onto you, pressing his hips into yours, his cock rubbing into your folds.

“Ahhhhh….no, please….”

“No, please, what?”

“Ken!”

“No, baby girl. I need you to tell me. Need to hear you say it.”

“Need a breather, please, please.”

Ken bit into your shoulder. “What if I don’t want to?”

Tears stung your eyes. “I’ll do whatever you want, for fuck’s sake. Just turn it off for a minute.”

That got his attention. He stood up and reached down to press the button and your tense body finally got to collapse fully into the mattress. Your ass was bright red, your fluids coating the toy and dripping down your pussy a little bit. Ken licked up the toy from the middle to your opening, pressing it a little harder into you, sucking on your opening. Your back arched and you made one of those kitten noises that always made him become impossibly harder.

God, he needed to fuck you. He had so many ideas now, his mind thankfully able to focus solely on you and what all he would do to you before letting you rest.

“Oh, god, please be gentle,” you whimpered as you felt your leg grabbed, knowing he was about to tie you up again.

“Just gonna make you feel good,” he promised.

You turned your head to see his eyes, a layered mix of anger and fear and….he was trying not to cry.

“Baby,” you said softly, your voice floating into his ears, and he looked at you. “What is it? What are you feeling right now?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s okay -“

“I don’t need to feel anything.”

“But you’re feeling a lot right now.”

He changed his mind. He’d tie you up later. He moved you onto your back and you kept your legs closed.

“Talk to me, Ken. Let’s work through this together.”

“Don’t want to talk about it. Want to fuck you.”

“You’ll get to -“

“We’ll talk later.”

“Promise?”

“Open your legs for me.”

“Ken -“

“Open. Them.”

You kept your legs closed, attempting to sit up but Ken leaned over you.

“I need your legs open, y/n.”

“You want them open.”

“No, I need it.”

You shook your head. “Not until you talk to me.”

Ken sighed. He dropped the belt you hadn’t notice he had been holding in his hand on the bed beside you and leaned on his forearms to kiss you.

“What are you feeling right now?” You asked against his lips.

That you’ll be gone when I come tomorrow from work. That this will be the last time I ever hold you, feel you, hear the noises you make because of me. “Nothing.”

“Baby, please.”

“Let me back inside you.” His eyes stared into yours. “I swear I’ll tell you everything later.”

“How much later?”

He kissed you deeply again, hand reaching to push itself between your folds. “Soon.”

You relented and relaxed your legs so Ken could pull them apart. The moment your wet, pink folds were visible to him, he brought the belt down in a single, stinging blow.

You weren’t sure how your body reacted other than you struggling for breath, your vision dark behind your tightly shut eyelids, an almost static-like audio blocking your ears from hearing anything else more a moment. You heard Ken’s voice bringing you back, feeling his weight on top of you.

“Such a good girl. You’re going to be fine. Ride it out for me. I’m here.”

Your eyes opened and a loud whimper escaped from deep in your throat.

“You’re going to feel so incredible in just a moment.” Ken’s voice was soft, trying to soothe you. He gently brushed a finger against your clit and you scratched at his back in response, trying to find any way to ground yourself, but then he moved down your body and licked his tongue up you.

“Touch me, please,” Ken asked, and without thinking your hands gratefully pulled on his hair, thankful for something to grip and jerk on. Ken hummed happily, going back to consume your core, and you wondered where he’d learned all of this, if he’d thought it up or if he had maybe read it somewhere.

Like the last time he spanked you before eating you out, everything was incredibly pleasurable, but today times ten, your body experiencing the intense pain somehow making the pleasure even greater, every nerve and fiber stimulated.

Your lower stomach muscles were clenching as he worked his magic, the build-up of your next orgasm almost painful, but still in the best way.

“Need you to come for me again. Need you nice and wet and relaxed.”

“Why?” You almost didn’t want to know, your body still working to process all of this.

“You’ll see.”

Your orgasm hit fast and hard again, barely able to come back down from your high when Ken inserted the vibrator again and turned it on. You felt like you were having to force your brain to focus to move your limbs as you tried reaching down to turn it off but Ken intercepted, grappling with your thrashing arms until he had them pressed into the mattress beside your head, climbing on top of you and holding one of your legs open and down with his knee gently so as not to hurt you.

“Baby, baby, I’ve got you.”

You screamed in frustration, trying to raise your arms to no avail. “What if I wasn’t letting you recover when you needed to?” You wailed.

Ken arched an eyebrow and smiled down at you. “You have.”

“Not THIS much.”

“True. You’ll have to surprise me with it sometime.” Ken carefully turned you over onto your stomach again, holding your arms behind you. “Just ride it out, baby girl. You’ve got this.”

“Pleeaasee Ken. Please, please, please.” You almost sobbed with relief when the vibrator was turned off although it remained firmly within you, deep inside your walls while still covering your clit.

“Okay, baby. It’s okay. Take your time.” Ken lay beside you, propped up on his arm, his fingers gliding up and down your back to soothe you.

He enjoyed the moment as long as his head let him. The quiet broken only by your jagged breaths and little noises as you worked to calm your body’s quivering, the softness and warmth of your skin underneath his fingers.

The voices began again, a sickening layered mix of everything he’d heard the therapist ask today. The one question threatening to overtake him completely, repeating itself, becoming more cruel each time he heard it.

“What if she does leave? What if she does leave? What if she leaves? What if she’s already left? She’s made the plans. She’s gone.”

Ken laid his head next to yours, brushing your hair out of your face.

“Tell me you love me.”

You mumbled something through your panting, your nails still gripping the comforter, trying to ground yourself.

“Please. I need it.”

“Love you.” The words were almost incoherent.

“Again.” Silence. “Please.”

“Love you.”

“I love you, y/n.”

Your eyes remained closed, feeling so incredibly tired that you were sure if Ken left you alone that you’d probably fall asleep within moments.

You felt your left leg being pulled toward the bed post again as the silky tie wrapped around it tightly then being attached to the post.

You can’t not be thinking about him when he’s not around, when you’re in class, when he’s at work…he wrapped the second tie around your right ankle, jerking a little harder than he meant to when he pulled the knot tight. He thought about you all the time, nonstop…he needed to make sure you always had a constant reminder of him.

He needed to make sure he made you sore.

The vibrator turned on again and your upper back grew tight as you felt like you might tear through the comforter while trying to hold onto something. You felt not one, but two of Ken’s fingers push inside you, your tight muscle stretching around them.

“How does this feel?” He asked.

“Ss..so..much…” You felt a third finger join his first two and your back arched. “I…so…full…”

“Mmmmmmm.” Ken watched at the way your muscle worked to relax around his fingers and the vibrator, being stretched out slowly. “I need to make sure you’re ready for me, remember?”

Oh. Dear. God. He wasn’t going to actually try and fuck you!!??!

“Ken, please think about this. You’re not going to fit.”

“That’s why I’m stretching you out with my fingers.” His free hand roamed over your lower back and ass. “I’m gonna fit inside you just fine.”

“But you won’t, though.”

“Just trust me.” He removed his fingers from you to spread your wetness around your ass hole, easily visible due to how wide your legs were being held open. He wouldn’t do anything without making sure you were okay with it, and he probably needed to wait for another day because he didn’t want to push you too much over your edge, but his focus kept snapping back to how this was the only area of you no one else had ever claimed before. No one else had touched you here, fucked you here. Maybe, if one day you relented, he could make you his in a way no one else had.

He tested just the tip of his thumb into that muscle and your legs went rigid.

“Is this okay?” He asked, genuinely wanting to make sure you were okay.

You were shocked how much it felt so good, a new pleasure you hadn’t exactly experienced before filling your entire lower region.

“Yes,” You breathed.

He rubbed his thumb just inside, moving it in small circles, and your vaginal opening clamped down onto the vibratory harder.

Fuucckk. Fuck fuck. Ken saw and heard how beautiful you’d be, experiencing anal sex for the first time with him, breaking you in by fucking you while fingering your virgin hole so you could orgasm around him before he’d sink his cock into-

No, focus here, now. He knew when you were nearing exhaustion and despite imagining how hot it would be to actually push you past what was comfortable for you because god, what if you loved it, what if he could pleasure you longer than usual after that, and he’d jerk himself off roughly in the shower while creating those scenarios in his head…he needed to make sure he kept himself in control, make sure you didn’t get hurt in any way.

He pulled his thumb out and pushed his throbbing cock against your opening partially taken up by the vibrator.

“Are you ready for me, y/n?”

“I don’t know,” you confessed, jerking against the leg restraints, wanting to plead for another break from the vibrator before going forward but also needing to feel exactly what this was about to be like.

“I’ll go slow.” He pushed his tip in then and you keened, Ken gasping loudly between how insanely tight you were, pressing into his member almost painfully, and the vibrator on the underside of his cock sending chills through his entire body. He gripped onto your hips, forcing himself still so he wouldn’t bottom out in you and hurt you. Your gasp sounded almost strangled, like you’d had the wind knocked out of you.

“Breathe, baby.”

“It hurts, ahhh, ugh, Ken, Ken…”

Please, please don’t make me stop, he thought. “Do I need to stop?”

Your voice was like velvet. “No. It hurts but it’s so fucking amazing.”

Ken pushed further inside, stopping again when your scream filled his ears - god, yes, please, so perfect, your voice only rising so loudly only for him - waiting for you to calm down a little again before going deeper.

He shut his eyes tightly trying not to cum right then. He’d never felt anything so tight, the vibrations exquisite, your voice finally fully drowning out all the awful fucking conversations and anxieties of the day. Finally, everything was quiet.

Finally, everything was just you.

He bottom out after the fourth time he thrust forward, needed to feel every inch of you as he leaned over you, holding himself up on his forearms. You lay groaning under him and he used his thumb to encourage the slightest turn of your head without straining your neck, kissing you so sweetly it felt contradictory to the amount of intense stimulation you were experiencing otherwise.

His thrusts were tender, almost intoxicated in nature, pulling almost all the way out before bottoming out inside you again, but everything somehow felt different this time.

You’d made love to him in the past, but he hadn’t been able to feel that “perfect” connection he kept hearing about in stupid romance movies, like it was some sort of magic that only existed in fiction. He didn’t know why today, but he finally felt connected to you. Like his lips were created specifically for yours and vice versa, your body only existed in this state of pleasure because of him, and obviously he had only ever felt anything like this with you.

You had tried to prepare yourself for Ken’s jealousy-fueled anxiety to consume him as soon as he cock was in you, his thrusts rough and his eyes blazing as you’d have to get used to the pain - albeit really, really good pain - until it subsided and everything only existed in a state of pleasure, but you hadn’t expected this: languid and sweet and god, you were thankful for it. You’d never been stretched this much, never had someone somehow this deep inside you, even if it only felt like it was the deepest you’d ever felt.

His hips picked up their pace but only a little, your bodies somehow seeming to move as one. Ken’s head fell into the pillow right next to where you were facing him, wanting to watch you but his eyes closing, feeling a little overstimulated himself.

“You’re being such a good girl for me,” he panted into the pillow. “You’re always so fucking good to me.”

“I need to come, Ken.” Your voice was weak.

He opened his eyes then. “Tell me what you need.”

He fucked your through your orgasm, sucking on your neck hard to mark you on this special occasion as your muscles clenched and spasmed in such a way that if you weren’t tied up and held down under Ken’d bodyweight that you would have ended up in the fetal position from your body automatically trying to curl up and away from how intense everything was.

Your whimpers mixed with a couple tears that rolled down your cheeks sent Ken over the edge, him finally losing what little control he’d held onto as he bottomed out into you over and over again until the waves calmed, and his body shook on top of your trembling frame.

He wanted to stay there and just kiss your neck and back, losing himself in you while his head swam with the aftermath of his pleasure, but he forced himself to stand up and pull himself out, removing the vibratory from you.

“Are you okay?” He asked, your body still shaking, because usually you’d have been able to calm down more by now.

“Y,y yes,” you stuttered. “Need…I don’t…kno-“

Ken ripped your ties off and turned you onto your back, your limbs limply falling onto the bed.

“I’ve got you,” Ken promised. He turned on the shower and coaxed you to sit up, your full bodyweight leaning against his chest while he held you after he’d brought you a glass of water.

He carried you into the shower and had tossed in one of those fruity scented shower bombs that you always loved after a long day at school. He crossed his legs in a way to where he could cuddle you while you rested on his lap without having to sit on the cold tile floor, and held your head tenderly while you leaned against him, bordering back and forth between being awake and drifting off to sleep.

Had he intentionally exhausted you to this extreme of a point to make sure he wouldn’t have to talk about all these stupidly hard emotions like he’d promised he would? He would keep his promise, he couldn’t ever imagine lying to you, but he didn’t want to do it today. He couldn’t.

But he would, no matter how much he didn’t want to, as soon as you asked him.

“What do you want for dinner?” He asked, lips against your forehead.

“Mmmm…chocolate.”

He smiled. “Chocolate what? Cake? Ice cream? Just a bar of it?”

“Everything.” Your giggle was sleepy and weak, but it was perfect to him.

“Then I’ll get you everything,” he promised. “Also, whenever you’re ready to talk about it, I’d like to ask if maybe you’d like to go on a trip with me.”

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[jamminvroomvroom]

karma rules! part 2.

ln x fem!reader

read part 1: ‘a golf swing and a trampoline’!!

back on my lando bullshit lmao. HI! here’s part 2! i wanted to write a second part considering how things were left in part 1. very interested in knowing if y’all want a third part!! thank you so much for all the love on part 1, one of my fav things i’ve written 🫶 n e wayz, please enjoy more lando suffering and max on lando violence.

sticking to the ‘little freak’ harry vibes with this one too. karma really does rule!

in which everyone is sad and horny.

warnings: 18+!! swearing, alcohol, aaaaangst omg, smut, fluff, max being very fucking annoying, reader being a sexy girlboss, lando’s entire character

7.2k words

lando couldn’t recall exactly how long he’d been stood outside your bedroom door staring at max. he couldn’t recall exactly how long max had been stood there either, staring back at him; disgust etched across his downturned lips and an unwavering sheen of hurt clouded his eyes, greener than usual, probably from the envy scorching through his veins. lando could feel his jaw relaxing every few seconds, his mouth falling open, apologies daring to spill from his parted lips. no sound came out. what was there to say? nothing, apparently, as max turned on his heel and stormed off back towards his room.

lando stood motionless for a second too long, blinking rapidly, mouth bone dry. anxiety pooled in the pit of his stomach in the most horrific way, although he supposed he deserved it. some small trace of sense that he’d lost when you turned up on that godforsaken golf course returned, and he finally sprung into action, chasing max down. when he finally caught up to his friend, max was already on the verge of slamming the door in lando’s tanned face.

“max, please, just hear me out-“ lando was breathless, flailing helplessly as he tried to find the right words. max wasn’t keen on giving him the chance to.

