#arisu x reader

[butter-scout]

alice in borderland masterlist.

☆ = safe to work; ★ = not safe to work

Arisu Ryohei

pretty mind★

[butter-scout]

PRETTY MIND

yandere! f.reader x Arisu Ryohei

genre: dead dove, maybe dark romance if I write more chapters (should I, folks?)

wc: 2.2k

warnings: captivity, forced feeding, coercion, kidnapping, forced suffocation, implied torture, death threats.

synopsis: As one of the Beach's leaders, you shouldn't be so obsessed with Arisu but you can't help yourself anymore. You have never felt such desire for someone like that before.

a/n: Divider made by @mfrgraphics I didn't know I could write something so dark like that until now but it was actually fun to try something different. I may write this as a series since their dynamics has a lot of potential. I'm not punishing myself anymore in writing everything in one go like before. I just can't do it anymore. I'm sorry for those who don't like it.

You were starting to get used to visiting that room — and as one of the leaders of the Beach, you knew you shouldn't.

By what should have been the third day, your feet already knew which direction to go without consulting your mind. You'd stopped sending subordinates to handle it, taking the task upon yourself despite your public reasoning about efficiency. The truth, tucked away where you didn't examine it too closely, was simpler: your ears longed to hear him. A voice. A mind that attracted you in ways you couldn't quite name — intellectually, addictively.

The doorknob turned with a familiar click, and you breathed something dangerously close to relief when you found him exactly as you'd left him yesterday. And how could he not be? Tied to that chair, wrists raw from testing ropes that wouldn't give, gagged with a black cloth cutting into the corners of his mouth. Arisu's struggles would amount to nothing but wasted energy. He didn't even lift his face at your arrival — probably disappointed that another day had passed without rescue, without escape, without anything but you.

It was wrong to feel this small bloom of happiness when a person was imprisoned against their will. You knew that. But when had the Beach ever felt so alive? It had been so long since anything had pierced through the gray static of your days. You'd chosen to settle here, built something resembling purpose, but living among the others eventually grew uncomfortable. Their noise. Their needs. Their endless, desperate grasping at hope.

But him —

Arisu was different. Arisu was quiet. Arisu didn't ask you for anything except, perhaps, to understand.

You closed the door behind you, sealing the two of you in the room's stale air and muted light. Your footsteps carried you to the immobilized boy, and you knelt before him with a gentleness that would have looked almost tender to anyone who didn't understand what this really was.

Damage control. That's what you'd told yourself at first. He'd stumbled too close to the Beach's secrets, and someone needed to contain the threat until the Hatter decided what to do with him. But somewhere between the first day and the third, the narrative had shifted. Now you came because the hours without him felt thinner. Emptier.

He still hadn't looked up.

You reached into your pocket and took out a small package — snacks one of your subordinates had scavenged from a convenience store during last night's rounds. Cheap things, the kind he'd probably eaten a thousand times in his old life. You held it out to him.

Arisu could refuse. He'd refused before, pride surviving even here. But the boy was surely hungry now. You could almost hear it in the silence between you — the hollow ache beneath his ribs, the body's quiet betrayal of the spirit.

"Ah, right," you murmured, feigning sweetness. He was tied to that chair and gagged. How could he say yes or no? How could he even accept your proposal even if he wanted to? How could he escape the palm of your hand if you didn't give him the opportunity? "I forgot you can't serve yourself." But of course, you hadn't forgotten any of those details.

Your fingers found the knot of the black cloth at the nape of his neck, and you undid it with deliberate, sadistic slowness, feeling the fabric give way, watching his breathing change as the fresh air touched the irritated skin around his mouth, while you felt your heart fill with sick excitement.

The cloth fell into his lap, and Arisu let out a raspy sigh, his jaw trembling from the effort of staying clenched for so long. His struggle just to breathe was something that enchanted you. Simply because of what you had put there and because you could put it back whenever you wanted.

But Arisu didn't speak. He didn't ask for water. He didn't scream for help. He just raised his eyes — and you saw the cold fury there, the calculated contempt of someone who still believed they had some advantage, or at least some kind of unshakable motivation. A motivation you hadn't unraveled. Yet. That was almost electrifying. It fried every neuron in your brain, trying to understand how he still wanted to be in a position to confront you.

Others had given in for so much less, but there, that human being didn't seem to fear you in the slightest. If he did, he was perfectly capable of hiding it. You sometimes wondered if Arisu wasn't a specialist in hearts and not diamonds, as you had associated many times in your head. If that were the case, it would be even more fun, since you were one too.

"Not going to say anything?" You tilted your head, a smug smile on your lips. It was like watching your new favorite toy.

He just held your gaze. His silence was louder than anything that could be said.

"Alright," you sighed, feigning disappointment, but still opening the pack of biscuits. "I'll speak for the both of us."

You opened the wrapper with equal slowness, as if you wanted him to observe the precious meal in front of him — as commercial and cheap as it was, but in a dystopian world like that, the simple was luxury — and took out a biscuit, bringing it to his mouth. The young man turned his face away, his brow furrowed beneath the messy dark strands. Ah, he was still fighting you. How exciting.

"No." Finally, he said something, his voice coming out hoarse, broken, against his own will.

The sound of his voice — that defiant tone even when shattered — made something tighten inside you. A hot excitement that rose from your belly and spread through your arms, your fingers, your eyes, through every small centimeter of your body. It was almost like a kind of mental orgasm.

"Finally," you whispered, and the smile that spread across your face was too wide, too distorted. "I thought you were going to ignore me forever, Arisu."

The cookie was still in your hand, intact, and you stubbornly brought it to his lips again. This time, when he turned away, you were faster and your free hand grabbed his chin with brutality, forcing his face back into place.

"No," he repeated, but the sound came out muffled because your fingers were squeezing his cheeks, pressing them against his teeth. Those cheeks were so soft. You had to be careful, didn't you? You didn't want him to lose the softness of that face from hunger.

"No what?" You tilted your head, studying him the way an entomologist would study a rare insect under a magnifying glass. To you, Arisu was your new favorite specimen. "You don't want to eat? You don't want to live? Why did you come to the Beach if you don't want to live, Arisu?"

Your thumb slid across his lower lip and teeth, forcing an opening for the food to enter whether he wanted it or not. The cookie touched his tongue before he could close his mouth, and you pushed it in without hesitation. Your little insect needed that more than he'd like to admit.

Arisu tried to spit it out. You saw the movement of his jaw, the clear intention to expel it, and your other hand came up to cover his mouth over the cookie, forcing the food to stay inside.

"Chew," you ordered, your voice sweet, even if your actions didn't match it. "Or I'll hold your nose too."

