#Emotion burst AU

[amythefandomlover]

So, these are some of the AUs I've been working on and here are some summaries on what they are about, feel free to ask questionsif you have any, Draxum's son and TWOTBO already have fanfics out on wattpad.

Emotion burst AU: Mikey's fire powers start to get a bit out of hand as Mikey's emotions get more and more destructive, why? Maybe puberty? Who knows? But these huge fire explosions he's been causing has led to some pretty serious accidents already and none of his brothers really know how to help, Dr Delicate Touch was the one who would usually deal with these "emotional issues".

Foot Clan Mikey AU: one of many separate AUs where Mikey is taken in by the Foot Clan and raised with Cassandra, he is really short tempered and acts before thinking, which always leads to frustration, he is very emotional and if pushed too much, he cries of anger, he is very devoted to the Clan he was raised on and was convinced by the Foot Lieutenant that he would one day wear the dark armor, this really scares him, there is a clear difference between adoring a God like figure and becoming a God like figure.

Adrenaline cracks AU: Mikey is trapped by big mama and forced to fight in the Battle Nexus, and by using adrenaline boosters, Big mama makes him a walking killing machine always on survival mode, he fights to survive and is way too scared and stressed to think, reflect or process the actions he commits, from the moment he wakes up, to the moment he passes out asleep, it's all panic and tunnel vision, he can't recognize the people around him or anything at all, but his brothers can still save him.

Flushed away AU: Piebald's plan goes a little bit wrong and Mikey actually gets flushed, the net rips on their way down and poor Michelangelo slips off and falls, but not before she accidentally cuts off one of his legs while trying to catch him with her hook, as he is sent down the drains, his leg magically heals and he hits his head multiple times, this along with the trauma and psychological terror he had just gone through, his brain "flushes away" his memories as a defense mechanism and he passes out, when he woke up in the depths of the sewers, he has no idea what is going on, so he decides to explore the sewers on his own while his family desperately try to find him, he left the tracker at home so this makes it all the more difficult.

Pig Father AU: Meat sweats used to struggle a lot with his anger issues, until one day when he finds a small human like turtle laying on the streets one day and he simply takes it home and makes it his emotional support pet that grows to become his adoptive son, he is the only support he had when he got mutated by that nasty Oozequito on live TV for the whole world to see the monster he had become, they are as close as a father and son can be, even tho Kyle (name given to him by meat sweats) is quite scared of his father when he gets mad.

Hamato roots AU: Hamato Yoshi never fully left the Hamato family (that is now a kind of yakuza clan) but once he was mutated along with the four turtles, his relatives reached out to him, he didn't want them to know about the turtle so he put them to sleep and hid them in a box on the cabinet of his living room, when the relatives arrived, they all talked about what had happened to him and how they could help him through it, he denied the help, and as they were about to leave, Little Michelangelo crawled out of the cabinet, the relatives see the mutant baby and question Yoshi about it, and after some discussion, they make a deal where he will finally get rid of his responsabilities as he so wants, but for that to happen, he has to give up the turtle to fill in his place on the clan, he reluctantly agrees, Michelangelo is then taken to the main house, and the patriarch of the family takes a liking on the creature and adopts him as his own son, making him the next in charge of the Hamato clan, he is raised strictly but with the lot of love and taught all about Japanese culture and traditions, becoming a perfect and noble successor.

Mixes species AU: Baron Draxum rescued Lou Jitsu and sneakily steals some of his blood for DNA samples for him to experiment on his brand new creations, he creates small gemstones with ground minerals and DNA from the strongest creatures of the planet, humans and turtles, all through the power of alchemy, he plants the gems like seed until they form fully formed warrior but something goes wrong, they come out as children!!! Lou Jitsu is mutated and eventually found out about his plans and decides to save the baby turtles and raise them on his own, they grow up like normal people, but their lifespan is larger than any human could ever handle, so they practically stopped aging at 14 years old (and yeah, they're all the same age now.), now he has to raise these super powerful and basically indestructible creatures as normal children.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 299

Hear me out- Ghosts have wings. They have wings, which are affected by their cores, and can make them disappear from sight if they want or need to. You got that? Good. 

Ecto-contaminated people? Don’t have wings. Liminals and Halfas, who have developed cores? Do have wings, and they can’t hide said wings, because unlike ghosts? Their bodies are physical living flesh. 

Now Gotham? Ecto-contaminated, there’s no doubt about it. The amount of portals that have been opened there and death pits and death cults… yeah it’d be surprising if it wasn’t. But again, no one really notices, because at most? Most just get a bit of eyeshine. 

The Bats however? Oh man are they freaking out when they wake up with aches in their back and feathers starting to poke through their skin. Curse? Nope! Welcome to Liminality, enjoy the second puberty of wings, emotion-sharing, fangs, claws, and whatever else you might develop- also enjoy the whole eating fear thing. (Wait, the what-)

[spotaus]

New Age AU (Cross' Spy Adventures)

Hi guys! I'm back! This one has been eating at me so forgive me if it's a bit rougher than the others, but I hope you still enjoy! (And if plot details don't seem to line up? Remember Cross has no clue what's going on yet :] )

Context: Cross has been asked by Dream to do recover information on his brother's next plans of attack. He's not a very good spy.

(Hi to @ancha-aus @papiliovolens and @mutzelputz !!!)

Stars this place was big.

He'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be on a castle grounds after so many years roughing it with Ink. Inns and taverns and tents. He wasn't sure how much he enjoyed being back in the throes of the rich and powerful's estates.

The cart-ride with the other new recruits had been pleasant enough, they were all decently friendly guys. A few were putting on that tough-guy facade, but none of them could've been older than 25. Fresh off the press, practically. Perfect soldiers to be brainwashed.

Cross had laughed and joked with them about what life in the castle might be like. How different it would be from the old daily grind. How maybe they'd pick up a hot partner in town on their patrols. How they hoped they'd eat like kings.

Though, Cross noticed that each of them got cagey when word of the King resurfaced. One birdish-monster mourned that she couldn't have served the last King, Nim, before she passed on to join the gods. Another spoke of the honor it would bring for him to serve the blood of Nim.

They seemed averse to even acknowledging King Nightmare's existence. Aside from his connection to Nim.

Now, the chatter was all silent, and Cross was among the many new soldiers who were ogling the castle as they passed around its outer wall and entered through a side gate.

It was, admittedly, impressive.

His own home kingdom had less of a castle, more of a monolith. It had been dense, and tall, and impossibly smooth. His father couldn't stand imperfection.

This castle was almost the exact opposite of what Cross had always known. The walls imperfect and overlapping, rather than brick it looked like it had burst straight up from the ground. Bumpy and imperfect and natural, and yet beautiful and structurally stable. He didn't linger on it, but he wanted to so badly.

Instead, he drew his attention ahead. To where a man stood, his armor decorated in the marks which indicated him as a reporting officer.

This man, a human with a crooked nose and a thick, black, beard held up a hand, and the driver of the cart tugged at his reigns, the horses pulling to a slow stop.

One by one, once given the signal, the soldiers filed out. Stating their rank, their camp of origin, and their name.

Cross was middle of the pack, and saluted the human as Dream had taught him and as everyone had done before him.

"1st Year Guard, Pierson Camp, Z." He reported.

He was not proud of his code-name. It physically hurt to say it with a straight face, but when he'd been talking about needing a new code name, Ink had excitedly suggested it.

Z, he'd said, Like 'X' but not! And Cross hadn't been able to shut the idea down when Dream had giggled and tapped his cheekbone, the spot just under his eyelight that held is scar.

Dream had called it fitting, and it'd been settled in a heartbeat.

Cross managed to say it aloud without any hint of suspicion and was waved off to join his fellow recruits.

They lined up haphazardly, but didn't dare to do more than grin and snicker between eachother at. Well. Anything, it seemed. They were taking this very casually compared to what Cross had been expecting.

Though, the moment the captain was done looking to the cart for any stragglers, he turned. The soldiers all went still and aligned themselves.

Cross wondered how they survived training if they goofed off like that so readily.

He watched as the cart which had brought them circled away, and he listened carefully as the man introduced himself.

"I am Captain Rogers. Your platoon will report to me for any and all management. I control your training schedules, your mealtimes, and your work hours." He called out to them, right there on the lawn "you are here today to serve the blood of the gods, and by Nim's watch you will not slack on your oath. No matter how much you loathe it here. Understood?"

Such a bold declaration of... unrest.

The soldiers, one by one, gave affirmative nods and salutes, Cross making sure he wasn't the first. He didn't want to seem too eager.

The captain led them about.

He asked for them to stay in formation, and Cross ended up towards the middle of the pack yet again, just close enough to hear the explanations of their duties, places on the grounds they were allowed to go, and what their daily routine was meant to be like.

Near the stables, they paused briefly, and the Captain was taking an extra long time explaining that the horses in the stables were not to be ridden without explicate orders from him or another commanding officer.

Cross couldn't help but notice the guys ahead of him whispering about something, and Cross followed their miniscule gestures off to the left.

A black cat, wirey and short-hair. It was standing in the shadow of a fence, and he didn't think he would've spotted it if it weren't for its big, green eyes. They were like little saucers in its head.

It was staring straight at him. Tail flicking. One ear twitched.

Cross tried to ignore it, but when he'd glance back, it was still there.

Until, suddenly, it wasn't.

By the time they moved on, it was nowhere in sight.

His old home hadn't had many animals, especially not roaming cats. He wondered if it was a 'barn cat'. Blue had explained the concept to him once.

Regardless, that thing was freaky.

Finally, after what felt like hours of walking, the Captain announced that their last stop of the night would be to their quarters.

He could practically feel the relief rolling off of the guys next to him, and it took am effort to let his shoulders sag even an inch in imitation. The guy next to him looked like he might fall over, and Cross shared none of that exhaustion.

They would start their assignments bright and early in the morning, each of them would have a more experienced guard join them as a guiding measure before they were left to the duties themselves.

A much kinder grace period than Cross had been expecting, honestly.

The Captain escorted them down the halls, long and twisting. Each one held soldiers out of uniform, turning in for the night, going through their routines. As well as some moving out for the night shift. They ignored the rookies as they kept to their own business.

The Captain swung a door open, only to immediately block the soldiers in front from entering the space of relaxation beyond.

"Ah, Ccino, I was worried we'd missed you." The Captain spoke up.

"Soldiers, back up. Stand at attention." Came an order next.

Cross was faster than the others in recognizing the order, but forced himself to wait until the others stumbled into him to start moving. He wasn't sure why they were getting into this stance, but he knew better than to start asking questions.

They all stood in the hall, and Cross caught a few snickers from nearby lounging guards as the rookies stood there.

"The King called upon me, so I wasn't able to meet you where we had planned," a softer, calm, voice rang, "I figured I would run into you here before you turned in for your first night."

The Captain stood before them, and beside him, exiting the barracks, was a monster.

Cross tried not to stare, but he couldn't deny that this was odd. He'd never known a captain to bend to anyone but a higher up. But...

This skeleton was dressed in a servant's uniform. Granted, it was made of a thick, soft-looking brown and tan fabric, with an apron with more embroidery than he thought he'd ever seen in his life, but it was nothing too out of place.

Surely it wasn't a Knight. No, he'd been told they wore masks. He could tell this skeleton was not a Knight. He could see the full skull, soft and gentle, calm eyelights, and a body Cross swore had never seen a single battle.

No. Cross, stop that.

He didn't tear his eyes away, but he forced himself to look back to the skeleton's shoulder. No eye-contact, but still facing him. Good.

"Soldiers, This is our Head of House, Ccino." The Captain gestured to the skeleton at his side.

The soldiers all remained silent, and the captain nodded.

"If Ccino ever gives you any sort of order, you listen." The Captain's voice was harsh with this, the same way he'd spoken about the horses, and the kitchen, and the private training rooms they'd passed. "No questions, no hesitation, no disobeying. You understand?"

The squint of the Captain's eyes were more than enough for Cross to know better than to ask. Something like this was unfamiliar, for sure, but he knew when a soldier was saying something he truly believed in. Lived by. For better or worse.

None of the other recruits seemed to speak up. Cross certainly didn't. He tried not to let his nerves show as this skeleton, Ccino, let's his soft white eyelights skim softly from one soldier to the next. When they came to him, he desperately avoided the gaze, practically staring a hole into the soft fur scarf wrapped around his neck, hiding his spine from view.

"It's a pleasure to meet all of you," That calm voice again, "As you heard, my name is Ccino. I manage the Castle, it's grounds, and the people who stay within our walls. This includes all if you, as of tonight."

He seemed rather put-together. Pleasant. Cross didn't feel any unease. He was positive, now, that this was not a Knight. Yet, he couldn't figure out why such a monster would be held in such high regard, unless, of course...

"As you heard, our King trusts my decisions regarding these matters, which is why he asks you listen to my requests. However, I don't abuse this privilege, and it shouldn't dissuade you from coming to me if you have any problems." Ccino pulled his arms to cross infront of him, and once again looked over the recruits. "You may be our guard, but that does not mean you shouldn't recieve help as well. If you cannot find me, ask another servant and they will get word to me."

Ccino seemed... kind. That had to be it.

The sparkle of admiration in the captain's eyes. The way some of the soldiers watched. Maybe Ccino was the golden light in this dark place? Though, that didn't seem quite right.

"Stick to your duties, remain diligent, and you will be cared for here." He said softly. "Now, stand down and go rest. Your training tomorrow will be thorough, and you will need the extra sleep."

Oh.

Cross recognized the order, and his body moved a bit before his mind could catch up. He relaxed, as much as he naturally could, and took a step. Toward the barracks. Then paused and glanced like a deer in the headlights to the Captain and the Head of House.

Ccino just smiled, and the Captain seemed stoic.

"Seems Z gets first dibs on the cots!" The Captain announced, and with his approval, humor seeping into his tone a bit, and laughter echoing from the older guard who'd been observing?

Cross made the quick duck into the room and grabbed for the first cot he saw. Bottom bunk, closest to the door, the easiest way he'd be able to leave the long room of bunk beds.

The others hurried in after him, some laughing, others cursing jokingly at Cross having noticed the test first.

The test.

Of course it'd been a test. A test to see if they'd recognize Ccino as an authority figure. A test to see if they took the warning seriously. Cross just listened to the superior officer. And... put himself in the limelight of excelling new recruits.

If there was one good thing, though it was mortifying, the others didn't seem to notice what it was. They were too busy teasing Cross for the grape blush that enveloped his face the moment he sat to think it over. The others assumed he'd just slipped up. Listened to the prettiest person in the room.

Once again, Cross wondered how they'd made it through training. Though, it was good they just thought he was a stupid lover boy. Better than them realizing he was following orders on instinct.

It'd been a hard sell, getting to sleep, but he'd managed somehow.

.

The morning was much easier than the night prior. He woke up before the sun, before a lot of the others even showed signs of stirring. It was good he got up so early, sneaking off probably wouldn't be much of an issue.

Tomorrow, then. He'd do his sneaking tomorrow, after he got a lay of the land today. From what they'd been told, he'd be supervised today. Everyone would. It was different from what the Prince had told him, but it didn't matter. Policies could change, and Cross knew better than to disobey new policies.

The castle inside felt like a maze yesterday, he'd hopefully have routes inside, so he'd be able to memorize at least a few escapes. Orient himself. Worst case he could break a window.

He didn't want to leave any trace, though. The best scenario, as Dream had explained it, was that he'd get in, get the information, and get out. A week, maybe a week and a half tops. Cross wanted to spend as little time here as possible. He didn't want to fall into whatever mind-control he'd been warned of. He didn't want to run into the Knights. He certainly didn't want to see Dream's twin.

Though, he was curious. What he looked like. If he could see the sibling resemblance between the Prince and his supposedly brainwashed ruler of a sibling. It was honestly none of his business. If the King never saw his face, that would be all the better. He shouldn't know Cross was ever here at all.

The thoughts swirled in hid head as he stared at the bottom of the cot above his. Wood slats, the whole thing was sturdy wood, with decent mattresses and blankets and pillows resting on its support. It didn't creak at all, which was good. And surprising. Everything in the castle seemed so nice.

Mm, must've been a thing for the people here. Serve the 'gods' and live in luxury. It certainly seemed that was how the Prince's camp had run as well.

Cross couldn't be sure how long he was awake, examining the room and sitting still, but the sun managed to rise into the sky by the time he'd heard the slamming knock on the door to the barracks.

It was easy for him. When the Captain swung the door wide open and announced, in a hardy shout, that they were to be in the hall in 5? Cross rolled out of bed the moment the door closed again.

It pained him to move so slowly. He couldn't be the first one out again. Couldn't be the first one dressed. He didn't know why it took so long for the others to change to their uniforms and rub the sleep from their eyes. Monsters and humans alike! They hustled, some of them, and Cross was grateful a cat monster seemed to gather herself more readily than the others. An orange striped cat, her nose and the tip of her tail a stark white. Cross only noticed her when she rushed for the door, and he let himself trail her a moment later.

Thinking back, she'd been at the back of the group yesterday, joking with some of the others. Cross wondered what the energy change was all about.

He didn't get time to worry about it, though. The hall outside the barracks was busier than it had been last night, and Cross found himself facing, not only the Captain, but also several guards. They each seemed to be in full uniform, different than Cross' or the cat's which marked them as trainees. They seemed stoic before their captain, and Cross almost felt a moment if relief. Maybe this was a decent show of artillery?

No, wait, strong soldiers would be bad for the Prince. He'd have to get through these guys.

He shook away the thought, listening in as he stood awkwardly in the hall, another recruit lumbering out to stand where he'd joined the cat already.

The Captain looked them over, before nodding.

"Harper, you're with Jenna." The Captain ordered, pointing from the cat before gesturing towards one of the guard directly behind him.

Cross tried not to let his eyelights give away his observance as the guard stepped around her captain. She seemed to be a bunny monster, lots of fur and long, floppy ears tied behind her head. She, Jenna, saluted the cat, Harper, and Harper saluted in return.

"Listen to what your mentor tells you, got it?" The Captain asked, and Cross saw a few others exiting as he said this.

Those who started moving down the hall, and the Capatin looked to Cross. It was a kick glance, one look-over, before he turned and looked over his shoulder.

"Z, you're with Shep." And a gesture guided Cross towards whoever his mentor for the day would be.

From nearly the back of the crowd, snaked a dog monster. Black and white, short-trimmed fur. His eyes were brown and intense, and after a moment Cross realized this guard was shorter than him. He didn't like that when Shep saluted, he had to peer down to salute back.

He hardly even registered that they were already moving off, not unlike the two before them had done, until he'd taken a few steps to follow this small royal guard.

"So, you're Z?" Shep asked him as they stopped a few halls away. This one was largely barren aside from a few servants. Along each wall hung a huge tapestry, woven out of heavy threads and hung by a long piece of metal along the top edge.

"Yes, sir." Cross responded shortly. Not giving himself a moment to stammer.

Shep looked at his quizzically, before he leaned forward and sniffed. Actually just sniffed at Cross. It was still a few inches away, they didn't make contact, but suddenly he worried he was stinky. He's bathed before hopping on the cart, and he hadn't been exercising much, surely-

"Ah, you're not from this Kingdom! Not originally, at least." Shep said then, leaning away just as quickly as he'd gotten close.

Cross blinked, and he was sure his skull didn't hide his shock as well as he'd hoped. "I can smell the pollen on you, newbie. We don't have those kinda plants in this kingdom." He explained, and Cross internally cursed himself. Would he have to run? Would he have to-

"You know, I'm not from this kingdom either, I was born to the west." Shep admitted then, easily, using a paw to gesture loosely at the space between them, "I bet we'll get along just fine, newbie. C'mon. I'll show you around your route."

Cross didn't even get a spare second to defend himself, or puzzle at why a foreign monster would choose to come here. Shep was already on his way, back turned and hurrying down the hall at a brisk pace.

"As far as I know You're gonna be taking over my old route, inner portion of the castle." Cross listened, but orders were his second nature. As they walked, he eyed the tapestries hung along the wall. Long and intense, and yet, there was a moment where Cross could see the colors were more faded and worn.

"You'll mostly just be patrolling, watching out for anything out of the ordinary, waiting to see if you're needed for any specific duties." The images showed monsters, humans, monsters again. Depictions of complex circles and red splashes dripping from weapons and hands. And he noticed a trend, eventually. These must've been the previous rulers. The past Kings.

"Your patrols will be alone, the rooms in the hall aren't too important, and it's mostly servants that pass through that way." Cross almost lost his rhythm as they drew to the end of the tapestry, though the hall kept moving. There on the tapestry was a depiction of two little skeletons, one which seemed strikingly similar to Prince Dream, even in his adulthood. Beyond, the tapestry simply stopped. It was odd that King Nightmare hadn't bothered to get it finished with his own visage. Maybe his puppetmaster was waiting to put himself there instead?

"Still important, anyways. The servants halls are the easiest ways in and out of the castle, so we can't slack off." They turned a corner, and Cross pried his eyes away from the tapestry and back before him.

They passed a few more halls, before Shep stopped dead in his tracks, and Cross reacted quickly, spotting the way he peaked around the next corner.

Across the way, Cross spotted that they'd run into another pair who had also stopped. Only when Shep saluted did Cross think to follow his lead.

From the hall he couldn't see, emerged a figure.

Cross kept his eyelights to the ground, but the steps, the shoes, the heavy cape, and especially the dark and slimey tendrils which snaked along in his wake? That was the King. The one Dream had been so particular about not running into at all.

Two sets of feet followed him. Closely. He didn't have to look up to recognize that they must've been Knights. The easy weight of their steps, how close they stuck behind the king, the weight of the one's magic? Surely. He didn't risk a glance until after Shep lifted his head again. Cross only caught a glimpse of a tiger mask turning another corner before the three figures were gone.

In the tense silence, Cross swore he could hear his soul beating. He wasn't sure if it was fear, or indignance, or something else, but he knew being so close to the King had not made him feel good. Dream had been right, something about that guy was wrong.

Shep glanced around, and his ear twitched, watching down the hall where they'd left to.

The group across from them was already moving, towards the hall Cross had just cone from.

"You know, you kids are lucky Newbie." Shep voiced then, eying up the human rookie who was passing by. "When I first joined the guard, the King cut my tail off to prove my loyalty."

He said it so easily that Cross was speechless. What did he mean? Was. His tail was docked, but...

"What?!" The panicked whisper came from the passing humans who had obviously been eavesdropping. He expressed the concern coating Cross's soul and freezing him in place.

"Yep. I heard he used it as a cat toy for the strays." Shep confirmed loosely.

"Shep." Came the snap of his name from the other trained guard, though they didn't move to deny his claim.