“you have everything. you have everything else that i want. why did you need to take her as well?” max spat the words, rage-laced and unrelenting in their brutality. lando’s mouth once again hung agape.

apparently it was a rhetorical question, one that lando would probably think about until his last breath, as the door slammed shut in his reddened face.

what a mess he’d made.

-

lando’s attention had been taken away from the ceiling looming above him by the slamming of a door and the sound of suitcase wheels rolling along the floor. he’d been sprawled out on his bed, helplessly awake since the early hours of the morning, since he’d crept out of your bed, since max had slammed the door in his face. yet another wave of dread washed over lando, adding to the tally, as he dragged himself up off of the duvet that he’d melted into and arose, daring to investigate. it didn’t take a genius to work out what was going on.

cracking the door open, his suspicions were confirmed. max was almost at the staircase, suitcase in tow behind him. lando sighed, pushing the door open and stepping out into the hall. max turned around at the noise, eyes daring lando to try and convince him to stay after such a betrayal.

“you’re not actually leaving are you?” lando’s voice sounded just as pathetic as he felt. max rolled his eyes.

“what does it look like?” he scoffed in response.

“don’t be silly. come on, we can talk about this.” lando tried to ignore the guilt. an impossible task.

“silly? you fucked her, you prick. there’s nothing to talk about.” max seethed, teeth gritted. lando’s eyes fell shut, unable to meet max’s.

“it’s not like that.”

“then what’s it like? you can’t help yourself, can you? you’re so used to having everything that you want. you had to add her to the collection of things that you have and i don’t.”

“don’t make this into something it’s not.” max’s allusions were misplaced, as far as lando was concerned. lando had taken nothing from max. never a seat, never a girl. not even the one person that he wanted. you weren’t even max’s to be stolen, and yet you and lando had parted ways out of courtesy for no one other than max.

“what is it then? tell me. tell me all about how deep and meaningful it is.” max mocked, hitting lando right where it hurt: his track record with women. “tell me that you’re madly in love with her. i bet you can’t. i know you, lando,” max was pointing his finger now. “i know she’s nothing but another fuck. and you know how i feel about her!” he was getting louder, a little too loud for lando’s liking, considering they were stood right outside of your door. oh, and because the rest of their friends could probably hear every single word from the surrounding rooms.

“that’s not,” lando’s jaw clenched, he swallowed hard. “that’s not true.” he muttered, not wanting to rile max up further by admitting that, yes, he was madly, pathetically, gut wrenchingly in love with you, and he was almost certain you felt the same way.

“you’re such a fucking joke.” max threw the words and they landed square in lando’s chest, leaving him winded. max turned away, resuming his beeline for the stairs once again. lando stepped forward.

“and what am i supposed to tell the others, huh?” lando called, exasperated.

“i don’t know, maybe tell them how much of an asshole you are.”

he didn’t see max’s face again, the door slamming harshly, a line drawn in the sand, a boundary. not that lando had any issue with crossing lines, something he was bitterly reminded of when he turned away from the stairs, letting out an existential sigh as he did, only to be met with your furrowed eyebrows, quivering lips, and oceans of sadness and un-cried tears swirling in your eyes.

it hurt. it actually, physically pained lando. reaching out for you, touching you, even just for a second, just to comfort you, it was forbidden now. he knew that if he pulled you close, he’d never be able to let go. they’d have to find some way to alter his mclaren so that you could race with him. he would not be able to let you go. you knew this just as well as he did. he wondered for a moment why you were looking at him the way you were. distant, confused, sad. after the night you’d shared, the most beautiful, bittersweet turn of events, he couldn’t fathom why you looked so distraught at the sight of him.

why are you looking at me like he did? lando wondered.

that was, of course, until he realised that you’d heard everything.

“i know you, lando.”

“i know she’s nothing but another fuck.”

ouch.

“i don’t know what you heard.” lando’s words scratched the back of his throat, clawing their way out of his mouth and leaving nothing but bitter, bitter regret all over his tongue. he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. nothing would have pleased him more. he’d made too big of a mess.

“just all of it.” your voice was dusted in sleep, the very sleep that he’d peacefully left you in. you didn’t sound like yourself at all and it scared him.

“he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” lando rushed out, trying to salvage any respect you had left for him. you were not just a body to him.

“but he knows you, lando.” you whispered, delicately devastated.

“he doesn’t know anything about the way i feel for you.” if lando needed you to understand one thing, he desperately needed you to understand that.

“he’s lashing out,” you nodded your head softly as you spoke, as if to tell lando that you understood what he was trying to say. “we hurt him.”

“no, i hurt him. this is all my fault.”

“takes two to tango.” you mused, always apt at breaking the ice.

“i never should have let it happen.” and maybe that was the truth, but lando knew that he would thank whatever god he could think of for giving him that one night. the words you’d whispered to him the night before were almost worth the agony.

“do you regret it?” he admired the way you tried to control your shaky voice when you asked.

“i should.” max was right, lando truly was an asshole.

“i didn’t ask whether you should or not, lando. i asked you if you regret it. there are two answers.” this was the first flash he’d gotten on this not so fine morning that you were losing your temper with him. how could he blame you? he would have been wise to start listing all the people he’d pissed off on this trip, but he feared there wasn’t a big enough piece of paper, or enough ink in the world.

“of course i don’t. but i-“

“no. no ‘buts’. it’s already too painful. no ‘buts’.” your words were electrifying in the worst possible way. he had hurt you. this was hurting you. and there was nothing he could do that would make it any better.

“i’m sorry. i’m so, so sorry.” the emptiness of his apology, despite how much he meant it, was daunting. he had hurt you.

you scoffed. he was getting sick of that sound.

“i don’t want your apology, lando.”

“well, i can’t give you what you want.” he sounded desperate, oh so desperate, a wounded animal frantically searching for a way out. your eyes fluttered shut, a sigh settling deep in your bones. you took one last look at him, knuckles turning a pasty white from how hard you were gripping the door. slowly, it began to close, doing yourself a favour, and shutting him out.

“bye, lando.” you whispered, before you were cast out of sight. if he was counting, this would have been the third door to slam in his face and the sun had barely broken in the sky. what a miserable record to hold; the most people that cannot bare to look at you before 8am.

why would no one give him the luxury of letting him apologise? it made him sick, just how far gone the entire situation was, how out of control he was. a racing drivers worst nightmare. somehow, he’d managed to kill two birds with one stone. max was gone, and it seemed like you weren’t far behind him. maybe you and max were meant for each other after all.

that thought made him feel sicker than anything else had.

-

phone calls were always awkward, especially for someone as awkward as lando. the awkwardness was intensified by the fact that max was ignoring every single one of his calls, ending them before they could even ring out. there were only so many calls that you could make before you succumbed to the fact that no progress was being made. the next best thing that lando could do was catch a flight, and so that’s what he did.

lando ignored every single quizzical look, ignored the way his brother and tom looked at him doubtfully when he announced that he was leaving early “because of a work thing” that he was “sworn to secrecy” over. he just shrugged at all of their questions as he threw his neatly hung shirts in his suitcase and floored it out of his rented bedroom, taking a similar route to max. down the stairs and out the door. but unlike max, lando was weak. he couldn’t leave without one last glance over his shoulder, one last look at you.

you stood with folded arms, almost judgemental, narrow eyes glazed over with a shimmer that made lando’s heart plummet. you’d chosen him, and yet he was choosing to go and fight for max’s friendship. how tragic.

deep down, he knew he was being cowardly, running away. he needed space, needed to finally be able to breathe again and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to do that in a house with you, especially without max’s watchful eye. he also knew that if he played this right, fixed what needed fixing, there was a possibility, albeit a slim one, that he’d be able to initiate something real with you.

while he desperately needed to fix things with max, purely because he was his best friend, he also knew that max acted as a stepping stone, a gate keeper, as tasteless as it sounded. max’s friendship meant the world to him and he was grateful for it, no matter how many times he lost a round of golf, but you were like air and he knew that he needed you just as much. not more, but definitely just as much. it was a delicate balance, one that he thought of in the taxi, imagining he was rested against you again, one that he thought of as the plane took off, as it landed, and as he reclaimed his luggage.

pulling up at max’s parents house was as panic inducing as it should have been, and definitely embarrassing. lando shuffled awkwardly up to the front door, ringing the bell as he rocked backwards and forwards on the balls of his feet. when the door swung open to reveal theo, max’s brother, lando momentarily wondered if he needed to book a haircut with the younger fewtrell, before his thoughts were cast aside by the flash of confusion on the face staring back at him. lando smiled sheepishly, never more uncomfortable in his life.

“first max turns up a week early, and now you? what the fuck happened in greece?” were the first words that theo spoke, tilting his head in confusion.

“is he here?” lando enquired, deciding to cut the bullshit and skip the pleasantries, following suit.

“upstairs in his room, hasn’t said a word. what happened?” theo quirked an eyebrow. lando was always a bit strange, sure, but never so on edge. lando, of course, ignored the question. sometimes media training did pay off.

“can i come in? i need to speak to him.” he didn’t realise how urgent he sounded until the words left him, an undoubtedly suspicious theo stepping aside and letting him in.

lando threw a ‘thank you’ over his shoulder, disappearing up the stairs. he was familiar with this house, easily navigating his way through the building that held so many childhood memories, memories that he would not allow to be tarnished. it only hit him that he’d fled greece and chased max across europe once max’s bedroom door came into sight. he froze, attempting to compose himself. it was futile, his breath shaky as he knocked on max’s door.

“what?” the clipped response sounded from the other side of the wood, drenched in angst. lando held his breath, swinging the door open. had it not been for the rather tense situation, lando would have squawked with laughter at the double take max did. “what the fuck?”

“we need to talk.” it seemed easier to get straight to the point. max didn’t exactly seem interested in pleasantries.

“could you not have called?” sarcasm drenched max’s voice, eyes narrowed and unforgiving.

“that’s not funny.” lando sighed, thinking about the many, many times his finger had pressed down on max’s name in his phone.

“my sincerest apologies.” sarcasm won out again, and lando wondered if this was a mistake.

“are you gonna hear me out? i did just fly here.” lando snapped, trying to reign it in, keep himself in check. he was getting desperate.

“and the damage is repaired. thanks so much for thinking of me.”

“all i’ve done is think about you.”

silence settled between them, lando’s words hanging heavy in the air. max’s face grew angrier, jawline tightening.

“and what is that supposed to mean?” max demanded, eyebrows furrowing.

“i’m here, aren’t i? i’m fucking here.” he was here and not with you, where he actually wanted to be. that had to count for something, had to show how much he valued max. realisation dawned in max’s eyes. lando was with him.

“you knew how i felt about her.” max stated. lando nodded. of course he knew, he felt it too. max sighed. “how long?”

lando was silent.

“how fucking long?”

“since that first day. i was relieved when she dumped you, but of course, you couldn’t let her go.” lando tried to lighten the mood but it didn’t translate. it didn’t help that he wasn’t really joking.

“are you trying to blame me?” max bit, eyes narrowing, just as lando thought he was getting somewhere.

“no! for fuck sake, of course i’m not. i just need you to understand.” lando ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

“how long has it been going on with her?” max’s voice was quieter, preparing for another blow.

“just that night. that one night.” lando quickly replied, anxious to reassure max that he wasn’t a total traitor.

“then it shouldn’t be hard to let her go.” max spoke the words so simply that lando almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing. his face fell, chest tightening.

“max-“

“i don’t want to do this, but i can’t sit back and watch you and her. i can’t fucking do it.” the volume of max’s voice crept up again, voice holding an edge of emotion that made lando ache.

“don’t be unreasonable.” lando almost whispered, words holding absolutely no persuasion. he knew it was over.

“don’t be unreasonable? do you hear yourself? you fucked my ex girlfriend! and you haven’t even fucking apologised to me, by the way.” max shook his head in disbelief, hurt all over again.

“i’m sorry. i’m sorry.” lando repeated the words feebly, suddenly exhausted, utterly utterly drained.

“promise me you won’t go any further with her.”

“please don’t do this.”

“you wouldn’t be here if this didn’t matter to you. promise me, lando.” max held lando’s gaze. it was too easy to crumble.

“i promise.”

the words triggered a minor sense of relief across max’s face and a bottomless pit of dread in lando’s stomach.

-

the months that followed dragged excruciatingly, like nails on a chalkboard.

the season started back up again, providing momentary relief for lando, but it was barely enough. he managed to avoid max as much as he could, until zandvoort, when max had turned up on a work obligation. it was frosty, tense between the two men, anyone could see that, but no one made the mistake of asking why. on paper, things were on the mend, but lando wondered if max would ever forgive him. he wondered if he’d ever forgive max.

whilst him and max weren’t exactly on the best of terms, at least they’d managed to make contact, the occasional twitch stream doing something to chip away at their icy relationship. you, on the other hand, couldn’t have been further away, whilst remaining painfully at the forefront of his mind. he was going insane, deprived of you for the longest period of time since he’d met you. it seemed a tad dramatic to say that your absence was killing him, but that didn’t make it any less true.

the netherlands blurred into italy, into singapore, into japan. lando couldn’t remember the last time he was at home. not monaco, monaco felt too hollow. he missed the uk. he missed running into you when he wasn’t even trying to. the second half of the season was crushing, an uphill battle. he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t lonely, it did get a bit too quiet for his liking when there was no one else along for the ride, quieter than it usually. no max, no you, miserable.

there was a glimmer of rest between japan and the usa, a brief trip to the uk to breathe. he had lunch with his parents, widened his eyes at how much his baby niece had grown, ruffled his younger sisters’ hair in the way only a big brother could. he had a day on the sim, going over things at the factory. it dragged. he was exhausted. the last thing he needed was to attend a friends birthday party, especially on a thursday night after a long week.

an expensive club in central london wasn’t the most appealing of spaces to lando. he preferred restaurants with friends, maybe indulging in a drink or two over dinner if he was feeling adventurous, but he definitely didn’t enjoy the club scene as much as he was supposed to. but it was dark enough in there to hide the bags under his eyes and the music was just about bearable. he knew he wasn’t the most present person in anyones life, so the least he could do was suck it up and stay for a few.

slumped on a barstool, lando was thankful that he made the effort, because one brief glance to his right set his sights on everything he’d been missing.

sad eyes, short black dress, a smile that made the world stop and anyone with sense lose their mind. you’d arrived. was breathing essential to being alive? it couldn’t be because lando certainly wasn’t breathing, and yet there he was, ready to fall to his knees.

lando was definitely sweating, chest tightening, heart beating faster than his mclaren had ever gone down a straight. he was absolutely at a loss for what he was supposed to do. he had no idea that you were coming, perhaps naively. not a lot of the usual suspects would be attending this birthday party, so he’d ever so stupidly assumed that you simply wouldn’t be either. max, for example, had been tied down by a work commitment and wouldn’t be in attendance.

max. max. max. max max max. max!

lando felt lightheaded.

as far as he was aware, you hadn’t clocked him and he wondered if he should keep it that way, no matter how tempting the alternative was. he swirled the drink in his hand, wrist relaxing as he let out a shaky breath. downing the burning liquor in one swift gulp seemed entirely logical, and so that’s what he did, succumbing to instant regret as he shivered the nasty taste away. lando swiftly swung around on the barstool, planting his now empty glass on the counter before placing his palms down on the cool surface. perks of being somewhere fancy: it wasn’t sticky. the coolness of the marble grounded him, allowing for a moment of clarity before the liquid he’d just thrown back seeped into his blood stream and made him weak. well, weaker.

he glanced around, realising that he’d lost you in the sea of people and strobe lights, wondering if he’d actually manage to get away unscathed. what if he’d imagined you? lando felt this strange pull, something that was keeping him in place. he wasn’t prepared to leave just yet. bravely, he actually turned his head, properly scanning the bar to look for your face. it wasn’t hard to find you this time, especially not when you were already staring back at him.

lando’s throat tightened, eyes holding yours, matching the intensity of your gaze. you truly were a sight for sore eyes, easily the prettiest person in the room. he wondered if the dimly lit bar had somewhat brightened for anyone else as soon as you’d walked in. he almost fell off the barstool when you you leaned in to one of your friends, still maintaining eye contact as you whispered in their ear. next thing he knew, you were making your way over. oh god, you were making your way over. he reached for the collar of his white dress shirt, tugging it to no avail; the material was already half unbuttoned anyway. he didn’t breath any easier.

lando turned away, facing the bar as the stool next to his dragged along the floor. he watched from the corner of his eye as you navigated yourself up onto the stool, the heels of your shoes barely grazing the floor as you slumped next to him. you must have looked like a right pair, emitting high levels of irrevocable sadness, and an unhealthy amount of lust. what a combination.

you grabbed the bartenders attention, waving her over.