His eyes widened — not in fear, but in indignation. That spark of intelligence you loved so much, now burning in powerless fury. He hated every second of it. And you loved every little millisecond. Every millisecond in which you could provoke a new reaction from him was almost like a gift.

However, when Arisu didn't obey, you did exactly what you had threatened. Your thumb and forefinger slid up to his nose, pinching his nostrils shut with sadistic precision.

"Seven seconds," you murmured, as if counting down for a naughty child. "Six. Five. Can you last four more seconds without air, Arisu? Three."

His breathing stopped. You saw his chest rise, the air trapped in his lungs, the internal struggle between dignity and instinct. And then, when his eyes began to water, when his body gave in to the involuntary, he chewed.

His jaw moved in slow, reluctant motions, as if each bite were an announcement of defeat. Even though they had barely glistened, the tears that had held themselves back from falling quickened your heart. For a moment, you wanted to know if Arisu had ever cried during any of the games. If he had ever been destroyed by something other than you. And that made you bite your lower lip in senseless anger.

You let go of his nose and he gasped, choking on the partially chewed cookie. Hearing him choke was almost exciting. You even felt the heat between your legs.

"Oh no, no," you almost sang. "You ate so nicely. Don't ruin it now. You know how hard it's been to get good food?"

Arisu swallowed. You saw his throat contract, his Adam's apple bobbing in a slow movement, and you felt such pure pleasure that you almost closed your eyes.

"One more," you announced without questioning how the young man trapped before you felt about you, and the second cookie was already between your fingers. Did he even like that flavor? Or did he hate you so much that the flavor didn't even matter anymore?

This time, Arisu didn't turn away. He learned fast — always so fast, you'd give him that. His mouth opened in a mechanical motion, his eyes fixed on some distant point behind you, as if he could disconnect from the experience itself. But you would make sure he was there. That he saw you.

You pushed the cookie in, and before he could chew on his own, your fingers found his jaw again — but this time to guide the movements. He would connect with the situation, whether he wanted to or not. He would see you, whether he wanted to or not.

"Left, right. Again, left, right," you whispered with perverse affection, moving his jaw like a puppet, forcing the rhythm of chewing. "Not so fast, Arisu. Savor it. I got this from a convenience store near Shibuya station, you know? Have you ever eaten one of these? You definitely have, right? You look like the type who'd stuff himself with cheap snacks and eat nothing else locked in his room. You look so much like a loser — but the best kind. My type."

The words flowed like poison you were injecting into his bloodstream while your fingers worked his jaw, his teeth grinding against the cookie in a rhythm you completely controlled, grinding in anguish because he could no longer disconnect from you. Swallowing came after — you pressed his chin upward with your palm, forcing his throat to open.

Arisu swallowed with a wet sound that made your fingers tremble with happiness.

"Perfect," you exhaled, and the word came out almost like a moan. Was it possible to moan just from this? "You're so obedient. So smart to understand how everything works."

You gave a little affectionate pat to one of the immobilized young man's cheeks.

"I want your brain, Arisu." Your voice dropped to a thread, intimate and disturbing. That was a pure, direct, immaculate desire. "Not just the answers you give me. I want to know how you get to them. I want your neural pathways, the synapses, the way dopamine explodes in your brain when you decipher a puzzle. Can you feel it? Can you imagine what it's like, from my perspective?"

You pulled your face away from his cheek and walked to the corner of the room where there was a small set of plastic-wrapped bottles. Tearing the plastic, you grabbed one of the bottles and approached Arisu again, bringing it to his lips. He drank by instinct, knowing you would force him to drink if he refused and it would be worse. Much worse. Water spilled down his chin, soaking his shirt stained with cookie crumbs.

"When your visa is about to expire tomorrow," you continued, your voice now almost casual, as if you were talking about the most mundane thing, "should I take you to the rooftop? Just to see the laser hit the middle of your forehead while the last image you have is me?"

Arisu coughed, water in his lungs, and you stroked his hair with the same hand that had forced him to eat. He was your little dog, your prey, your property.

"And then, maybe, I'd open your head. Just to see. Just to know if it was as beautiful inside as I imagined."

The words hung in the air, heavy and real, and you saw something break inside him. Not the resistance — that would always be there, burning in his eyes. But the hope. The last spark that this was a nightmare from which he would never wake up.

"Or I could maybe take you to a game with me today. What do you think?" You leaned in front of him, your hands on each arm of the chair, resting on top of his, on his wounded wrists that had strained so hard to escape that they had left marks. "Show me your potential, Arisu. And I'll let you live. That will convince the Hatter of your value. To me, you don't really need to prove anything. I already have enough. So? Do you want to live?"

[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

Nervous ? VariousAIB! x Fem!Reader

How easy would they get nervous ? Warnings: +18 / Banda being Banda / grammar mistakes / does Someone read this? lol /

Arisu ♤ 9/10

He gets nervous really easy. From the way you may look at him with the intention of something or by a quick kiss he was not expecting at all.

Is not necesary sexual. Arisu is just that easy. He loves you and sees you as pure and to be cared of.

Chishiya ♤ 2/10

He is a wall of emotions. Hug him, kiss him, tell him the most sexual thing.

This Man does not blush or blink. Maybe he blinks like saying "Really?" With exasperation but love no less.

Karube ♤ 5/10

BE READY TO GET IT BACK!!

Karube is a natural flirt. Is not like he wants to, it just comes to him. And you may get him to shut up for a few seconds if you caught him off guard. But he will do a uno reverse and get you even more nervous. His favorite way to do it is to keep his eyes on yours till you get all red.

Tatta ♤ 10/10

Call him cute and he is gone. Yes he is that easy. Make a sexual comment or use some clothes you know will turn him crazy.

No words, his brain is out. He cant talk, he is red he is sweating.

Banda Sunato ♤ -1/10

HAHAHAHA GET HIM NERVOUS? He may have the police with evidence of his crimes and be like: mhm

Banda does not get nervous. He gets high from your tries. He smirks then pushes you against a wall and whispers the most depraved things into your ear.

Yaba Oki ♤ 1/10

He is well controlled. May look impressed by your try and then smile. Whispers how he is going to make you scream and re thing your actions.

Niragi ♤ 1/10

Dont try. Niragi will just laught at you. His years of bullying have made him completly inmune to anything.

Will teast you for it. A lot.

Aguni ♤ 7/10

He does not show it but his stomach does a flip. Yes he gets nervous, if you start to touch his arm without notice or talk in that low tone.

Oh he knows.

He knows your game.