Cross hadn't heard anything about that from Dream. Of course, he also hadn't heard about this introduction process either. He was flying blindly here, and suddenly he feared for his limbs.

Shep simply shrugged and kept moving forward. Cross wanted, badly, to excuse himself right this moment and go back and claim he couldn't do it. But he was here now, and he had a Prince to help. And a whole lot of people relying on him to prevent more tragedies.

The training wasn't hard. Shep stood with him, made small-talk, told him all the tricks to ensure he knew when someone would switch off with him, and then they had lunch.

He hated to admit it, but the food was delicious. He hadn't had something so filling in... maybe ever. He couldn't put his finger on it, not quite, but for monster food, it felt solid. Warmer. He felt less hungry after, and a part of him wondered if that was how they did it. The mind control. Was it the food?

But, no, surely not. He was still set on his mission when he went right back to his rounds. The food was just... strangely good.

The rest of the rounds were easy. Simple. And there was at least an hour after where Shep willingly guided him through the rest of the building. At least, anywhere he could.

Cross noticed, once, that Shep broke a rule. He ducked into the kitchen. Returned to a surprised Cross with two pieces of bread and handed one to Cross before tearing into his own. Apparently, from what Shep said, the main kitchen wasn't off-limits. Not really. Just the private one.

He didn't ask about the difference, he wouldn't need to know, after all. He doubted plans of attack were stached in the cupboards of a pantry.

And just as swiftly as it had begun, it ended. Shep said he'd be around the training grounds tomorrow if Cross needed him, and released him to dinner. After Dinner, Cross went back to the barracks.

Many of the rookies were talking all about their routes, others complaining that they had gotten cleaning duties for being the last out of the barracks that morning. They'd start training tomorrow. Cross tried not to contribute much, but he liked listening in. Understanding more about the place. The people.

It sounded like the King had crossed quite a few of their paths as well, and they didn't seem happy about it. Discussing in hushed tones how weird the King was compared to the last. Dark, secretive, hardly even a ruler. Cruel. He heard the human from before shamelessly telling Shep's tail misfortune to the gathered group, who all seemed to be riled up by it, exchanging other horrible speculations.

He needed to get this information. He just... he couldn't do anything until the others were asleep. So. Morning it would be.

.

Cross was a coward.

He knew as much, deep down somewhere, but as he woke up early again, he thought through his plan. He didn't know where he'd find any of this information he needed, he didn't know anything beyond his own route. He didn't even know what he'd be finding. He'd know when he found it, he was sure, but the last thing he wanted to do was get caught

He should've excused himself during dinner to go search around, or chosen a buddy to go wandering with. Shep had told him some things, he knew the room where the Knights trained was the indoor room, and he knew some areas no one went to. He knew the hall where the Knights and King stayed, Cross found it interesting they all stayed nearby, and he'd promised himself he'd avoid the space like the plague. He knew so much, and so little, all at once.

And he waited, thinking, so long that he... he just got up as the others did. Moved to his station to rotate shifts with the night guards. He just... did his duties again.

Well, they weren't his duties. He had no obligation to be here, not really. But the Prince had told him a week. A week and a half. That would make the most sense for an in and out. So, he wanted to respect that. And he had orders now to act out. Surely if he slacked off it'd be noticed, right? Yeah. He'd just slip away before dinner and say he went to train a bit more. Peak into some doorways. No biggy. Surely.

He worried about what he'd do to pick up a slack he hadn't even lost, all day. All through his rounds. If he showed it, his replacement at his last post said nothing, and waved him off.

Cross wanted so desperately to go searching. But. Before he could pass by the hall which would lead to the mess hall for the servants and guard? He glimpsed them from down the adjoining hall.

Two of the Knights.

One with a hood obscuring his face, casting a heavy shadow over everything, his eyelights a dull white. Though he didn't see a mask at first glance, Cross had to make some assumptions based on the one beside him that they were both Knights.

The other had on leather training armor, and a tiger's mask, red ribbons hanging from it, swaying with weight. He could see the skeleton's grin peaking from beneath the mask, and noticed how the tiger draped an arm over the other and laughed.

Cross didn't even give them a second to notice him, swiftly stepping out of the corridor and towards the dining halls after all. He didn't want to get in the way. He didn't want to be on their radar.

He needed to know when they trained. When they'd all be occupied so he wouldn't have to worry about them catching him off-guard.

Off guard. Ink would be having a hayday with that one if he'd made that joke back at camp.

Cross just kept moving forward, ducking into the dining space before the Knights even reached that hall.

.

Three days. It took him 6 whole days to learn more. To learn where the information might be. To learn where the Knights usually were at any given time. To learn how to navigate the place better. To not worry about getting caught.

He'd gone back to Shep one day, to test if he'd be told to go off the dinner or if he'd be sought out. He was not, so he had his proof that no one cared so long as he was doing his rounds.

He'd sat and talked. Asked about the Knights. (Shep had little to say that Cross didn't already know). Asked about training. (Shep said he was always out here now, running routines.) Asked about the king.

And Shep was interested about him asking on the King. Cross almost fumbled, but said he'd heard a lot of rumors. Shep had been here a while. What was true?

And Shep told him stories. In a low voice. Of the King breaking spines, of throwing objects with his tendrils, of sentencing folks to death over minor transgressions. Of his ruthless rule and cruel first. How he brought in servants and guards by force. Ripping them from their homes. How the king would declare traitors and have them hung.

Eventually, Cross asked him to stop. He'd heard enough.

Some of those things he'd heard from Dream, or the folks back at that encampment. Others were new. Insider information. Things he'd never dreamed of.

It was informational, and Cross decided that he'd keep learning more, until he was sure he had the perfect moment to strike.

.

He wasn't the smartest, okay?

Cross had done his rounds, and the moment he was done, he scurried off towards his destination.

He paid no mind to servants or guards, and used a servant's hall to arrive in the location he needed. The hall where the King's Study was located.

Yesterday he'd investigated the war room. Entering and closing the doors behind him, the room had been a mess of papers and figures and notes. The maps of each neighboring kingdom alone were strewn on walls, like the ravings of a mad-man. None of them had plans of attack, though. The light from his eyelights had been enough to illuminate each one as he approached. Every single one was a new defensive plan. Ways to deploy troops if they were attacked. Not one seemed unprovoked which was... strange.

Cross was almost unable to find any sign of the King's next route of action for his destructive feats, so he was resigned to search the study tomorrow. His only solace was that exiting the War Room had only been met with a servant a ways down the hall, and a cat pacing by, paying him no mind.

The cats in this place were many. Cross had never seen so many cats in one place, and when he'd asked at dinner, it seemed that everyone thought they belonged to the Head of House, Ccino.

It would make sense, Cross had seen the embroidery along his apron, plenty of paws and cat-like figures along the hemlines, between the branch and tree motif the entire building seemed set on holding tight to. But, it amazed him that there would be so many, allowed to run free. The King must've been very lenient with his Head of House, to allow so many creatures free-roam.

...then again, the Knights wore masks decorated with Big Cats. Cross had finally caught a glimpse of the Lion, out on the lawn while he was talking to Shep. He carried an Axe twice the size of Cross' torso, and he seemed to wield it with hardly any problem. Cross just hoped the little beasts weren't being sacrificed. He'd heard about the barbaric practices from Ink once when he had his head on straight. He hadn't had the guts to bring it up to the Prince. Or Shep. Fearing the answer.

And so, now, he moved for the study. When he knew no one would be around, when no one would see him or bother him. He could dig through the information, tuck it away in his ribcage, and get out of dodge.

It was mid-day. Apparently the Knights tended to have training about now, and the King always supervised. So the forbidden hall, as the others called it, was dead and silent.

It wasn't hard to determine which door was the study, the door was carved carefully with a beautiful tree, and the handle was a shining gold, as though it got less use than the other rooms. He tested the handle, it moved, and he slipped inside.

Of course it wouldn't be locked. Who would have the guts to go snooping around in the private spaces of murderous tyrant kings? Well. Cross would, but that was besides the point.

The inside was lit by a few stray candles, and Cross tried not to marvel at the luxury of the room. Everything was carved out of dark wood, with golden fabric lacing the cushions of lounge seats and the curtains which covered the windows. It was darker, used, but still gorgeous. The daylight filtered in through an open window, giving it a warm ambience. Cross didn't know how a room used by such an unpleasant man would be so calm and soft.

There was a case along one wall, large and long. Hung inside were masks of all different shapes and styles. Some were decorated with swirls and gems, but most resembled animals. A crane, a swan, a horse, a sheep, a hawk, a wolf, they all stared out at him with blank, empty, sockets. He wondered if these were used or not, but they seemed untouched.

And beside that case, in the far corner, sat a heavy desk, with bookshelves filled to the brim tucked just behind it.

The desk was heavy, and it looked to be covered with papers, letter drafts, just a quick glance over the contents told Cross this was just what he needed.

He stood behind the desk, unable to stop himself from lifting the papers up into his hands. From here he could see the door, as well. He'd know if someone was coming.

The first paper he looked at seemed to be the draft of a letter, addressed to someone by the name of Crop. The handwriting was beautiful, and Cross was lucky Ink knew how to write in so many dialects, or he'd have trouble deciphering exactly what this was saying. The cursive was precise. And... it seemed a half-finished letter asking about plants. The state of a harvest? No, that's strange.

Cross lifted the few pages which had been tucked beneath the first, confused. These ones seemed to be written in a much more unsure writing, but they held what he could only call sketches. Showing clouds and plants and... fields? Cross wasn't familiar with farming, but he could recognize a field anywhere. The paper had a few words underlined and circled, and they seemed to be later additions, added overtop by someone else. The words seemed to be mentioned again in the letter draft? It was completely innocuous. If this was the King's letter, he was just asking about the wellbeing of a farmer's harvest. Asking about improvements.

He moved them hastily into a stack and set them aside, reaching for the next haphazard bundle of paper. That couldn't have been right.

The next piece he scooped up was in that same pretty cursive, but this time it wasn't a letter. Instead it was some sort of list. Locations, some crossed off, and some untouched. Was this what he was searching for? Surely this was it.

He moved to grab the next page that had been beneath it. It held more context, it seemed. Notes scribbled down about how these towns needed changes. Action. Cross looked to the first crossed-off name, one he recognized from one of the woman at Dream's encampment.

The paper read of a faulty justice system, a lawman who needed to be checked up on for counts of bribery and false accusations. She'd said the Knight, the tiger, had arrived and asked for their head of city guard, the one who enforced rules and kept peace in their small village. Two days later he was killed, replaced by someone the King installed, and he started jailing innocent folks.

Cross looked to the next one, a pass where travel had been haunted by the royal guard. He'd been told they'd done it to halt people from mining in the area, a crop of wealth the King wanted to hoard. But this said that it was a mountain pass with frequent and dangerous rocks lines thanks to a sudden increase in storms since his rule. Notes reminding of supplies, and pay, and signs. Signs.

The next was not crossed off. An issue of bandits ransacked the town when people would enter or exit. Notes in messier scrawl seemed to pose solutions. Ideas. One that was circled said 'Send Horror, Autumn'. It was nearing the end of summer now.

This did seem to be the list that Dream had suggested existed, my twin is organized, he'll have a list with extensive notes, but he'd said nothing about the way the list wouldn't actually contain anything incriminating.

He skimmed again, but it seemed like nothing harmful. One lower down even acknowledged a damage caused during some sort of raid and to divert funds to someone. A random shopkeep in an outer city. This didn't add up at all.

He folded the paper silently and stuffed it into his armor, but kept looking. No doubt there would be something else. One of the lower pieces, something hidden away.

But the papers atop the desk seemed just as helpful in nature. Even ones like drafted decrees or laws to impose later were not unreasonable. One even seemed to propose a ban on child labor. What kind of tyrant would pass up a chance for easy workers?

Digging through the drawers revealed nothing more, just an impressive collection of quills, ink, and more books it seemed didn't fit on the shelves behind him. He wouldn't find anything more useful than these documents, he was sure. He... he just hoped the Prince would be able to see whatever evil Cross was obviously missing here. He scooped up another piece, one of the decrees, and then the letter draft to that Crop. Maybe they could speak to him? No, the planning was up to Dream. He was just here to get the information and go.

And now that he had it...

Cross sighed a bit, he couldn't understand why these were the things in here. In this innermost sanctum where only the trusted went. Everyone feared this King so much, Dream claimed he and his master were such a threat. And yet all Cross could find was a record of damages, and a plan to enact damage control. It...

"Having some trouble finding the dirt?"

Cross felt his entire soul freeze up as the voice cut through the silent room. It was quiet, and deep, and a bit gravelly. He didn't recognize it, but that didn't matter, because he knew he had been alone.

Almost all at once, a wave of presence crashed over his awareness. That damp static that had passed by once in the hall. Trailing the King. He didn't have to look up to know it was one of the Knights somewhere before him.

"Our King isn't usually one to make a mess." The voice said again, calmly.

Cross dragged his eyelights up, hands tentatively hovering at his sides. There, sat comfortably on one of the chairs, was the hooded one. Dust, Shep had told him.

Now, despite the shadow cast by his hood, Cross could see the faint details of his panther mask, black and hidden away in the darkness of his cover. He seemed entirely at-ease, not a care in the world, watching Cross. If his soul hadn't been sinking into his gut, Cross would've even thought Dust found the situation humorous.

He steeled himself, watching. Could he try and bluff his way out of this? Somehow? How long had Dust been there? How much had he seen?

"Any chance you'd believe I was looking for a good book?" Cross asked, though the bold humor he'd attempted to channel in the way Ink had done so many times before fell flat. Maybe his growing panic was clouding his mind, or maybe he'd never been much of a comedian.

Dust just stared at him, tilting his head a bit. By the way his eyelights changed shape, Cross imagined his sockets had drooped to give an unamused stare. Not a great sign.

"Are you going to try and run, or can I catch a break today?" Dust just asked across the room.

Mm. Cross didn't have much of a choice here anymore. Dream had told him, drilled it into his skull, not to get caught. Especially not by the Knights. They'd torture him. Kill him. The stories of what they did to traitors... Cross couldn't let this knight get hold of him. Couldn't be trapped. He had to get out of here.

He promised Ink he'd be back.

With that thought, his sword summoned to his hand in a flash. It was big, and bulky, and not the best for an indoor fight, but he'd make due. He just needed to get away from this guy. That was all.

His summons was clearly a declaration of intent, because he heard Dust scoff over the rush of adrenaline running through him and roaring through his ears. All at once, the electric charge in the room seemed to up itself. Bones, blue, cracked downwards from the rafters and planted themselves sturdy before the door and the window. His two possible exits. Dust stood up and stretched his arms before him.

"Alright, let's get this over with." Dust voiced, then.

Cross nearly let his guard down in the first moment. He felt a charge of energy coming from his side, and narrowly vaulted over the desk to avoid the spiked and jagged bones which rose where his feet had just been planted.

Momentum carried him now, and his sword was already poised for attack before his mind quick processed it. He slashed at Dust, growing rapidly closer. Hid swing was met with pure white bones that stopped his swing, just enough for Dust to avoid the hit with a split second to spare.

He was quiet, as they fought. As Cross lunged and spun and threw himself forward with grunts of exertion. It was unsettling, how the only noises were the cracks of his magic ripping into existence or Cross's sword cracking them to pieces like a lumberjack's axe.

He kept his attention on Dust. The magic had a pattern. The room was buzzing ambiently, and right before an attack it was like being too close to a fire. Just briefly. Cross barely managed to avoid spearing his ankle thanks to the crackle. He wished he could be a bit faster, though. Cross couldn't feel where an attack was aiming like he normally could. Dust gave no indications as to where an attack would be channeling either, almost like he wasn't controlling them at all. He didn't like it, it was unpredictable, and was wearing him down fast.

Dust kept dodging his swings, no matter how fast he moved, and eventually Cross stumbled. His shoulder connected with one of the random jutting bones. Dust stepped back just before it pierced upwards, and Cross grunted in distress as it drove him back a step as to not get impaled.

That was apparently his mistake. The moment he wasn't close to Dust, bones seemed to crop up all around him, gutting at different angles, just barely piercing the bone, little cracks forming with the force. Cross could feel each one jab a bit deeper than the last. Each time he reversed to get away from one or break away an incoming volley, another would arrive behind him at a new angle.

He hated that Dust stood back. Watched. The only sign that he had even broken a sweat was a slight heaviness to the up and down of his shoulders, and while Cross hadn't lost much HP yet, he was starting to feel the exhaustion creep closer, and each little wound and crack seemed to be draining him. Was this the strategy? Play with him like a living pin-cushion? Was this it's own sort of-

Cross shifted his stance and unsummoned his weapon as he jumped up and out of the quickly growing ring of spikes. He had to act fast. He had to get out of here.

He grumbled a bit under his breath, he didn't like trying to do this, but...

The moment his feet landed, Cross summoned up his other piece of magic. The part his father had embedded into his soul early on in his life which made him so powerful. He was sure his normally white eyelight changed shape in the split second it happened. Red, bright red.

It only took a moment, a tug at the very being, hidden away in the Knight's chest. For a split second, he could feel the control of foreign magic slip into his own hands.

For a moment, it worked just as he knew it would. His fist trembled under the effort, keeping an eye on Dust as the other seemed to stare at him. The bones he'd summoned all seemed to sink away at once, recalled faster than Cross could've hoped. Dust seemed to feel his magic stop responding to him.

Cross just needed to get the Knight downed. Not dead. He just needed out.

He shifted stiffly. One, concentrated blast of bones at the Knight. He seemed like he didn't want to risk taking any damage. That was all Cross needed then. Some damage. And he'd be free to escape back to the camp. Away from these weird monsters with their weird magic.

He let his palm open, directing the force like he'd done so many times, channeling another monster's magic against them. Controlling it against their will.

The feeling of electricity rose again. It spiked. It. It gathered in his hand, that burning feeling he felt when an attack had been about to hit him.

What?

It was too late to recall the intent once he'd released it. The moment he tried to command the magic, he felt it all roll back over him. Bones meant to be aimed at their owner came jolting straight at his front. And though he stumbled back, he couldn't escape the searing pain of a fire too hot to process escaping his bones and immediately rushing up his arm, into his chest, down to his feet.

He had to imagine, with the loud sound like a cracking whip, that that was what being struck by lightning felt like. Molten metal in your veins.

Cross laid sprawled, dazed, on the floor as his control magic puttered out. It hurt to breathe. To see. To exit. He was half-convinced his arm was completely splintered apart after the pulse of raw magic that had filtered through it, but he didn't bother to look.

His soul begged him to move, to get up and run again, but darkness danced in his vision as he stared up at the ceiling. He failed his mission.

He hated to see as the Knight rounded into view, standing cautiously over where he was laid. Floored by the backfire of his power. If the knight said anything, he couldn't hear over the loud ringing invading his head.

Though, instead of stabbing him through like Cross had expected, the knight seemed to duck down. A cool feeling encased Cross' wrists (so the other hadn't broken apart) and his soul suddenly felt exhausted. He felt exhausted.

No matter how much he wanted to stay awake, to escape, he lost this fight fair and square.

[naffeclipse]

I really need to revamp my aliens au because I stole so many concepts from that AU and shoved them into CS as I had written the initial Aliens post a bit before CS was created. Now I want to make it fresh but still creature-feature with the boys—just Alien Edition™

Just to list off a few things I originally envisioned for this AU:

Sun and Moon can hear heartbeats. Specifically hear, unlike the cryptid boys who have a whole sense for it, but nonetheless, the whole heart awareness started here. I'm thinking of maybe changing this to Alien!Sun/Moon picking up on Y/N's breathing or scrapping it entirely.

Y/N is enthusiastic and wants to study the boys. I think Scientist Y/N can bypass the whole fear thing pretty easily and go straight to nerding out, whereas CS!Y/N is very much in denial about their excitement, and rationalizes it as 'for the hunt'. I think I can make it interesting via scientist Y/N for the Aliens AU even if it's still a concept of 'wants to learn about an intriguing subject that now involves the boys'. Just different flavors.

Sun/Moon eating very unpleasant things. Of course, cryptid boys eat hearts, but the alien boys are just hungry for any kind of meat, and hey, with a desolate and dark ship filled with recently slaughtered humans, it's kind of an all-you-can-eat buffet.

That's the summary of concept similarities, but I do want to focus on the difference, such as, of course:

there being two alien creatures.

how different everything will function in a setting within space/spaceship.

a language barrier between scientist Y/N, and Sun and Moon.

a focus on Y/N's physical trauma with their blown-off arm. They're going to want to make the journey through the desolate spaceship to retrieve said arm that has been preserved and then need to get to the medical bay (think protective cylinder) to hopefully have the ship's installed medical AI and tools perform surgery to reattach it, which is a big risk when there's something else roaming the gray halls that even intimidating and powerful aliens Sun and Moon would rather Y/N doesn't encounter.

Sun and Moon also have their own designs and special abilities relating to their celestial themes as well as indulging in freaky monster details, like Moon's 'nightcap'. It is extremely long and acts as a sensitive feeler for things in the air and is somewhat prehensile. Sun's sun rays have more purpose than just being pointy and armor-plate-like, as well as having those same plates on his spine, and he almost seems to be on the brink of being too hot, sometimes radiating heatwaves like an oven.

their alien design is a mix of translucent, starry, and colored flesh, almost like jelly but smooth and slightly cool and moist to the touch, coating the bones of Fazco brand endoskeletons.

their legs are digitigrade.

their mouths are wide and look like they're smiling all the time, but their mouths can get bigger and open even wider, especially when they're eating/attacking—it's as if their entire face is going to split in half but nope, that's just to let out their other teeth.

That's all I have for now. I want to think about it some more.

[mutt3y3]

Ighty so like- Designing the Ink for my silly Rottenberry world has been a pain in the ass. I might have to scrap my work and start over.

Originally I was gonna post these two as a pair but you know? Ehhhh, We breakin this up into a two parter.

ANYWAY!! Here's the boyo!!! Meet Snail! Aka, the Error in my Rottenberry world.

Since the characters are sorta swapped in a sense in the story (The Star Sanses are now the 'Bad Guys' and Nightmare's Gang in now the 'Good guys') I wanted to have these guys sorta reflect who their semi swappin roles with design and personality wise.

So instead of Error being string and thread based he's more like... Slimey acid type based. And with that thought I remembered the like... Death Snail and thought it would be really cool if when Error is tasked to destroy a universe (Cus he is an actual God of Destruction, maybe a Vessel of Deletion would fit better?, In this world) He just slowly makes a walk towards the World Core and everything behind him is slowly melting away. Like paint dripping down a wall.