“i’ll have two of whatever he’s having, please.” you called across the bar, tilting your head towards the lovesick driver.

he was trying to speak, but nothing but bated breath seemed to escape. almost immediately, two glasses had landed in front of you both. without even looking his way, you held your glass out to clink it with his, quickly taking a sip once he’d fumbled his way to respond, knocking his chilled glass with yours.

“fuck, you’re on the strong stuff.” you choked out, probably not expecting something so bitter in your lightweight drinking partners glass. lando barked out a laugh, entirely humourless. he was in agony. “really? nothing to say to me?” you continued, finally turning your body to face him. he continued staring forward, debating his next move.

“thank you for the drink.” lando replied, planting his hands back on the counter to rise from the barstool and leave. he had to leave. his self control was surely fleeting, his patience for other peoples feelings wearing increasingly thin.

“wait!” he didn’t get very far, a hand much smaller than his own flying instinctively to grab at his forearm. he froze in place, eyes widening at your touch and the embarrassing rush of warmth in his chest. your eyes were stormy, some kind of internal battle taking place. “can’t keep watching you leave.” you seemed to whisper the words in the noisy club, yet he heard you perfectly, almost trembling under your touch.

“does it make any difference to know that i don’t want to leave?” lando offered.

“no.” you scoffed, pouting at him.

he tilted his head, offering you his hand, which you didn’t hesitate to take. you rose to your feet, falling into step behind him as he guided you through the club. he needed to talk to you properly, somewhere quiet. you found yourselves out in the smoking area, neither of you having the intention of lighting one up, but at least you were alone. dangerous territory. last time, it had almost cost him dearly.

“i’m sorry that i left.” lando planted himself against the wall, as far away as he could physically be, implementing what he hoped was a safe distance between you.

“yeah? you should be.” you muttered, crossing your arms defensively.

“i didn’t know what to do. i thought that maybe if i spoke to him…” lando trailed off, lost in the memory of max’s words. promise me, lando.

“that he’d be okay with it? come on, lando.” you rolled your eyes.

“not my finest plan. i tried.” he pathetically reasoned.

“wish you’d tried with me.” your comment took him aback. it seemed unfair, cruel. hadn’t you both agreed that it was a one time thing?

“we knew that night, we both knew what we were getting into.”

“yeah, well, doesn’t make it any easier.”

“what would you do? huh? what would you do if you were me?” lando practically begged for your answer, holding himself back against the wall.

you were silent. lando pushed himself off the wall, beginning to pace the small space, met with waves of frustration. you just stood there watching, arms still crossed.

“god, this is a fucking joke.” you scoffed again, moving to block his path. he stopped in his tracks, refusing to meet your eyes.

“yeah, fucking hilarious.” he muttered.

it was completely still between you, no movement but the rise and fall of your chests, syncing up as the space between you grew smaller and smaller. shit.

gently, your fingers wrapped around his shirt sleeve, pulling him a tad closer. he was in trouble. you were destined to be the death of him. he felt your fingertips graze the skin of his wrist, a shiver running down his spine.

“i missed you.” you whispered. his head shot up, finally meeting your eyes.

“you know i missed you too.” he murmured, relaxing further into your touch. lando was convinced to had your own magnetic force field.

“i didn’t, actually.” there she was, the tease that he’d missed more than anything.

“haven’t stopped thinking about you.” lando breathed, giving up the fight. he needed you to know that you were at the centre of his every thought.

“what a coincidence, haven’t stopped thinking about you either.” your hand that wasn’t working its way into his own landed softly against his chest, slowly grazing up until you were gently stroking his neck.

“don’t know if i’ll ever get over you.” all sense was lost.

“i don’t want you to.” you whispered, cupping his cheek. the fingers of your other hand were now laced with his.

“good.” he shuffled forwards, any remaining distance lost to your shared urgency.

“i want you, lando. think i always will.” mere centimetres separated you now, alcohol laced breath mingling.

“you’re driving me crazy.” you smiled at that, nose bumping against his.

“one more time.” you muttered, closing the gap, peppering kisses across his jaw. lando’s eyes rolled back.

“we can’t.” lando spoke with so little conviction that he may as well have fucked you right there in the smoking area.

“says who?” you crooned deviously in his ear.

“fuck.” lando panted, pulling you away from his neck, where you had moved your kisses.

with hooded eyes and no more hesitation, lando cupped your face, pulling your lips to his. you hummed against his lips, fingers threading through his hair to keep him close. the kiss was firm, full of things that should have been said months ago, tongues brushing slowly as he held you as close as he could. as you broke away, breathing heavy, you gripped the collar of his now creased shirt, tugging on the material, your other hand still playing with his curls.

“take me home.” you didn’t need to tell him twice.

-

getting you back to the apartment he stayed in when he was in the city was easy. he’d hailed a taxi, your lips attached to his neck the entire time you were stood on the pavement. he had you wrapped in his arms, shielding you from the chilly october air, while you marked up his skin. once you’d begun the journey back to his place, you managed to behave yourself, despite pulling his hand to sit up high on your bare thigh. lando paid the fare, helping you out of the taxi, the pair of you scurrying into the lobby of the building and into the elevator.

he kissed you again, pressing you against the wall as you travelled up to his floor. you rolled your hips, testing the waters, hearing him groan into your mouth at your teasing. lando held you there for the duration of the journey, lips moving with yours. the ding of the elevator broke you out of your trance and you smiled into the kiss, pulling away. hand in hand, he guided you into his apartment.

the need for one another took precedent, and you quickly found yourselves in the bedroom. the months that had passed went by slowly, too slowly. you both needed it, you could talk after.

lando paused, standing in the doorway as he watched you walk further into the room. he smiled softly, finally feeling at ease. you were so beautiful, and he needed to show you, but he needed a second to take it all in. you, there, with him. just the two of you. you noticed that he’d stopped, turning back to face him.

“hey, you.” you called, reaching your hand out for him. “come here.” he quickly obeyed. he could see the lust in your eyes, the prettiest colours in the world darkened slightly, pupils blown. something softer swirled underneath, and he lost himself.

“gonna let me show you how much i missed you?” lando lowered his lips to your ear, tongue dragging across the skin beneath it. his hands found a home on your waist, spinning you around so that you were flush against him. again, you rolled your hips, body trembling in his big hands.

“need you, lando.” you whined, feeling his fingers skim your collarbone as he pushed your hair out of his way and over your shoulder.

he hummed against your skin, lips working over your neck, open mouthed kisses leaving you panting. his hands smoothed down your back, over the material of your silky black dress. he bunched the material on the way back up, tugging it until he was pulling it over your head. the dress quickly became an afterthought, dropped to the floor in a heap. lando grabbed at your waist again, gently turning you back around to face him. you looked at him through your eyelashes, shy under his intense stare.

your fingers made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, the few that were still done up. you pushed it off of lando’s shoulders, running your nails down his bare chest. your hands trailed down his abs, fiddling with his belt, and then the button on his jeans. lando kicked them off, the both you standing there in your underwear.

“on the bed.” lando breathed, walking you backwards.

lando picked you up at the last second, lowering you down onto the duvet, quickly slotting himself between your spread legs. your arms were around his neck, bringing his lips against yours. he felt you shiver against him, his hands grazing your sides, as he kissed down your neck, over your collarbone.

lando kissed over the lace of your bra, mouthing at the material as his fingers slotted behind your arched back, unhooking the clasp. he didn’t linger, quickly tearing it away from your chest. he let out a content sigh, lapping at your nipple, fingers tweaking the other. his tongue swirled, teeth making a cheeky appearance that had you gasping as he bit down. you felt his mouth leave you, fingers still grazing your body.

“did you miss me, baby?” lando’s breath fanned across the valley of your breasts as he spoke, your stomach tightening.

“you know i did.” you muttered, staring down at him.

“how much?” he smirked, kissing the flush skin of your chest. he felt like teasing.

“lando.” you warned, threading a hand through his curls. he breathed out a laugh.

“i know, baby, i know.” he resumed his kisses down your body, fingers slipping beneath the band of your underwear. ever so slowly, he began to pull them down, tugging at the band, letting it snap against your skin. you sighed in frustration, pulling on his hair. he grinned, the most genuine smile he’d been able to muster in what felt like forever. it grew when he saw that you couldn’t help but smile back.

he kissed along your navel, finally peeling your panties down your legs. he had you naked beneath him again, finally, and he couldn’t let a moment go to waste.

he took you apart, your legs thrown over his broad shoulders. everything seemed to be moving in flashes, the room disappearing. all he could see was you, hair fanned across his pillow, glowing under the dim lighting, your taste overwhelming him. you thrashed against him, his tongue and his fingers working blissfully until all you could see was white and all you could hear was his name, tumbling from your lips like a prayer.

when he’d kept going, throwing you helplessly over the edge for the second time, you’d let out a cry, gasping through the pleasure that you’d both been so tragically deprived of for too long. he didn’t know if he could stop, didn’t know if he could possibly exercise the type of restraint he’d need to pull himself from between your shaking legs, but your hand in his hair managed to pull him back to reality. he didn’t know where you’d found the strength but he was hovering over you again.

lando took in the sight of you, messy hair, tear stained face, eyes shot with adrenaline, exhaustion. you flashed him a heart stopping grin, eyes fluttering shut as your chest heaved, and he crumbled again, for the millionth time that evening. giving you a second to breath, he brought his soaked fingers to his lips, licking away the mess you’d made. the groan he let out was animalistic, your eyes shooting open.

the kiss you shared was messy, laced with traces of you on his tongue and a clash of teeth. he settled between your thighs, your hands pushing his underwear down until he laid bare on top of you.

“you have no idea how much i missed you. no idea.” lando muttered, lining himself up. he ran the tip of his cock through your folds, slowly pushing inside. you whined, clinging onto him as he moved his hips until you were full. he stilled, hand brushing the hair from your eyes, which were piercing his own.

there was nothing else. there was no max and no time apart, no sad eyes and missed opportunities. there was you, and there was him, and that was it.

“need you to move.” you moaned, fingers digging into his shoulder blades.

lando’s hips retracted slowly, before he was setting a delicious rhythm. he rocked into you at the perfect pace, hips hitting yours. your eyes has rolled back in your head, his own remaining fixed on the way your face moved, eyelashes dusting your cheeks, the creases in your forehead, the way you kept smiling as the pleasure took its hold.

he was dizzy, utterly ruined as he fucked you. your touch left him weak, oblivious to anything else. it didn’t matter what happened after this, he would never regret it, no matter how dire the consequences. you were heavenly around him, squeezing him so tight as you had your way with him. he was teetering on the edge, on the verge of a beautiful collapse, but all that mattered was you.

lando rutted his hips, watching your body spasm as he hit that spot over and over, his fingers sliding between your sweat dampened bodies to find your overstimulated clit. a few messy circles and you’d had it, a broken scream of his name tearing from the back of your throat.

his name. no one else’s.

that was enough for lando, all he needed to hear to send him catapulting into the abyss, vision bright white as he collapsed on top of you. he could feel you shuddering, kissing your neck to try and dull the aftershocks.

you stayed there entangled for god knows how long, unmoving in one another’s embrace. you were so warm against him that lando couldn’t bring himself to move. it was serene, the peace of having you beneath him, wrapped around him, stroking his hair lazily while he panted into the crook of your neck. the peace of knowing that he wouldn’t need to sneak away at the break of dawn. when he eventually mustered the strength to pull himself away, you whined.

“where are you going?” you groaned, as he stood from the bed.

“just getting something to clean you up, baby.” lando replied, slipping into the en-suite.

he returned a few moments later with a flannel, wiping over your thighs before tossing it with his laundry. lando quickly pulled the covers back, climbing into the bed beside you. you rolled over, draping yourself over his chest, his arm winding around your shoulders securely.

“stay tonight.” lando whispered. it wasn’t a question, nor was it a demand. it was his way of pleading, of keeping you close for as long as he could. he felt you nod your head in agreement.

“didn’t wanna go anyway.” you giggled, eyes still shut. you could have easily fallen asleep.

“don’t want you to go. don’t want to lose you again.” lando mumbled. he felt you tense up. you weren’t laughing anymore.

“don’t get my hopes up.” you whispered back, burying your face in his chest, as if you were hiding from him. the cracks in his heart that your evening together had bandaged up began to splinter.

“i’ll fix this. we can fix it.” lando affirmed, begging that you’d listen. all the time spent with you reminded him that without you, he was miserable.

“i wish that was true.” you sighed. he clung on to the fact that you were still here. he could convince you, he was sure of it.

“i’ll deal with him. he has to understand.” lando alluded, cupping your cheek.

“lando, stop-“ you argued.

“please, just let me try. i want you. fuck, i need you.” he really, really did. you seemed to soften at that, frustrated expression melting away.

you craned your neck, leaning up to peck his lips. all of his worries dissipated then, and he knew that he belonged to you. lando knew that this was it, that you and him were headed somewhere. it was good, this thing between you, feelings that he’d never felt, that he didn’t even have labels for, surfacing at even the briefest glance, the softest touch.

as you fell asleep in his arms to soft kisses on your forehead, lando laid there staring at the ceiling. he’d just betrayed his best friend. again. but that wasn’t what was keeping him from falling asleep.

no, what was keeping lando awake was the fact that he simply didn’t care; how could he with you sleeping so soundly next to him? and that scared him more than anything else. as far as lando was concerned, max had his chance, and he blew it. lando would be damned if he made the same mistake.

the things you did to him, the hold you had, it was almost frightening. and with every deep breath you took, he fell deeper and deeper.