[dreamygirl19]

~ AIB request at your service ~

Arisu and Reader knew each other before they were sent into the borderlands. They admitted there feelings for each other, before they won the final game and were sent back into reality. Even though they couldn't remember anything related from their time in the borderlands, they became shortly after that an official couple.

During their relationship they experience the stages of a new relationship: First date / First kiss / moving together / getting engaged and married / welcoming their first child / etc.

Could you write these different kind of stages? I'm in a mood for some fluffy stories, especially, after the official AIB trailer for season 3 (I'm scared....)

Thank uuu

​✦ THE SOUL’S COMPASS

​“They confessed before the end of the game but woke in the real world not remembering anything. But they meet again at the hospital, and something beautiful blossoms.”

​─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

​𓍢ִ໋🌹͙֒ Ryohei Arisu x Reader ┊ fluff, mention of loss┊ 3.1k words

In the Borderlands, time didn't exist in hours or days; it existed in the distance between the "Start" and the "Game Over."

For Arisu and you, the world had shrunk down to the space between your heartbeats. You were the one who held his hand when the guilt of the 7 of Hearts threatened to swallow him whole. You were the one who reminded him that his mind was a gift, not a curse, even when the games tried to turn his brilliance into a weapon.

The sky was a bruised, unnatural shade of violet as the final arena loomed ahead. The air was thick with the metallic scent of old blood and the ozone of the high-tension wires overhead. Arisu looked exhausted, his hair was a mess, his clothes were torn, and his eyes were rimmed with red. But when he looked at you, his gaze sharpened.

"If we don't make it out..." he started, his voice cracking. He reached out, his fingers trembling as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "If the last stage is just another way to die... I need you to know something."

You didn't let him finish. You grabbed his collar, pulling him close until your foreheads rested against each other. The exterior you'd used to survive the earlier games had cracked, leaving only the raw, terrified girl underneath.

"We are making it out, Arisu," you whispered, though your own tears were blurring your vision. "Because I didn't survive all those Hearts and Spades just to lose the only person who makes this hell feel like a home."

Arisu let out a shaky breath, his hands coming up to cup your face. He didn't care about the cameras, the citizens, or the cruel logic of the game masters.

"I love you," he said. It wasn't a grand proclamation; it was a desperate, quiet truth. "In the real world, I was nothing. I was drifting. But here? With you? I finally feel like I'm standing on solid ground. I love you, Y/n. Please... don't let go."

"I love you too," you choked out, pressing your palm over his heart, feeling it hammer against his ribs. "I've loved you since the first night the power went out in Tokyo."

You shared a kiss that tasted of salt and adrenaline, a final, defiant act of humanity before stepping into the last game. You promised each other that if there was a world beyond the lasers and the playing cards, you would find a way back to each other.

When the fireworks finally faded and the hospital monitors began to beep, the memories of the Borderlands vanished like a fever dream. You woke up in a sterilized room with no memory of the games or the confession in the violet light.

But as you sat in your hospital bed, staring at the television, you felt a phantom weight on your hand, the ghost of someone else's fingers laced through yours. You didn't know his name yet, but your heart was already searching for him.

The hospital hallway felt unnervingly long, the air smelling of antiseptic and the faint, buzzing hum of fluorescent lights. Arisu walked slowly, his body aching with a phantom exhaustion he couldn’t quite explain. He was a survivor of the Shibuya meteorite strike, that was the "official" story, but every time he closed his eyes, he saw flashes of a red sky and felt the weight of a choice he couldn’t remember making.

Then, he saw you.

You were standing by a large window at the end of the corridor, staring out at the Tokyo skyline. You looked pale, dressed in the same thin hospital blues as him, but there was a spark of something familiar in the way you tilted your head.

As he approached, you turned. The moment your eyes locked, the world seemed to tilt. It wasn't just a meeting between two strangers; it was a collision. A physical jolt went through Arisu’s chest, his heart hammering against his ribs in a rhythm that felt like a secret code.

"Have we..." Arisu started, his voice rasping. He stopped a few feet away, his brow furrowed in genuine confusion. "I’m sorry, this sounds strange, but do I know you?"

You didn't look away. Your breath hitched, and for a second, your eyes welled up with tears you didn't understand. "I was just thinking the same thing about you. It’s like... I’ve been looking for someone. And when I saw you just now, my heart actually stopped."

They stood there in the silence of the ward, two souls trying to bridge a gap that their minds had erased. Arisu took a step closer, drawn to you by an invisible thread.

"I’m Arisu," he whispered.

"Y/n," you replied, the name feeling like a missing piece of a puzzle falling into place.

Arisu looked down at his trembling hands, then back at you. He felt a desperate, irrational need to ensure you wouldn't just disappear into the crowd of the city once the doctors signed the discharge papers. He didn't know about the games, or the confession under the violet sky, but he knew he couldn't lose you twice.

"This is going to sound impulsive," Arisu said, a small, shy smile finally breaking through his confusion. "But when we get out of here... would you want to go and eat something? Anywhere. I just feel like I have a lot of things I need to tell you, even if I don't know what they are yet."

You let out a shaky, relieved laugh, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. "I’d like that. More than anything."

The steam from the ramen bowls rose between them, creating a warm, hazy veil in the cramped shop. Outside, the rain drummed against the window, but inside, it was all the clinking of ceramic spoons and the low hum of Tokyo's evening rush.

Arisu sat across from you, his shoulders still hunched slightly as if he was trying to take up less space. He looked at his noodles, then at you, then back at his bowl. He looked nervous, but not the kind of nervous you feel with a stranger. It was more like the restlessness of someone trying to remember the lyrics to a song they used to know by heart.

"So," he started, clearing his throat. "Ramen. It’s... better than hospital food."

You let out a small laugh, the sound surprisingly bright in the small space. "That’s a pretty low bar, Arisu. Cardboard would be better than hospital food."

He smiled, a genuine, lopsided grin that reached his eyes. "True. But this place is actually good. My friends and I used to... well, I think we used to come to places like this. Everything feels a little blurry lately."

You nodded, picking up your chopsticks. "I get it. Ever since I woke up, it’s like I’m looking at the world through a fog. But sitting here..." You paused, looking at him. "It feels okay. Normal. I haven't felt 'normal' in a while."

"Yeah," Arisu agreed softly. He reached for the water pitcher, filling your glass before his own. It was a small, instinctive gesture. "I don't really know why I asked you to come here. I mean, we just met in a hallway. But I had this feeling that if I didn't say something, I’d regret it."

"I'm glad you did," you said. You took a bite of the noodles, the warmth grounding you. "Most people in that ward were just ready to get home and forget everything. You’re the only one who looked as confused as I feel."