So there's the whole snail stuff for yall. I like his silly Snail stuff. Also makes him havin a more Multiversal, Multiverse name. (Would a Multiverse of Multiverses be called w Megaverse?) Easier to figure out *Proceeds to do a quick glare over to Rottenberry Ink. But only for a split second.*

Also, Error isn't as... Out there. I dunno, he's more tame. I keep trying to get him to be more like... Energetic and Emotional in my daydreams but most of the energy goes to Ink.

Rottenberry world Ink is like if you tossed one of those small little rubber balls really hard and now it's bouncing around the room at the speed of a bullet.

So maybe having Snail!Error be more dull and standoffish (maybe Cold or Melancholy would fit as well) would help to balance that out.

Oh! And some design stuff may not make sense but that's due to the fact I still want to have some stuff that links back to their originals. So Snail!Error still has the stitches on his outfit, even though they don't fully fit. Its to help link him back to the Original Error.

I think OG Error belongs to Loverofpiggies/CrayonQueen

And Snail!Error is a mwohs :3

[snowbirds-and-snakelets]

in an au where panem still had modem music, what if sejanus was just really into angsty angry stuff. like he comes home from school and blasts linkin park for hours. he was an emotional teenager with like one friend at best and i think we should give that man some bmth or ffdp or something

[pennyellee]

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡?

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡? | 𝐌𝐘𝐆 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐔 (𝐌) pairings: producer!min yoongi x popgirlie f!reader genre: romance, smut, slight porn with plot, friends to lovers au word count: 6K beta read by @chaoticpuff17 (ily)

prompt: "There is just no way you two did not fuck each other's brains out." summary: "You Big Enough?" - when an old flame resurfaced, rumours spiralled, and suddenly, every lingering glance and every touch between you seemed to carry weight. It had always been just music, just friendship—hadn’t it? No. You always had the vibe of  'will they, won't they.' This has become bigger than the music. Tension crackled, boundaries blurred, and there was this thing that Yoongi made sure you knew well besides that he was big enough. "They just talk. I fucking deliver."

warnings: minors dni 18+ | sexual tension, explicit language, themes of subtle (and not-so-subtle) possessiveness, teasing, sexual activity, rough sex, fingering (f receiving), miscommunication driving emotional conflict, dirty talk, raw fucking (stay safe!) choking and spanking as part of intimate scenes, creampie, fleeting nipple play, very subtle dominance/submission dynamics, implied size kink ... (as per usual, I'll add some if needed)

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain strong language, explicit content, obsessive behaviour, sexual activity, sex without protection, choking and spanking as part of intimate scenes.

a/n: yall, I had this idea like a month ago and I wrote the initial part but lowkey forgot that it's in my drafts so I finished it yesterday (might come later to edit, pls excuse me im working overtime these days) and amazing and spectacular @chaoticpuff17 managed to read it so you can have it as a lil Valentine's day treat. So here is something simple, smutty, and cute for ya. Happy Valentine to all of you who celebrate, love you my little fairies! ♥

masterlist

Your hands hovered above the keys and your brain could not figure out what to press to make it sound as magical as you want. Your mind searched for the perfect melody for the bridge of her latest song—

"Try F-sharp minor," Yoongi suggested, his voice low and even. The studio is a second home for you. Always have been and dear Min Yoongi was as much a refuge as the soundproof walls and softly humming equipment.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips.

"Perfect—" There was a warmth in his gaze, one that lingered a second too long.

"How do you always know, Yoongi-ah?"

"It's my job," he said simply, but the corners of his mouth quirked up. Your heart fluttered with a familiar yet unwelcome sensation. But you quickly shook it off, focusing on the music in front of her.

"I'm lucky to have you, then," you murmured.

Yoongi didn't respond immediately, and when he did, his voice was quieter than before.

"I'd say I'm the lucky one."

Before you could process what he meant, your phone buzzed, breaking the spell. You picked it up, seeing a message from your lifelong bestie, Jimin-ah.

Emergency. Coming over.

You frown but you are happy to not indulge in something you don't have the answers to. "Jimin-ah is on his way. Guess I'll have to call it a night."

Yoongi's expression was unreadable, but he nodded, knowing that it must be something important if you’re packing your stuff so quickly. 

"I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"You need to fucking hear this," he says, her voice brimming with urgency when he bursts into the apartment like a whirlwind, his dark glossy hair bouncing as he flops onto the couch.

"You remember Seo Kang-joon?"

You hand him a glass of red wine and sit across from him.

"What now? Did he suddenly reappear after he ghosted me?"

Jimin winces.

"Actually, yeah. And I finally found out why he did so."

Your stomach drops. You liked that man when you went out, but the message you left a good amount of time ago went unanswered for an even longer period of time.

"Why?"

He hesitates, his eyes darting around the room. Finally, he leans forward, lowering his voice. "Everyone thinks you and Yoongi are… you know."

You blink.

"What?" you say, playing dumb.

"You knooowww…—

"—that."

He said through gritted teeth, trying to make you understand, but your brain was not cooperating.

"No, I dooooon't know that" You mimicked him, and he only stared dead serious at your stupidity.

"They think you've been doing it," he says bluntly. "Apparently, it's some open secret in the industry. Like, 'Oh, Y/N and Yoongi? Of course, they're a thing.'"

Your jaw drops. No way. No fucking way.

"That's insane. We're not… we're not like that."

"You sure about that buttercup?" Jimin raises an eyebrow and you merely nod.

"Cuz', he's not exactly denying it. And honestly, can you blame people for assuming? You've written two albums together, spent countless hours locked in the studio, and the way he looks at you…" he trails off, shaking his head.

"There is just no way you two did not fuck each other's brains out."

Your cheeks burn.

"That's ridiculous. Yoongi and I are friends. Just friends."

"Hmm, I don't know hun,—"

He was right. You weren't buying it. Not entirely.

But you weren't ready to admit that out loud—not yet, anyway. Your mind races. You replay every moment you've spent together, every lingering glance and fleeting touch.

Yoongi and you?

It was absurd, wasn't it?

Right?

Jimin watched you carefully, his perfectly shaped brows raised in amusement. "You're thinking about it, aren't you?"

"No," you scoffed, but your voice lacked conviction.

Jimin smirked, leaning back against the couch. "Look, babe, I wouldn't bring this up if I didn't think it was something you should actually think about. People don't just make this kind of shit up for no reason."

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "I just—why wouldn't he deny it?"

"That's what you need to figure out." Jimin gave you a pointed look. "You trust him, don't you?"

You hesitated. That was the problem, wasn't it? You trusted Yoongi more than anyone. He had been your anchor in the storm, your safe space when everything else felt uncertain.

But this—this was different.

The way he looked at you.

The way he always knew exactly what you needed.

You replayed every moment with Yoongi in your mind, combing through the memories with a fine-toothed scepticism, looking for anything—anything—that could have fed these rumours. The way he watched you while you worked in the dance studio, the quiet way he always made sure you had water before long sessions, the casual intimacy in the way he touched you—light, fleeting, like a habit neither of you had ever questioned.

Had you been blind this whole time?

Jimin's voice snapped you back to reality.

"Look, I think you need to talk to him. Like, actually talk to him."

You swallowed hard.

Talking to Min Yoongi had never been difficult before. But this? This felt dangerous.

The next evening, you stepped into the dimly lit studio, and the question sat on the tip of your tongue like a loaded gun.

Yoongi was already there, as always. The warm amber glow of the desk lamp cast long shadows across his sharp features, catching on the soft strands of dark hair that fell over his eyes. His fingers rested idly on the soundboard, a picture of quiet focus—until he looked up at you.

His gaze, steady and unreadable, held you captive.

"You're late," he murmured, but there was no accusation in his tone—just that familiar, quiet warmth.

You swallowed. "Got caught up with Jimin last night, forgot to set a reminder."

At that, something flickered across his face—too quick to name, gone before you could hold onto it. "Ah."

Silence stretched between you, thick with something you weren't ready to name. But you hadn't come here to tiptoe around things anymore.

So you stepped forward, pressing a hand against the cool surface of the mixing console, grounding yourself, only now taking his appearance in.

"I played with the structure a little last night after you went home and—" he broke the silence first, but you knew he sensed the sudden awkwardness in your posture, your whole being.

"Is something the matter, sleepyhead?"

"Nope, nothing at all."

You quickly retorted, trying to look anywhere else but his gorgeous face.

Yoongi's eyes, however, never wavered. They held a depth that made it impossible for you to escape his gaze. You had always known how intense he could be, but now, in the stillness of the studio, it felt almost intimate, the air thick with unspoken words that seemed to pulse around you like a melody begging to be heard.

He leaned forward slightly, his hands resting casually on the desk, but his posture was all focus—intent, almost as if he was waiting for you to unravel yourself.

"Are you sure about that?" His voice was lower now, a gentle challenge. He was pulling at the thread, testing the tension between you.

Your stomach twisted. This was the moment, wasn't it?

"I'm fine, Yoongi, just had a lot of wine last night," you said again, but your voice betrayed you. It cracked, ever so slightly, and you couldn't mask the uncertainty in it.

The silence between you thickened, and it felt like the space in the room had shrunk, until it was just you, him, and the suffocating pressure of the question you both knew was lingering.

He didn't look away, not even when you avoided his gaze, staring down at the soundboard like it could offer you some kind of escape. He moved to the electronic piano while lifting a brow at you.

"So as I said, I played with the structure—"

You watched him, leaning at the piano, his fingers poised just above the keys, waiting for him to break the silence again, to give you something more. But you didn't want more from him—not in the way you wanted it. Not yet.

Instead, you played a dangerous game, one of subtle manipulation, testing him, probing for the truth behind his unreadable expressions.

"You remember Seo Kang-joon, right?" You interrupt him, raising your voice just a little.

The name hung in the air between you, deliberately chosen, carefully placed like a baited hook.

Yoongi's fingers stilled for the briefest of moments. But it was enough. Just enough for you to notice. His posture shifted ever so slightly, his shoulders stiffening imperceptibly.

You bit back a smile, inwardly satisfied at his subtle reaction.

"I bumped into him yesterday on my way home. He... he actually asked me out on a date again. Said he lost his phone and had to get a new phone number, didn't remember mine."

A lie.

The words left your mouth so easily, like a lie you had rehearsed in front of the mirror, and yet your heart pounded with anticipation. You weren't expecting much. Just a flicker of jealousy, a crack in the calm façade he always wore. So your interrogation of his, perhaps, hidden feelings isn't unprovoked.

Yoongi didn't immediately respond. His fingers finally touched the keys, the faintest chord ringing through the room, but his eyes remained fixed on the piano.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the soft melody playing between you, the rhythm of his fingers meeting the ivories almost too steady.

And then, finally, he spoke. His voice was low, flat. "Is that so?"

Your breath caught. That was it?

You frowned, staring at him from across the room, searching for a reaction. Anything. But his expression was as controlled as ever. His calm demeanour was unshakable.

No way.

You leaned forward, the pressure of the lie beginning to claw at your insides. "Yeah, he asked me. He was actually pretty... persistent about it. He was sorry I thought he ghosted me." You let the words hang, trailing off deliberately, watching his reaction closely.

But Yoongi only nodded, his eyes focused on the keys.

"I see."

A small flame of frustration ignited in your chest. Was he really this indifferent? Was he truly going to let this lie slide without a hint of a reaction?

You stood up abruptly, unable to hold the pretense any longer. You could feel your temper rising, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface.

"You fucking see?!" Yoongi's fingers paused mid-chord as the tension in your voice snapped through the room. You busted out your feelings. Well, this was doomed from the start.

You stepped forward, your voice trembling with a mix of fury and something else—something raw that you hadn't been prepared to face. "You don't even care, do you? You don't care that everyone is saying we're fucking, that they think we're—" You cut yourself off, almost choking on the words. You couldn't bear to say them aloud, but you needed to know, needed to push him.

His gaze met yours, and in that instant, you knew he hadn't been indifferent. He'd been waiting. Waiting for you to unravel yourself, for you to show your cards. His eyes, dark and unreadable, pinned you in place.

"Is that what you wanted to hear?" His voice was cold now, controlled, with an edge that made your skin prickle. The air in the room thickened, turning heavy with the weight of his words.

"Well, perchance?!—" You gesture rapidly.

"You run around not denying it Yoongi,—?!"

The calm, controlled exterior he wore was unravelling, and you weren't sure if you liked the version of him that was emerging—or if it terrified you.

He stood up, slowly, deliberately. The sudden motion caused a cold shiver to run down your spine. He didn't step towards you, but the space between you both seemed to shrink in the way he carried himself—every step deliberate, every movement measured.

"Why do you care so much?" His voice was low, almost detached, but there was a certain sharpness to it now. It was the tone he used when he was dangerously close to losing control, but for now, he still kept it in check. "What's so important about what they think?"

You opened your mouth to reply, but the words tangled in your throat. You had been so sure of your reasoning—so certain of the way you wanted him to react—but now that he was giving you exactly what you wanted, you realized just how hollow that satisfaction felt.

"I dunno Yoongi—maybe because men ghosted me—maybe because you just might be the reason I had a dry season— or maybe you're that kind of motherfucker—"

Yoongi let out a sharp breath, a dry laugh escaping him as he shook his head. You elevated this to a different level now. "A motherfucker?" He repeated his tone somewhere between disbelief and amusement. "That's what we're doing now?"

You were too far gone to stop. The frustration, the pent-up emotions, the sheer nerve of him sitting there, all unbothered while you spiralled—it cracked something open inside you.

"Yes, Yoongi! A motherfucker! What else do you call a guy who lets rumours fly like this and doesn't even care?" Your hands gestured wildly as your voice grew more frantic.

"You don't deny it, you don't address it, you just exist in this limbo, letting people think we're screwing while I sit here looking like a desperate idiot who cannot get a hold of her man—"

His jaw clenched, his patience visibly wearing thin. "So what if I don't deny it?" He stepped closer, voice a fraction lower now, dangerously quiet. "What if I don't care what they think? What if I like the way it sounds?"

Your breath hitched.

Your mouth opened, but nothing came out. Your entire argument, the whole reason you'd brought this up, suddenly felt shaky, flimsy, like a house of cards collapsing under the weight of his words.

Yoongi watched you, his eyes dark and unreadable, waiting for you to process what he had just admitted.

Finally, your voice came out in a whisper, hoarse and unsure.

"The fuck, Yoongi?"

"I don't deny it," he said again, slower this time. His head tilted slightly, studying you. "Because it's not entirely wrong."

A rush of heat flooded through you—anger, shock, confusion, something else, something deeper and more dangerous. "Not… entirely… wrong?" You echoed, blinking at him. "Are you—are you actually fucking insane?"

Yoongi exhaled sharply, like he was just as frustrated as you were, like you were the one being difficult. "Y/N—"

"No," you cut him off, pointing a finger at him. "No, you don't get to just drop that and act like it's nothing."

"I'm not acting like it's nothing," he countered, his voice still calm, still infuriatingly composed. "You wanted to know why I never denied it? That's why."

"You can't be fucking serious right now, you fuck—" his body in your proximity startled you, but you let him pin you to the wall next to the mixing desk.

His hands caged you in, palms pressing against the wall on either side of your head. You felt the sharp inhale of his breath, the slow exhale, the tension buzzing between you like a live wire.

"You don't get it, do you?" His voice was quiet but razor-edged, his eyes dark and unwavering. "You've been running in circles trying to make me jealous, trying to get a reaction—" his gaze flicked down to your lips for just a second before meeting your eyes again, "pushing me like you want me to snap."

You listened. For once.

"You sat in that fucking booth with only your panties under that big shirt—"

"My fucking shirt—"

"My fucking shirt," he repeated, voice rough. "And you think I wouldn't become possessive? Think I didn't see the way you stretched in it, how you leaned in close, pretending like you didn't know exactly what you were doing?"

Your breath hitched. You did not realize he saw you this way.

You swallowed, trying to find solid ground beneath the sudden energy shift, but Yoongi wasn't giving you the chance.

"You wanted me to react?" His eyes burned into yours. "You wanted this?"

The heat between you became unbearable.

"I—" You started, but you had no words.

Because now, finally, Yoongi wasn't holding back.

And neither were you.

Your pulse hammered in your throat as his words sank in, wrapping around your ribs, tightening like a snare. You had been waiting—aching—for a reaction, pushing buttons you hadn't even fully understood yourself. But now? Now, Yoongi was looking at you like he had already decided.

His breath was warm against your cheek, the space between you non-existent.

"Say it," he murmured.

You licked your lips, the movement not lost on him. "Say what?"

Yoongi let out a short, dark chuckle. "That you like it. That you like this—the way I look at you, the way I see you."

Your stomach flipped.

"You're so full of shit," you whispered, but there was no weight behind it but pure provocation.

His fingers twitched against the wall before he exhaled sharply and leaned in, just enough for your breaths to tangle.

"And you'll be full of me."

"You big enough?" 

Oh, that did it.

A sharp, involuntary gasp left his lips and your body betrayed you before your mind could catch up. The air between you turned electric, charged with something too dangerous to name.

Yoongi's gaze darkened, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip as if savouring the way your breath hitched when he looked at you that way. He bit down his lower lip before he spoke again, laying his palms on the flat surface of the table in front of the piano that lay on it–

"There are two possibilities happening between us—" He tilted his head slightly, gaze never wavering from yours, his voice a low rasp against your skin.

"One—we make this official,—" He said it like it was inevitable, like it was a fact written in stone. "No more rumours, no more bullshit. No one else but us. Just you and me."

Your breath stuttered, your heart slamming against your ribs.

"And the second?" you whispered, barely able to form the words.

Yoongi smirked, slow and sinful, his fingers twitching against the wall before he leaned in, his mouth a breath away from yours.

"I keep writing my songs, keep filling my verses with filth about how I would fuck you good and hard—until you finally beg me to bury my cock in your cunt."

“And people will hear you’re mine—”

Your entire body went hot. Yoongi's smirk widened, watching the way your breath stuttered, your pupils blown wide. He tilted his head, gaze flicking down to your parted lips, his voice dropping even lower. Your thighs clenched a traitorous reaction that made his smirk turn predatory.

"You—"

"That's the difference between them and me, baby." His fingers ghosted over your waist, light enough to make you shiver. "They just talk. I fucking deliver."

You swallowed hard, your pulse thrumming so violently it was a wonder you were still standing.

"You're so—"

"What?" Yoongi pressed in closer, his nose brushing against yours. "Say it."

You had no idea what you were going to say.

But when his fingers finally curled around your hip, pulling you flush against him, the words you should say, the ones that would stop this before it went too far—before you gave in—died in your throat.

"Fucking thought so." He smirked again. That smirk. That fucking smirk.

It did something to you, something dangerous, something you weren't sure you could control. It made you want to wipe it off his face—maybe with a slap, maybe with your mouth.

Yoongi knew it, too.

He leaned in just a fraction closer, his breath hot against your cheek, his grip tightening on your hip as if daring you to push him away.

You didn't.

"See?" His voice was silk and smoke, smooth but lethal. "You love this. You love the way I get under your skin. The way I make you feel."

Your nails dug into your palms. "You don't know shit about what I feel."

Yoongi chuckled, low and rough. "Don't I?"

His fingers traced a slow, deliberate path down your side, stopping just shy of indecency but still making you shudder.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured. "Tell me you don't want this, and I will."

It was the worst thing he could've said. Because the truth—the one you refused to admit even to yourself—was that you didn't want him to stop. Ever. You were so fucking needy to be touched after you got to know that your dried spell had a sorcerer and it was him. So technically now, he should be the one breaking it. And he knew it.

Your silence was all the confirmation he needed to press his lips against your neck.

His hands were suddenly everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding up your thighs, spreading you open like he had every right to.

"You think I'm going to let you run your mouth, push me to the edge, and not do something about it?" His voice was a rasp, thick with hunger. "You think I don't see how badly you want this?"

Your breath hitched as his thigh pressed between yours, the friction making your knees buckle. His mouth found your jaw, teeth scraping over sensitive skin before he kissed a path down your throat, sucking, biting, claiming.

You barely had time to think before he gripped your wrist, guiding your hand down—down—until your fingers brushed against him, hard and thick beneath his sweats. The sound that tore from his throat was pure sin.

"Feel that?" Yoongi growled, grinding against your palm. "That's what you do to me. That's what you fucking cause each time we're in this studio."

Your fingers flexed, a teasing squeeze that had his breath stuttering. He cursed under his breath, tilting your chin up with his free hand, forcing you to meet his gaze.

Dark. Devouring. Desperate.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured again, a cruel echo of earlier. But this time, there was no space between you, no restraint.

And you didn't.

Instead, you yanked his mouth to yours. Yoongi groaned into the kiss, the sound reverberating through you as his hands pushed under your shirt, fingers trailing over bare skin, leaving fire in their wake.

Your nails raked down his back as he lifted you effortlessly, pressing you harder against the wall.

His hips rolled, slow and devastating, and a moan ripped from your throat, shameless, wrecked.

"That's it, baby" he rasped, his forehead against yours, breath heavy. "That's the sound I've been waiting for."

His hand dipped lower, slipping past the band of your shorts, finding you soaked for him. Yoongi cursed, his fingers teasing, circling, before sliding through the wetness with devastating precision.

"Fuck," he groaned, voice hoarse. "You're already so fucking ready for me."

You didn't even get a chance to respond before he pushed a finger inside, then another, stretching you, filling you, working you open until you were trembling against him.

"Yoongi—"

"I know," he hushed you, his lips brushing against your ear, his fingers moving faster, deeper. "I've got you, baby. Just take it."

And fuck, you did. You took everything he gave, your body writhing against his as pleasure built sharp and unbearable, spiralling higher, tightening—

"Come for me," he ordered, his voice dark, commanding. "Come on my fingers like the desperate little thing I know you are."

And when he curled his fingers just right, his thumb pressing where you needed it most—

You shattered.

Completely. Utterly.

Yoongi swallowed your cry with his mouth, dragging it out, his hand still moving, still milking every last bit of pleasure from you until you were shaking in his arms.

Then, as you barely caught your breath, his voice came again, low and teasing.

"Now," he murmured, undoing the string of his sweats, letting them fall.

"I'll fuck you hard that you'll forget about those smutty books you're reading—"

Your body barely had time to recover before Yoongi was pressing closer, his fingers sliding away, leaving you aching and empty. But then—then—his hands were on your hips, tugging your shorts down, peeling them away with agonizing slowness, like he wanted you to feel every second of it.

Your breath stuttered as he stepped back just enough to look at you, his dark gaze trailing over your bare, trembling form.

"Fucking perfect," he muttered, almost to himself, before his hands gripped your thighs and lifted you, forcing your legs around his waist.

The weight of him, the sheer heat of him, pressed right against your core, had you gasping, fingers digging into his shoulders. Yoongi groaned low in his throat, rolling his hips just enough for you to feel all of him, hard and thick and ready.