-

when he woke up to your body pressed against his, feeling more refreshed than he had since august, lando smiled. he hadn’t even opened his eyes yet and you had him smiling. what kind of fool did that make him?

your catlike stretching and urgent need for coffee had driven the pair of you out of bed, despite how much lando hated the stuff and the both of you wanting to spend the morning tearing one another to shreds. you figured you had the rest of the day to get to that. you’d laughed as he threw his shirt at you, the sleeves too long. it hit mid thigh, the pair of you ignoring the creases as lando pulled you into him, rolling up the sleeves. he smirked at the goosebumps that littered your skin, left behind in the wake of his touch. you shoved his shoulder at his cocky smile.

lando made you a coffee, all of that work experience at mclaren finally paying off as he slid it across the counter towards you. you smiled, grateful, taking a sip. he pottered around the kitchen for a while, mumbling something about not knowing how to cook without setting the kitchen on fire. you were endeared as you watched him, leaning across the counter, resting your elbows on the surface. it was domestic and it was a long time coming.

neither of you wanted it to end, but you knew that important steps needed to be taken. lando was already mapping out the blueprints for what he would say to max, willing to grovel on his knees if that’s what it took.

it was lucky that lando was so accustomed to quick thinking, because the sound of keys in the lock made him realise that the grovelling would be starting a lot sooner than anticipated. there was only one other person with a set of keys. you know, for emergencies. lando was pretty certain that there was about to be an emergency.

your heart plummeted as the door swung open, the dress shirt hanging loosely off of your body doing little to preserve anyones dignity. max’s face fell immediately, the cogs in his brain spinning into action as he took in the disheartening sight before him.

hickeys, bare legs and messy hair. a train wreck.

this was becoming an unfortunate habit.

-

sorry max lol

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[setsugekka]

❥love language (m)

↳ abandoned at the bar by your friend and harassed by the bartender just across the way, maybe wooyoung can offer you a save to this night after all.

jung wooyoung x fem!reader — strangers to lovers, explicit adult content. [4.7k wc] cws: sex in public, protected penetrative sex, dirty talk, alcohol is consumed but no one is intoxicated, jung wooyoung has a Big Dick.

“So, what’ll it be, Little Lady?”

Maybe if you hadn’t already been here against your will, and as a result staunchly annoyed by your whereabouts already, the comment wouldn’t be so grating. Something about it and the way it feels in your ears — through the loud murmurs of the bar surrounding you that reminds you something of nails on a chalkboard.

Glancing up from your phone to give the man across the way your attention as he waits intently for your answer to the question, you briefly listen in to your friend to the left of you as she laughs excessively at a comment from the person that she’s speaking to, assuming it to not be worthy of the kind of response being offered from her, but again, you’re irritated, and most likely projecting your lack of enjoyment on all of the things going on around you as a result.

Narrowing your eyes at him, there’s a part of you that wants to ignore it — but of course, there’s a bigger part of you that can’t help but engage.

“Do you address all of your patrons with such silly little nicknames?”

The mans demeanor doesn’t change much as a result of your rebuttal; palms pressing into the polished wood of the bar that stand between the two of you in a lean with gaze still cast upon you.

“Don’t like it when men are cute with you? I can be meaner instead, if that’s what you like.”

The reply earns an immediate scoff from you — accompanied by a roll of your eyes and the sudden twist of your bar stool to face away from him — in the time it takes for your vision to leave, you manage to catch the glimpse of another person sliding in from the side, presumably taking the place of the fuckboy who has seemingly all but made it his mission to make the evening as insufferable for you as humanly possible.

Getting a drink isn’t worth engaging with him, that much is for sure. Not that you are all that in the mood for drinking tonight, anyways. Rather, being out tonight is a favor to your friend: on the hunt for some fun and games for herself and not wanting to go alone (nor would you prefer her to be out on her own, either), you tag along and do your best at not being the wet blanket of a friend nestled off in the corner with just how much of an awful time you’re having written all over your face.

Mission probably failed, but with the way that your bestie is carrying on, you suppose she’s well past the point of worrying for you by now, anyway.

This much is fine, you don’t need to be babysat — and besides, the quicker she find her results, the quicker you can get the fuck up out of this bar.

“Sorry about that fuckin’ guy,” another voice suddenly chimes in from the same place that the original had. This time, however, it’s different — lighter, gentler, airier. Most definitely not the same person, and for that much at least, you are thankful.

You begin your stool spin back to face the new person, at the very least to thank him for intervening, but he continues his thought before you’re able to make your way back around.

“He’s been a problem for a few months, I’ve been trying to get him out of here but we’re short on staff, so now on top of bartending, I get to play babysitter.”

You can relate.

When you finally do make it back around, you’re at the very least pleased by the sight: on top of it not being the same man so intent on ruining your lack-of-good-time, this one is far better looking, too. Black suit jacket that bares flesh underneath, black middle parted hair and a charmingly pointed freckle just under one of his eyes.

“Hi.” He says plainly. You answer him the same in return.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“Depends,” you start. “Are you going to aggressively hit on me in the meantime?”

“Only if you want me to.”

A single eyebrow quirking upwards, you can’t help but allow a grin to form at the playfulness of his reply. “Doesn’t this sort of count?”

“I don’t think it’s very aggressive, but if you tell me what you want to drink I can simply retrieve it and fuck off back to the other side of the bar from where I came.”

With eyes glued to one another, you know that your smile gives you away — little point in bothering to keep up a charade on the matter. Truth is, even if this one is hitting on you, he’s much better at it, and has already earned himself a few points prior to getting here, anyway.

“Can you make an Amaretto Sour?”

He scoffs at the question with a gentle toss of his head. “What is it that you think I do here, exactly?”

“You’re funny.” You say simply, watching him reach around for the required necessities in making your beverage. “What’s your name?”

“Don’t you think we’re moving a bit fast?” He mocks, pouring ice into a small glass. “Who’s going to rescue me from your aggressive flirting?”

You’re intrigued. Sure, men like this are typically quite annoying and in ways, this one is no different; but you’re stuck here, and he’s certainly a fun time in the moment, so what’s the harm in playing along, really?

“Wooyoung.” He says shortly after the comments just before. “And I’m just joking, you can aggressively flirt with me if you want, occupational hazard.”

“Is that so? That must be really tough.”

The evident sarcasm in your tone has the man across the way curling his lips into a grin to match yours as he finishes up your drink and delicately places it in front of you atop a small, white, napkin.

“Are you going to tell me your name or do I have to find out from your credit card?”

“Creepy,” you comment lightly. “Maybe I should have stuck with the other guy, after all.”

“Hey! I literally have to see it when I ring up your check, don’t make it weird.”

Granting Wooyoung the knowledge of your name, you take a small sip of the glass placed in front of you — somewhat surprised by how good it is, your eyebrows perk up, and he catches it instantaneously.

“Good?” He asks, hands busy at work with a towel and glass in hand.

“Yeah, actually.” Setting it down again, you glance over at your friend beside you to check on how it’s going — silently counting down the seconds until you no longer have to be inside of this establishment.

“You do not want to be here, do you?”

Quick on the uptake, isn’t he?

Snorting out a chuckle as you turn your attention back to him; lips pulled thin into a tight grin as he looks at you with a drop of compassion in his features, you shrug and offer him a gentle nod. “Gotta do what you gotta do, sometimes.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“Sorry I won’t be much in ways of patronage tonight, I won’t be drinking anything past this so don’t feel obligated to hover, I’m sure you have higher tippers to accommodate this evening.”

It’s a simple but truthful offering: while enjoying his company far more than you may have anticipated, the entirety of your statement is true. After all, this man is here to work and make money — entertaining you only a small portion of the job of bartender, and only really time well spent when the entertainee has intentions of spending money.

Wooyoung seems kind, and you don’t want to waste his time more than you already have. However, he has other plans.

“It’s a slow night,” he starts, picking up another wet glass to dry and shine. “Besides, looks like things are going well with your friend and…her friend, so you might be out of here quicker than anticipated. At this point, I think you’re rescuing me from the monotony of work.”

“No other women to lift personal details from at checkout?”

Banter.

“Eh, no need, already stuck babysitting the cutest girl here, anyway.”

The comment is bold, given the way that the interaction between the two of you has started, but Wooyoung is also right on the money in knowing the perfect timing on when to deliver — as well as your receptiveness to it.

And you are receptive.

It’s only twenty or so minutes later that your friend informs you of her intentions in leaving the establishment with the lucky partner of the night — you wish her well on her journey and try to ignore her light-hearted pestering when you inform her that you plan on staying just a bit longer to chat with the handsome guy just down the bar.

Somewhere along the way, your plans for the evening have shifted, as well. May as well make use of the time spent to make yourself presentable tonight, after all.

A quarter until midnight, Wooyoung announces last call — gathering empty glasses and collecting bills to check people out and have them on their way. You wait idly as you watch him carry on until he finally takes notice of your lack of movement despite the closing hours quickly approaching.

Bending down to rest his chin against his arms as they cradle him against the wood of the countertop, the man cocks his head and gazes up at you with pretty, narrow eyes before coyly addressing you once again.

“Waiting for something?”

“Want to walk me to my car when you’re finished up here?” You ask him with a bit of a flirtatious tone. There’s intent behind it, and you more than expect for the man to catch onto it.

He does, of course, but not without carrying on with the games that led the both of you here to begin with. “You good to drive home?”

“I’ve been nursing this drink for four hours, and it became undrinkable after the first, what do you think?”

With a wide smile, Wooyoung brings himself to a standing position again — a distinct look of understanding gracing his handsome features that lets you in on the fact that the both of you are very much on the same page about where the rest of this night is headed.

“Give me twenty minutes, then we can go.”

Leading you out of the back and through one of the employee entrances, you find yourself surrounded by grey concrete and the frequent flickering of a dull, overhead light that threatens to offer you its last moment of illumination at any given time. You think to yourself briefly how relatively ill-advised it is to land yourself in such a position with a man that more or less is a stranger to you, but as the metal door closes just behind and the gentle thud of footsteps enter the corridor behind you — instead, there’s a certain comfort that comes from the delicate press of his hand against the small of your back and just out of sight.

“Should we go?” He says in nearly a whisper, urging you to begin the descent down the staircase and towards the parking lot.

One floor down and after the most casual of work complaints from Wooyoung, you sigh into the cool air as your feet find flat ground once again.

“Couldn’t we have taken the elevator, not much of a gentleman, are you?”

And just as quickly as the words leave your mouth, you find yourself in a quick spin with your back pressed into the cold stone — barred in place by an arm on each side of your head as Wooyoung effectively cages you into place in front of him right then and there.

His face dips down closer to yours, warmth of his breath cascading across the flesh of your cheek as he dangles the possibility of physical contact in front of you like a carrot on a stick.

“But then we wouldn’t have had nearly as much time together.”

Heart racing, you try to bite back how much you want him; how much you’ve wanted him all night, now. You figure that he knows well enough and that that is the entire reason that the two of you find yourselves like this here and now, but still — nothing wrong with a little cat and mouse game if the outcome already decided, anyway.

“Is that why you brought me down here?” You begin, lifting your chin to close even more distance between the two of you without making any contact just yet. “Wanted to get me alone?”

“Do you even drive? Or did you ask me to take you to your car for the same reason?”

“I do.”

The reply comes out in nothing more than a breathy whisper, Wooyoung’s lips only inches from your own and his eyes honed in on them in particular as you give him your answer. Glancing up to you for visual contact, you begin to feel the feathering of fingertips on the inside of your thigh, just at the hem of your dress.

“So,” he whispers in turn, plush, full lips now ever so lightly dragging at the corner of your mouth in a way that drives you crazy in want to feel and taste him. “Do you want me to fuck you in your car, or here?”

The question must be rhetorical with the way that his head turns to finally kiss you — though you don’t doubt your ability to make an amendment to the situational goings on, you suppose you sort of like the idea of being taken here — the taboo of it all, as well as the threat of being caught — it ignites something of a burning desire within you that you haven’t quite felt up until this very moment.

Parting your legs to grant his journeying hand more access, you revel in the way he nips and tugs at your bottom lip — a kiss full of teeth and tongue and a fervent need to have and touch and taste — you realize that in all of the hours you’ve spent with him at the bar engaging in playful banter, that had been the real beginning of the foreplay between you.

The power of words, all too evident in the grin that forms across his lips when his finger finally makes contact with your slit from the side of your panties.

“Have fun tonight?” He chides, pressing up the slick of your folds to toy at your clit ever so slightly.

Reigning in the desire to buck against his hand, you instead focus the energy on a pointed bite into his bottom lip.

“Is talking all you’re good for? I was kind of hoping for a bit more this evening.”

A daring retort from you, but bestowed upon the perfect partner for it. Wooyoung groans into the feeling of your teeth in his flesh as he reaches for one of your hands and places it upon the fullness welling at the front of his trousers.

“How’s that for ’a bit more’?”

You’re going to have to send your bestie a ‘thank you’ text in the morning.

With Wooyoung’s finger trailing back down and towards your opening — fingertip carefully breeching you with a slow, steady drive to test just how much he’ll need to prep you for taking him, your hands simultaneously work at the front of his pants: the sounds of metal resonating through the empty halls as his belt jingle, fingers making quick work of the button and zipper thereafter, because at this point — you sort of just want to see it.

Kissing at your jaw and side of your face as your eyes slip down to take in the sight of him, all the while trying to push back the already dizzying feeling of him being two fingers and last-knuckle deep inside of you with promise of what’s soon to come — it’s dark already and his choice of attire is matching with black boxer briefs that leave far more to the imagination than you’re happy to find.

But a perfectly timed and brightly lit flicker of the light above grants you the eye-full that you’ve been hoping for — even hidden behind fabric, the more-than-prominent, and thick outline of the man that you’ve been engaging in games with all evening.

“Christ.” You can’t help but exasperate at the visual. Chuckling against you, Wooyoung decides upon adding a third finger pressed against your walls as if timed entirely purposefully given the circumstances.

“Gonna tap out on me already?” He asks, but you shake your head just as quickly. “I’m not a quitter, just don’t know if I’m going to be walking out of here now when we’re finished.”

Lips pressed to the shell of your ear, Wooyoung’s voice drops to a whisper to quell your concerns. “I’ll carry you out of here if I have to, how about that?”

It’s somewhat humiliating knowing that he feels the way you clench down around his fingers at the utterance of the words, but suppose there’s no reason to dwell on such a thing now, either.