They spent the rest of the meal talking about small things, the games Arisu liked to play, the neighborhood you lived in, the weird dreams you’d both been having since the accident. There were no grand declarations. There were no "I love yous" or dramatic realizations.

Instead, there were long silences that weren't awkward. There were shared glances over the spicy broth. It was just two people, bruised by a tragedy they couldn't remember, finding a strange comfort in the fact that they weren't alone in their confusion.

As you both stepped out into the cool night air, Arisu adjusted his jacket, looking at the neon signs reflecting in the puddles.

"I should probably head to the station," he said, turning to you. "But... maybe we could do this again? No pressure. Just, if you're bored or something."

You smiled, pulling your sweater tighter around you. "I'm usually bored, Arisu. Give me a call."

He watched you walk toward the subway entrance, a faint, puzzled expression on his face. He didn't know you. He didn't know your favorite color or your middle name. But as he turned to walk his own way, he felt a little less like a ghost wandering through his own life.

The transition from "hospital acquaintances" to "something more" didn't happen overnight. It was built in the quiet spaces between coffee dates and late-night texts about nothing in particular. For Arisu, being around you felt like finding a frequency on a radio that had been nothing but static for months.

It was a Friday night, a few months after that first ramen date. You were hanging out at his apartment, the floor littered with game controllers and empty snack bags. A movie was playing on the small TV, but neither of you was really watching it. The blue light of the screen cast long, flickering shadows across the room.

The air in the apartment felt heavy, but not uncomfortable. It was that specific kind of silence that happens when two people are both thinking the same thing but are too afraid to break the equilibrium. Arisu was sitting on the rug, leaning his back against the sofa where you were perched.

"Do you ever feel like..." Arisu started, his voice trailing off as he stared at the credits rolling on the screen. "Like there’s a version of us out there that already knows everything about the other? Sometimes I look at you and I feel like I already know what you’re going to say before you say it."

You leaned down, your chin resting on the top of the sofa cushions, putting your face just inches above his. "Every day, Arisu. It’s annoying, honestly. I can't even surprise you with a bad joke anymore."

He turned his head to look up at you. From this angle, he looked younger, less burdened by the confusion that usually sat in his eyes. He noticed the way your hair fell forward, framing your face, and the way you didn't pull away when his gaze lingered on your lips.

The attitude you usually wore like armor was nowhere to be found. You were just quiet, your breath hitching slightly as the space between you seemed to shrink on its own.

"I've been wanting to do something for weeks," Arisu whispered. His heart was thumping, a familiar, frantic rhythm he couldn't quite place, but he didn't care. "But I didn't want to ruin... whatever this is."

"You won't ruin it," you murmured, your voice barely audible over the hum of the refrigerator.

Arisu reached up, his hand hovering uncertainly before he settled his fingers against your jaw. He moved slowly, giving you every chance to turn away, but you stayed. When he finally leaned up and pressed his lips to yours, it wasn't like the movies. There were no fireworks or dramatic music.

Instead, it felt like a soft, steady click. Like a gear finally catching after spinning aimlessly for a long time.

It was a gentle kiss, hesitant at first, tasting of mint and the lingering cold of the night air. But as you reached out to tangle your fingers in the dark mess of his hair, the kiss deepened. It wasn't a confession of a past life, and it wasn't a promise of forever, it was just two people in the present, finally admitting that they didn't want to be anywhere else.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. He let out a shaky, breathless laugh, his eyes searching yours in the dim light.

"Okay," he breathed, a genuine, relieved smile breaking across his face. "That was definitely better than the ramen."

You laughed, nudging his nose with yours. "Shut up, Arisu. It was okay."

"Just okay?" he teased, his hand still lingering on your neck.

"Maybe a little better than okay," you admitted, pulling him back in.

The transition from "dating" to "building a life" happened in the most Arisu-way possible: through a series of logical steps that somehow felt completely chaotic once put into practice.

It was a humid Saturday in Tokyo when Arisu stood in the middle of your new, shared apartment, surrounded by a fortress of cardboard boxes. He was holding a kitchen spatula in one hand and a tangled web of HDMI cables in the other, looking slightly overwhelmed but intensely focused.

"If we put the bookshelf here," he muttered, pointing to a corner near the window, "the sunlight will hit the screen at a 45-degree angle and cause a glare during gaming. But if we move the sofa..."

"Arisu," you interrupted, leaning against the doorframe with a box of your shoes. "It’s a living room, not a level of Portal. Just put the sofa where we can see the TV."

He looked at you, a sheepish grin breaking through his "analytical" face. "Right. Sorry. I just want it to be... perfect. Since it's ours."

The first few weeks were a blur of learning each other's domestic quirks. You learned that Arisu is surprisingly meticulous about how the laundry is folded, and he learned that you have a system for the pantry that looks like a disaster to anyone else but works perfectly for you.

One night, after finally assembling a particularly stubborn dining table, you both sat on the floor eating pizza straight out of the box. The apartment was still half-unpacked, and a stray lightbulb was flickering in the hallway, but Arisu looked around with a sense of profound peace.

"I like this," he said softly, reaching over to take your hand. "The noise, the mess... just having you here when I wake up. It feels like I've finally stopped drifting."

Arisu didn't want a flash mob or a giant screen in Shibuya. For him, the most important moments had always been the quiet ones, the ones where it was just the two of you against the world.

A year later, you were back at that same botanical garden you visited on your anniversary. It was late evening, and the crowds had thinned out. The air smelled of damp earth and blooming jasmine.

Arisu had been unusually quiet all day, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. As you walked toward a secluded stone bridge overlooking a koi pond, he suddenly stopped.

"Y/n," he said, his voice dropping an octave.

You turned, seeing him standing there with a look of terrifyingly intense clarity. He wasn't the confused boy from the hospital anymore; he looked like a man who knew exactly where he belonged.

"I spent a long time feeling like I was missing something," he began, stepping closer. "Like there was a hole in my life that I couldn't explain. But the more time I spend with you, the more that hole disappears. I don't need to remember the past to know that I want every single day of my future to involve you."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a simple, elegant ring. He didn't drop to one knee immediately; he just held it between you, his fingers trembling slightly.

"I’m not a perfect guy, and I still get lost in my own head sometimes," he whispered. "But I promise to always find my way back to you. Will you marry me?"

You didn't even let him finish before you were throwing your arms around his neck, nodding into his shoulder. "Yes. Obviously, yes, Arisu."

He let out a long, shaky breath of relief, slipping the ring onto your finger and pulling you into a kiss that felt like the final piece of a puzzle clicking into place. No games, no dealers, no borders, just a boy, a girl, and a lifetime of "normal" ahead of them.