"Ain’t big enough, huh?" he murmured, dragging his clothed crotch against your soaked heat. His voice was rough, strained. "I’ll show you how big I am."

Your nails bit into his skin, your body writhing against him as he kept teasing, kept torturing you with slow, precise movements. The friction had you panting, your forehead falling against his.

"Stop teasing," you managed, barely above a breath.

Yoongi chuckled, dark and knowing. "Look at you. So desperate for me already." His fingers gripped your jaw, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. "Tell me how much you want it."

You let out a sound between a whimper and a growl, rolling your hips against him in a silent plea. But that wasn't enough for him. Your heart racing, you felt his warm palm connect with your skin, a stinging sensation spreading through your buttocks as he spanked you. You let out a small yelp, but Yoongi didn't relent, his hand rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

"Say it." His voice was like gravel, low and demanding. "Say you want me to fuck you, Y/N. Say you need me." He pulled down his sweats enough so his cock sprang free from the confinement.

Your pride clashed with your need, the battle waging for only a moment before he rolled his hips again, pressing the thick head of his cock right against your entrance—and your resolve snapped.

"Fuck—I need you," you gasped, your fingers twisting into his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan. "Please, Yoongi—just fuck me."

Something broke in him then.

With a guttural sound, he aligned himself and pushed inside, the stretch of him stealing the air from your lungs. He didn't stop, didn't hesitate—just drove forward, sinking deep until he was fully sheathed inside you until there was no space between you, nothing left but the overwhelming, consuming feel of him.

"Fuck," Yoongi gritted out, his forehead dropping to yours. His hands flexed against your thighs like he was trying to hold himself back, to give you a moment. "So fucking tight."

You could barely breathe, barely think, pleasure and pain and something deeper rolling through you in waves. But then he shifted, just slightly, and—

"Oh fuck," you gasped, your head falling back against the wall.

Yoongi's grip tightened, his breath hot against your skin. "Yeah?" He rolled his hips again, slow and deliberate, dragging himself out before thrusting back in, harder this time. Your moan was wrecked, broken—exactly what he wanted.

"Fuck, you feel so good wrapped around me," he murmured, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your throat, across your collarbone. "Taking me so fucking well."

Then he moved. Snapping his hips as hard as he could to make your back rub against the wall, to make your head spin from the bouncing on his thick cock that made you see so many constellations. Up and down, up and down. He felt so good inside you, filling you completely as his hips slammed against yours.

The force of his thrust made you cry out, your fingers tangled in his dark raven hair, which you so openly adored when he kept longer. His mouth crashed down on yours, swallowing your moans as he drove into you with a fierce intensity, each stroke building on the last.

His hand cupped your breast and his thumb brushed over your nipple. The touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the fierce way he was driving into you. Your back arched, pushing your breast further into his hand, and you felt his fingers close around it, squeezing softly. The sensation was almost too much to bear, and you moaned loudly, the sound lost in the kiss that still claimed your mouth. Yoongi's hips kept moving, each thrust building on the last, and his hand on your breast seemed to be pulling you closer to some unseen edge. His fingers tightened around your nipple, rolling it between them, and you felt yourself teetering on the brink of something explosive.

Yoongi groaned, his grip almost bruising now, his thrusts turning erratic. "You gonna come for me again?" he rasped, his hips thrusting into you harder, each one was met with your breath hitching in your throat before you moaned. Loud.

"Gonna fall apart on my cock?"

It was too much—too good.

"I know what you want, love. What will make you cum around my cock."

Your body began to tense, your muscles coiling tighter and tighter as he spoke. "You want it rough," he growled, his thrusts becoming more savage, more primal.

"You want me to take you apart, piece by piece." His grip on your breast tightened, his fingers digging deep into your skin, and you felt yourself spiralling out of control.

His hand left your breast to envelope around your throat, his fingers wrapping tightly around your neck, his thumb pressing against the underside of your jaw. That was it. Your moans got even louder and he raised a brow. You felt a flutter in your chest as his grip tightened, his eyes burning with an intense hunger as he gazed into yours and he slowed down to observe your face that certainly did not hide any pleasure.

"Kinky," he rasped, his voice low and dirty. "So fucking kinky."

He held you in place, his grip on your throat tightening ever so slightly, he began to move his hips again, his cock stirring back to life inside you. His eyes burned with an intense desire, and you could feel the tension building in his body as he drove into you with slow, deliberate strokes.

"I'm going to fill you up, babe" he growled, his voice low and husky. "I'm going to make you take every last drop of me." And with that, he began to thrust into you harder again, faster again, his hips pounding against yours as he chased your release. You felt him swelling inside you, his cock growing thicker and hotter as he approached the edge.

Your orgasm crashed into you, and you could not even stop it. You wanted this to last until your body shuts down from all that pleasure he has given you. Your body locking up as pleasure burns through every nerve ending. You clenched around him, drawing a strangled moan from his lips, his hips snapping forward one last time before he broke. His release spilt deep inside you as he let out a low, guttural groan, his semen erupting into you in a hot, pulsing flood that warmed your walls. You felt him shudder and convulse above you, his body trembling with pleasure as he emptied himself into your waiting flesh

The sensation was overwhelming, the feeling of being filled and claimed by him almost too much to bear. His chest heaving with exertion and for a moment, neither of you moved.

"You're so fucking mine," he murmured, voice still thick with satisfaction. He lifted his head to meet your lips once more before he said.

"Don't you ever question my devotion for you—" he started, panting after the little stunt you just pulled. 

“—Or the size of my cock, doll.” 

You only smiled wickedly into his lips. 

“You like us role-playing, tho—“ you started. Yoongi's grip on your waist tightened, his lips brushing over your collarbone as his breath warmed your skin. His hand slid lower, fingers tracing the curve of your body possessively. 

"He could not stop talking about it the whole fucking night, babe."

"Who, Jimin?" he asked, his tone dripping with amusement, yet there was an underlying tension in it, like he was trying to keep himself in check to not turn you over and fuck you in the ass. Even though he had to thank Jimin for this fuck prompt he unknowingly gave you an idea of (such a mundane trope) and the final ride you two just had. The thanking will wait until whenever you decide you want Jimin to know about you two.

Of course, something similar happened at the start of your relationship and you could not help yourself to let him fuck you against that wall once again. This time with a similar scenario but slightly adjusted replicas.

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh, though it was edged with a hint of frustration. You shifted under his touch, your heart still racing from the intensity of the night.

"Yeah. Couldn't stop about how people talk about us fucking our brains out here—"

"But we are—" his voice thick with the weight of his meaning, but his tone now softer than before. His mouth pressed against the sensitive skin just below your ear, and his hands pulled you closer, if that was even possible, as if to remind you of just how much he could claim you again and again and again.

You gasped, your body reacting to him in ways you couldn't control, and you felt a rush of vulnerability, knowing how deeply he could read you. "Yoongi," you breathed, trying to keep your composure, but he wasn't making it easy.

"Yeah, you can say that again," Yoongi whispered, his lips brushing against your ear before his teeth grazed the lobe, making your entire body shudder.

You swallowed hard, your head spinning. "I'm serious," you managed to say, even though your voice came out shaky. "Jimin—he thinks I'm still under that dry spell cuz' everybody thinks we're doing it—"

"Let him yap, love."

"Yeah I would, but he went to a point where he talked about how I'm gonna need to buy that Tesla robot to fuck me cuz' no living man will, thanks to you and your not-so-subtle hints that we're doing it—"

"My not-so-subtle hints?" He chuckled.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, feeling a mixture of amusement and frustration. "I mean, he was kinda making some good points," you teased, pretending to think it over. "We do have that whole 'will they, won't they' vibe going on."

Yoongi's fingers paused against your skin for a moment, as if he were considering your words, but then a slow, mischievous smirk crept onto his lips.

"What do you think, babe?"

"I—I think," you stammered, feeling the weight of the moment sink in, "I think we could've been doing a better damn good job of hiding it. But maybe—" You hesitated, your heart beating wildly in your chest.

"Maybe it's time we stop pretending."

"Well, next time Jimin mentions our 'vibe,' I'm making him listen to a few of our 'studio sessions.'"

Your eyes widened in mock horror. "Yoongi!" You gave him a dramatic shiver, and he chuckled, wrapping his arms around you.

"Exactly," Yoongi said, smirking mischievously. "That'll shut him up real quick."

"Good luck," you teased, tapping his chest lightly. "Maybe he'll start talking about how lucky you are to have me in your corner."

"Lucky, huh?" he mused, pulling you in for a hug. "You're damn right I'm lucky."

You grinned, enjoying the easy banter, letting the tension slip away as you let him hold you. It wasn't about proving anything to anyone—it was just the two of you, sharing this moment, enjoying each other's company and, of course, having a little fun at Jimin's expense.

"Wait—" you just realised.

"You know about my smutty books?!"

He threw his head back and gave a loud throat laugh in response.

©pennyellee. please do not repost

Don't be a silent reader, let's be friends chummers! ♥

lots of love, p.

[acid-ixx]

brutus: out for blood (villain au concept)

ft. neglectful yandere! bruce wayne x gn villain! reader

— masterlist !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: did anybody ask for this? no! did i decide to write this anyways? abso -fucking-lutely. is this a rantfic? mayybee. anyways, this is not my best piece nor will anything i write be my best piece but i just love destroying my happiness with angst and altho writing a very anxiety ridden mc is fun, i also love to dabble in sadomasochistic traits for a main character. like i said, i am not proud of this but i figured i should post something. erm... leave comments bec i love reading whatever stuff u guys have in store hehe.

you've tasted blood on your tongue far longer than you've felt the loving touch of a family.

it's metallic. it's salty. it twists every vein in your gut.

it tastes of broken metal pipes in playgrounds, destructive tantrums and broken dreams, of skipped classes and detention rooms, of ripped test papers and missed diplomas. it reminds you of your bitter past every single time; one you swore you've buried six feet deep into the ground. a burning memory with nothing more than heartaches and heartbreaks.

you taste blood whenever they reject your advances for even a single moment of bonding time. you feel it pumping slowly, steadily, painfully whenever you stumble upon a room, only to see them, smiles and all, huddled together in a group with junk food in their hands and a movie playing in that stupid flat screen tv. you know it's the only thing accompanying you whenever he misses another event in your school. it becomes the only friend you have whenever you're alone, inside your too-small room, with shatters glass scattered around and bruised knuckles.

blood, for most, is vile, utterly repulsive. it reeks in every corner of a room, its scent is overpowering, it stains, it's hard to clean. it imprints. and it will always remind you it's there, in the depths of your body, curdling and boiling and ready to burst out of the seems every time you rip at your skin with a razor sharp blade. blood has always been your only friend, like a scar that will never fade away.

yet you embrace crimson like it was the color of your soul, and accept how it's the only color you allow in your grim life. black has never provided you solace, but red allowed for a mantra of emotions to trail into your very being.

blood. it's more homely than you let it out to be.

and you're far more familiar with it than anything else. you cradle it like an unwanted child, you kiss its wounds, allow it to fester and grow into an abhorrent disease that crawls like a lump in your throat that you could never get rid of.

in moments of solace, of quaint prayers and hours of kneeling into the floor— it is the thing that slides on cold, hard tiles. it is the warmth, the numbness, the thing that seeps out of your bruised knees, your scratched neck and your thighs with fingernails buried deep into flesh.

you've come to love blood, cherish it even.

especially if it's your own.

especially if it came from the punch of none other than your father.

left, right, left, right.

his punches were cruel and his kicks can easily crush bones into powder. he demands answers with every strike he delivers, he exudes an energy far more adrenaline based than yours. batman is methodical in the way he moves, the way he acts, and you're not; you're impulsive, you had no plans to counter the towering man— no counter for the brutal hits he lay upon you. you let him, you open every doorway world to beat your body black and blue, with red painting the canvas as a finishing touch.

he's stronger than you, and every time he bashes your head into the wall, the urge to spit into his face, to piss him off, to laugh at him and his Idiocracy; it all becomes stronger.

yet all you do was allow him multiple openings, denying yourself the pleasure of attempting to even take your abandoned gun at the corner and shoot at his cranium— you want him to suffer, even if it costs you your mobility by the near future, fuck it.

up, down, to the side, then an uppercut to your jaw and you're nearly depleted of anymore moves to counter. you want to seem like you've given up; but you want him pissed off, enough to punch you 'til blood seeps into the fibers of your mask. until your face starts bruising, until your nose breaks, until he finally rips your mask off and sees your face.

and he'll come to regret.

you shift to the side, and ignore the sting of your throat, the lull of your head and the soreness of your entire body.

because if you hadn't dodged, then your head would've left an imprint on the walls. you would've preferred that now, rather than the disgusting feeling of sentimentality that creeps into your heart at the implication that his blows were slowly, but surely, weakening.

he's holding back, you hold back a sneer.

as if he actually cares about you.

maybe he does, maybe he doesn't. you know he cares far more deeply for his enemies than he does you, and you hate how glad you are at the pride that finally, just finally are you being acknowledged. at the opposite end of his side, as enemies. but for once you can feel the care he offers others, most of which were nonexistent back when you were just some... nobody.

batman never kills; but he can hurt, he can injure, and he can destroy. and right now, you feel all the air leaving your body as the cloaked vigilante delivers the last punch to your ribcage.

you fall, on your hands and knees, a loud thump resounding through the empty abandoned building. all you hear are your crackling joints, and heavy breathing. heavy, like your eyelids, about to fall, about to shut until black encompasses your vision. if not for the remaining adrenaline coursing through your veins, you would've fainted— but you won't, you wouldn't, not until you see him, see his face.

the thumping in your heart beats louder, and your hands. god, they feel like jelly, it's burning, it's one step closer on collapsing under gravelly concrete and piercing skin into rocks. yet you're forbidden any time for grace, not when he lightly shoves you out of your position, and not when you fall to your sides, hands paralyzed, tears prickling against your cheeks at the pain that burns throughout your body.

"you don't deserve peace after shooting that family in front of that child, you know it."

his voice, domineering, absolutely fucking vibrating with a tremor of sheer anger. he directs his words at you, without empathy, without mercy. he wants you to learn to never mess with him in the streets of gotham. but you'll never... not until he notices you. fuck, you just want him to notice you. and now, he is, with utter vexation that causes a lump in your throat to form.

shit, you've never felt so happy.

it's when his tussled form — heavy, pitch-black boots slathered with crimson liquid — enters your sight that you cough, violently, out of breath, and you can feel it one second, then taste it in your tongue the next.

blood.

you grin, and slowly, ever-so eminently, did you spiral into a cackle. your throat gurgles crimson liquid, and yet it only builds into a cacophony of a broken record. you move your head, look through your nearly shredded domino mask, with so little strength to accompany you, to look at the man above you, eyes glinting with a glow never so alive until now.

you're genuinely so fucking happy.

batman, he who strikes fear into the hearts of gotham villains and civilians alike. he who protects the city at night. he whose name is said with wavering uncertainty— he's looking at you, only you.

'bruce wayne: my dad— is finally looking at me.'

and you! you're laughing, the sounds that emanate from your throat are so scratchy, so utterly decimated that it sounds like vultures feeding through a dead corpse; but you don't let your chuckles die down, because you're so, so happy.

he looks at you, with contempt, with disgust, you don't know; but you're still so overjoyed.

"y-yeah... it's me, i did it. are you proud of me...?" you ask as you look up, through the tears that flow out your eyes, through the grin that couldn't die down. he looks at you like you're insane, and you know he's confused, shifting uncomfortably as he gives someone a status update through the comms, his eyes never leaving your pathetic form—

you look at him like he means the world all throughout.

"call for red robin, i have one of the culprits," he orders through the intangible device, eyes squinting as he takes you in— you whose chuckles slowly calmed down, as your breathing finally becomes heavier, as blood, yours, seem to seep into clumsily made apparel. you, who bruce realized seem too oddly familiar, too small, too childish, whose moment of spiraling insanity is too damn innocent to ignore.

you're not like the typical rogue he encounters, no. and right before you finally allow sleep to overcome you, you muster the last of your energy, to stare back at him with shining eyes, expectant, and like a child's, you ask with the meekest voice.

"hey... dad, i have a surprise." scratchy, absolutely broken, yet spilling with joy, with... your last word right before you continue, bruce's heart thumps ever the slightest faster.

"take my mask off, please?"

crimson began to overtake your entire body, and bruce should've never complied with your... request, but as he kneels and finally gets a grasp of what you truly look like, he notices the frailness, the vulnerability, as if you were never built for... combat. with just how quickly you succumb to the depths of rest, with how oblivious you are to the fact that if it were anyone else, they would've killed you.

you're not properly trained, you fight out of impulse, and he knows it with just how swift you gave up midfight.

when he pulls the domino mask (which seems oddly inspired by the shape of... his vigilante partners, the robins...) off your face, did his heart finally hastened its pace, loud thumping crawling its way to his ears, his eyes registering your face: its form, its shape, your eyes, your nose—

all similar to his, all an amalgamation of your mother's, too.

no... wait, no.

it's not...

it's not his... child?

you?

your eyes, flickering one last time stared at him, softly, like that of a child who looks at their father with pride like nothing else. your hand, it shakes, it shivers, as your fingers find its way creeping to his hand, holding your mask. fingers so dainty, now pulverized bones lay atop his shivering hand, tenderly, as if trying to comfort the very same man who has nearly killed you.

batman— no, bruce looks at you. at what he's done, and only now did he realize his greatest mistake. a child, his child, one whose innocence retained through heinous acts, now a villain, whose actions were all a testimony to merely wanting their father's attention.

he failed you, his child. he failed to protect you, who he has never held up close until now— as your body is hastily taken into his arms. so small, so easily wrapped around his body, so unbefitting of committing criminal activity. now bloodied and laid into barren ground by their very own father.

bruce wayne never felt this much terror, for nearly killing his child.

this, this day marks his sin.

and you? dearest you feel like today is your greatest day.

crimson, nearly every part of you is stained with that putrid color.

yet blood has always been your best friend, no? and right now as you bleed into the arms of your father, you find yourself grateful that it is the last thing you see before a black cloak wraps around you, before black fills your entire line of sight.

short rant ahead: another author's note??? wow. yeah this was such a hard drabble to write. plsplspls leave a comment or some sort of input. anything will do. ive been so demotivated to write lately and i feel like anything i write is just, so bad 😭 like is my pacing good? are the emotions out of place? am i even doing this right ?? i don't know, and i feel like every time i post something i always put up expectations on myself that I should've done better so yeahh. is this attention seeking behavior? probably. but i don't get how people have come to like the stuff i write when i hate whatever i write hence why im in a constant cycle of hiatuses and short breaks. and really, it's just so hard to come into terms with things and i need input lest i accidentally get into a year or two of hiatus, lmaoo.

[6toru]

𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 !

synopsis. upon recovering from a recent breakup with your longtime boyfriend, you find yourself confiding in a certain raven-haired man who is more than pleased to show you the rhapsodies of pleasure that his idiot of a cousin failed to give you. 

pairing. zen'in toji x fem!reader genre. age gap au + smut cw. mature content (mdni), slight slow burn, slight angst, ooc!toji (pls be warned), p in v -> unprotected sex, age gap (reader in mid 20s + toji’s in his mid 30s), infidelity, slap on the cheek (m), consumption of alcohol, loads of tension, big dick!toji, rough sex, cervix fucking, explicit language/dirty talk, fingering, squirting, oral sex (m+f), reader’s on the pill, creampiez, toji calls you “doll”, toji’s not a papaguro </3 + voyeurism & public sex (in extra scene)

wc. 16k

author's note. another repost of my work from my previous blog (chosai), and this is undeniably one of my top fav writing pieces <3

FOR THREE LONG YEARS, you genuinely believed that this man, Zen'in Naoya, was going to be the one you'd marry. However, one curious peek on his unlocked phone proved you wrong – terribly, terribly wrong. All those years spent on believing your mundane love life was due to your boyfriend’s grueling office job; often working long hours, and then coming home straight to the bed to fall asleep before waking up again and heading back to work — and all those messages proved your theories wrong. He wasn’t the workaholic he said he was, after all. The sounds of the shower running egged you to continue scrolling down his phone, feeling a myriad of emotions coursing through your veins; be it anger, dread, sadness, denial, and betrayal. You felt it all.

Trembling, you attempted to fight the tears as you continued to scroll; trying to retain everything before he finished his shower. Naoya spoke absolute filth in those texts, and you could barely believe it. There came the pictures of an attractive woman showing off her lingerie, thanking him for buying it for her. For as long as you were with Naoya, he had never bought you lingerie – he had never spoken to you so affectionately and lewdly compared to how he had spoken to the woman on his messages nor did he ever manage to finish you off, chasing after his release above all else. Your sex life was less than mundane, but you didn't try to make it a bigger issue for the overwhelmed Zen'in, so you relented – despite all this, you wanted to be understanding. However, you couldn't have been any more wrong.

To say you were flabbergasted was truly an understatement. For the past year that was spent talking about marriage and your future, your boyfriend had gone on week-long 'business trips' – to which you had later found out was a front so he could fuck his coworker.

"Ah, what the hell," you mumbled to yourself as you scrolled through his phone continuously, staring intensely at the screen. You then stumbled across a picture of Naoya, shirtless with a mischievous smirk. Almost immediately, you slapped your hand against your mouth; reading the messages in horror. 

NAOYA: I'll come visit you tonight. You better be keeping that on by the time I arrive. I wanna take it off you myself. AIRI: You're getting me excited lol AIRI: Just come here quickly and fuck me already babe~

You genuinely wanted to throw up. You turned his phone off and placed it back on the coffee table; you had seen enough. Coincidentally, the sound of the shower running came to a halt and you could hear the faint sounds of your soon to be ex dressing up for a "drinking party with his male colleagues". What a fucking liar, he was. You leaned your back against the couch, trying to keep your focus on the television while you attempted to control the burst of emotions that were more than desperate to come out.

The sound of the door creaking brought you back to the present, and you snapped your gaze over to Naoya in his casual business attire. You couldn’t control the biting scoff that left your lips. He had the audacity to look at you, confused. "Babe? Is there something wrong with my outfit?"

Babe. Hearing that word roll of his mouth, smooth like honey, was the sheer equivalent of him rubbing salt on your open wound; knowing damn well that you weren't the only one he was seeing. You didn't know how long he hid this from you, and you were honestly afraid to know the answer. However deep down, you knew you needed to know. You reached your arm towards the remote, turning the television off. It was silent now. You returned your attention towards the male with a cold gaze.

"We need to talk," you said firmly, yet your voice was slow as you tried to maintain the stability within your emotions that were moments away from bursting out of your chest. The male rubbed the back of his neck, a dry chuckle leaving his lips; his sharp brown eyes averting from your intense glare.