Wooyoung pulls away from you so suddenly that you find the loss of enveloping warmth somewhat jarring, but your vision quickly finds him at the feeling of emptiness from between your legs, as well: squatting down in front of you and skillful fingers curling at the hips of your panties as he quickly pulls the fabric down the length of your legs, a quick “foot” comes from his mouth that takes you a moment to process before you realize that the man is asking you to step out of the undergarment so that he can pull them off of you properly.

In doing so, he brings himself back to standing before you, stuffing them into his back pocket and resuming his overwhelming presence against you all over again.

“Don’t want them dirty on the floor.”

He grants you no time to offer a response to the concern before his mouth is hard against your own again, this time much more needy and desperate than the first. Hands wrapping around to find the hem of his pants, you grow tired of waiting by now and quickly motion in an attempt to bring them down his hips — a mission that requires his help, he’s more than happy to accompany you on the journey, however, hand slipping into the pocket opposite of your underwear and fishing out the only other thing necessary for an endeavor such as this.

By now the both of you are sloppy in movement: your hands coming up and around his neck to dig hands into fluffy, black hair and Wooyoung slipping his pants down his thighs just enough to give him the range of motion necessary to fuck you — his face pulls away from yours for a second only to bite into the packaging in hand, then glancing down to ensure proper usage —  it’s right back to devouring you. Part suffocating and part intoxicating the way he drinks you down, Wooyoung presses himself firm and hard against you and as a result, your back against the wall with the simultaneous lift of your leg into his grasp.

With the tip of him just barely grazing your entrance, he instead takes a moment to trail lips down the column of your neck — sucking and biting gently into the skin to revel in the way you desperately moan and gasp for him.

“You know, for someone who didn’t want to come tonight, you sure seem like you want to now.”

A play on words, and at a time like this? Wooyoung truly is a fucking criminal.

The initial drive into you is slow and steady: a man very aware of his size and how to use it to the both of your benefits, he remains close to you to listen to every sound you make — the hitching of your breath at the stretch he provides, and incredibly attuned to any potential changes that may signify his need to be slower, gentler, less to any degree.

A pleasant sting of fullness Wooyoung provides as he sinks into you with shallow, fluid motions of his hips. Mouth hung slightly ajar at the feeling of him prying you open on his cock; you, as well, revel in the sound of his unsteady breath as he inches his way inside of you until no more space lie between you and him.

He gives you a few moments to adjust, seated perfectly still between your walls as he once again finds your mouth to kiss you deeply. With no protest from you, however, he pulls back and slowly sinks back into you with a single, flowing stroke.

“God.” Is all you can manage to whine, but it brings him amusement, nonetheless.

“Not my name, but I’ll take it.”

You’re a little shocked by how much care and interest he’s taking given the fact that the two of you are strangers and most certainly short on time, but as Wooyoung settles into a more comfortable rhythm against you, any and all inquisitiveness leaves you in favor of nothing more than the immense, dizzying, fullness that the thickness of his cock provides with every deliberate press of himself into you.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he admits in something of a whisper and a groan combined. “Wish we had more time, if I got my way I’d have my mouth on every fucking inch of your body.”

Granted, you don’t know this man, but with few more thoughts rattling around in your head by now except for whatever the hell the promise of that would mean for you, you have half a mind to tell him to finish up quick and get in the fucking car.

Changing his stance just slightly as well as the grip he has on you, you question the purpose of it until the next drive of his length into your body — tip of his cock perfectly brushing against that perfect spot that has you loudly whining out into the emptiness of the halls, Wooyoung nearly laughs out loud at the sight of you as he shuffles his elbow to prop himself up and against the cement just next to your head so that he can grant his hand the freedom in covering your mouth for the foreseeable future.

“Hey! You know the fun of stuff like this is just the illusion of getting caught, not actually getting caught!”

Nodding briefly and eyes rolling back as he continues fucking into you despite his words, you can’t even help the continued whining into the muffling of his palm.

“God, I want nothing more than to watch you cream all over my dick but can I trust you won’t alert the entire city if I do?”

The mixture of humor and lust in his tone as he delivers the question to you — hooded eyes that gaze down on your fucked-out facial features, you offer a quick nod despite not knowing how much truth there is to your answer, really.

But you kind of don’t care, either.

Wooyoung dips his head down to the side of your face again and propping his hand back in it’s original place to grant you the ability to speak again — kissing just under your ear before presenting you with yet another question:

“Tell me how to make you come.”

You appreciate him anticipating having to put in far more work than really necessary: a thorough and thoughtful lover that takes his sexual expertise quite seriously. However, you’re more than halfway there, and the tightness in your gut is more than enough evidence of that.

“D-don’t stop, fuck,” you pause, finding the giving of instruction at a time like this far more than mildly complicated. You whine half in frustration at attempting to speak, and half in the fact that it really might not be all that necessary, anyway. “Hand.”

It’s the best you can do, but as expected, Wooyoung is on it, regardless.

Body pressed hard and firm against you to make up for the lack of propping himself that his hand offered, he brings it down to rub between the limited space between your bodies — experimental circles dense against your clit as he continues fucking you hard against the wall, your vision goes blurry if only for a second at the additional stimulation provided at a moments notice.

“Like this?” He asks. You find it almost annoying how much it doesn’t matter what he does at this point, and yet he keeps asking.

“Yes, yes, yes—” you sigh, fingers gripping hard into his hair and shoulder as your orgasm looms. “I’m close, don’t stop, fuck—”

“I can tell,” he playfully snips back at you, punctuating the words with a deep groan before carrying on with the rest of the thought. “Get so demanding when you want to come, don’t you?”

“Wooyo—” You whimper, body tightening in preparation for release as he continues relentless drives into you paired with the gentle, expert rub of his fingertips just above where his cock leave you pried open for him.

“Yeah, come for me, lemmie feel it.”

Part of you figures it doesn’t make much of a difference what he says in that moment as your orgasm tears through your body — a nearly painful tightening of every muscle within you as you come hard through gritted teeth and bitten back groans — Wooyoung continues fucking you through it all the while; expertly managing to hold off his own through the vice grip of your walls on his cock until you’re at the tail end of your release before allowing his own to take him with a louder-than-expected, throaty groan and a hiss through his teeth as he empties into the barrier placed between you.

Wooyoung’s head falling just a bit to the side, the heat of his sweaty forehead pressing against the cool of the wall just behind you, he gently lets go of your leg and slowly pulls his softening length from its place nestled inside of you before pulling the condom from himself, tying the top into a knot, and rolling off to the side of you to match your stance as the both of you attempt to catch your breath in the aftermath of far riskier sex than you’d normally find yourself engaging in.

With one eye shut and only a few moments passed between the two of you, he finally turns to cast his gaze upon you, lips pulled tight in something of a happy-stupid grin.

“You okay?”

Thoughtful, even still. Better bedside manner than you’d expect, given the circumstances, that’s for sure.

“Yeah,” you answer in a heavy exhale. “Can I have my underwear back?”

“Oh! Yeah.”

Handing the fabric to you, you carefully slide them back into place, but remain relatively still against the wall as Wooyoung finally tucks himself back into his pants.

Turning to face him again, a thought crosses your mind — and figure, you’ve already boldly gone where you never find yourself going before, so what’s another step in the same direction.

A single corner of your lips pulling upwards, Wooyoung already catches the hint of mischievousness to you as he awaits whatever it is that you’re soon to offer him.

“You work tomorrow?” You finally ask, and the question quite evidently throws the man through a loop — not having expected this particular line of questioning. Watching him mentally switch gears to answer the inquiry, he shakes his head.

“Nope, what about you?”

But instead of carrying on with the casual discussion, you choose to call back to a comment made in the heat of the moment not all that long ago.

“You said you wished we had more time,” you say in a sultry whisper, hand snaking up the front of his coat to dig fingers into the fabric and pull him closer against you again. “Sounds like you’re free all night.”

Wooyoung leans down to kiss you again; slower, passionate, taking in the moment and the taste of you in a way that isn’t so desperate as before, then slowly pulling off and gazing down intently into your eyes.

The words match your own in tone as his fingers lace into yours at the delivery of them.

“Get me in that fucking car, now.”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ hope you enjoyed! please check out my navigation for more (´｡• ᵕ •｡`)

—this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2.

[cr-pisacs-evil-brother]

Pathologic Bachelor ARG Megapost

This post is a culmination of months of (mostly my own) research into the Bachelor ARG. For far too many days and far too many hours, I’ve been doing my best to solve this, with the help of a few other people. I looked very deep into most Fyodor Vitin posts, played through The Marble Nest several times, looked extensively through the Pathologic wiki, and read/analyzed countless outside sources for this post, and I will link as many of them as I can. (If there are links that you think would help the ARG that you’d like included in here with credit please let me know.) For any people that are credited, an “@” before their name implies that it’s a Tumblr username, while a “u/” proceeding their name implies it’s a Reddit username. I have discovered and analyzed dozens of leads, some of which are more likely to be important or intentional on the part of IPL than others. The primary purpose of this post is to give all of you Pathologic fans new leads and theories to analyze in pursuit of solving the mystery behind this ARG, so many of the things within this post should be looked into further! With this post, I will lay out my findings in a series of sections, all of them having several connections to each other. This post is more than 10,000 words and is not meant to be read all at once, so feel free to read sections, take breaks, re-read sections, or skip around if you'd like. “Observations, Research, Analysis” is a vast majority of this post and consists of observations made about the ARG material, as well as any research I did into those findings that bore fruit, and analysis/connections to other things. The additional notes section consists of some of the conclusions I’ve reached after putting all of my evidence together, as well as some connections I didn't really make in the previous section, but keep in mind they’re still just theories so they could obviously be wrong. I would like to emphasize that I am not a native Russian speaker, but I did have many native Russian speakers helping me along the way, and in particular, I’d like to thank @kurury-chan for her massive help with this. She transcribed the newspaper for me, provided tons of consulting, translated many other Russian sources, and actually went out of the way to go on an irl tour of a certain ARG-related location to see if my theories about it could hold any ground! Because I'm not a native Russian speaker, the sections where I'm required to analyze Russian text (notably the newspaper section) will probably be the least interesting and I'll probably end up making a lot of points that aren't valid. Additionally, I’d like to thank @cryingsyren (who also happens to be my bf) and @ded-not-ded for their help. As for formatting, since Tumblr doesn't have tiered lists for some fucking reason, all main points will be written as bullet points, and any sub-points within that bullet will then have numbered points afterward. For example like this:

The first main point about a topic

Sub-point of the first point

Second sub-point

The second main point about a topic

I'll either do that or I'll do it like this:

First main point

First sub-point First sub-sub-point

Second sub-point

Second main point

Edit 1: I've had to revert much of the Chat text (the font I used for the sub-points above) to regular text because of a formatting glitch that irreversibly changed most of the Chat text to bold, which was very confusing.

Depending on which looks better in the context of the points. Because that formatting is so awkward and clunky I'll try to minimize the use of tiered lists as I convert this from the Google Docs format to the Tumblr Format. Most of the time that I use tiered lists here it's to deal with the character limit Tumblr has on single blocks of text within a post. With that out of the way, let's just get into the post.

Observations, Research, Analysis:

"The Accident" Fyodor Vitin post

The first thing I noticed about the newspaper when I took a good look at it was the use of bolding with certain letters. If you look at the Newspaper you’ll also see ink splattered on the page in several areas, which could be a clue toward noticing the bolded letters, or it could be something else I’ve yet to discover. I knew I wouldn’t be able to transcribe the entire newspaper by myself, not being a Russian speaker (although I’ve just started learning!) so I enlisted the help of @kurury-chan, a native Russian speaker, and she transcribed the entire newspaper for me in Cyrillic. After getting this transcription I went through and spent a couple of days looking for which letters were bolded, writing them down, and coming up with possible translations/meanings. I’ve come up with lots of possible meanings for these, but for many of them I couldn’t figure anything out, and I’d love help if anyone has any idea what they could mean! To me many of them seem like word fragments that are simply missing one or two letters, and so in the document where I list all of the bolded letters I put some words/phrases that are very close to the seemingly fragmented words. Once again keep in mind that, while I’m trying to learn Russian, my understanding of the language is still rather weak, so I may have mistranslated some of these. Another small detail to mention is that there’s a prominent crease on the left side of the paper that runs through a decent portion of the bolded words. First, I’ll start with the bolded letters on the left side of the page. I may have missed a couple, and I may have written some of them down as bolded when maybe they aren’t supposed to be seen as such.

Here is a link to a list of all the letters I think are bolded on the left side, which lines they’re on, and possible meanings, many of which I’ll be discussing here. I will not go individually through what I believe all the bolded letters mean, but I will go through and explain the ones I think are most meaningful and important, as well as some connections I’ve made with them. And here is a link to the original Russian transcription and my best attempt at an English translation.

It’s possible that the crease that runs through the left side of the paper and notably runs through many bolded words somehow denotes that those particular bolded words are special, or perhaps that they should be seen as separate from the other bolded words.

Line 15 has a rather interesting bolded phrase, because it actually appears to make a somewhat coherent 3-word phrase, but one of the words seems to be a surname, “Pepe.” Additionally, the crease on the left side of the page starts right above the word “ПЕПЕЛИЩЕ” in the title, and splits it so that “ПЕПЕ” is separate from the rest of the word. (ПЕПЕ is Pepe in Cyrillic.) If you want to know what the non-Pepe words say, skip to the next bullet point, because the rest of this one is my analysis of the ПЕПЕ part. So, of course, I looked into the name a bit, looking through all notable historical figures with the last name, and found one that I think is of special interest: Guglielmo Pepe. Born in the small ancient town of Squillace, Pepe entered the army at a very young age, and was an Italian commander during the early 1800s, but his military career was fraught with trouble, as he also had rather revolutionary politics, which angered both the government he was serving and many of his peers, and he was exiled on several occasions. Upon Pepe’s return to Italy at the age of 30, he was given the rank of general. After this, the most notable events in his life would largely consist of his attempts at going rogue in revolutionary attempts to change the existing power structure, for which he was usually punished. (It’s also perhaps worth mentioning that his brother was part of the attempted French invasion of Russia.) All of this is to say, Pepe obviously shares some striking similarities to General Block, perhaps the most striking of which is his status as a 30-year-old general, which is an aspect of Block’s character that is highlighted several times. So, of course, I looked into Block’s character a bit more, and discovered that in the Russian version of the game he is called “General Ash” instead of “General Ashes.” “Strange,” I thought, until I saw that in Russian, Ash is “Пепел” which is pronounced as “Pepel” for anyone that isn’t familiar with Cyrillic. If we look into it, we do see that the letter after the Пепе is л, but it is notably not bold. This is, if you're counting, two separate times in this paper where the plural for ash, пепелище, is split up so that only the пепе is emphasized. As for other connections between Pepe and Block, we could look at them both harboring some revolutionary tendencies and being punished for it, both by The Powers That Be and his peers. General Block also tells Artemy that he was born in a town not too dissimilar to the Town on Gorkhon; this is interesting because there are some connections to be drawn between Squillace and Gorkhon, primarily that both of them preserve the beauties of ancient times that have all but been lost to most people. Related to this, it should also be noted that I believe the plot of The Marble Nest was heavily based on the plot of The Seventh Seal, which is the same movie that inspired the character Alexander Block.