The wedding wasn't a grand, flashing event. It was held in a small, sun-drenched garden on the outskirts of Tokyo. Arisu stood at the altar, adjusting his tie for the fifteenth time, his palms sweating. When the music started and he saw you walking toward him, he saw his entire world.

The ceremony was simple. When it came time for the vows, Arisu didn't use a script. He took your hands, his thumbs grazing your knuckles.

"I don't know why," he said, his voice thick with emotion, "but I’ve always felt like I’ve already lost you once. And because of that, I promise to spend every day of the rest of my life making sure I never do again. I choose you, today and every day after."

There wasn't a dry eye in the small crowd. As you exchanged rings, a soft breeze blew through the trees, feeling like a silent blessing from a past you couldn't name. The kiss that followed was firm, grounded, and tasted like a beginning.

A few years later, the apartment that once held boxes and video game controllers was transformed. A crib sat in the corner of the bedroom, and the smell of expensive coffee was replaced by the scent of baby powder and fresh laundry.

Arisu was a natural father, though he approached it with the same analytical intensity he brought to everything else. He had spreadsheets for feeding times and had memorized every developmental milestone. But all that logic flew out the window the moment he held his daughter for the first time.

One rainy afternoon, you walked into the nursery to find Arisu sitting in the rocking chair. The baby was fast asleep against his chest, her tiny hand curled into his shirt. Arisu was just staring at her, his expression one of pure, unfiltered awe.

"She’s so small," he whispered as you sat on the arm of the chair. "I look at her and I feel... terrified. But also like I could do anything to keep her safe."

You leaned your head against his. "That’s just called being a parent, Arisu."

"It feels like more than that," he murmured, adjusting the blanket around the infant. "It feels like we won, Y/n. Like we finally reached the end of a very long road, and this is what was waiting for us."

He didn't know about the games. He didn't know about the Borderlands. But as he sat there with his wife and his child, Arisu Ryohei knew he had achieved the ultimate clear. He had found a life worth living, and a family worth protecting.

꩜ Masterlist

[arminmy4ss]

Two Of Hearts — Ryōhei Arisu, Alice in Borderland

summary: you ask arisu to come with you and kuina to take emma. He's against it at first but takes a pill anyway. When he gets up to go to his room, you go with him.

Tags: drug use, high sex, no condom, technically gender neutral reader, S1/2 Arisu, SUB!arisu (like sub sub), whimpering, IDK WHAT ELSE TO PUT HERE

Word Count: 2,4k

a/n: i feel like i did my big one here ngl (also didnt proofread oops)

—

“No I’m not.” Arisu looks at you like you just suggested something insane. Which, to be fair, you kind of did.

“Please, Arisu.” You say, glancing between him and Kuina.

“No.”

“C’mon, it’s just a little Emma.” Kuina leans in, trying to convince him to come take MDMA with you and the small group hanging out in the back room.

“No. I’m not taking that, I don’t care how many times you ask.”

“You don't have to take it, silly.” You shrug. “Just come with us.”

He hesitates, and you can see him turning it over in his head. You soften a little. “The music isn’t as loud back there. It’ll still be fun, I promise—way less exhausting than this.” You gesture vaguely at the chaos of the main party.

“Okay,” he says finally.

You and Kuina exchange a quick look of victory.

The back room is all the way across the venue. 4 beat-up sofas in a square with a low table placed in the middle. It reeks of smoke and cheap perfume, but at least you can actually breathe here—not like out in the main room where the air felt thick and suffocating.

The music’s muffled through the walls. Your ears are grateful for the break.

A few people are sprawled on the sofas, talking and playing cards.

“See? Told you it’s better here.” You drop onto one of the sofas.

“Yeah.” Arisu settles in next to you. “I guess you were right.” Your knees brush slightly.

Makoto comes into the room, a bag of pills in one of his hands, in the other a gun. “Oh, we have a guest here.” He says spotting Arisu amongst the usual group.

“Yeah I brought him, he just wants to hang.” You give Makoto a look that tells him to fuck off. He gets the message, sits down opposite from you and lays some cards on the table.

Not real cards. Just paper glued together and drawn on.

“So let’s begin.” Makoto smiles and nods at the guy on the couch to his right to start handing out the cards.

“Uh, what are we playing?” Arisu whispers to your left.

“President–Asshole,” you answer bluntly, watching the guy give out the cards one by one.

“What’s President–Asshole?” That’s when you turn to him.

“You don’t know how President–Asshole works?” you ask in disbelief. He just shrugs.

You sigh. “It’s not complicated. The goal is just to get rid of all your cards before everyone else does.” He nods.

“Someone starts by putting down one card, or a pair, or whatever — as long as they’re all the same number. After that, each person has to play the same number of cards, but higher. So if someone drops two fives, the next person needs two cards higher than that. If you can’t, or you don’t want to, you pass.”

You glance at his hand to make sure he’s following. “Once everyone passes, the last person who played gets to start the next round with whatever they want. That’s basically how the game keeps moving.”

“Alright, I think I got it,” he mumbles, watching the guy place the last card down.

“Twos are special,” you add. “They beat anything and clear the pile. Use them wisely.”

You lean back a little, shrugging. “When you run out of cards, you’re done. First one out is the President, last one stuck with cards is the Asshole. Next round, the President gets a small advantage and the Asshole gets screwed — and has to give up a card of their visa.”

He swallows. “What?” His voice is tight with panic.

“Don’t worry, the Asshole only has to pay at the very end of the game. You‘d have to lose 3 rounds and I won't let that happen.”

You smile at him and bump your shoulder against his to ease his concern. “You’ll get it after like one round. Just watch what people play and try not to get stuck at the end.”

“You finished explaining the game?” Makoto asks, annoyed, tossing the bag of pills into the middle of the table.

“Yeah.”

“Then take it.” You lean forward and reach for a small pill. It’s round and pink with a heart stamped in the middle. You pop it and chug it down with a glass of water, watching the others around you do the same.

“What, the fish isn’t taking any?” Makoto asks.

“No,” Arisu stammers, avoiding eye contact with him.

“No, he doesn’t. Problem?” You chime in.

“Nah, just start playing already.” He laughs and shrugs toward the cards.

The guy to your left lays down a 3. Easy. You examine your hand and see your smallest card is a 5, which you have two of, so you play them.

Now Arisu. You watch him scanning his cards nervously.

“You need at least two sixes,” you whisper. “If you have more than one, lay all of them.”

He nods and places two sixes in front of him.

“See? It’s easy.” You clap his knee, and he flinches slightly.

Now Kuina. She scans her cards and pulls out two sevens.

“…Are the drugs kicking in yet?” Arisu asks shyly, and you can’t help but chuckle.

“No, it takes about thirty minutes to an hour.”