"Can't we wait? I can't be late for the party. The guys are already waiting for me—"

"The guys, you say?" You interrupted Naoya, laughing bitterly as the beads of tears you had desperately tried so hard to control trailed down your cheeks. “Or, is it Airi?”

Oh, how you wished you could take a picture of Naoya’s face the exact moment his mistress’ name left your lips. 

"What…?" Naoya’s voice had gone quiet, his eyes wide in both shock and horror. "W-What are you talking about?"

Even when caught, rather than admitting it – he still chose to act innocent. You shook your head in dismay, already feeling your composure crumble. 

"There's no use playing stupid, Naoya. It only makes me feel even more embarrassed for you." You said solemnly, your eyes clouded with tears. You could barely make out the facial expressions he was making, but just hearing his desperate excuses just added more to the ache that was growing within your chest.

"We'll make this short and quick," you continued. "After all, your Airi is getting impatient waiting for you in the lingerie you bought her."

Naoya gritted his teeth, his eyes narrowed down at you. "You looked at my phone while I was showering."

"Isn't that obvious?" you bit back, wiping your tears. "Anyway, how long were you and this woman seeing each other?"

You wanted to smack him until his cheeks turned red, but you held yourself back. "Answer me, Naoya."

His facade crumbled and if you thought you didn't recognize him enough, he effortlessly continued to prove you wrong. He looked down at you coldly, sneering at you. It stung, you had never seen him make such an expression.

"And how is this any of your business, hm?" He said, leaning down towards you with a cold glint in his gaze. "In any case, this should be your fault. You can't even satisfy me in bed! Otherwise I wouldn’t have gone out to seek out for another woman––"

Smack!

The loud sound of your palm making contact with his cheek resonated across the silent living room, the satisfying sting egging you on to slap him a second time. "You make me nauseous. You're surprisingly very audacious for someone who got caught red-handed, cheating.”

You pointed a finger at his chest, prodding harshly against his sternum. You didn't give him a moment to come down from the shock of you slapping the shit out of him. "Fucking answer me, Naoya. How long have you been seeing this woman?"

He mumbled his words, at first. They were barely coherent and you struck him a nasty glare. “What’s that again?”

"Two and a half years," the male grumbled out, holding onto his stinging cheek before mumbling softly. "Agh, fuck that hurts."

You could hear your heart shatter into a million pieces; you could no longer control the onslaught of tears that escaped your eyes.

"Even while we had talks about our future and discussed marriage?" You laughed bitterly through tears. You shook your head, crossing your arms together. You couldn't believe you wasted your time on this man. But then again, good fucking riddance; though the ache in your heart felt otherwise.

"That's all I wanted to know," you said, before turning your back to him.

"You... You're not even going to ask me why I did this?"

"No, there's no need to." You replied quietly. "I loved you and respected all your wishes even when you were too 'busy' to spend time with me. Regardless of whatever fucked up reason you had to cheat on me, I know well enough that it's not my fault."

Naoya stayed silent, but you could tell he was feeling frustrated.

"You're most likely going to keep fucking your coworker behind my back even after we get engaged or even married. So why not just end everything now?" You further added through your persistent tears and sniffles. "So, from now on, go ahead and do whatever. We’re done.”

There was a tinge of guilt present in his eyes, but you weren’t going to let it faze you. “Hey look, Y/N…”

You averted your gaze from his, and you can feel your lips beginning to tremble once again. He attempted to reach his arm up to you, but he paused and retracted when his phone resting atop the coffee table began to ring, breaking the uncomfortable silence. You both looked over to the phone, and a familiar name popped up on the screen. It was Airi. You pressed your lips together, blinking rapidly. 

You already knew who he was going to end up choosing. It was a no-brainer. 

You sighed and turned away, “Just go. You can get all your stuff and leave tomorrow morning.”

Making a beeline to your bedroom door and slamming it shut, you plopped down on the soft mattress and all emotions that you tried so desperately to contain had resurfaced; stuffing your face into a pillow, you wailed and wailed — succumbing to heartbreak.

Bitterness swelled in your chest when you heard your ex’s faint voice in the living room as he answered the call. “Yeah, I’m sorry babe. I’m heading straight over to you now.”

The door closed, and then came in the silence — however, not without the solemn echoes of your heartbreak. In the end, he didn’t choose you. After what felt like an eternity, your tears had finally dried up, but you stayed in the bed that was once shared between yourself and your now ex-lover. You needed to get your mind off things.

So there you were, clad in an oversized shirt as you walked down the empty streets of your neighborhood, strolling over to the nearest convenience store with your cold hands stuffed in the pockets of your sweatpants. Initially, you thought that walking outside could’ve helped with getting your mind off of things, however, it merely did the opposite; a string of curses leaving your lips in forms of mumbles with each moment that Zen'in crossed your mind.

You didn't realize how quickly fifteen minutes had passed until you stepped into the convenience store, immediately greeted with the cashier's voice laced in both fatigue and boredom. Scanning through the aisles of foods and other necessities, you mentally pondered on what you wanted to get. Bottles of beer, was definitely on the very top of your list. Oddly enough, you didn't have the appetite for anything else.

Purchasing the bottles came by quickly, and you immediately dipped out of the store and headed straight home, your worn out slippers continuously making contact with the concrete with each step you took. Your mind was relentless with attacking you with thoughts of Naoya and Airi, the woman he was seeing behind your back – and all you could think was that you wish you had caught him sooner, rather than trusting him with all your heart could muster and let him do whatever for 'work'. Biting your lips and blinking your eyes rapidly, you had desperately avoided letting out your tears once again; your face was already stained enough with your dried up tears.

As if the universe didn't prove to you enough that they weren't on your side, the skies above began to pour. It didn't even begin with a mere drizzle, not even close. Within seconds, your clothes were drenched and you tried to rush to the nearest shade – however, much to your dismay, there was none and the only solution was to run back home.

Your socks became soaked as well as your shirt, which was uncomfortably stuck to your skin, running through the dark neighborhood with your plastic bag filled with alcohol bottles used as a makeshift umbrella in hopes that it would shield you against the merciless attacks from the sky; yet, it all ended in vain when you tripped over a small crack in the concrete, your body immediately making contact with the cold and wet ground.

Fuck me backwards, that was the sole sentence that went through your mind as you fought back the frustrated tears that threatened to leave your eyes. You stayed on the ground, feeling defeated.

Then, there was a shadow casting above you and the rain stopped. You peered up through your weepy eyes, only for your attention to snap towards a familiar scar on the edge of a man's lips.

"You okay there, doll?" A sudden timbre echoed in your ears, and it was almost as if the rain had actually stopped.

"Does it look like I'm okay, Toji?" You said through trembling lips, feeling the waves of embarrassment washing over you as you stared back up at the tall male holding an umbrella over your head. “W-When did you get here?”

"Well, no. C'mere lemme help you up." Effortlessly, Toji hoisted you up back on your feet with a singular arm, and then his eyes traveled over to your hands. “I was driving by and saw you on the ground.”

"Are you having a house party with those drinks?" He questioned you, gesturing towards the dampened plastic bag filled with the bottles of alcohol.

"They're all for me." You replied in a joking tone, albeit it was the unadulterated truth. The raven-haired male caught on immediately, raising an eyebrow at your response.

“Trouble in paradise?” He asked you, his voice resonant as he looked at you with a curious gaze before his eyes widened in surprise. "O-Oh – are you crying?"

"No," you replied to the older man, though there was a waterfall of tears dripping down your cheeks. You spoke through persistent sniffles and shaky breaths, and at this point you weren't even sure if you were coherent for the older cousin to hear but you could honestly care less. "I c-caught Naoya... sniff... c-cheating on me… T-That little shit!"

"That dumbass..." Toji mumbled under his breath. "Let's bring you back home first. You’re drenched all over.”

He hurried you over to his car, and the musky scent of his car air freshener immediately struck your nostrils the moment you stepped into the passenger seat. There was something oddly comforting about it, though. Suddenly, he handed you a spare sweater sitting in the backseat, “Yer shirt’s drenched. Wear this to keep yourself warm.”

You had been so caught up in your emotions that you failed to realize the vibrant colour of your bra peeking through the drenched fabric. Bashful, you grabbed his sweater and thanked him profusely. He waved it off, a small chuckle leaving his lips. Slumping against the seat, you tried to ignore the musky scent of his cologne present in the thick fabric of his black sweater and you wanted to smack yourself profusely for letting your mind wander off too far, however you couldn't help but notice how large he actually is.

It wasn't often that you'd see Naoya's older cousin, as he would show up to family functions once in a blue moon. Though, at first you had found him intimidating as hell, you later found out you weren't all that wrong – making small talk with the older male here and there, much to your ex's dismay.

"Actually, Toji... I don't want to go home, yet." You admitted shortly after he handed you his sweater. "I don't want to come home and be paraded with reminders of that man."

Toji paused briefly before speaking, "So, you're saying that you want to stay over at my place tonight, doll?"

You could feel the blood rush to your face; a warm incarnadine imbued on the apples of your cheeks. You were surprised you hadn't paid much mind to it earlier, but there was something surprising arousing about his resonant voice; something about it tickled your brain the right way. You tried to stop yourself from letting your thoughts wander too far, after all, you had just gotten out of a relationship with his cousin.

"I didn't mean it in that way! J-Just drop me off home, then!"

"Whatever you wish, doll." Toji grinned teasingly before starting the engine, driving up the neighborhood through the heavy rain. “Anyway, I don’t mean to be noisy but how did ya catch that idiot red-handed?”

“He left his phone unlocked on the coffee table while he was showering,” you sighed heavily, staring outside the window with a somber gaze. “I later found out after reading his messages with his coworker that they’ve been seeing each other for two years. Two years and a half, actually..”

“Good fuckin’ riddance on yer part. I’m surprised that this man could last three years in a relationship, of course he had to fuck up and pull that shit on ya.”

You stared outside the window, feeling the heartache steadily returning the closer the car got to your apartment. Eventually, the car came to a stop, parked across your humble abode.

"Thank you for the ride, Toji. And thanks for the sweater. I'll make sure to return it to you once I get it washed." You said softly, looking at the older man with gratitude. He nodded his head in response, "Anytime, doll. Hope ya feel better soon."

Rolling his windows back up and preparing to leave, you stopped him before thinking. He paused and looked back at you, rolling his windows back down; meeting your flustered gaze. "Forgot anything in the car?"

"Um," you said awkwardly, feeling the heat returning to your face. "Do you wanna drink with me at my place?"

The older man blinked for a moment before a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, "I didn't know ya were this type of person after a breakup, doll."

"Tojiiii," you whined, embarrassed. "I just don't want to drink alone and drown in my own sorrows. I need someone to talk shit about your cousin with too, you perv."

"Hey, that's yer fault for wording it weirdly." Toji shrugged before turning off the engine and leaving his car. "Though, I can't say no since you asked me so nicely."

"I'm sorry for keeping you waiting," you said, your voice soft as you walked out of the washroom door, dampened towel in hand as you made your way to the living room, plopping down on the couch next to the older Zen’in, though you made sure you maintained a distance. “It didn't take too long, did I?”

You glanced over at the male endowed with borderline Herculean features, and his eyes quickly met yours. Undoubtedly, you felt shy. You invited him over on a whim, last minute decision.

"Mhm, ya were really quick." Toji replied, smirking at your flustered expression. "There's also no need to be so shy with me, doll. Just think of this as one of our many small talks, but with drinks this time."

You nodded your head shyly before you dug your hands into the plastic bag, bringing out two bottles of beer. Thank goodness they stayed intact after your ignominious fall.

"Give me the bottles," said Toji, "I'll open 'em up for ya."

He made a come hither motion with his large hand, signaling you to give him the beer. Without thinking, your eyes stayed glued on his rough, calloused hands – you shook your head, embarrassed. Complying to his words, you handed him the bottles and he brought each bottle out, one by one, and opened them with ease; each movement was effortless, and a mere reminder of his strength.

He handed you the beer, and you thanked him with a soft grin.

"Cheers," you both said before drinking from the glass bottle, and a sharp sigh immediately left your lips. You looked over to Toji, who drank that beer as if it was water.  You found yourself getting dazed, almost amazed at how effortless this man made drinking alcohol appear. 

"About that idiot, Naoya," Toji began, swirling his bottle slightly, "Am surprised that guy managed to stay in a relationship with ya for so long. That man's never been the type to settle down."

You sighed heavily before letting out a bitter chuckle, "I'm surprised too, and I had to find out the hard way. Plus, he's actually out right now fucking his mistress as we speak. Funny, right?"

You let out a small grumble, taking a large gulp of the beer; ignoring the stinging sensation hitting your throat when you swallowed. Toji leaned back against the sofa, his dark blue eyes staring down at you as he continued drinking the alcoholic beverage.

"How are ya holding up right now, doll? I know damn well that breakups are never easy, especially with that guy."

You shuffled in your seat, you could already feel yourself getting worked up at the mention of your ex.

"To be honest," you spoke slowly, "I'm not as torn as I thought I would. I think I already cried all of those sorrows away, but I'm still heartbroken and bitter. Really bitter."

"Bitter? Do tell me more."

You took another large gulp, letting out another sharp sigh. By then, you were already drinking your second glass – feeling the heat steadily increase in your face. You slammed down the bottle onto the coffee table, an irritated expression plastered across your face.

"This man… hic… had the nerve to say that it's my fault because I didn't satisfy him enough in bed! Says him! He only ever chases after his own orgasm whenever we did it and barely… hic… lets me finish? What the hell!"

Tears were now rolling down your face, surprising the older man. One second you were showing anger and fury, and the next second you were slumped down on the couch as you drowned in your sorrows and heartbreak.

"I-I'm... I was never close to being his priority. I also… hic… found out that he's been spoiling and treating his mistress far more better than I was ever treated in the past two years…hic! How can I be so stupidddd."

"Hey now," you could feel a warm hand patting your back with an unforeseen gentleness, "it's better now that you found out rather than later. You deserve so much better, so don't beat yourself up too much."

The older man's words brought you comfort that you didn't know you needed. Without thinking, you leaned your head against his shoulder, downing on your second bottle of beer. You didn't realize through your drunken haze that he stiffened up at the sudden contact, but he didn't budge. You reached out for a third bottle, but he stopped you.

"Take it easy there, doll." Toji said. "Yer gonna have a hell of a hangover if you keep that up."

"Don't worry, I am," you said in a sing-song tone, though you still grabbed a hold of the beer bottle. "I'll make sure to drink slowly."

He massaged his forehead before chuckling, "Well you’re quite stubborn.”

You giggled softly through stifled breaths, “I-I can be sometimes… hic. Wanna help open this for me?”

He complied to your request, and opened the beer bottle once more with ease.

"I know it corny an' weird coming from an older guy like me, but believe me when I say that the end of a relationship does not equate to yer worth or that the world is going the end. So, don't beat yerself too hard, better things are about to come." He then paused before sighing. "Ugh fuck me, this is how ya know the alcohol's hitting."

"You don't need to pretend that it's the alcohol, Toji." You said, laughing. "You look more than sober. It even looks like you handle beer like how you drink a bottle of water."

"Anyway," you continued, glancing up at the man bashfully while you drank from the bottle; your throat had already grown accustomed to the stinging sensation of the alcohol, and you could feel your cheeks growing warmer the longer you allowed your mouth to ramble. "I didn't know you were capable of saying such sweet things, Mr. Toji."

He paused for a moment before sighing. 

"It's nothing," replied the man as he swigged the bottle. He wiped his mouth with his arm, exhaling sharply.

"You must've… hic!… had many experiences… hic!… with romances, Toji." You said, taking a sip from the bottle despite the persistent hiccups that escaped your lips.

"What makes you say that?" Toji responded, raising an eyebrow.

"You look like the type to," you replied and Toji laughed. “I realized just now… hic!… that you’re… hic!… good company to have around.”

"Ya think so highly of me, doll."

You looked confused now, tilting your head to the side – looking at the sinewy man deep in thought (as far your alcohol would allow). 

"Are you married? Seeing anyone, at all?"

"Divorced seven years ago, and nope."

"Ah..."

You both drank in unison, however your eyes stayed glued onto the older Zen’in. You felt yourself growing more sweaty despite having just gone out from the shower, your cheeks warm and your brain slowly yet surely getting even more fuzzy. You didn’t even realize how much time had passed, but the number of empty bottles resting atop the coffee table was enough for you to know that it had definitely been a few hours. Your eyes thoughtlessly wandered to his lips wrapped around the bottle; watching as his Adam's apple bobbed with each gulp he took, a small bead of sweat rolling down his neck. 

Without even realizing, rather than your beer, you swallowed your saliva. 

“I’m gonna get us some water!” You suddenly stood up from the couch, the sounds of your feet pattering against the hardwood planks echoing throughout the flat and Toji’s eyes followed suit. 

“Do you need help with anything?” You can hear his voice from behind you, though he stayed seated, comfortably, on the couch. You shook your head in response, playfully pointing a finger at him. “Don’t you move an inch, big guy. Your host will take care of everything… hic…!”

Turning around, you resumed to the kitchen with slight staggered movements. Reaching your hand out, you opened the fridge, letting the cool air hit your face that was engulfed with warmth. You sighed softly, feeling even more relaxed as you scanned the refrigerator. Grabbing the water pitcher, you set it aside on the counter and your gaze shifted to the tall cabinet. Unbeknownst to you, Toji’s eyes were glued to you – though, it was mostly to ensure your safety, but he couldn’t help but notice how your shirt rode up when you attempted to reach the cups; your face flushed and your eyes narrowed in concentration. Silently, he took another sip of his beer. He wanted to slap himself. 

“Ya look like you’re struggling, doll.” Toji called out, and you replied with a firm no. You shook your head, though you were really struggling – especially with your lack of balance. With one hand cupping the side of your head, your other arm reaching out to the glass cups resting atop the shelves while you were on your tippy toes, you attempted to reach even further but your feet lost its strength. Just as you were about to brace yourself for impact, a large and warm hand caught you; his arm snaked around your waist and your chest pressed against his well-built chest, and your lips inches away from his. 

You stared up at the man, surprised before blood rushed to the apples of your cheeks; further intensifying the warmth on your skin. 

“Shouldn’t have let ya do all the work when yer balance is already shit,” Toji commented, and you could only watch, flustered, as he extended his other arm to the two cups with effortless movements. You were unsure if it was the alcohol or the flustered emotions rushing through your veins, however you could feel your heart battering against your chest crazily and your cheeks growing warmer. You were also unsure if he had noticed his hand, large and calloused, was underneath the soft fabric of your shirt; his warmth radiating onto your bare skin. As much as you hated to admit it, you weren’t against it one bit.

 “You alright there, doll?” The timbre in his voice brought you back to reality, and you felt your cheeks growing warmer. 

‘Fuck, get it together! You can’t be getting these thoughts freshly out of a breakup!’ You attempted to reason with yourself, but when you glanced over to Toji’s concerned gaze, you honestly believed you were going to melt. This wasn’t your first time talking to the older Zen’in, having spoken to him many times in family functions or simply after crossing paths, though they were no longer than small talk. This felt somewhat different, however it wasn’t in the way you disliked. 

“I-I’m… hic… okay now,” you said shyly, averting your gaze from his. Toji pulled his hand away from your waist, extending his hand towards the water pitcher and filling up the two glasses. He handed you the glass, and you accepted the gesture. Leaning against the kitchen counter, he stared down at you as he drank from the cool water. You fidgeted underneath his gaze, your cheeks growing even more warmer. 

“Are ya feelin’ better now?” Toji questioned you, raising an eyebrow. You nodded your head slowly as you sipped from your glass, “I feel a lot better now, actually.”

“You’re lookin’ like you’re about to burn up.” He then commented before pressing the back of his hand against your forehead in an unforeseen gentleness. “Just as I thought.”

Just as you were about to open your mouth to speak, he beat you to it. “Let’s call it quits for tonight, doll. You should get some rest now..” 

Unexpectedly, he ruffled your hair gently; his thick fingers brushing through your locks as you could only stare up at the man dumbfoundedly. You were just beginning to enjoy his company even more. As embarrassing as it would be to admit (when you’re sober), but it wouldn’t hurt to talk for even longer – even if it wasn’t about Naoya, anything would suffice. 

 “What about you?” You asked him, tilting your head. “Why can’t you spend the night here… hic!… and sober up?”

“No can do, doll.” Toji said, his timbre rubbing your brain in the most satisfying way possible. “Anything can happen since there’s alcohol in our system.”

You could feel your heart hammering against your chest, looking up at the older man who looked like he had just drank water rather than downing two bottles of beer. Absent-mindedly, you grabbed onto the hem of his shirt and he appeared to be taken aback. 

 “B-But… you still shouldn’t drive around… hic!... drunk.” You persisted, but Toji shook his head with a light chuckle. 

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing but a little splash of cold water can fix.” He said before turning over to you, tapping on your forehead. “But you. You’re a bit too far gone.”

Your fingers immediately went to your forehead, covering the one area that the Toji had touched, your cheeks flushed a bright incarnadine. “Still,” you grumbled softly, glaring at the male, “you gotta wash your… hic!... face with cold water before you leave, no matter how sober you may appear.”

“Alright, alright.” Toji cackled, shrugging his shoulders. “You can even watch me, if it makes you feel any better.”

In came the following morning, and you were met with the sight of a familiar blond male with his suitcases in tow. You had just woken up from the couch to see your ex-boyfriend at least fulfilling his one promise, which was to leave your apartment with all his things. You rubbed your eyes, disgruntled at the persistent ache in your head. You didn’t have a moment to hark back to the previous night when all you could feel is your ex-boyfriend’s sharp gaze cutting through you.

 Naoya’s sharp eyes scanned your surroundings, “Were you drinking last night?” 

“Why are you asking me questions you know the answer to,” you grumbled out, stuffing your head into the comfort of your pillow. Naoya scoffed at your response, crossing his arms. “Well, you couldn’t have finished all those bottles yourself. Who were you drinking with? And whose sweater was in your room? Looks like it belongs to a man.”

“All of that is none of your business,” you snapped, your voice still muffled by your pillow. “Are you going to leave now, or what?”

“Tsk,” the blond male clicked his tongue at your sharp response, “are you now sleeping with another man out of spite? You’re no better than I am.”

This fucking man ––

Now you felt awake, and you shot up from the pillow — sending your ex a glare that would definitely kill if it could. “I’ll give you another slap on the cheek, ten times harder than yesterday since you’re begging so nicely for it.”

Naoya’s gaze narrowed, his lips forming into a sneer. However, he didn’t say anything. He knew damn well that he wouldn’t want to experience that slap again, or a harder one. 