The rest of line 15 is also interesting, but I’m not sure exactly what it’s supposed to mean yet. It translates to “Heaven on Pepe” basically. I consider the “Pepe” part to probably be the most important, since there’s a large crease that runs through it, which I think probably denotes a level of importance? The line’s meaning might be related to the fact that “heaven” is sort of a synonym for “utopia,” or the character that Block is based on is the protagonist of a movie that revolves around the ideas of heaven and Christianity, which is something we saw very briefly with Block in Pathologic 1. If you have any ideas please post about them and tag me, or simply comment/reblog this with your ideas!

Line 1 and line 18’s bolded letters both start out with “ов”, and for my English speakers out there it is pronounced sorta like “ove.” ов is interesting because if you translate it as о-в it actually is the shortened form of “island” in Russian. Line 1’s bolded letters read as “ов попо”, and for people not familiar with Cyrillic попо is basically “popo.” There are, apparently, many Popo islands in the world, and I couldn’t find one that I think directly connects to the ARG or Pathologic, but maybe someone else out there will, or perhaps that line has a different meaning to it. As for line 18, it says “ов испустивших” and according to Russian wiktionary, the second word is one letter off from the word “Emitted.” I looked a bit deeper, though, because that didn’t satisfy me (why would they use the incorrect spelling of a word after all?) and I didn’t see much, but I did find two things that used the exact word “испустивших” that interested me: A Saudi Arabian newspaper that has been translated into Russian, as well as a Russian poem from 1777 celebrating the birth of Grand Duke Alexander Pavlovich, also known as Alexander I of Russia. The latter is more interesting to me for numerous reasons, the first one being that it might serve my theory about the connection between line 1 and 15, as line 1’s bolded letters end with попо and line 15’s end with пепе. The connection is weak, too weak for me to make it a separate bullet point, but strong enough for me to want to explain. So, as we know, there is a connection between line 1 and 18, it’s what this whole bullet point is about, and this theory (using the term “theory” loosely) relies on us seeing them as very closely connected. Basically, Alexander I was the ruler of Russia during the French invasion, which is interesting because, if you’ll remember, Guglielmo Pepe’s brother, Florestano Pepe, took part in the French invasion. This, to me, is an interesting connection, but I do admit it’s definitely a reach.

That’s where I’ll stop talking about the bolded letters on the left side of the paper. If you’d like to see what other bolded letters there are, what they could possibly mean, and try to decipher the meaning for yourself please go to my linked Google Doc(s).

As for the right side of the Newspaper, there are some bolded letters, but I can't seem to make much sense out of them, and by this point in my research I was starting to pursue more promising ARG leads, so this section is rather incomplete. Just as a reminder, the right side of the newspaper is an advertisement for a lantern/kerosene shop. I personally think the right side is more interesting than the left for a couple reasons, but most of them are either self-evident or will be discussed later.

The lantern on the right side of the paper is the same model that’s used throughout the Haruspex’s route, but most notably it’s used a ton during The Marble Nest as set dressing. And when I say "a ton" I really mean it.

I also remembered vaguely an unused lantern item found in the game files of Pathologic 2, so I went to the Pathologic wiki to look for it, and surely enough the exact lantern used by Artemy, the one that appears so many times in The Marble Nest, is also an unused item present in the game files. When using console commands to give yourself the item, you’re able to click on it and select the “touch” option, upon which you’ll see the number 6192355001378070 where the name of the item should be, and 6192355001378072 where the touch text should be. I’m not sure exactly what these numbers are supposed to mean; my first thought was that they seemed long enough to be coordinates, so I put them into google maps and it does lead to a location in Russia! Nonetheless, the numbers are a little bit too long to make sense as cohesive coordinates. Still, it might be something worth investigating. You'll see later in this post just how significant numbers and number patterns are in this ARG.

The word used to describe one of the victims of this inferno, “academician,” has sorta interesting connotations in countries that were once part of or heavily influenced by the USSR. This person is referred to as “Mr. F.L.” in the article. This guy is also said to be a historian and a “бытооописателя,” which as you can probably tell by the fact that I’m not using the translated English version is a weird word. Perhaps the strangest thing about this word is the fact that it clearly has 3 o’s where there should only be one. The actual meaning of this word is odd, as it’s very rarely used, and according to all sources I could find (including native Russian speaker and linguistics enthusiast @kurury-chan) it is either an archaic term for a historian or a term meaning “writer of everyday life.” I’m honestly not sure what that means, and at first, I thought it meant something like a blogger. The most complete and coherent definition I could find describes it as “author of works describing everyday life.” A different translation I found seems to say it means something like "chronicler," which I suppose makes some sense.

In the bottom right part of the paper, you will notice what at first appears to be a signature. Admittedly I had almost no hand in this part of the investigation, except for the isolation and upscaling of the text. Most of the work here was done by @cryingsyren with some help from @kurury-chan and @ded-not-ded. Here is the image that I got for them of the text, and here is our current interpretation of it: It at first seemed to be Russian cursive (and it probably is supposed to be), which complicates things quite a bit, and @cryingsyren spent a couple days trying to figure out exactly what it says, (with some help from @kurury-chan) and as far as we can tell it’s four letters, which are separated into either two or three sections. I think we have a decent grasp on what they’re supposed to be in Cyrillic, but the interesting thing is that they do look a lot like both Russian and Latin cursive. I’ll describe them now using what Latin character they look like in quotes followed by what Cyrillic character they look like in parenthesis. The first section is an “M” (М) and a “K” (К), which are very clearly connected. The next section is either an “H” (Н) or an “H” and an “n/u”. We’re not exactly sure whether the H and the n/u are supposed to be connected, but the n/u being lowercase seems to imply it is. The interesting thing about the n/u is that, while it looks like it could be a Latin n or u, it also looks like it could be a Cyrillic и, which is the italicized version of the Russian letter и. It seems all too coincidental that all of the letters they used have almost exact visual counterparts in the Latin alphabet. At the moment our working theory is that it could be initials, and this is where I come in, because for days I knew I recognized the "MK" part of the signature, but I couldn't remember exactly where from until today. For anyone that has played too much Pathologic Classic HD like me, you may recognize the "MK" signature from the center of the loading screen in that game, scrawled in a way that most people wouldn't pay attention to it, and certainly that most people wouldn't have it committed to memory like me. During the roughly 170 hours I've spent playing the game I've probably looked at that MK more than I've looked at my youngest brother. This presents the question, who is MK? Well at first I thought it could be Mr. Katzman, as referenced in the "Mask" post, but that didn't seem right to me. This is when the fact that so much of my brain is Pathologic lore facts came to help again, when I remembered state inquisitor Mark Karminsky, who you may remember as being one of the men people thought would come to the town before Aglaya Lilich showed up. As for the rest of the writing, I'll leave that up to you guys to figure out.

Something to note for later on: We know there to be 19 inquisitors when Pathologic takes place, and in this ARG the number 19 becomes very important with later clues.

"Mask" Fyodor Vitin post

Arguably this is the Fyodor Vitin post I’ve done the most research into, and it eventually led me to develop a very deep and passionate interest in the Buryat peoples that has so far caused me to read several books and around a dozen academic papers about them. I haven’t only done research into the Buryats for this post, though, because although the Buryats are the primary inspiration for The Kin, they’re not the only inspiration. Despite all of this research work, this section will be rather short because I’ve already been through and exhausted most possible leads I’ve found, and this is what remains. Since the post is in English, and I think everyone that follows me presumably knows English (если вы не говорите по-английски, я хвалю вас за то, что вы зашли так далеко) I won’t summarize it, so I’d recommend reading the Vitin post and then coming back.

We see in the post the mask of “Muu Shubuun,” which we’ll immediately notice is almost the exact same mask as is used by the Executors in the game. Actually, in the Marble Nest, you can acquire the Executor mask, and its touch text reads, “The mask of Muu Shubuun, ‘the wicked bird.’ Part of the Reaper costume from the local theatre.” I have found several different sources that lead me to believe this is based on actual Buryat folklore, however, I’ve heard several conflicting accounts on whether Muu Shubuun is an evil spirit that tricks people by taking the shape of a beautiful woman, or if it’s closer to what we see in the game/ARG, but both seem to be documented as existing within sources on the Buryats. I think this confusion between the two likely means the stories and connotations associated with Muu Shubuun vary based on different groups of Buryats. An alternate spelling I’ve seen used is “Mu Shuvuu.” Possibly related to this is the character “Shar Shuvuu” (which means “eagle owl”), who appears in The Marble Nest during the “marriage” scene in the steppe camp behind the cathedral. In fact, a surprisingly high number of NPC characters in this DLC are named after birds.

The phrase used in the post to describe a seasonal festival, “dosoo ba beshē tēēhēē” is where I’ve devoted much of my research, with most of that research being from about a month ago. Only the third word in this phrase, beshē, appears as a kin word in the games as far as I know. However, we can use a method here that people in the Pathologic community have been using for years to figure out the meaning of kin words: Most of the steppe language in the game is based on one of many languages: Buryat mostly, Mongolian sometimes, Tibetan sometimes, and some parts of it also take inspiration from other languages of similar origin to these. A majority of the language seems to be based on Buryat, and many Kin words come straight from the language. A few words in the game seem to be made up entirely by Ice-Pick Lodge, and many are based on words from the aforementioned real languages but tweaked slightly, as if to indicate that the steppe language spawned from those languages but has some distinctive elements. To determine what this phrase means, I tried my best to dig into the languages and find parallels:

“Dosö” in Buryat means “inside”

In Mongolian “dooshoo” means “down”

In Mongolian “ba” means either “and,” “we,” or “sorcery”

In Tibetan, “ba” means “cow”

“Beshē” in the game’s steppe language means either “not” or “other”

The prefix “të-” in Buryat means “to transport”

In Mongolian the prefix “te'e-” also means “to transport”

As for the “-hee” part of the word, I have not found a single source that could tell me what it means. I’ve found several Buryat words that end in “he,” but I can’t seem to find a connection between them strong enough to suggest what it denotes.

Upon first seeing this festival mentioned, I believe I commented somewhere on the Pathologic subreddit that it might be the same one we see in the Kin’s camp behind the cathedral in The Marble Nest. While I’m not 100% convinced still, I also don’t doubt it that much. One interesting thing to note for any people that might wanna investigate this in the future is that I’m pretty sure what we see in the Marble Nest is the same thing that Nara and the Haruspex perform in the abattoir, as they both seem to happen on day 10, and if you look close you can see that Nara is the one that is cut open in The Marble Nest. Seemingly with the Haruspex gone, there is no one that knows the lines and so the ritual doesn’t go as smoothly as it could.

“Messages” Fyodor Vitin Post:

This particular Fyodor Vitin post is the third one, which if you know Ice-Pick Lodge certainly has some importance to it. The post is a series of letters and images, one depicting an Executor and one depicting Voronika Kroy, who's a minor character in Pathologic 2 and the main character in the Pathologic Feverish Feelings ARG. The letters detail how the recipient’s reports about Voronika Kroy have been seen and have started an investigation by the Federal Bureau. What’s most interesting to me are two things: the jumble of (Latin alphabet) letters in the bottom left, and the number used within the letters (the post-card letters in this case).

The number in question is “196-17-1” which is apparently the case number used for the Voronika Kroy investigation. This number will be more important later in relation to other clues. One interesting thing I've found is that the RGB value for 196-17-1 is a deep red.

The jumble of letters at the bottom of the picture is “eiamrucdvrturxoevecid”. It is 21 letters and can be divided up into chunks of 3 or 7 letters. 3 and 7 of course being Ice-Pick Lodge’s favorite numbers. Up until this point, it has been assumed that this is an anagram, and I have no reason to doubt that. It has already been pointed out in the Pathologic subreddit that the words “Executor” and “Corvid” can be found in the anagram, as well as the Latin words “Cura”, “Curare”, “Curari”, “Medici”, and “Vivam.” Credit for finding the Latin words goes to u/apostforisaac who is apparently studying Latin at university! Additionally, u/Own_Sympathy_9814 deduced a possible meaning by unscrambling the anagram and finding “MAVRUD + VERIDIC + EXECUTOR”, which they believe hints toward the answers lying in the Marble Nest (I wrote the entire Marble Nest section of this post before finding their post about that, so I do feel pretty validated by it). Many people have been approaching this anagram, like many other parts of the ARG, as if they have one right answer, and frankly, I just don’t think that’s in the style of Ice-Pick Lodge. I’ll quickly list out some words/phrases I found in the anagram and what they mean/how they could relate. I will also include words that have already been discussed, and they’ll be marked with a “*” so you don’t think I found them. Most of the ones marked with a * I won’t be discussing, as most have already been discussed extensively. I also won’t be discussing the ones that I think probably don’t have much meaning, but I’m including them because it still could be something later on down the road.

I am You don’t actually even have to unscramble the letters to get this one, as the second, third, and fourth letters of the jumble simply spell it out. What's interesting is that the 7 "I am" discourses are a crucial part of the Christian Gospel according to John. The Gospel according to John was an important clue during the Feverish Feelings ARG, which revolved around Voronika Kroy and her Inquisitor father, Peter Kroy. If we're speaking of the four canonical gospels, we must also address the Gospel according to Mark, which coincidentally is the name of an inquisitor that has popped up elsewhere in this ARG. Following this theme, there is actually a non-canonical Gospel According to Peter, which seems too cool to be a coincidence.

Eve This is one you don’t have to unscramble also. Interestingly, Daniil is often compared to a snake, even being called a snake-man in Marble Nest by Shaazgai, a man belonging to the Kin. In the biblical story of Adam and Eve, it is a snake, often thought to be the devil, that convinces Eve to eat the forbidden fruit from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.

Retroviridae The scientific name for a retrovirus. If I was more knowledgeable about biology I would say more, but this seems important.

Rex Iudaeorum Translating in Latin to “King of the Jews,” this was the inscription that allegedly was put on the cross that held Jesus of Nazareth, as detailed by 19:19 in the book of John. Very interesting as Daniil does compare himself to Jesus at least once in the Haruspex route, on the night before Aglaya comes. The Gospels, as discussed before, all detail the life and crucifixion of Jesus Christ. The "19" connection is also interesting because of the inquisitor detail, and I'll talk about more of the connections to 19 later in the post.

Cardio Commonly used medically as a prefix for heart conditions, “cardio” is a Latinized version of the Greek “kardia,” which simply means heart. Heart imagery is very common and significant to the Bachelor.

Eva This is similar to the Russian version of Eve.