He nods.

“Pass,” the guy to your left says. You signal it’s your turn. You lay and Arisu lays, Kuina lays. The girl next to Kuina passes. The game continues.

After the third round, Makoto finishes laying down his last cards. “President,” he smirks. You’re used to this—him winning. He always does. He always cheats.

The game continues until everyone is out of cards except Arisu.

“Seems like we have an Asshole.” Makoto leans forward and writes down a dash on a paper in front of him. “Be the Asshole 2 more times and you’ll have to pay.”

You see Arisu stiffening from your peripheral. “Don’t worry. It was your first game.”

The cards get passed out again.

“The President begins and the Asshole has to trade his best card for the President’s worst.” You explain as Makoto holds out one of his cards to him.

Arisu takes it. It’s a 1. Shit. He searches for the best of his to give to Makoto.

The second game starts and ends like the first did. With Makoto as the President and Arisu as the Asshole.

Makoto writes down another dash under Arisu’s name.

The cards get passed out once again.

“Now because the same people are President and Asshole again, two cards have to be traded.” You declare and Arisu just sighs.

As the third game proceeds you feel it. Your heartbeat rising and falling again, the colors becoming more vibrant, your breathing getting slower and deeper.

“Pass.” You let out a deep breath of relaxation and lean back.

Arisu takes a look at you, only to see your pupils dilated like a cat’s.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ Arisu’s heart is also beating fast. Not because of drugs. Because of the game. He’ll lose again and he’ll have to pay. He looks at his cards and sighs.

“I’ll take a pill.”

You sit upright again.

“Woah, Arisu, are you sure?” Kuina says.

You look at him from the side, watching his face, trying to determine if he’s joking or not.

“Yes.”

Your head turns to Makoto. He lets out a huff of air and nods, his pupils blown wide as well. “Sure, take one.”

“Arisu, the first time is different.” You place a hand on his shoulder out of reflex and you could swear you see the slightest tint of pink staining his ears.

Arisu just reaches forward and takes a pill out of the bag. “I know.”

“Uhm, alright, just don’t chew it, swallow it down with water. It’s really bitter.” He nods.

You watch him place a pill, similar to yours, on his tongue and wash it down with water as he squeezes his eyes shut. Then he continues with the game and leans back, waiting for the drug to settle and for his heartbeat to lower.

You play again and this time the guy to your right loses and once again Makoto wins. In the next one you lose (on purpose because if not, Arisu would have lost).

And then you play another round and another and another.

It’s Arisu’s turn and he hesitates looking at his cards.

“If you have a two lay that, it beats anything remember?” You whisper and it was helpful, because he lays down two of hearts in front of him,. Winning the round.

“Not Bad, President.” Makoto says.

You continue to play game after game.

You notice Arisu’s behavior changing—he’s quieter now, his movements looser, eyes unfocused. The drugs must’ve kicked in. As the guy to your left loses for a third time, Arisu blinks slowly and turns to you.

“Hey,” then to the table. “I think I’m gonna go to my room.” He announces, then turns to you again. “I feel strange.” He slurs his words and shifts to the edge of the sofa.

“Wait, I’ll come with you. Don’t want you getting hurt on the way.” You catch his arm lazily.

“Good night you two.” Kuina says as you both stand up to leave the room.

​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​You nod back at Kuina, her smirk way too obvious even through the fuzzy high.

“Night,” you mumble, steering Arisu out the door. Outside of the backroom the party is still very much alive. Loud and bright. 

Your hand's still on his arm, and his skin feels hot under your fingers—too hot, or maybe that's just the Emma talking.

Arisu sways a bit as you walk.

“This feels... off,” he mutters, voice all soft and slurry. He grabs your hand without asking, fingers lacing through yours tight. Holding on ‘for balance’. Even through the high your stomach flips.

You glance over—his eyes are huge, pupils swallowing the brown, face pink and sweaty. He looks lost, but not scared. Kinda cute, actually.

“Yeah, it’s the come-up,” you say, squeezing his hand back. “Hits everyone differently the first time. You okay?”

He nods quick, swallowing. “I think. Everything’s just... intense. And you—” He stops talking, ears going redder, but he doesn’t drop your hand.

The stairs are a bit harder. There he really almost trips, but you manage anyway

His room's down the hall, one of those generic rooms—medium bed, crappy lamp, windows looking out at the pool area where the party's still raging faintly. You push the door shut behind you, and the quiet hits like a blanket. No more muffled bass, just your breathing and his.

Arisu turns to face you, standing there awkward for a second, hand still intertwined with yours. 

You both go over to his bed and sit down.

“So… good night, Arisu." You smile, let go of his hand and turn your head away, ready to stand up.

“Actually, I…” he catches your wrist.

Then moves closer, real close, and grabs your hand again. His fingers dig in a little, shaky. “I’ve... wanted to do this,” he whispers, breath hot on your face. He leans in and kisses you—soft at first, lips barely pressing.

You want to savour the moment but then he lets out a quiet, needy sound that makes your stomach flip again.

You kiss back harder, and he melts. His mouth opens up, tongue clumsy but eager, and he makes another whimper when you bite his lip lightly. Hands slide up your back under your shirt, trembling like he's overwhelmed. “Please,” he breathes against your mouth, voice cracking. 

The plea only makes it easier to kiss him again and let your hands wander. You scramble onto the bed, him above you, just barely holding himself up.

He's pressing into you, hips grinding a little without rhythm, like he can't help it.

“Arisu,” you say, pulling back just to look at him. His eyes are glassy, begging. Hair messy.

“Don’t stop,” he whines—actual whine, high and desperate—and tugs at your shirt. You flip positions, now him underneath you and you straddling his lap.

He arches up when you grind down, another whimper spilling out. “Ah— that feels...”

Clothes come off fast—shirts yanked, pants kicked away. His skin's flushed all over, chest heaving. You wrap your hand around him, stroking slowly, and he bucks into it with a gasp. “Wait, too—,” he whimpers, but his hips keep chasing your touch, pre-cum making it slick. Tears prick his eyes, not from pain, just the overload.

He arches again, his back lifting off the bed, while short gasps for air keep filling the room. He moves his hand to his mouth to muffle the sounds.

“No, let me hear you.” you say, gently shoving his hand away. He nods, little broken sounds every time you twist your wrist.

“Please,“ a twisted up moan“ — I need you,” he begs, voice wrecked, hands clutching your thighs. 

The corners of your mouth curl up. “I thought you‘d never ask.“ You shift to slide down your bottoms.

Your body already feels light, like it takes so little to throw you over the edge. You almost feel nauseous because of the amount of stomach flips he gave you.