“And,” you continued, feeling yourself getting more heated the more you spoke, “you absolutely have zero room to talk about spite or being a better person. Remind me where you went off to last night, hm? While I was drowning myself in beer, what were you doing? Oh, that’s right! You were busy fucking your coworker, and even spent the night with her!”

The audacity of this man never ceased to amaze you. Just hearing him open his mouth was enough to give you a reason as to why you shouldn’t mourn so much over the loss of this relationship, despite having committed so much of your time and energy into it. Frustrated and beyond annoyed, you massaged your aching forehead with your fingertips. 

“You clearly don’t feel sorry for anything that you did.” You spoke, your voice stern as a feeble attempt to mask your crumbling composure. “Even mustering an apology would suffice, yet you come in and have the audacity to accuse me of sleeping around?”

You paused for a moment, your gaze locked onto the Zen'in. Furrowing your brows, you sighed deeply and frowned. “What’s even worse is that you don’t look sorry.”

As much scorn you harbored for the male who cheated on you, there was undeniably a tinge of sorrow and ache that lingered within the depths of your chest upon making that crestfallen realization. 

Pointing at the door, you didn’t leave your couch but you glared at your ex-boyfriend. “If there’s nothing else you want to say, you can go ahead and leave.”

And just like that, he wordlessly complied — walking out of the place he once called his home after three years, a place where he once promised he’d make many sweet memories with you; all that he left behind now was a poignant silence and another headache, other than that bothersome hangover, that you now had to deal with. Staring blankly at the door where your ex had exited from, you heaved an exasperated sigh. 

In the end, Zen’in Naoya still couldn’t even muster a proper apology – not that you were going to forgive him, anyway. However, three years down the drain was still plenty to take in. But then again, breakups that end on bad terms were usually much easier to move on from, especially that cheater ––

Ping!

A brief noise coming from your cell phone brought you back to reality – cutting you off from your lamentable dwellings, and you snapped your gaze almost immediately to the source of the sound; your hand grasping onto the device, your eyes scanning the screen as you silently read the message. 

TOJI: Recovered from the hangover yet?

You absentmindedly smiled towards your phone; your thumbs already working on a response. 

YOU: barely ahaha YOU: what are you up to now?

TOJI is typing…

TOJI: Nothing much TOJI: Did Naoya come by and get his things already? YOU: yeah,, he actually woke me up to ask about the sweater and who i was drinking with before he left YOU: i didn’t mention you though, but he was being a total headache about it TOJI: Why not? It would’ve been funny if you did YOU: you wouldn’t want naoya to hop on your ass about it if i mentioned you

TOJI is typing…

TOJI: He wouldn’t be able to lay a finger on me anyway. That guy’s afraid of me YOU: you’re hilarious TOJI: Anyway TOJI: Thoughts on getting yakiniku tonight?

You didn’t realize it sooner, but over the course of days –– weeks, you eventually found yourself growing accustomed to the older male’s company; whether that be in the form of texting, or simply going out for drinks or barbeque –– Zen’in Toji was, without a doubt, clouding your mind. At this point, the thought of the misery your ex had brought upon you had dissipated. However, you wouldn’t deny that there was a wall that was evidently separating yourself from the Zen’in, a boundary that he, himself, had implemented. Oftentimes, it brought you back to an older conversation that you had with Toji; him telling you that he hadn’t truly been seeing anyone since his divorce, which was seven years ago. Even sometimes, you had gotten struck with the random spurts of realization that he was a decade or so older than you; his little nickname for you, every so often, served as a reminder. However, there were moments where you felt like you wanted to cross that line, and whenever you looked at Toji; his lips slightly agape, swallowing his spit as he stared down at you with that gaze –– you were certain that he was thinking of the same thing. This unspoken, yet increasing tension could be cut clean with a knife.

“Here. Get some meat and vegetables.” said Toji. With his chopsticks, he placed the freshly grilled meat and vegetables onto your plate. “What’s on yer mind, doll? Noticed you’ve been dazin’ off for quite some time.”

You shook your head immediately before thanking the older man profusely. “My goodness. I didn’t even realize they were moments away from burning. Thank you!”

Promptly, you threw the borderline broiling piece of meat into your mouth, chewing with tears slowly forming inside your eyes. “Wow, it’s s-so good. I love it.”

“Somethin’s on your mind after all,” Toji remarked, tilting his head off to the side while his midnight blue eyes gazed into yours. You gulped, swallowing the meat silently as you grabbed the glass of water and chugged it. 

“I promise you, it’s nothing really important. It’s just work.” You responded, smiling cheekily as you reached for the grilled broccoli with your chopsticks. You didn’t think you’d have it within yourself to tell him that he was all that you were thinking about – you’d simply drown in embarrassment before you could even utter a word! While you were chewing, you swiftly reached for the meat on the grill and placed it onto Toji’s plate.

 “It’s bigger meat,” you mentioned, “therefore, it’s all yours.”

“Oh? Look at ya bein’ all generous, doll.” he immediately teased you, raising his brows as his lips curled into an amused grin. “Ya weren’t like this the first time we went out for yakiniku.”

“Since when were you so observant?” You grumbled out, fighting the urge to roll your eyes jokingly. 

“I’ve always been observant,” Toji said while he chewed on the meat, swallowing with a satisfied hum. “But yer facial expressions make it so much easier for me. You’re not that great at trying to hide yer thoughts, either.”

You paused, staring at the man with a flabbergasted expression plastered all across your face. “Ya just proved my point,” laughed Toji. 

You closed your lips and pouted, taking another bite of the grilled meat – basking in the smoky flavor as you attempted to fight off the skittish emotions that were about to resurface. Though, you were unable to control the blood that rushed to the apples of your cheeks; heating up your face. “Clearly, what I did just now was on purpose.”

“Besides, what do you think goes on in my mind?” You questioned him, but as soon as those words slipped past your lips – you immediately wished you hadn’t. He sent you a teasing smirk, his eyes staring straight into yours as he uttered those words:

“I don’ think it’s the right time and place for me to say it here, doll. Ya might get a lil’ embarrassed if I lay them out for ya right now.”

Instantly, you could feel your face growing even warmer and you averted your gaze from his. “You’re bein’ mean right now, Toji.”

Then returned the insufferable tension. You fought the urge to squeeze your legs together, worried that the older man might catch on and you reached for another piece of meat and vegetable, chewing onto those two in tandem. Toji stared at you, amused; his head leaning against his hand as he played with the other pieces of food on the grill with the other.

“You’re awfully easy to get a reaction out of,” Toji further commented, chuckling. “It’s cute.”

“At this point, you’re just doing this on purpose!” You complained, blushing heavily at his teasing and he merely shrugged as a response. 

Time passed by quickly, and you were spent; leaning against your chair with your hand resting atop your aching belly –– staring weakly at the older Zen’in who appeared to be in no way affected as he downed the remaining food on the grill. When he met your gaze, he bursted out laughing; cackling, even, at your state.

 “C’mon doll, I think you can handle a lil’ more meat inside ya.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious, or if you’re making an innuendo.” You murmured, your voice course. “But I’m not taking another bite. I’m sooo full.”

“Ya pervert, I am bein’ serious.” Toji retorted, taking the last bite of meat before he gulped down his glass of water. 

While he briefly left the table to pay for the bill, you stayed seated on the chair, staring blankly at the clutter left behind on the wooden table.

 The more you thought about it –– about him, you were left with a feeling of anticipation that you knew wouldn’t be fulfilled. You bit your lips softly, trying to fight back that massive frown that was threatening to appear; you were certain that Zen’in Toji, your ex’s older cousin and nearly more than decade older than you were, saw you no more than just an eating or drinking buddy, or a young woman who was left heartbroken by his cousin. 

“Now, what’s with that long sigh?” A familiar timbre brought you back to reality, your eyes snapping over to his. 

“It’s ‘cause of my stomach,” you replied, laughing it off before you stood up from your chair. You glanced outside and down at your watch, “How long were we out for?”

“Hours,” Toji simply responded and you rolled your eyes. 

You both stepped out of the store, ready to leave until you felt the sensation of small beads of water falling onto your face –– mere seconds later, it began to pour heavy rain. Groaning in pure unadulterated dismay, you both rushed to his car which was across the street; using your arms as means to shield you from the pouring water. 

“I didn’t expect it to rain today, especially like this.” You observed, brushing your fingers through your dampened locks. Toji sighed in response, “To be honest, doll, I dun’ think I could drive you straight home in this weather. I jus’ checked my phone and it said that there’s a bad thunderstorm that’ll last all night  and there’s also a chance of a small flood happening.”

“Ah, that’s alright.” You said. “So, what’s the plan now?”

“There’s an inn nearby and we can spend the night there, if that’s fine with ya.” Replied the Zen’in.

Your face flushed at his suggestion, and Toji immediately took note of it. 

“Don’t worry doll, I’ll sleep on the floor or couch – if there’s one.” Toji reassured you, and you could only nod your head –– completely and utterly dumbfounded with the series of lewd thoughts that began to cloud your mind. You and him. Together. Alone. You wanted to smack yourself. Genuinely.

You shuffled in your seat, feeling the heat in your face and between your legs worsen. You tried to distract yourself, silently immersing yourself with the music that was playing on the radio. Then the car came to a halt, and you stared outside the window. It was an average looking inn, nothing too special. Upon finding parking, you both hurried over to the entrance; rushing over to the receptionist.

“Room 261 is on the second floor, to your left. Please enjoy the rest of the night, you two.” 

The moment you found the designated room number and opened the door, you both stood there flabbergasted. The room was decorated in hearts and flowers — even the bed was large and heart-shaped, and on the nightstand, there rested a fuzzy pair of handcuffs, condoms, and bottles of lube. Instinctively, you touched your cheeks with the backside of your hand. Yep, your face is definitely hot. 

Toji covered his face with the palm of his hand, heaving an exasperated sigh. “Shit. I’m sorry, I should’ve known it was a love hotel.”

“Don’t worry,” you laughed it off, “they were being really discreet about it, so I’m surprised. When you look at the exterior, anyone who never went there would’ve also thought it’s a normal inn — totally not a love hotel.”

The moment you both locked gazes, you bursted out laughing.

“I-I’m sorry,” you giggled, “the fact that we actually got into a love hotel is crazy. Damn.”

“Just our luck,” Toji chuckled. “Oh, fortunately there’s a couch over there. The bed’s all yours, doll.”

Plopping down on the bed, you released a relieved sigh. “It’s so comfortable here, Toji. You should try it out, too.”

He slowly lowered himself onto the edge of the mattress, and a look of surprise was plastered across his face. “You’re right.”

The bed was large enough to fit the both of you, you pondered to yourself. Your eyes wandered to Toji’s large and sinewy frame, his back facing you as he fumbled with his car keys — his large, calloused fingers tracing along the metal ridges. Undeniably, his fingers were large — thick and long, even. For a brief moment, it almost made you wonder, in your uncouth curiosity, what it would be like to have his hands wander farther…

No. Stop it right there.

‘You horny, horny woman,’ you scolded yourself, mentally smacking your head as you attempted to hide the blush that was moments away from resurfacing. Briefly, you averted your gaze from the older Zen’in, trying to look anywhere but him — it was hard though, especially when this man was quite the eye candy. There was simply no way he didn’t not go out with other women. 

The insufferable tension lingering in the air was another thing you couldn’t ignore, it had been like this for weeks already; naughty thoughts and reveries involving the male came to you nearly every night and as much you tried to ignore it, you still noticed the way he licked the icing off his lips after taking a bite from a dessert, the veins adorning his large hand as he gripped onto the steering wheel, or how his eyes would flicker between meeting your gaze or your lips. 

This was driving you insane. Terribly insane. 

You could feel the weight of the bed lighten, and you turn your head to see Toji standing up from the edge of the bed, making large strides to the couch. Without ever turning his head to face you, he began to speak; his voice had gotten an octave lower, it caught you off guard.

“There ya go again, doll. Are ya even aware of the expressions you’re makin’?” 

“Huh?” You stared at him, dumbfoundedly. “What expressions?”

“Do I really have to say it?” Toji questioned, turning his head slightly to the side and tilted. Your eyes wandered to his lips, glued onto the small scar as he spoke. “I’ll sound a lil’ bawdy, but…” 

He pointed a finger towards you. 

“You’re lookin’ at me like you’re beggin’ to be fucked,” the man stated, his navy blue eyes meeting your flustered ones.

You tensed at his words, feeling a surge of heat overcoming you – his words paired with the timbre in his voice causing a stir within the depths of your abdomen. The atmosphere had changed, the tension was so unbearably thick; you could sense that his composure was also beginning to fall apart.

 “W-What?” You could barely manage to squeak out the words, but the older Zen’in’s gaze didn’t falter. You were, undeniably, aroused – for god knows how long. 

“I’m a pretty observant person,” Toji said, his deep and baritone voice ringing in your ears. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way ya looked at me earlier, and even the weeks before. Even now, you’re aroused. Am I wrong, doll?”

Your breathing had gotten heavier, hitching even. Was Toji that good at reading you, or were you being plain obvious? You didn’t know, nor did you care too much. Either way, whatever he said – he was correct. You were simply too embarrassed to admit it; you bit onto your lip, unable to come up with a response. 

“You gotta speak with yer words, doll.” 

You swallowed your spit, gulping softly. “I… You…”

The way you wanted to dig yourself a hole and shrivel yourself up into a ball. God, this was so embarrassing. 

“I… You…?” The man repeated after you, amusement plastered across his face. You opened your mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. 

“Ugh,” you groaned out, feeling the steams of pure and unadulterated embarrassment leaving your ears. “Yes. Yes, you’re right. You’re all I’ve been thinking about for weeks.”

You slapped your hands on your face, covering the roseate warmth that seemed to merely worsen as those words left your lips. Upon setting your pride aside, you had finally admitted the embarrassing truth. But, what would come after that? Would he be weirded out and distance himself from you? You averted your gaze from his, you didn’t have it within you to meet his eyes. As aroused as you were, you were also incredibly embarrassed – and even that was an understatement.

You felt his finger tracing your chin, lifting your face to meet his. You didn’t realize he had already made his way back to you, his Herculean build leaning close to yours yet there was, undeniably, an invisible wall that separated the both of you. 

“I tried to think nothin’ of it at first, but…” Toji began, stalling his words a little. 

“I’ve been thinkin’ about what you told me earlier,” Toji said, his voice low in a murmur; his gaze yet again flickering between your eyes and your lips. You gulped softly, your breath hitching in anticipation. “About Naoya not pleasin’ ya enough in bed. It seems to me you’re feelin’ all pent up now.”

He shot you a teasing grin, “Am I right about that too, doll?”

Your eyes widened, looking at the man in front of you in shock; your mouth agape and your cheeks flushed. “You…”  You attempted to come up with a retort, but all the words that threatened to leave your lips had come to a halt when he raised a brow towards you, his midnight blue gaze looking down at yours.

“Judging by yer reaction, I’m guessin’ I’m right.” 

“Yeah?” You riposted, biting your cheek. “So what about it? If you’re just saying this to make fun of me, then you can just quit… it.”

Your eyes trailed down, your words slowing down to a halt as you caught sight of the large tent growing at the center of his trousers. It’s big.

“I wouldn’t be sayin’ all this if I only intended to tease ya,” Toji replied, his voice slightly hoarse as he briefly followed your gaze. “But I’m glad it’s confirmed that we see eye to eye.”

“Eye to eye? Does that mean…” Your eyes stayed glued onto his bulge, and Toji turned his head away; a bright roseate blush tinting the tips of his ears. 

“Yeah,” he said, his voice gruff. “It’s exactly what ya think it is, Y/N. It’s ya fault for being so fuckin’ cute.”

You stared back to his face, a look of wanton adorning across your face as you eyed his lips. Licking your lips, you gathered all the remaining courage you had –– cupping the older man’s face in your hands and bringing him into a soft and brief kiss, your lips locking for a few seconds before pulling away.

“I-I didn’t think you’d be seeing me in this type of light, either––”  your words were abruptly put to a halt when he locked lips with yours once more, this time with plenty more fervor; his large hand cupping the back of your head to pull you closer, if it was even possible. Tongues, forthwith, were intertwined as you followed the male’s lead; his well-rehearsed movements harbored from the years of experience you forgot he had. His lips were on yours, yet you felt as if your whole entire body was burning up.                                                                                                                                                                                                               

Your fingers traveled to his clothed chest, gripping onto the fabric tightly as you struggled to keep up with his movements. Without ever pulling away, he leaned closer; his weight slowly pushing your body down onto the mattress, a soft sigh leaving your lips the moment your back made contact with the comforts of the mattress. 

The wet sounds of your lips interlocking echoed throughout the room, along with the soft noises of your whimpers and moans escaping your lips as Toji’s hands wandered; leaving every curve of your body untouched, and the tip of his fingers snaking underneath the hem of your jeans. You wrapped your arms around the man’s neck, your fingers dancing through his raven locks. You barely remembered the last time you had a kiss this passionate.

Eventually, you both pulled away; revealing a thin string of saliva connecting both your lips together and anything else that escaped your lips were harbored breaths. You kissed him. And it felt so good. Pressing your fingers to your lips, your eyes traveled over to Toji’s –– it was evident that his self restraint was merely hanging on by a thin thread. You bit your lips at the thought.

“You’re makin’ it so hard for me to hold myself back,” hissed Toji, wincing slightly at the discomfort within his trousers. 

“You don’t need to,” you replied, your voice was quiet yet it was dripping with arousal. “I don’t want you to.”

Toji raised a brow at your words, but he couldn’t deny – those exact words did cause some sort of damage. “Ya sure, doll? I don’ think I’ll be able to stop myself once I start.”

You sat back up from the bed, your hand caressing his cheek; your finger tracing the small scar ingrained in the corner of his swollen lips. 

“Well, I don’t want you to stop either.” You murmured, your voice soft and you shifted your gaze to the tightened area of his trousers. “I can help with that, too.”

Taciturnly, you brought your palm to his lap, giving his enlarged bulge a soft squeeze; immediately eliciting a soft groan from Toji as a response to your sudden and bold movements. 

“Y/N,” he muttered your name, though it sounded more of a warning than anything. You squeezed it once more, shooting the male a playful smile; your fingers playing around with the small metallic zipper before you slowly zipped it down. 

“Can I?” You questioned him. It was clear you were ogling his bulge beneath, excited to explore for more; your eyes were wide in lewd curiosity, barely able to control the arousal and desperation within your movements. Toji found all of that, somewhat, endearing. 

“Do whatever ya want, doll.” He huffed out. “But ya also got to give me somethin’ nice to look at and play with.”

His fingers played with the hem of your shirt before they snaked underneath the fabric; the sensations of his rough and calloused fingers touching your bare skin – his blunt nails grazing your waist. You raised your arms up, and with effortless movements, he slipped the fabric off you. For a brief moment, you considered hiding yourself – a wave of shyness suddenly overtaking you, but all that stopped when you felt his fingers, once again, grazing your bare skin; slowly tracing over the cups of your bra. 

Your breath hitched, and a surge of heat rushed to your face. This was it. You were going to have sex with Zen’in Toji. However, undeniably, you felt like a virgin around the older male. His fingers lingered across your back, unclasping the undergarment with ease; he watched, with amused eyes, as it fell from your breasts –– revealing your soft mounds. Unawarely, your arms rushed to cover your breasts – but his strong hands held them back.

“Don’t ever think about covering ya self, doll.” Toji said, his large hands grasping tightly around your wrists. “I love the view I’m seein’ right now, so don’t be shy to show me everything.”

You tried to suppress any noise that threatened to leave your lips, biting onto the skin; your body writhing underneath the man’s soft, yet teasing strokes on your breasts, most particularly your nipples. You leaned closer into his touch, a quiet gasp escaping your lips as his fingers teased the erect buds — twirling, pinching and pulling; your mind was going blank to his teasing ministrations. 

“You have such pretty breasts,” Toji commented, pinching your nipples with his index and pointer fingers before he began to twirl the bud. You bit onto your lip even harder this time; your legs squeezed tightly together as you attempted to satiate your arousal in silence. 

“T-Toji,” you stammered out, “I’m s’pposed to be the one pleasing you first.”

“I can wait,” he grinned, licking a small stripe of saliva across your breast. “I needa show these girls some love first.”

You couldn’t even utter a response, all that came out were stifled moans and whimpers — your hand clasped against your mouth while your other was nestled in his raven locks. Zen’in Toji was, indeed, showing them love. Lots of love. The insufferable ache building up between your legs seemed to merely worsen, not even squeezing them together was enough to satiate it. You were far too aroused — melting immediately at the foreign, yet pleasurable sensations.

Toji’s eyes never left your face; analyzing every micro reaction your face made, every single move he made felt as though it was rehearsed — a well one, in fact; effortlessly finding the spots that elicited the most delicious reactions out of you with both his tongue and hands. He cupped your breast and gave the mound a squeeze, and he eventually pulled his mouth away from your nipple; leaving behind a thin string of saliva that connected his lips and your skin. If you were standing, your knees would’ve already buckled on the spot. 

Breathing heavily, you softly pushed the older male away from your body. “It’s your turn.”

You slowly lowered yourself, your hands tracing down his shoulders, his chest and then to his abdomen; your nimble fingers unbuttoning, thus unzipping his trousers. You didn’t realize you were holding in your breath, while trying your darndest to control your heart that was hammering rapidly against your chest. 

“Breathe, doll.” Toji’s baritone voice wasn’t much help, but you breathed in — then you heaved a shaky sigh. Gulping, you took in the sight of the sheer size of his shaft hiding beneath the thin fabric. 

By the time your hands reached his boxers, your fingers snaking underneath the hem of his underwear; you pulled the fabric down, slipping it down his muscular thighs — you were unsure if you were being obvious, but you attempted to stop your mouth from watering. 

“It’s big,” you thought aloud, slapping your mouth immediately after. Toji chuckled deeply.

“For a woman who’s mostly shy, ya certainly have no filter.” Toji teased, lightly slapping his hardened cock against your cheek. “How cute. Do ya think you’ll be able to take it in ya mouth, doll?”

You flushed a bright incarnadine at his words, “Were you always this crude?”

Wrapping your hand around his girthy shaft, you gulped softly as you slowly stroked his member; up and down, up and down –– your eyes were locked onto his face, taking in every micro-expressions that the older Zen’in was making, though it was evident that he was trying to suppress them; he was biting his lips, though he still had that sexy grin plastered across his face. For the longest time, you weren’t aware that Zen’in Toji had this obnoxiously lewd side of him, and you also didn’t know that you could be so fucking aroused because of it. 