Corvid*

Cura*

Curare*

Curari*

Medici*

Vivam*

Mavrud*

Veridic*

Executor*

Order Could relate to the committee in The Marble Nest and the fact that after they’re replaced by tragedians the absurd order begins getting sent out to the orderlies.

Carex ericetorum This is a plant that would almost definitely be present in/around the Town on GorkhonThis is a plant that would almost definitely be present in/around the Town on Gorkhon

Creature

Marble Nest:

The Marble Nest, as we know, is very concise, only really lasting half a day in-game. Because of this, the dialogue does tend to feel a lot more intentional, as though the named characters are not necessarily speaking only to The Bachelor but also trying to convey a message to the player. This, of course, is because The Marble Nest takes place inside Dankovsky’s head. If this ARG will be revolving partly around The Bachelor, as it seems to be, then there’s no better place to start than digging into his head, which is why I’ve played so much of the Marble Nest for this.

There are several specific stories/myths/historical figures that are mentioned through Marble Nest. First, we’ll go through some of these.

There is a very interesting conversation that The Bachelor has with Georgiy Kain, where he is trying to justify his decision to lift the quarantine restrictions to The Bachelor, who is rather upset obviously. I’ll cut down and paraphrase most of the dialogue, since if I didn’t this would be much longer, but basically the conversation goes as:

[Georgiy introduces himself, and says he decided to let The Bachelor sleep so that he would have the strength to face the upcoming trial] [Daniil asks if Georgiy lifted the restrictions and let the plague into The Stone Yard] Georgiy: “Quite so. It's plain to me that you are on the verge of shredding me into pieces. But still your wrath. As a great Athenian once said, ‘Strike, if you will, but hear.’” Daniil: “Themistocles, I know. He met a rather gruesome end, by the way. Died of plague.” Georgiy: “No, it was Pericles. You are a learned man, but history is not your strong suit. Which is why you should listen to me. Perhaps it will help you see something that you missed in your previous studies.” [Georgiy then goes on to explain a bunch of other stuff about the plague, which as far as I’m concerned isn’t all that useful to the task at hand.]

I find this so interesting because The Bachelor, in his own head, poses a question to himself, gets it wrong, and then has another separate figment of his imagination correct him, and then proceeds to tell The Bachelor that he’s not great at history and should listen to Georgiy more. What’s even more interesting is that, as far as I can tell, Georgiy and Daniil are both wrong, it was actually Themistocles that said “Strike, if you will, but hear,” and it was Pericles that died of plague. I found this interesting enough to look into who Themistocles and Pericles were, and here’s what I found:

Themistocles was a politician and general that broke the mold by being non-aristocratic and populist, which gave him the support of the people but put him at odds with the nobles and some of his peers. He turned 30 in 494 BC, which qualified him to run for the position of Archon, which he did, and won the position the following year. He had a prominent rivalry with another politician named Aristides. Whereas Themistocles was populist, Aristides primarily fought for the upper class. Themistocles eventually 20the rivalry after Aristides was exiled. Years later, though, Themistocles himself was exiled, and while he was gone his enemies took the opportunity to charge him with treasonous activities, knowing he could not defend himself. Because of this, Themistocles could never return to Athens, and so found employment and a home among the people that he once fought against while serving Athens. Given military command once more, he was actually Themistocles who said “Strike, if you will, but hear,” and it was Pericles who died of plague. I found this interesting enough to look into who Themistocles and Pericles were, and here’s what I found: Pericles, to me, has less interesting things about him in relation to Pathologic, with the main two being that he rehabilitated the image of Themistocles and he died of a plague. What could be interesting is the fact that General Block and Captain Longin are in both Pathologic 1 and 2 often compared to Achilles and Patroclus, two Greek soldiers from ancient folktales, primarily known for being two of the most important characters in The Iliad. To me, drawing a connection between Achilles and Block, as well as Pericles and Longin, isn’t that absurd. What could also be interesting to note is that Pericles was the main character in a play written in part by William Shakespeare. While Themistocles' life almost exactly fits the character arc of General Block, down to the weird connection between him dying of the plague in The Marble Nest and Themistocles drinking bull blood (as well as Dankovsky thinking Themistocles died of the plague), I think how Pericles fits in could lie in the Shakespearean play, as we all know how important theater is to Pathologic. You see by now at least partially what I think this alludes to, but I’ll talk more about it in the additional notes section.

Next, I’ll discuss a mythical story brought up in the Marble Nest: The Tower of Babel. This is brought up by the clerks sitting directly outside Georgiy Kain’s house. I think most people would talk to these guys right before talking to Georgiy, but I have more to say about it so it’s written second. When talking to one of the clerks during their argument about the plague, one man mentions that he thinks The Polyhedron is at fault, and no matter how Dankovsky replies (he has 3 options), the man then says “History already knows an example of people trying to erect an impossible tower. It ended in tragedy.” I could go on explaining why I believe this guy is talking specifically about the Tower of Babel, this post is already long enough so just trust my reasoning here, please. Notable to the point I’m trying to make, one of the other clerks brings up that he thinks the plague was started because of the irreconcilable differences between The Kin and the town, and the fact that the Kin have been forcibly mashed into the town. When Dankovsky asks the man if something is holding the Kin in the town, preventing them from leaving and returning to the earth, the man says “Someone is… our rulers. They have embedded the steppe people into this town, carved them into its warm flesh. This isn't a town, it's an honest-to-God minotaur. A chimera. And chimeras have remarkably short lifespans and bad health. Can you breed a snake and a crane? You can, yes. But the progeny won't live long.” This dialogue is interesting for a few reasons, one related to the tower of Babel and two related to other possible ARG clues. The first interesting thing is that what he’s describing, drawing a connection between the Tower of Babel and the Polyhedron, actually makes a lot of sense. To him, the Polyhedron is not only an affront to God, but its accentuation of human hubris coincides with a beating down of nature and the earth, represented in part by most of the Polyhedron’s mass being concentrated far above the earth while also piercing the earth’s heart. The story of the mythical tower, to oversimplify it, is essentially a tale of people from many different walks of life all coming together to construct a giant, seemingly impossibly tall tower in order to avoid the possibility of a second biblical flood destroying most of humanity. God sees this attempt as an affront to both him and the natural order, and so before the men are able to finish the tower he divides them all by making them speak different languages, making it impossible for them to understand each other. So, in this second clerk’s interpretation, the plague is a result of the town both rebelling against/abusing nature and also taking the Kin into itself. Unlike the first man, who believes the tower itself is at fault, this second one believes it’s all because of the town making itself into a “chimera,” which he believes cannot live long. What’s clear to me, though, is that although these men believe they disagree, their explanations complement each other very well, which brings us to our third man, who has a rather simple but somewhat confusing explanation. This clerk believes that this plague occurred in the town because men should not be “remodeled or altered,” and when asked what that has to do with the epidemic he replies “I don’t know… It wasn't we who designed the world like this. I believe in men, Doctor; in superhumans, I do not. This earthly life wouldn't fit them. Immortals have no place in the world of the living. This is just how it works. Take from it what you will.” This man seems to be implying that Simon Kain, the immortal man, is the reason why this plague appeared in the town. This is when it all started to come together for me: these men's stories do really all complement each other, because here they are posing the Polyhedron, chimera, and Simon as all the same. This will further be explained in the additional notes section. Three parts of one whole if you will.

Now, the mention of the Tower of Babel is interesting for two other reasons, one of which will be discussed in the additional notes section and one of which I’ll discuss here. In the Fyodor Vitin “One can work here” post there are numerous items displayed in the room pictured, but perhaps most interesting to me is the golden bull statue that sits at the front and center of the photo. My first thought when seeing that image was “Oh! This reminds me of the biblical story of the golden calf statue, which I bet is what they’re referencing.” For those who aren’t familiar, I’ll be oversimplifying another biblical story now. While trekking from Egypt to the holy land, Moses leaves his people behind to climb to the top of a mountain and commune with God. Moses is gone for forty days, upon which the people are fearful that he will not return, and so they molded a calf statue out of gold to worship. God, upon seeing this, sends Moses down to the base of the mountain to punish his people for their sins. Moses burns the golden calf in a fire, ground it to powder and water, and forced his people to drink it. He then killed all of them basically. My thought process was related to the fact that The Bachelor is punished severely by The Powers That Be for his own affront to God, the pursuit of immortality. Now, after that previous discussion about the Tower of Babel, I am noticing some very interesting things in this picture, and primarily that there are two other related statues. Now that we have the previous context about The Tower of Babel and the clerks in our mind, we can see new meaning in these statues: a black statue of a centaur, and a white bust of a man. The interesting thing about the centaur should be obvious, it is another chimera. The bust of the man, which seems to be made of marble, reminded me somewhat of ancient Greek statues that are chiseled to glorify certain leaders and make them seem somewhat perfect while also immortalizing them in stone. You can probably see the connection I’m making here, and so I will leave the rest of the explanation for the additional notes section.

Another thing that's interesting to note is the aforementioned three men, unlike most characters in Pathologic 2 and the Marble Nest, do not stop moving when you pause the game; their animations continue to play even after you bring up the pause menu. If you’re unaware, there is actually a small detail in Pathologic 2 where pretty much everything nature-based or that is a natural force of the world, as well as everything that’s supposed to be seen in a meta-narrative sense, does not stop moving when you pause the game. This includes rain, leaves falling, the particle effects that come off the clocks, fire, executors (not orderlies), plague particles, etc. Once I noticed this (while trying to get a screenshot of some things to analyze) I tested out some other NPCs in The Marble Nest, and all of the other people I tested seemed to freeze when the game was paused. However, this is not to say that no other characters in the Marble Nest move when the game is paused. I only tested about 4 guys besides the primary trio we're discussing, mostly just to make sure it's not a thing that all Marble Nest characters do. If one of you people reading this would like to go through and see which characters in The Marble Nest also possess this trait, it could prove fascinating.

Finally, I’ll talk about two somewhat modern (at least modern compared to the previous two) stories that are brought up in The Marble Nest, although not directly: The Time Machine by H.G. Wells and The Masque of the Red Death by Edgar Allan Poe. Admittedly, I have not read either of these stories (it’s possible I read the EAP story 5-6 years ago and just don’t remember it), but I do actually know quite a bit about the stories and their themes from a couple of literary studies on specific genres I’ve done over the years. Additionally, for this section, I have done some more research on the plots and themes of these stories which yielded fascinating results.

The Time Machine is brought up when The Bachelor visits The Cathedral and speaks to a Tragedian standing within. The Tragedian talks about how the building is not a temple, but a machine. Daniil asks what kind of machine, and The Tragedian responds “This is a time machine. Time works differently on the inside and on the outside. It's frozen now. I think something's broken.” To which Dankovsky can say “A time machine? Are you saying it can transport me to the past or to the future? Like in that Englishman's book, what's his name…” For this, I did some research into what book he could be referring to, and almost instantly Time Machine stood out to me for a number of reasons. I think there might be something interesting to be said about how this relates to the ARG, but I’m not going to be the one to say it, because I’m honestly not sure how or if it does. I will describe how it connects to Pathologic though, in case that sparks anyones mind. The work is apparently seen as popularizing the idea of time travel and the time machine, which relates to what IPL has said about The Bachelor’s route I suppose. As for the plot, it’s about a Victorian man using a time machine to travel to the year of A.D. 802,701. He meets two races of people, one descended from the oppressed working class and one descended from the pampered owning class. Over hundreds of thousands of years of this lifestyle, the two races have started to diverge, with the owning class becoming child-like and basically useless, while the working class has been forced into a life of toil and hardship which has shaped them into a race of underground-dwelling animalistic race of people. Essentially the novel is a depiction of class struggle and the class contradictions inherent within capitalism, but with a bit of a metaphorical twist. The toiling of the working class underground is what allows the upper class to live in abundance without the need for work. There is very interesting commentary here to be made on the worms/odonghs in the game, as well as the eternal youth that is present in some elements of the stone yard, but this isn’t a Pathologic essay, it’s a Pathologic ARG essay.

The Masque of the Red Death is alluded to by The Bachelor in a dialogue with a wandering citizen, who opens up the conversation by saying “A masquerade ball will be held in the main square this evening. People want to celebrate our victory over the sand pest. You don't mind…?” To which The Bachelor has 3 possible replies, one of them being “I seem to vaguely remember a rather famous story about a masquerade held to celebrate a victory over a plague. Remember how it ended?” To summarize, The Masque of the Red Death is about a group of noblemen taking refuge in an abbey to hide from a plague (the plague is known as the Red Death). The plague’s symptoms are gruesome, and all people who contract it apparently die within a half hour. The main character, Prince Prospero, and his fellow noblemen believe themselves to be entirely safe, though, as they have welded shut all the doors and isolated themselves in the abbey. To entertain the guests, the prince holds a masquerade ball that takes place in seven of the rooms of his abbey, each colored differently. The first six rooms are blue, purple, green, orange, white, and violet, with the last being black and illuminated by a red window. No guests venture into the seventh room, as they are all scared to enter it. Every hour a clock in that room chimes, upon which the guests freeze and go silent momentarily, before resuming normal activity once the chiming stops, only to do the same thing after an hour. Once midnight comes, a person appears in robes covered in blood and resembling a funeral shroud, wearing a mask that depicts a person clearly infected with the Red Death. This figure walks through six of the chambers before the prince starts chasing them with a dagger. Confronting them in the seventh room, the prince immediately falls dead upon seeing this person’s face. The other party-goers all charge the figure, stripping them of their clothes and mask, only to find that there is no one underneath. The conclusion of the story states that the figure was not a person, but rather an embodiment of the Red Death. The Red Death also appears as a reference in the novel The Phantom of the Opera, as well as several film and musical adaptations. The titular phantom dresses up as The Red Death, and in many adaptations wears a skull mask as part of the costume.

I believe Hamlet is also brought up at some point in The Marble Nest, but I can’t seem to find the dialogue so I’m unsure if that’s true.

Next, I'll talk about another random Marble Nest clue

The Bachelor’s hover text for the beetle item says “I used to collect these as a kid. Left the collection with my father.” @pseudoquiddity found that a paper on the top of “The Beginning” Fyodor Vitin post spells out Mechnikov, which is almost definitely referencing Ilya Ilyich Mechnikov, who was a Russian zoologist and immunologist who achieved incredible scientific discovery during his life, and notably for us he was largely focused on the issue of aging and extending human life. Mechnikov was actually brought up in an IPL teletype post as one of the Bachelor’s main influences scientifically, alongside Albert Einstein and Max Planck. The relevant thing about Mechnikov here is that, as a zoologist, he did many notable studies on insects throughout his career to see how their bodies reacted to things compared to how ours did. One thing that’s interesting to me is that the type of beetles we see in the game, I believe, are based on Trypocopris Vernalis, commonly known as the spring dumbledor or spring dor beetle, which is not known to inhibit the region that the Town on Gorkhon would reside in. Another thing I find interesting is the touch text from the Alpha version of the game, which reads “Some fifteen years ago, the Soul-and-a-Halves, the gang of children who are defined by sharing special bonds with their pets, actually considered to allow flower chafers as their "Halves" due to the beetles ‘looking as though they knew something’. The idea was quickly abandoned as ridiculous.” Maybe I’m just 8.6 thousand words into this post and have finally gone insane, but I think the beetles “looking as though they know something”, combined with their close connection to Dankovsky, it seems too intentional.