You shift again, spitting in your hand, stroking him one last time, lining up, and sink down slowly. He throws his head back, a long whine tearing out as you take him in. “Oh god—yes, like that,” he pants, thrusting up once, messy.

You feel him inside of you and shudder at the feeling, your stomach and chest blooming with pleasure.

You set a slow pace, riding him, and he's a mess—whimpers turning to sobs, nails digging into your skin. “Don’t stop, please—so—mh—good, I can’t— ah!” Every clench makes him shake, praises mumbling out between whines.

You clench harder, as you catch him in a kiss, picking up the pace, chasing your own edge. The feeling amplified by the drug.

You clench again and he loses it—a string of whimpers peaking into a cry as he comes, spilling hot inside you, body trembling hard.

You follow right after, collapsing on him but not pulling out. You spasm throughout the double high. When you fall down beside him, he's still processing. Breathing hard and when you put your hand on his neck you feel his pulse. Racing. 

He wraps his arms around you sloppy, lips pressing wet kisses to your shoulder.

“That was... a lot,” he whispers, voice hoarse, but there's a tiny smile there.

You chuckle, nuzzling into his neck. “Told you it'd be fun.”

—

THANK YOU FOR READING

y’all I was GIGGLING while writing

TAGLIST: @squidgamemegafan067 @hemlockgirly-blog

If you liked this, you may like my other stuff too!

[strawb3rrystar]

"The Kiss"

Requested by: lyllyyuuu

Request: I was watching a video about the painting "The Kiss" by Francesco something-or-other and I got an idea for a bot with a lot of romance. It goes like this: Arisu is a warrior of the kingdom, or one of those guards of the royal family, I don't know, and y/n is the princess who already has a future husband destined for her, but in this scenario, Arisu and y/n secretly appear in a nearly empty corridor of the castle, kissing.. not a hungry kiss, But rather a passionate kiss, as if that physical touch was made especially for them, and y/n's future husband approaches the hallway, perhaps coming towards them, making the touch more dangerous and harder to want to let go of.

Intended pov: Fem!

Warnings: None!

C.ai version | Janitor.ai version | Bot requests

[wave2lee]

ღ cinnamon & cream ꨄ︎ a. ryohei x fem! reader

༉‧ .| synopsis: a struggling mangaka crosses paths with a barista who turns his life upside down. pre-borderlands alternate au. he's a massive loser.

˖ ִ𐙚 | warning(s)— tooth rotting fluff, very brief angst, suggestive theme towards the end, sexual implications.

mangaka! arisu who struggles to make ends meet. the living expense in Shibuya only seems to be rising higher and higher. staying up late nights to scrape his brain for any bits of creativity, anything to fill the plot hole in akari's adventure. be it an action sequence, a fight scene, or a seamless transition into the next arc. he needs something, and soon. With the deadline for the first volume looming just a few months away, the pressure grows unbearable. hiring an editor is a luxury he can’t afford, leaving him alone with his story, his exhaustion, and the fear of failing a dream he refuses to let go of.

mangaka! arisu who wakes up spontaneously at 6am, running on less than 2 hours of sleep. anxiety chews at his nerves, and all he can think of is finishing up his sequence. if his one-shot wins the newcomer’s award, it could change everything—recognition, stability, and maybe even the chance to finally see his story serialized. he hopes a change in scenery would help. a new cafe had opened up a few streets down, he needed a cup of strong black coffee and lo-fi in his system urgently. mangaka! arisu smiles at the you. his gaze lingers for a beat too long before quickly looking away. he found you pretty, too pretty. when you asked him what he'd like to order, he was almost taken aback by how fluent you were. your voice soft and your pronunciation almost native.

"good morning! what can I get for you today?' Your hat is secured in place, your apron all tied up. you were sure you looked like a mess, freshly rumpled from bed. today of all days, a handsome customer had to grace the shop. hell, he looked pretty low on sleep as well. he stammered over his order, shaking his and muttering a stumbled apology. "black coffee, thank you, s-sorry."

mangaka! arisu wants nothing more than to burry his head in the flower bed right outside the cafe. he was an utter mess, no wonder his dating life looked much worse than whatever he tried to make of his amateur manga. he thought coming to a cafe for a much needed change in scenery would help. turns out the decision only lead to his mind being occupied by your presence, rummaging behind the counter and preparing his bitter morning brew.

mangaka! arisu finally manages to finish a rough sketch for a panel, finally, his thoughts drift back to his work. that is until your presence looms over him, your voice gently calling out. his hand freezes immediately, forgetting all about tracing the faint outline of akari's silhouette.

"i'm so sorry to interrupt but your order is ready." you smile, and he instantly folds. god why did you have to be so pretty? "ah y-yes, sorry..my order..." his face is uncomfortably hot as he wraps his hand around the paper cup. "thank you." he bows his head. incapable of looking you in the eye. you only smile, gently setting down the tray on the far end of his table. "ah. no problem." your vision quickly darts to the giant canvas sheet filled with soft pencil outlines of the most beautiful panels you'd seen. a little girl with wide eyes holding a cat and a magical wand. "awh, wait are you a children's mangaka?" the question slips past you too quickly. he looks away, embarrassed. "someday. hopefully."

mangaka! arisu watches you take a seat on the opposite end of the table. it seems that since he was the only customer here, you took the chance to chat for a bit. his hands nervously fiddle with the pencil, answering all your questions as best as possible, without stumbling over his words, or sounding too quiet. mangaka! arisu explains how akari was inspired by his late younger sister who passed away when she was seven. he notices the way your entire demeanor changes, how your eyes soften and the small gasp that leaves your lips. the way you apologize for his loss and sympathize.

"i'm sure akane would love your work." you gently reassure him. "you draw so beautifully, I can see that it takes a lot of time and dedication."

mangaka! arisu nods because he's not used to people being so sweet and reassuring. nobody ever really praised him for his work, if anything, he never even told anyone about his dreams of being a mangka and getting past the serialization processes. yet here you were, listening as he spoke about his ambitions. you were actively listening to this seemingly reserved man ramble on about his work.

mangaka! arisu exchanges numbers with you, a bright smile on his face as he watches you slip away behind the counter, getting back to work. he's surprisingly more motivated to write, your praise doing a number on him, and encouraging him to continue working on his one-shot.

mangaka! arisu manages to finish sketching three panels before rushing off to his evening shift at an internet café. the pay is just enough to keep the rent covered, thanks to his extra work troubleshooting software issues and fixing computer glitches.

mangaka! arisu who much like a loser, anticipates your late night texts and phone calls. the two of you had very busy lives, and often only spoke during the late hours of the night. he always looked forward to hearing about your day, and listening to your soft voice on the other end of the speaker.