‘Will he fit inside me?’ You asked yourself, nearing your lips closer to his cock. You licked a long stripe across his cock, circling the soft muscle around his tip before sucking on it. Toji immediately reached his strong hand to your locks, giving them a soft tug. 

“Fuck,” he hissed softly, “I almost forgot how good this feels. You’re so fuckin’ good with your mouth, doll.”

Breathing through your nose, you slowly took him inside your mouth; feeling the small beads of tears building up the lower you went down on him, your nose pressed against his pubes. It was difficult to breathe — he was just too fucking big! However, the loud groan of your name leaving his lips was more than enough as motivation to keep going; circling your hand around the area your mouth couldn’t reach, and you stroked his cock in languid movements. 

Each noise — grunts, hitched breaths, or groans — that escaped his lips, you could feel yourself growing even wetter; a puddle of arousal dampening your underwear. You continued to bop your head onto his cock, drool dripping down your cheeks as you attempted to take him deeper. You knew you shouldn’t have pushed yourself too much — you could barely remember the last time you’d done something this lewd, but you couldn’t help yourself. When there was Zen’in Toji in front of you, feeding your hungry mouth with his fat cock, there was simply no way you’d say no. 

The obscene noises of your mouth showing love towards his cock echoed throughout the room; your soft gagging, whimpers, and the slobberish noise your mouth made each time you bobbed your head lower made it nearly impossible for the older man to not buck his hips into your poor lips. The turbulent rainstorm showering outside had long drowned out — the sole sound of Toji’s little grunts and groans lingered in your head; hungry to please him even more.

“Atta fuckin’ girl,” Toji grunted, his hands traveling to your breasts to give your nipples a tight pinch. You clenched your eyes shut, whimpering softly with his cock deep inside your throat; writhing underneath his touches, every graze of his fingers brought you closer and closer to the brink of insanity. You squeezed your legs together tightly, bucking your hips slightly as you continued to please him. “You’re pleasin’ me so well, doll.”

“Ah—mmph…!” You let out a surprised moan, snapping your eyes open to stare at the raven-haired male as he pulled and twirled the erect bud between his rough fingers. Your grip tightened around his hips, and upon pulling away from his shaft, you gave the tip a good suck — grinning at yourself when you felt Toji’s body twitch at your manipulation; his breath hitching at the shocks of pleasure rushing through his veins as his fingers’ squeezed onto your mound. A line of praises escaped his lips in the form of grunts and mutters, his hand cupping your cheek; his thumb softly stroking the tears away. 

“Do ya even realize how arousing ya look right now?” Toji’s deep baritone voice rang in your ears as he bucked his hips into your face. He threw his head back, a mix of a hoarse chuckle and grunt leaving his lips. “You’re doin’ so good, doll. Keep on goin’.” 

Continuing on with your ministrations, you used both your hands to stroke his dick while you pressed your lips against his tip; bobbing your head down his tip while your hands made twisting motions as you fondled with his girth. You glanced up towards Toji, awaiting some sort of praise –– and he wasted no time; the thrusts of his hips had begun to stagger and a loud groan of your name escaped his lips, coating the insides of your mouth with thick ribbons of white. Pulling away from his length, your eyes returned its focus to the older Zen’in; locking eyes with his as you swallowed his cum, feeling the warm liquid trickle down your throat. 

Heavy breaths echoed through the room, Toji’s soft pants mirroring yours; his eyes gazed into yours wantonly and his fingers cupping your chin briefly before he leaned back in for a third kiss. Locking lips and tongues intertwined, he lifted the shirt off his body with ease; revealing his chiseled build. Panting in between kisses, your fingers trailed down his neck – traveling down his chest, and back up to his raven locks. 

His hand trailed lower to your pants, unbuttoning and unzipping effortlessly as he pulled the denim past your ass; his thick fingers grazing against your cheeks, slowly snaking underneath the thin fabric of your panties — shivering, you rocked your hips into his hand when he slid a finger across your slick folds. His breath hitched a little, pulling his lips away from yours. 

“I didn’t even put a finger yet, but yer drenchin’ it already.” He commented, and you could only watch — in both embarrassment and unadulterated arousal — as he licked your juices off his fingertip. 

His hands returned to the denim fabric hanging on to your thighs, pulling them down along with the thin fabric of your underwear. Without uttering another word, he brought his hand between your thighs — spreading them open. Midnight blue eyes locked onto your bare cunt, his mouth nearly salivating at the sight of your arousal dripping down your hole. Glancing down, he was, once again, fully erect. 

Extending your arm to his shaft, Toji had stopped you — though, not with words, but with the abrupt movements of his arms hooking around your thighs; pulling your hips closer to his face. 

“W-Wait––A-Ah!” The moment you felt his tongue prodding at your folds, your eyes rolled back and a sharp moan escaped your lips; your fingers immediately finding solace in his messy, black hair. Toji didn’t seem to listen, however. His tongue slid up and down your folds before pressing his lips against your sensitive bundle of nerves, sucking harshly whilst flicking his tongue against it.

“Oh my––fuck! Toji!” You mewled out, arching your back and you could feel yourself convulse as he continued to suck and lick messily at your cunt. “T-There’s no way you didn’t sleep with anyone after your divorce,” you stuttered in between moans, “you –– mmph! Hah – y-you have to be lying! You eat pussy too good – AH!”

The older man grunted against your folds, his canines gently grazing your swollen clit. You writhed, your hips twitching in response. 

“What are you on, doll? I never lied to ya. Not one bit.” Toji replied, his voice muffled while he continued to stuff your face into your juicy cunt. “It’s been so long since I’ve felt this typa pleasure.”

With his tongue, he licked another long strip across your drenched folds – humming in delight; the timbre of his voice sending vibrations onto your sensitive clit. You bit onto your lip, staring at Toji in lewd desperation while you bucked your hips against his face. The pleasure you felt was surreal; nothing you had ever felt before. It was addicting. You could feel the pressure pitting in your stomach growing warmer – heavier, more insufferable. 

“I-I’m close,” you warned, digging your nails into his scalp and he let out a soft grunt, eating your pussy with plenty more fervor. 

“Don’ come yet,” Toji said, “hold on for lil’ more longer for me, doll.”

You gulped, nodding at his request. Closing your eyes shut tightly, you tried your darndest to not succumb to the pleasure that was washing over you like strong, persistent waves. Don’t come. Don’t come. Don’t come! Your toes curled, your eyes opening wide in surprise when you felt his two fingers, without any effort, slide into your drenched pussy –– his fingers stretching you out so deliciously; your walls clamped down onto his thick fingers that were knuckles deep inside your cunt. 

“Don’t come,” Toji warned you, and you could only stare at him with your heavy-lidded gaze –– too fucked out to care. You rocked your hips against his large hand, a string of incoherent moans and praises escaping your lips each time he fucked his fingers into you; his movements were fast and profound, eliciting such wet and lewd noises from your drenched hole. 

“Hm–– T-Toji,” you mewled loudly, throwing your head back against the plush of the pillows; your hands –– one gripping tightly against the wrinkled fabrics of the duvet cover, and the other tangled in the strands of Toji’s mane. “Ahn! P-Please let me come. You’re making me feel so… good..!”

Toes curling, another moan ripped out from your throat, your hips convulsing as he brought his mouth down to your swollen bud –– flicking circles and wrapping his lips around your clit repeatedly, all whilst fucking your pussy with his fingers as if he would with his dick (in your imaginations); curling his fingers, a loud whimper fell from your lips, your hips rocking desperately against his hand as his fingertips would kiss your sweet spot. 

“P-Pl-Please,” you could only murmur out, your whole entire body overwhelmed with pleasure and ecstasy. You could feel your eyes rolling back, your whole entire body writhing as he continued on with his ministrations – his fingers fucking you so well, hitting your g-spot with terrifying accuracy. His precise, yet profound movements were making your mind melt, along with the rest of your body. You could barely recount a memory where you came due to someone’s manipulation, often having to cater to your own needs to satiate the need for pleasure. However, now that you were experiencing it now; it was as if shocks of electricity were pulsing throughout your body –– your whole body growing sensitive, yet wanting more. 

The mixed sounds of his tongue sloppily making love with your clit paired with the wet noises of his fingers fucking into your hole, along with your mewls and the male’s sexy grunts filled the room. The persistent pressure growing in the pits of your lower abdomen was growing all the more unbearable, a new, foreign feeling began bubbling the more you tried to stop yourself from coming on the spot. It was getting even harder to hold it in now, you swore you could feel yourself burst.

“Fuck, doll.” Toji said, licking his lips at the sight of your pussy clenching tightly around his two fingers curled inside you, watching your juices trickle down your hole. “Look at me when you come, ‘kay? Look at the man that’s gonna make ya come hard.” 

You were completely under his submission, your eyes – though heavy-lidded – locked onto his midnight blue eyes; giving him a pleading look. He stared up at you, his lips locked around your clit and his fingers mercilessly doing their work on you. This sensation was something that you had never felt before – panicked, your fingers grasped onto his locks in a vain attempt to pull him away.

“T-Toji!” You whimpered his name, urgency evident in your voice. “I think I-I’m gonna pee!”

“Let it go,” Toji hummed, both his mouth and fingers continuing to pleasure you – edging you closer and closer to your orgasm. “Come for me, doll.”

And so you did, a loud cry of his name rolling off your tongue as your back arched; toes curled and your hips convulsing against his face —the warm juices spraying on his face and his hands, drenching his skin. A hitched groan escaped his lips, and he rubbed your clit with the palm of his hand; eliciting more of your juices to coat his hand while you twitched beneath his touches, strained moans leaving your lips as you rode out your orgasm. 

“Hah,” you heaved a breathy sigh, staring blankly at the ceiling for a brief moment before you finally noticed the puddle you left behind after your release, evidenced by the dampened sheets underneath you. Blood rushed to your cheeks, “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothin’ to be embarrassed of, doll.” Toji grinned, the gentle grazes of his fingertips lingering onto your soaked thighs. “If anything, it’s fuckin’ hot. Was it your first time squirtin’ like that?”

You nodded your head, suddenly feeling shy once more. “Mhm. I can’t remember a time when I came this hard — let alone came from someone’s touch.”

“Damn,” Toji said, biting back a haughty grin. “Didn’t expect Naoya to be that much of a disappointment. But then again, it’s not too big of a surprise.”

“I’ll make ya feel much better,” he added, a smirk adorning his face while his arm extended to the nightstand — reaching for the packet of rubber, but you stopped him; your hands cupping his face as you made the man face you. 

“You don’t need to use it,” you said softly, your voice soft as you could feel the blood rushing back to your face. You glanced down at his cock, your mouth nearly salivating as you watched the girth jerked slightly in the air; a small amount of his pre-cum trickling out. You were right, this man was indeed an eye candy –– the most delicious one, in fact. “I’m on the pill.”

He stroked his fat cock languidly, his lustful eyes locking onto yours. “You sure about that doll?”

You nodded your head rapidly, it was almost foolish how excited you appeared — however, you were too horny to care. You needed this man inside you, desperately. Hooking your arms underneath your knees, you spread your legs apart for the older man to see — and he was instantly hooked; a hitched breath escaping his lips as he locked his gaze onto your drenched and needy hole — and your face too, looking so fucking lewd; the wanton look in your eyes begging him to fuck. A hoarse grunt escaped his lips, enamored at the heavenly sight. 

“Fuck me, Toji.” Pure arousal was laced in your voice as you uttered those words, your tone almost pleading.

Just how could he ever say no to that?

A sharp gasp left your lips when he pulled your legs closer to his hips, his large palms pushing your thighs back as he aligned his cock with your needy heat. You glanced down, lips quivering in anticipation as you watched him further prep you for his girth. He rubbed his thumb across your folds briefly, a low chuckle escaping his throat. “You’re still soakin’ wet, doll. I doubt we’d even need lube at this point.”

He inserted a finger briefly before pulling away, laughing at how your body immediately twitched at his touch. 

“You gotta relax for me, ‘kay?” Toji adjured, pressing the tip of his cock against your soaking entrance before slowly entering. Your arms immediately reached out, your hands finding solace around his chiseled back; your nails slightly digging into his skin, your body reeling at the stretch. He was too fucking big, and he only inserted the tip! The feeling of being filled up to the brim was incomparable to your fingers — you were going to melt. 

“Relax, doll.” repeated Toji, his voice strained. “You’re suckin’ me in.”

He nestled his face into your neck, peppering kisses and little suckles; thrusting his hips deeper and deeper. Small beads of sweat trickled down his neck as he reached halfway deep inside you, relishing in the way your walls clamped down onto his girth so tightly.

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath, closing his eyes shut as he reached the hilt – the tip of his cock now kissing your cervix. A shaky whimper left your lips, your arms wrapping tightly around the older Zen’in’s neck.

“You good?” He asked you, his face hovering yours. You nodded, pressing a small kiss on the corner of his lips as you softly rocked your hips against his — a small moan ripping from your throat when his cock grazed your sweet spot as he pulled away slightly, leaving just the tip inside before he slammed his hips back into yours; evoking a loud scream that ripped from your throat, your walls squeezing him like a vice as you trembled underneath his body. 

“Shit, doll.” Toji cursed under his breath, a coarse chuckle shortly leaving his lips. “Cumming, already?”

His calloused fingers traced over your hips, thus gripping onto your waist; his nails dug into your skin – his resolve crumbling by the second. 

“You can take another one, right doll? For me?” Toji questioned you, raising a brow towards you; watching you attempt to utter a response, but merely trembling as a result when he began moving his hips once more; relishing in the way your body reacted to his –– your hips trembling underneath his, your velvety walls clamping down on him – all whilst giving him a pleading look; your cheeks flushed and your eyes blown in lust. 

He chuckled, licking his lips. “Do ya even realize how lewd ya look right now?” 

He thrusted his hips roughly into yours, his fat cock sliding in and out of your soaked walls in ease. You stuffed your face into his shoulder, biting onto his collarbone to stifle the myriads of moans that threatened to leave your trembling lips. 

“Your pussy’s squeezin’ me so tight,” Toji said, purring as he rocked his hips into yours. “Like the way I’m stretchin’ your little hole out, doll?”

“O-Oh my god,” you whimpered into his neck, your nails digging into his skin; your voice jumpy from each rough thrust Toji made as he pistoned his cock in and out of your cunt; squeezing him back in each time. Each thrust he made, your body bounced along with it -– sliding onto the mattress; he made it his mission to fuck you silly. Jaws slacked and erotic groans escaping his lips, his nails digging into your hips as he continued on with his relentless pace; relishing in the way your body meld into his, your mouth agape as all the words that left your words would be incoherent. It was all so arousing, fucking you into an incoherent mess whilst you begged him for more.

You closed your eyes for a mere moment, reveling in the delightful pleasure — but with a rough thrust, the tip of his cock hitting that spot so deliciously, you shot your eyes wide open with a sharp gasp. Toji’s hand cupped your cheek before squeezing them, his dark eyes staring down at yours with a look of warning. 

“Hey, doll — open yer eyes, and don’t ya fuckin’ dare look away. Look at the man who’s fuckin’ you good, yeah?” He warned, nearing his face to yours –– your lips merely inches apart. The husky, strained timbre in his voice sent waves of arousal throughout your whole entire body. Nodding your head eagerly, you could hardly utter a response, any noise that managed to escape your throat were in the forms of moans and incoherent praises. 

Your mind was going blank, overwhelmed with pleasure and ecstasy. You were, quite literally, on cloud nine. The pleasure you felt was simply incomparable, and you could only feel yourself drown in it. Rolling your eyes back, another breathy moan escaped your lips; your legs tightly wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer. The pit broiling in your stomach returned, and you could feel it building back up rapidly. 

“Mm—Fuck! I-I’m…” You tried to say in between moans, your body jumping up in tandem to the man’s powerful thrusts. “T-Toji… Ngh! I’m so close — you’re fucking me so good… Ah!”

Your voice alone was nearly enough to get the man to cum, but he relented. He bit his lips and clenched his jaw, reveling in the ecstatic sensations.

“Fuck, doll.” Toji mumbled out a curse, clenching his jaw. He dug his nails deeper into your waist, taking it all within him to not cum right then and there –– especially when your pussy was squeezing him so nicely. A strained moan escaped your lips, riding out your orgasm; your arms pulling the man close. Just as when you had thought you could have a moment to recover, his strong arms had lifted you up from the bed –– manhandling you, and you shortly found yourself on your knees; bent over with your ass high up in the air.

Smack!

Moaning, your body jumped at the stinging sensation of his palm making contact with your ass, feeling the heat radiate across the skin. Though, within seconds, your body melted to his touch; his strong hands caressing and squeezing your derrière, eliciting a soft hum that left your lips ––

“O-Oh!” You pressed your lips together, your eyes immediately rolling to the back of your head when he thrusted his cock back in – drenched in all your juices as he effortlessly slid back in; reaching the hilt, his tip brushing against your cervix as he rocked his hips back and forth; his cock grazing your sweet spot with each thrust he fucked into you. Stuffing your head in the comforts of the pillow, you were getting even more sensitive to his touches; every caress from his fingertips sent shocks of pleasure throughout your whole entire body.

Stifled moans escaped your lips, drool trickling down your lips as you gave in to pleasure; inching closer and closer to your release each time he rocked his hips against yours in an unforgiving pace. It was almost as if he was fucking you to impregnate you –– his brawny arms wrapped tightly around your waist; pulling you away from his cock before he pulled you back down, stretching your walls in the most delicious way. The many months spent feeling so sexually frustrated had melted away in this instant; the bed squeaked beneath your bodies, his thrusts relentless as he led you closer and closer to nirvana. 

“Ah, shit. You feel so fuckin’ good, doll” You could hear Toji’s grunts from behind you. “Hah, this pussy’s all for me, yeah? Hah—Mm…”

“Mmm… Fuck, yes! ‘S all for you, Toji — Ah!” You replied through stifled moans, your voice muffled by the pillow pressed against your face. “Y-You’re fucking me so deep…!”

“Atta girl,” Toji hummed and despite being unable to see him in that moment, you knew very well that he had a smug smirk tugged at the corners of his lips while he continued to fuck you.

You lifted your head slightly from the pillow, turning your face slightly towards Toji — a look of concentration was plastered across his face; beads of sweat rolling down his face and neck, strands of his hair stuck onto his forehead, his teeth gritted against one another. Fuck, he was too sexy. Loud mewls left your mouth, thrusting your hips into his cock as you desperately chased after your release.

“K-Kiss me, Toji.” You said, your voice pleading. An abrupt moan escaped your lips shortly after, followed with a small whine when you felt his large hand wrap around your throat –– hoisting you up slightly while he pistoned his cock inside you, and he pressed his lips against yours; muffling the loud moans and whimpers that tumbled out of your mouth as he tangled his tongue with yours. He traveled his hand below your abdomen, his calloused fingertips rubbing firm circles against your sensitive bud –– his lips not once ever leaving yours. You whined in his lips, feeling yourself losing strength in your arms. However, with his one arm hooked around your chest, he held your body up as he continued to fuck and rub your pussy. You were about to melt.

This all felt too fucking good. 

“Ah! Mmm—Ngh! I-I’m gonna come again––! I… Hah… Fuck… ‘m so fucking close — please, Toji. I wanna come so fucking bad––!” You whined in his mouth, bucking your hips desperately against his; your legs twitched each time his hips met yours, hitting that sweet spot each time he fucked his fat cock inside your velvety walls. “O-Oh my god, this feels s’fucking goooood.”

“Yeah?” Toji queried, groaning at your words, and you nodded your head eagerly. Suddenly, your face was once again pressed to the pillows; his large hand pinning your head in place while the other returned to your clit –– rubbing rough circles on the sensitive bud as he rutted his hips into yours with an unwavering fervor.

“Shit. Come for me then, doll.” He grinned, clenching his jaw as he slammed his hips into yours, driving your body forward on the mattress. 

The lewd noises of his hips rocking into yours, mixed with your wanton cries and his groans filled the room; only increasing in volume the closer you were towards reaching your orgasm. Given his staggered thrusts, you were certain he was also close.

“Mmm—Toji..” You mewled his name in between your needy whimpers and moans. “Hah! Ngh… Cum inside me…Ah! Want you… Mmm… to fill me up.” 

Toji’s arms were wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a tight embrace as he fucked you arduously; his lips latching onto your collarbone, peppering a line of kisses and love bites. 

A loud cry ripped from your lips, your whole entire body trembling as your orgasm washed over you; your eyes rolling to the back of  your head as you arched your back against his chest in pure bliss — your hips convulsing as your juices, once again, sprayed all over his cock and the mattress. The raven-haired man tightened his grip on your breasts, practically squeezing the mound as he succumbed to the rhapsodies of his release.

“Oh, fuuuck.” Toji let out a drawn out groan, slumping his body atop yours as the tip of his cock slammed against your cervix, coating your walls with thick layers of white, warm fluid. Breathing heavily and as small grunts escaped his lips, his brows furrowed at the way your walls clenched tightly around him in an attempt to milk him dry. Languidly, he pulled out of your heat, his dark eyes glued onto the masterpiece he had created –– watching his seed trickle down your hole. Grinning, he stuck his finger back in, pushing his cum back inside your wet folds. 

Heavy breaths filled the room, then returned the noises of the beads of rain smacking against the window. He glanced back up at you, his gaze locked onto your flushed face before he leaned in, pressing a chaste peck on your lips and slumping on the bed next to you.

“Are you feelin’ alright, doll?” Questioned Toji, caressing his fingers against your cheek. You nodded in response, cracking an enormous smile. 

“I feel better than ever,” you said, nuzzling your head into his neck; your arms snaking around his muscular arm. “I loved every moment of it.”

“Oh, yeah?” Toji smirked, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, placing it behind your ear. “Me, too.”

He shortly left the bed, making wide strides towards the washroom –– returning with a towel in his hand. Reaching out for the towel, you were about to thank him but he stopped you; his hands softly pushing you back down on the mattress.

 “Oomph…!” Was the sound you made as your back made contact with the soft mattress, and you snapped your gaze to Toji’s.

“Lemme take care of you, doll. You don’ gotta worry bout anythin’ else.” 

You sighed in relaxation, relishing in the sensations of the soft and warm towel pressed against your skin; cleaning off the sweat and excess juices. “Thank you, Toji.” 

He replied with a low hum, his hands caressing your body in a newfound tenderness. Your heart swelled at the gesture, your lips cracking a soft smile as you continued to watch the older man take good care of you and your worn out body. 

“If you’re not feelin’ too sore yet, care to join me in the shower after this?”

As if all the fatigue had instantly evaporated from your body, you had never uttered yes so fast until this very moment.

EXTRA SCENE — !