In the “Feverish Feelings” ARG, the Beatles (the band) were brought up indirectly and used by the players as a clue to get more information. This also related to the clue relating to the Gospel according to John. Additionally, speaking of Mechnikov, u/Fantastic_Advice5593 theorized that the numbers on Daniil’s train ticket from one of the original ARG notes could be hinting toward the date May 15th, or 5/15 (15/5 if you use the non-American dating system I believe), which is Mechnikov Day, and is commonly recognized as Mechnikov’s date of birth. Proving this connection further, the “Messages” Fyodor Vitin post was posted on May 15th. Another interesting thing is that if we convert the time that the “Messages” image was posted to the time scheme used in Pathologic (that is, a 24-hour clock), it comes out to 19:35 (Using GMT+3 time zone, as that’s where Moscow is located.) This is interesting because “Messages” was also posted 19 days after the previous post, and I know for a fact that 19 is an important number in this ARG: The newspaper from the “The Accident” post was labeled as issue number 19, the bible passage that we saw referenced in the anagram from the “Messages” post is John 19:19, the jumble of letters that we found in the touch text for the unused lantern item includes “19,” and so does the 196-17-1 number from Messages. In a way, the number 19 is sort of a self-checking method to substantiate some of the clues we’ve found thus far.

Griffins’ Tower

Many of the details in this section wouldn’t be possible without @kurury-chan who, upon my inquiry about the tower and its accompanying pharmacy, actually visited it, got tons of cool pictures, and translated a ton of the history for me! I literally cannot thank her enough for her help with many elements of this post, but especially in this section. In the original Pathologic ARG, “Feverish Feelings,” the Griffins’ Tower is brought up a couple of times throughout, and was part of an intensive fandom discussion because many elements of it paralleled many themes and plot points of Pathologic. The following connections/possibly related facts are a combination of fandom discussion from the time and my own research:

The tower is connected to a pharmacy that has existed since the 18th century. Both were once owned by the Poehl family, who were a rather eccentric yet somewhat mysterious rich family. Rumors from the time (The 18th/19th century) speculate that members of the family engaged in “…alchemy and witchcraft, and in the basements of the house he turned mercury into gold and bred griffins. Since ancient times, it was believed that griffins, mythical creatures with the body of a lion and the head of an eagle, were the guardians to secret sacred knowledge and treasures.”

In 1994, the artist Alexey Kostroma, together with the society "Here and There" (Tut i tam), organized a demonstration/art-piece to advocate for the preservation of the tower and the revitalization of the city, which they believed was falling apart before their very eyes. During this demonstration, they hoisted a large egg (approximately 1.5 meters) onto the top of the tower, and they painted (I’m not sure what was used to put the numbers on the tower, but I assume it was paint) numbers on almost every brick of the tower. While the purposes for the those two additions rarely get brought up in conversations surrounding it, the egg and the numbers are now some of the most well-known parts of the tower, despite the fact that neither of the two are there anymore. The Polyhedron, as we know, is a tower that at the top houses children and is made from its own complex blueprints. Additionally, in the Marble Nest, but also throughout Pathologic as a whole, there is a common piece of imagery that connects eggs and the Utopians. In the opening of The Marble Nest, the item that’s used on the loading screen is an egg. If you look at the egg sprite in P2, you’ll see a crack in it that heavily resembles the Polyhedron. Daniil Dankovsky commonly uses the Latin phrase “ab ovo,” which means “from the beginning” but when literally translated means “from the egg,” and his touch text for the egg in Marble Nest reads “To understand anything, start ab ovo — ‘from the egg.’”

While playing through The Marble Nest several times for this ARG, I noticed something that gave me more confidence in The Griffins’ Tower playing a role in it. If you guys have played Pathologic as much as I have you’ll know there’s a tower in between the Stone Yard and the steppe that you can’t enter and is barely ever really explained. If I’m picking apart my brain correctly for Pathologic 1 knowledge, I believe it is implied to be a Focus of some sort. If you’ve only played Pathologic 2, or you haven’t played through The Bachelor’s route in P1 enough, or you haven’t read through the Pathologic “Corpus” entries, you probably have an incomplete idea of what a “focus” is and all that it entails. I won’t go too deep into it now, but it’s said in one of the Corpus entries that, on top of the Polyhedron, Cathedral, Stillwater, Crucible, etc., there were a number of experimental Focuses that were built for Simon Kain to test the limits of what buildings could capture the human soul and memories. It’s a building you can’t ever enter, but it does have a visible door, which is very similar to the way that Simon’s focus is described by Victor Kain. I’d like to draw your attention to the visual similarities between that tower and the Griffin Tower. I’d also like to draw your attention to the fact that, in the original design concepts of Pathologic 1 every character is associated with a specific animal, and Simon Kain’s is a griffin. What is a griffin? Well, it’s a fusion between two drastically different creatures, a lion and an eagle; a griffin is a chimera.

Interestingly, in 2005 (the year Pathologic came out) the pharmacy connected to The Griffins Tower was closed for a while because it became flooded with water while trying to extinguish a fire.

There is a photo in the pharmacy connected to the tower (which has now been converted into a museum about the history of the place and pharmacies in general) that depicts, during the early 1900s, the pharmacy sitting next to a theater called “Simpatiya” (Sympathy).

While @kurury-chan was on a tour of the pharmacy/museum she found an interesting marmite that was on display. It was created by Samuel Clarke and it’s called “Pyramid,” and the marmite has an accompanying poem: Когда ночи темные, подумайте о Кларке, который попал точно в цель. Его ночные огни создают светлые ночи, в которых вы прекрасно видите. (When the nights are dark, think of Clark hitting the mark. His night lights create bright nights in which you can see perfectly) This is interesting largely because the poem reminds me somewhat of the body text for the lantern ad found in the newspaper post.

In the original email mentioning the Griffin’s Tower, Voronika Kroy appends the message by saying “P.S. I feel like I’ll need this memory later.”

Seventh Seal

I watched this movie after discovering all of the allusions to General Block we’ve seen thus far, but being unsure what to do with any of them. For those that don’t know, the movie The Seventh Seal’s protagonist Octavius Block has been listed as one of the main inspirations for Alexander Block, and since IPL seems intent on leading us to analyze certain works of literature/film/theater for this, I decided to look into it. What I found is incredibly interesting I think, because it seems that one of the main inspirations for The Marble Nest is The Seventh Seal.

The title is based on a bible verse (from the Book of Revelations) that reads “And when the Lamb had opened the seventh seal, there was silence in heaven about the space of half an hour.” This verse appears both at the very beginning of the movie and then again toward the end. This thirty minutes/half-an-hour element appears prominently in both this story and The Masque of the Red Death. One other place it appears is on the pocket watch in the first Fyodor Vitin post, where the time on it is 2:30. I am very confident that it also appears in The Marble Nest once or twice, but despite looking I was unable to find it. If anyone else knows where it might be, either comment on this post or message me, and I will put it in this section and credit you.

The movie's plot revolves around Antonius Block, a disillusioned medieval knight returning from the Crusades. Block is struggling throughout the movie with his inability to believe in God and his realization that his whole life has been wasted. He wishes more than anything to do one last deed before his death to give his life meaning. The movie is set during the Black Death, with prominent elements of the story revolving around the plague. The movie largely focuses on how Block takes in several poor and out-of-luck folks fleeing the plague, inviting them to stay at his castle and escorting them along the way.

Toward the beginning of the movie, Death comes to take Block, but he convinces Death to play him in a game of chess for his life. This game of chess continues throughout the movie, with Death allowing Block to take several breaks in order to find clarity about his life and death. Toward the end of the movie, he allows Death to take his queen, effectively ensuring he would lose the game in the next turn, so that his companions could get away without Death noticing. After returning to his castle, everyone has a nice meal before Death arrives and takes everyone, excluding the people that Block helped get away by tricking Death.

Many things from Pathologic seem to take inspiration from this movie; most notable being the storyline of The Marble Nest (Dankovsky’s “People” screen categorizes people as chess pieces, essentially implying that his struggle against death is a sort of chess match), but there are also some smaller things. For example, there is a scene where the characters encounter someone afflicted with the plague who cries out for help, and one of the women tries to get closer to give the man water, but another person stops her, as giving water to a plague victim is futile and dangerous; almost immediately after this, a personification of Death appears. This heavily reminds me of the intro/tutorial of Pathologic 2, where a similar scene occurs.

While watching the movie, it’s very easy to see how Block was directly inspired by the main character, but it’s hard to convey exactly how without describing many scenes in detail, so I will simply describe one of them. After leaving a church confessional where he admits to his faith faltering and wanting to perform one meaningful deed before he dies, Block encounters a young woman who’s about to be burned at the stake for allegedly having ties to the devil. He takes pity on this woman, seeing something special in her, and believes she can tell him about life after death. This, to me, seems very reminiscent of Block’s storyline with the Changeling in P1.

Another small lead before this part of the post is finished: This lead, I will admit, I stumbled across completely at random, and will not talk about much because there’s not much I can say about it that isn’t obvious. It might be worth looking into the Russian philosopher Nikolai Fyodorovich Fyodorov, and perhaps thinking about if Fyodor Vitin was based partially on him, since we know Vitin works closely with Daniil.

Additional Notes/Comments:

In the newspaper clipping, it is said that a man with the initials “F.L.” had been one of the apparent two victims of the fire that burned down several buildings. This man (who I’ll simply refer to as “F” from now on) is an academician, historian, and writer of everyday life, which obviously fits well with the man that we know as Fyodor Vitin, and it has been assumed up until this point that he was the victim of this fire. I think there are three possibilities here: Fyodor Vitin was not the victim of this fire somehow, Fyodor Vitin is not his real name, or the newspaper is lying to us. In connection to the light/lantern emphasis in the newspaper, it might be worth it to note that the word “vitin” in Faroese means something like “the lighthouse”/“the beacon”, while in old Swedish it means something like “to know.” What’s more interesting is that Vitin in old Swedish is a second-person plural present indicative, and for people that got a useful education, that means it’s a verb that’s used to factually describe the current actions of the people that the speaker is saying it to. If Vitin isn’t his real surname, his username could mean “Fyodor beacon”, or “Fyodor (that you all) know”.

As discussed extensively in the section on the Tower of Babel, there is a direct connection drawn between the Polyhedron, Simon, and chimeras. We elaborated a bit on this connection in the section on the Griffins’ Tower. What’s especially interesting then is the fact that, in The Marble Nest, the Polyhedron is labeled as “focus,” implying that Simon’s essence is infused in the Polyhedron, as is what happens in the first game. This, I believe, confirms our theory about the connection even further. What then makes this even more related to the ARG is the fact that in the “One can work here” post by Fyodor Vitin, we see the three statues depicting the golden bull, the centaur, and the marble bust of a man. It is then worth noting that this bust of a man made of marble could be a reference to The Marble Nest, perhaps trying to get us to look there for clues. I believe, if the golden bull is meant to represent the Polyhedron (or at least the Polyhedron argument in The Marble Nest), and the centaur is meant to represent the chimera, then the marble bust of the man is meant to represent Simon (or, once again, represent the Simon/immortal man argument from the Marble Nest). This is supported by my point about the marble busts both immortalizing men and also making them more into concepts than men (as the statue can only depict a small part of a man’s life, usually depicting him in battle, leading a governmental position, etc). In the original game, and as can slightly be seen in hints of the second game, Simon is sometimes seen as more of a concept than a man; he is the ideology of the utopians incarnate, the perfect man that represents everything humanity could be. As a chimera is vital to Burakh’s quest, so too is it vital for Dankovsky’s (and it’s interesting to note that Burakh has the chimera revelation while in conversation with Dankovsky.) If the Marble Nest is used to represent the stone yard, or the “town” in its purest form, then Simon Kain is the marble man. It then becomes important to figure out where the “One can work here” picture is supposed to be depicting. I believe, if the statues there are supposed to represent all that we’ve said so far, the location should be representative of Dankovsky’s fight against death, and therefore I say it probably has to be Thanatica.

Now, as for all the connections with General Block, there are obviously many of them, from the Guglielmo Pepe hypothesis to the mention of Aristides/Pericles to The Seventh Seal to the whole “ash” thing, it seems far too much to be a series of coincidences. I don’t think it’s too crazy to connect the prominent appearance of the number 30 in the Block/Pepe/Aristides context to the prominent appearance of the number 30 (as in half an hour) in The Seventh Seal, which makes the appearance of the number 30 in that first Fyodor Vitin post even more interesting. It’s long been theorized that, from what we see in the Haruspex’s route and what we’ve seen in Pathologic 1, the Bachelor’s new route will probably feature General Block much more prominently. Perhaps, as the first ARG was so focused on the inquisitors, we’ll also get to learn more about the army in this one. Maybe General Ashes even had something to do with the building that was reduced to ashes?

The topic of religion, and specifically Christianity, comes up a lot in The Marble Nest. I think all the connections I’ve made in this post to Christianity have convinced you that it’s seemingly an important part of this ARG. In the first ARG, there were certain biblical passages that acted as clues, specifically from the Gospel according to John, which we talked about in the section on the “Messages” post. As is also mentioned in that section, the connection to Inquisitors Peter Kroy and Mark Karminsky seems to be driving us toward looking into The Gospel according to Peter and The Gospel according to Mark. It’s also talked about in that section how these both relate to Daniil. Mark Karminsky specifically also seems to have had something to do with the "Accident" mentioned in the newspaper, and so perhaps combining numbers from the newspaper within the Gospel of Mark could lead to some clues.

Still, as much as I’ve said in this post, there is more I wish to analyze but have not yet. This post has been in the works for a while, though, and I don’t want people to be waiting any longer, so I’ll have to save that other stuff for another day.

If anyone can somehow get into the game files of the Marble Nest and retrieve the texture/model for any of the letters or books (like the two linked images), that will end up being very helpful.

Other screenshots from Pathologic 2/The Marble Nest that could be of interest:

Grigory Gorky (Pathologic 2) Grigory Gorky (The Marble Nest) Mikhail Goba (The Marble Nest) Daniil Death Certificate (The Marble Nest) Rug (The Marble Nest) Book (The Marble Nest) Familiar Bloody Handprint (The Marble Nest) Tipped Over Lantern (The Marble Nest) Staff Sergeant Plover (The Marble Nest) Avrely Gubar (The Marble Nest) Odd use of Roman Numerals (The Marble Nest) Cathedral Letter (The Marble Nest) Plant that I found several times in the Cathedral (The Marble Nest)