"arisu, how's the one-shot going?" you'd perk up, excited to hear about his progress. he sinks deeper into the mattress, his face already heating up at the fact that you cared enough to ask. "u-uh, really good. great progress! akari and misho are leveling up to fight the magikais, they're like evil trolls in the next sequence, she's undergoing training from a witch." he sounded like a total nerd, and you loved it. he was so passionate about his work it was adorable. you wished you could squish his cheeks through the phone. "that's so cool!" you gasp, invested in every bit of lore he shared with you. "i feel like your writing is so studio ghibli codded, you know?" he hums, a soft laugh echoing into your ear. fuck that sent a shiver down your spine. "in a way." he agrees.

mangaka! arisu who's nervous about your date. after frequently stopping by early in the morning just to see you at the cafe and memorizing your schedule, he can hardly wait to see you. he made sure to shower not once, but twice, spray on almost half a bottle of his favorite scent, and style his hair so it wasn't an awful mess like it usually was. he would've gotten a hair cut, but you once threatened that you would hide every last pair of scissors on earth if he touched his hair. afterall, he only ever wanted to please you.

mangaka! arisu who's breath stops short in his lungs at the sight of you. the way your hair brings our your features just right, the adorable black shirt with bow knotted at the front, and your shiny jewelry. he almost forgets he's holding a bouquet of flowers, that he nearly drops. mangaka! arisu wraps his arms around your waist when you pull him into a warm hug. his limbs stiff and awkward, he wasn't very good at this, hell, he never even had a girlfriend, or his first kiss, or anything for that matter.

"you smell so good!" you beam, looking up at him. he nearly chokes on his own saliva, before nodding. not sure if he could trust his own speaking abilities at the moment. your smile brighten when he nervously holds up the soft white roses. "awh, arisu." you gently cup his cheek, pressing a soft peck to his lips. "thank you...these are so beautiful."

mangaka! arisu who blinks at you in utter shock, his cheeks a bright rosy hue, before nodding like an idiot, going entirely non-verbal. before feeling your fingers entwine with his own. he's very still for a few seconds, afraid of ruining this moment, before feeling your warm body lean against his own. mangaka! arisu who adores when you talk about your interests, almost as much, and if not more than when you listen to his ramble about his own. he memorizes every little detail about the things you like, makes sure to work a few extra hours just so he can buy you things you adore like a tomodachi life game for your nintendo ds, or a cute keychain of kirby, or a hello kitty lip gloss set. anything so that he could see your smile. mangaka! arisu who loves when you teach him new slang phrases in english. his favorite being "high-key", "low-key" and "that's fire." he could listen to you talk in english for hours, even though he would only end up understanding a couple words here and there. mangaka! arisu who loves when you fall asleep all curled up on his bed because he's taking too long to finish up a sketch. he can't help but feel his heart melt into a giant puddle at the sight of you curled up with his rilakkuma plushie, your soft breathing echoing through the quiet room. mangaka! arisu who finally submits his one-shot for the contest, he's beyond anxious but appreciates that you took a day off just to be with him on that day.

"baby, don't worry you did amazing! the judges will love it!" you reassure him so sweetly he can't help but feel a little more at ease. "i hope so...i put in a lot of effort." he mutters, feeling your hand gently rub his back. "i know you did baby." you give his hand a small squeeze, before looking up at him. "how about some coffee? on the house?" he shook his head, he refused to ever let you pay for anything. the whole 50/50 thing was always a load of bull-shit to him, no matter how much you insisted. "please let me do this for you." you were pleading with him, usually he could muster up some strength to resist the way your eyes softened so sweetly when you begged him, but today, he fell victim. completely helpless and weak. "just this once."

mangaka! arisu who's anxiously waiting for weeks, checking his email daily for any updates or news. until one afternoon he nearly falls off his chair, he reads the email once, then a second time just to make sure he wasn't losing his mind.

有栖 亮平 様

この度はご応募いただき、誠にありがとうございました。 厳正なる審査の結果、あなたの作品が 『週刊スターコミックス』新人枠として採用されることが決定いたしました。

今後の連載準備や打ち合わせについては、改めて担当編集よりご連絡いたします。 これから一緒に素晴らしい作品を作っていきましょう。

Arisu Ryohei, Thank you very much for your submission. After careful review, your work has been selected to join the newcomer section of ‘Weekly Star Comics.’ Your assigned editor will contact you soon regarding preparations for future publication and meetings. We look forward to creating something wonderful together. – Weekly Star Comics Editorial Department”

mangaka! arisu who rushes to the front door when he hears your frenzied knocking. his arms quickly looping around your waist when you tackle him, legs wrapped tightly around his lower half as he spins you around. he can hardly believe he made the cut. you on the other hand, had full faith in him. "I told you! I freaking told you!" you laugh, peppering a rampant of kisses all over his face. "you should give karube and chota a call!" you squeal knowing how over-joyed his best friend's would be. at some point after dating you, you were the one who encouraged him to tell his friends, knowing they would be nothing but supportive and happy for him. "I-I will." he smiles, pressing an array of kisses to your lips. "i'm so happy." he attempts in english, making you grin from ear to ear. "oh, I can tell." you tease, gently brushing a few strands away from his brow. "i'm so happy for you." mangaka! arisu who is over the moon, surrounded by his favorite people. karube called drinks on the house, his arm looped around his tipsy fiancé. chota was flushed, he clearly had one too many shots, swaying from side to side, and singing some off-key tune. beneath the table, you felt arisu's fingers tightly intertwined with your own.

"how many rounds do you think we can go for tonight?" you cheekily whisper. he looks confused. "o-oh of drinks? I can go for a couple more." he suggests, his bottom lip slightly jutting out and his cheeks mildly flushed. "no arisu. in bed." you giggle, a little tipsy. "A-Ah." he stammers, eyes shooting impossibly wide. "u-uhm...i-i don't know..." he whispers, messing with your sleeve. "how about four?" your fingers teasingly slide up his tee-shirt, trailing over the downy hairs down his navel. he stiffens, his face heating up even deeper. "m-mh...maybe..." he mutters, before taking another shot. you only grin, knowing damn well it was going to be a long night.

mangaka! arisu who wakes up sore, head pounding and limbs locked with your own. you're still knocked out cold, your head buried against his chest, an arm loosely looped around his waist, your skin warm and bare. he winces at the sight of the discarded condoms, at least 3 scattered around the trash bin. clearly you two had a long night celebrating in more ways than one. afterall, he was officially a rising mangaka.

[ritapitmargarita]

i wish tumblr had checkpoints im tired of scrolling when it reloads💔