NAOYA COULDN’T BELIEVE HIS EYES, his body frozen in place like a deer in headlights as he stared into the small crack of the door of the dressing room, his eyes unable to peer away from the sight of his older cousin fucking his ex-girlfriend like a madman; his flushed ears picking up on the lewd sounds of your stifled mewls paired with the squelching noises of both your bodies connecting together. His mouth was agape, he had never heard you make such a sound — filled with wanton, let alone seen you make an expression so obscenely lewd.

 He glanced down at his own trousers, noticing the ache that was beginning to grow beneath his boxers. Shit.

When he first stumbled across you at his cousin, Zen’in Mai’s wedding reception with Airi clinging closely onto his arm, the last thing he expected was to see you by his cousin’s side  — and what was even more frustrating was how Toji wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his side without breaking eye contact. It was almost as if Toji was mocking him, especially with that smug smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips. 

No words were exchanged between you and the blond male, there wasn’t any need to. 

Naoya had thought nothing of it, at first. After all, it had been months since you had both taken your separate ways; he immediately made his relationship with his coworker official. Although Airi could be extremely clingy at times, he felt happy — at ease, even. After all, he could finally love his woman out in the open without any more shame. Though, after the initial encounter with you and Toji, he never crossed paths with you again during the reception. He could only stare from the distance, watching you happily chat with both Maki and Mai for a brief moment before he noticed a bright pair of eyes peering at him, and he shifted his gaze onto his girlfriend’s.

An hour had nearly passed, but Naoya was, undeniably, growing the biggest urge to simply walk out of the reception and head on home. While everyone busied themselves on the dance floor, chatting away with the other guests, or getting their nth plate of the night, Naoya had excused himself to the washroom. 

Strolling down the empty hallways, his eyes scanned around the corridor to look for any familiar restroom signs — the blaring music playing that the venue rang in his ears. He stuck his hands into his pocket, feeling the irritation slowly getting to him. But then, all those feelings of growing frustration came to an abrupt halt when he heard your voice and that of another man’s. He lifted his head, tilting it over to the side in curiosity. There was noise coming from the dressing room, the door up ahead, and he could see a little bit of light peeking through the door. 

“Babe,” Naoya could hear your playful whines through the door, “I-I don’t think we should do this here..! What if someone sees us?”

“Then let them see us. This is ya fault ya know?” Toji said, his voice low. “You don’t think I haven’t noticed you sneakin’ around, pressing yer ass against my dick? There’s only so much patience I can take in, doll.”

He could hear you stifle a moan, letting out a sharp gasp as Toji thrusted his hips into yours.

“You dirty girl, look at how yer pussy’s grippin’ so nicely around my cock. You love my cock, dont’cha?”

“Mhm—Ah! Yes, baby!” You moaned pathetically, taking everything within you to control your volume. 

Naoya’s hand immediately slapped over his mouth, feeling the blood rush to his face. He knew he shouldn’t have gotten closer to the door — he could either 1) turn around to leave and return to the reception, or 2) leave to continue searching for the bathroom. Either way, the best course of action was to leave, yet he still found himself standing in front of the door — staring between the small crack in complete awe at the sight before him. 

Toji had you perched up atop the wooden dresser, your legs wrapped tightly around his hips as he slammed his hips into your drenched heat; his hands snaked underneath your dress, squeezing your ass as he pulled you closer unto his cock. You writhed, throwing your head back as you could feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head; your mind was going numb due to the pleasure your older boyfriend was giving you — stretching your pussy out in the most delicious way possible. 

“Y-You’re so fucking big, baby…” You mewled out, a sharp gasp leaving your lips with each thrust he slammed his fat cock into you; evoking obscene noises of your hips meeting each other. “I-I wan’ more, please… baby—!”

His mouth was agape, he had never heard you make such a sound — filled with wanton, let alone seen you make an expression so obscenely lewd; your face all flushed, your eyes clouded in unadulterated lust as drool trickled down your lips. 

 Naoya glanced down at his own trousers, noticing the ache that was beginning to grow between his legs. 

“Shit,” he mumbled out, unable to control the blood rushing to both his face and his erection. He should’ve run away –– he had to, but for some reason his feet stayed planted on the ground and his eyes were unable to look away from the pornographic scene; your hands all tangled up in his older cousin’s raven locks, his lips and tongue messily locked with yours — muffling your needy moans as he continued to fuck you in a relentless pace, the head of his cock kissing your cervix each and every time. 

Each noise that was elicited from your lips sent shocks of arousal straight to his heat, and he gritted his teeth. He knew this was wrong — hell, it even felt wrong. Yet, his feet wouldn’t budge. 

Shiiiiit.

© 6TORU do not copy, repost, or translate my works on any platform. interactions / reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

[tteokdoroki]

✎ᝰ. OCT 15TH ★ MUTUAL MASTURBATION - tobio kageyama .ᐟ

[CHAPTER FIFTEEN CINDERELLA] once upon a time, a soon-to-be crowned princess, once down on her luck, says fuck it and settles on consummating her marriage with the crown prince before they’re actually due to be married ( 9.2K ).

✧ chapter contents - minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, cinderella!au, royal wedding, mutual masturbation, cherry chasing, clothed sex, soft sex, oral sex, cum play, fingering, jerking off, cinderella + fem!reader, prince charming!tobio kageyama.

✧ fairy godmother's note - yurrr three for three ! i really enjoyed writing this one and i hope you like it as much as i enjoyed it at the time !! ily guys see you in the next one :D - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ☆

“it’s a perfect fit…”

luck has never been on your side. up until now — it was almost like the universe had turned its back on you. your mother’s spirit had faded before you’d even opened your eyes to the colours of the world and not long after, your father passed away… leaving you with his wicked wife and scornful step-sisters. 

for years, all you’ve known are the painful wounds of cruelty inflicted by their hands. nights of tending sore arms and legs and joints after tending to their every incredulous need. you hardly remember the feeling of love — its warm embrace and tender touch, love to you is an emotion that died with your father when you laid him to rest as a young girl. you’ve been down on your luck ever since then, never knowing if you’d ever be able to experience the same feeling ever again. 

for one night only, you’d managed to get a taste. the sweet sensation of love and affection bursting across your tongue on the night that you’d danced at the royal ball where the king and queen’s only son sought out a beautiful bride. out of all the girls, ladies and princesses there — kageyama had chosen you. danced with you non-stop. laughed with you all night. looked at you as if you were the only girl in the entire world for hours on end. for one night, you felt whole again, happy once more, whether that was down to fairy godmother’s magic or your own subtle charm.

but now, with the crown prince of your kingdom on his knee before you, you can see that your dance meant more than just a fleeting moment.

tobio kageyama of royal blood had practically searched the ends of the earth for a foot that fit perfectly into the glass slipper you’d left behind. by his own will and determination he’d wanted to find you, to love you and make you his — this very reasoning causes your stomach to swim with hope and newfound excitement. this could be it.

the change you’ve been looking for and the love you’ve been seeking all your life. “the shoe…it fits,” kageyama repeats breathily, the prince’s usual stoic expression quickly replaced with an adoring and charming smile that sends a pang straight through your beating heart and directly into your longing soul. “it’s you, you’re the one i’ve been looking for.” 

with a twist of his wrist and his lips dangerously close to your knee — the prince wriggles the glass slipper ( now cleaned of any blood and bits left from your spiteful step siblings cutting off their own toes ) onto your foot, his chest a little lighter and his deep ocean eyes a lot brighter when it slides on without resistance.

“it’s me,” you beam, much to the bitter dismay of the only family you’d known throughout your years. the family that never truly loved you. “you’ve found me…” 

leaning up to grasp your hands, stained black with the cinders from the fire you usually prod and poke at to keep alive, kageyama lets out an airy laugh robust with his own joy and excitement. “and i’m never letting you go, never losing you again. marry me, would you?” one of his thumbs moves to brush tenderly over your ring finger and any sunlight filtering into the room refracts off of your glass slipper — perfectly illuminating the mysterious azure swirling in the prince’s eyes. 

he cocks his head to the side; innocent and pleading like a puppy — and you know right then and there that you’d be a fool to let a great love like this pass you by after all that you’ve been through. “oh kageyama,” you coo shyly, basking in the way that the prince shudders as his name peers from between your precious lips. “of course i’ll marry you!”

and just like that, your fate and newfound happiness are sealed. the crown prince leaps to his feet to twirl you in his arms, lips pressing to yours and acting as a signature to sign off on your new life and love. you’re wanted, you’re loved and by a prince no less.

but even then, you remain unsure if you even deserve it all. 

these doubts are only exacerbated after your first few days at the palace, which pass in an overwhelming blur. 

despite the cruelty in which they’d treated you with, you don’t get to say goodbye to your step-family, nor pick out and see your belongings as they’re packed up for your new home in the king’s castle. in the same day that you’re moved into the towering palace, full of high ceilings and art deco so expensive you can feel your worth drop at every piece you admire — wedding preparations swiftly begin and you’re once more bombarded with all sorts of questions. how do you like your cake? your wedding colours? what style do you want your hair? how many guests? the royal servants mean well, you know, but they give you no room to breathe — as someone not accustomed to a lifestyle where your every need is met in a millisecond and you, yourself are not expected to wait hand and foot on someone else. 

anxiety replaces the traces of elation that had once flushed its way through your system, beginning in the four chambers of your heart. how do you know that you’re cut out for this? going from poverty to a princess? there are no classes to teach you how to step up and rule a kingdom after having notably nothing for your entire life. you’re in desperate need of guidance, the gentle direction of the one man relying on you to help create a beautiful, powerful kingdom now and for the many years to come, you have just that, you have the ring of a crown prince on your finger but…

but, you hardly see tobio as the days go by. the very first night he was whisked off by the many men and royal guard to celebrate his engagement. one moment, he appears by your side — frustratingly handsome, with darkened sapphire eyes that rival the countless Crown Jewels you’ve been shown during your stay, a jaw hard set and angular that makes your knees weak while he explains his demands for your wedding to any staff who may question your choices and a smile so rare that your entire world flips on its axis to disorientate you and like you’re drowning in the palace kitchen’s fresh batch of hot sugar whenever he sends it your way. you consider yourself lucky to be betrothed to such a man, all because of a slipper. 

in those far and few moments where the dark haired prince has time to put aside for you — tobio cannot keep his hands off of you. either settling them on your waist or keeping them interlocked with his. you shudder at the sensation of his nose brushing over your hairline or his lips on the very ring he’d given you — a moonlight silver band with a sapphire gem just like his eyes, all for you. ever since you slipped between his fingers at the royal ball he’s been terrified to let you go, as though you might disappear for good. he doesn’t say it, you can hardly read past his stony expression and stern voice ( used only around others, never when you’re alone together ), but you can feel it when he squeezes your hand in passing and hidden away in the intensity of his stare.

you’d be lying if you said you don’t feel the same, frightful that your Prince Charming will be ripped away along with the happiness that you now have. like when your father died and left you with that wicked woman. but before you have a chance to treasure your prince and seek his reassurances, tobio is off again, leaving you surrounded by an ocean of doubts and fears that you’ll never live up to yet another family’s expectations. 

a pauper to a princess, and next, a queen. 

is your love for each other enough to qualm your unease? 

even if the queen finds you pleasant and the king finds you beautifully perfect for his son upon introduction — none of them phased by their son’s choice in bride. a commoner of no noble blood but thoughts of being out of place eat at you all day, even with kageyama so subtly affectionate by your side.

you’ve come from nothing, by no means cut out to be a royal, and still… everyone wants you here. including kageyama.

and you just can’t help but feel like an imposter.

by nightfall, a week later, the maids have settled into a regular routine of drawing you a buttermilk bath with honey and rose petals.

scrub brushes and soft cotton cloths work at the stubborn grit on your skin — washing away the memories of the turbulent life you once lived. the cinders from under your nails add a darkness to the milky water like a drop of ink on a blank white canvas, a reminder of the commonness you exuded before moving  into the  palace to be with your prince. the sight makes you press your lips into a thin line, your wet tongue gliding over the chapped skin nervously. if the maids notice yet more remaining dirt from your past, they fail to comment on it. 

now with soft scented skin and a dampness to the back of your neck — they aid in dressing you, baby blue silks and cotton white tule is draped over your frame under the dazzling moonlight as they help prepare you for bed. a time that you dread, where you’re left alone with your insecurities once more. 

with your wedding to the crown prince but a week away, the royal staff have kept proper tradition in making sure the two of you remain apart until the wedding night. that, coupled with the fact that you hardly see kageyama during the day, only add to the sting of loneliness and self doubt filtering through your veins. like lemon juice on an open wound. 

“we’ll be back to dress you in the morning, your highness,” your lady in waiting tells you, a tone of patience cushioning the fall of her voice as the group of maide leave you the mirror to admire your solemn reflection. parting your lips, they move around the syllables of your name — debating on correcting her and telling her to use it in place of ill-fitting titles. you decide on the latter, shaking your head ‘yes’ while offering up a timid smile in response. it’s far too early to start speaking out of turn; treating your staff as your step-mother would have treated you. “should you need anything, please ring for us m’lady.”

your head bobs shyly once again and the maids take their leave. “thank you, i will.” 

despite the quiet of the night, where every soul lays sleeping soundly under the stars and watchful eye of the silver moon, your mind and heart are restless — wide awake. you’re alone and you should be excited. you’re about to marry a prince and become a royal and all you can think about is the bed that’s too soft beneath your back and the clothes that are too fancy to be worn as they itch and scratch at your freshly scrubbed skin. the ceilings of your private quarters are way too high, providing a wide space for your panic to fill — constantly reminding you of the fact that you don’t belong. 

leaving you with the sinking feeling that you still have to leave by midnight.

before long, the hours tick by and sleep continues to escape you — every insecurity and doubt you have weighs heavy on your mind like a winter blanket instead of a peaceful slumber that you crave… periodically interrupted by the hoot of an owl and… knocking? 

abruptly sitting straight up in bed, you toss the covers to the side all too quickly — blinking the sadness and sleep deprivation away. “c-come… come in!” you call to the culprit, swallowing down your nerves as your lady in waiting from earlier enters with a small curtesy. you scramble out of bed clumsily to return the gesture, still not used to the royal treatment. “is something wrong?”

the maid smiles fondly, taking a liking to how jumpy you are. “the prince has requested your presence in his chambers tonight.”

“o-oh!” while relief and nervousness floods through all four limbs of your body and anticipation crackles over your brain like a thunderstorm kicking into gear — you can’t help but to question the  crown prince’s motives. why would kageyama want to see you so late at night? was he having doubts too? was he worried sick? isn’t this.. improper? 

observing how you fiddle with the silver band of your engagement ring — your maid must sense your thoughts as they pollute the air with scents of unsureness or nervousness because she takes a tentative step into the room, grasping your attention, to provide a reassuring explanation. “he thinks you might be lonely… i think he misses you too, my dear.”

to hear that you’ve not been the only one craving affection from your lover has you perking up — your shoulders a little lighter and the burden of assimilation relieved. slightly. it proves to you that kageyama is still as caring and thoughtful as he was that night at the ball, your heart leaps to know that he’s thinking of you also. “do i…do i need to bring anything?” 

“no, just yourself your highness,” coos your maid in amusement, offering her arm as you pull yourself from bed — eager to meet with your future husband once more. 

after a short walk from your room to his, guided by candlelight, you’re pushed into the crown prince’s quarters without warning, flinching as large oak double doors creak shut behind your back. leaving you locked and enveloped in the darkness of four foreign walls. your breath hitches once you meet a pair of ocean eyes and a midnight dark gaze, your own adjusting to the dark veil cloaking the room’s lighting. once your vision has settled, you take note of tobio’s figure sitting on the edge of his bed, as if he’s been waiting for you with muted eagerness all this time.

for a moment, or what feels like eternity, neither of you say anything — your baited breaths tickle the cool night air, neither of you can will yourself to move and reach for one another’s embrace despite how much you’ve truly missed each other. it’s almost as if you’re seeing him for the first time and he’s seeing you all over again. recounting the night at the ball, where tobio was forcibly stopped in his tracks by your beauty and your grace. where he felt the beat of his heart slow so much he thought he might have died and gone to heaven. it’s only then that he remembers just how real you are, that he pushes himself off of the bed and takes longing, timid steps towards you at the far end of his room. 

almost as though he’s about to ask you for another midnight dance.

“tobio i—“ you rasp, swallowing down the yearning tone acting as a blockade for your words in the base of your throat. there’s so much that you want to tell him and reassurances that you want to ask of the dark haired prince, words that never come and only die prematurely on your tongue. everything with tobio is brand new and rushed, you would hate to ruin the connection with your insecurities. but you need him, right now, you need him to reach out to you and console you — craving his warmth and the beat of his heart you’re sure only syncs up with your own. 

you need him and he knows that you do. 

tobio kageyama has never been the best at comforting others. growing up an only child and in his own kind of privileged solitude, he’d never had the need to provide sympathetic symphonies or kind hearted whispers — he was a prince. it had never and would never be his purpose in life. born to serve a kingdom left in his name, tobio was to be only one thing. a charming, strong willed ruler. at least, until he'd met you. until he saw you just inches away from the centre of his room, swimming for words and while your doe eyes searched desperately for a solace in him. in your future king, husband and lover. a solace he now felt he absolutely, instinctually needed to provide. 

as long as you were with him, you’d only feel safety and serenity, that was the new mantle tobio kageyama would take up. 

in three short strides he’s across the room, tobio’s smooth large hands cupping the apples of your cheeks as he guides you into looking up at him. “i missed you,” he says the words for you, azure eyes dancing across your face as though to commit every detail to memory. the way your brows creasing the centre of your forehead and the way your lips droop into a needy pout. he kisses you next, unexpected, but slow and gentle — coaxing a sigh of content from your warm mouth. he feels your lashes flutter shut against his pale toned cheeks, and your body melt into his sturdy frame like butter. like you’re being welcomed home — your dainty fingers grip his wrist to keep yourself there. “i thought you might be lonesome… we haven’t been together all week.” 

nodding, your eyes remain shut because you fear if you open them — you’ll wake up from a dream. but tobio’s free hand on your waist, squeezing, grounds you and reminds you that your engagement to the prince is a reality. “the palace has been overwhelming without you,” you admit, feeling the dark haired prince’s fingers slip into your own. 

with a keening whine, you lean into the now empty space where your lover’s hand once was. kageyama grins subtly, wisps of fondness pulling the corners of his lips upwards into a crooked smile. “you seem tense. come lay with me, my princess.” comes his delicate whisper, quiet so that the night remains undisturbed, almost afraid that he's speaking too loud will cause you to shatter into a million tiny pieces. you know that the crown prince will hold you together if you fall apart and allow yourself ushered towards his king sized bed positioned where he stood just minutes ago.

kageyama’s hold on your waist is firm, reassuring — his large palm covering a wide expanse on the small of your back. you’d be a fool to say you didn’t enjoy the sweltering sensation of his touch burning through your thinly veiled night clothes. a liar to say you weren’t imagining his touch going any further. there’s a brief moment where the dark haired prince twirls you in his arms, much like a swift movement from the ballroom, before the backs your knees hit the edge of his bed and you fall into its plush swan-feather mattress.

flustered and bewildered, your once heavy eyelids shoot open to look up at your prince while you scoot backwards onto the bed by the force of your elbows — your breathing grows uneven and mismatched, throat bobbing as you swallow the delightful anticipation brewing within from watching tobio expertly crawl up the bed to pin you against it. athletic and rugged arms that have wielded many a weapon cage you against luxury silken sheets — a pair of wild admiral blue eyes drink you in as ig you’re the last glass of water on earth while pale, milky cheeks glow fiery rose above you.

kageyama’s breath fans warmly over your face, his expression stubbornly contorting to reveal his late night desire for one thing. 

you.

his vulnerable dame who looks oh so pretty under the glinting moonlight.

“tell me,” he murmurs to you hoarsely, the bend of his index finger brushing over your cheeks which turns into his hand when he moves his feather light touch the plains of your unmarked neck. possessively. “why is it that you cannot sleep?”

at first, you’re taken aback by your lover’s question. there are many reasons you could list, starting with the abrupt change to your lifestyle. your home sickness and even, the fact that you miss him…but as kageyama’s gentle hand cascades like the calm flow of a river over your shoulders, collarbone and even dangerously close to your heaving chest — you lose the answer in the hazy fog of your mind. “m-many things, my prince,” you stutter out breathlessly, smaller-than-his fingers lunging at his wrist to hold his hand in place above your heartbeat. “right now… it’s your touch. i hadn’t realised how much i…needed it. how it makes my heart race.” heated tension in the air mounts like a stack of bricks, cemented together by a neediness neither of you have felt before. 

the desire for human touch and closeness, the temperate buzz of love that’s new to the both of you.

it clings to every molecule of air in the room, weighing you both down with a contagious cloying cloudiness. both of you sick with a scorching proclivity that has you feverish all over. you need to touch him, you need to kiss him, to be with your tobio kageyama or you have no idea what will happen. will the world end if you don’t feel your skin against his? will the two of you go up in flames if you don’t get any closer? 

the sounds of sheets shifting in the night bring your attention back to the real world. your lover adjusts, the entirety of his lean frame, keeping you trapped against cotton peaks. “i’m afraid i feel the same, i find it hard to keep myself from touching you,” your browns furrow cutely at tobio’s strangled words, throat running dry as you note the prince’s seemingly internal struggle to stay sane above you. to make sure he doesn’t do something you might both regret. “i find it hard to believe that you’re mine...” 

“tobio, please i—“

whatever you had planned on saying dies on the tip of your tongue the moment tobio kageyama kisses you for the second time that night. this one is different from the first, fuelled by delirious passion instead of the need to comfort — his tongue laps at the small part between your ruby lips from where you’ve gasped in surprise. kageyama tastes you and tastes you, lapping up whatever flavour lies in your mouth — sweet enough to make moan darkly from the depths of his princely soul as he breathes hungrily into your mouth. almost relieved to finally have his pressed against your own after holding himself back. you take it, you taste it, you let your back arch itself into the broad width of his chest and wolf down everything he gives you. the first drops of his saliva as it oozes onto the palette of your tongue, his eager huffs that clouded your mind and make you feel as if you’ve been poisoned.

the world slows and the night turns silent for the two of you. wet smacks of your lips slotting together perfectly echo to the highest point of the ceiling in the prince’s chambers — heat rises in the room as well, kageyama’s touch turning to veiny hands pinning you beneath him using a brutish grip on your waist. not that you’re complaining.

but in an instant, tobio is pulling off of you — breaking away from the kiss like he’s been doused with a bucket of ice cold water from the kitchens. “i’m… i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have—“ the dark haired prince’s nose turns to nudge against your youthful cheek, hot and wet lips now running down to the junction between your neck and shoulders like a tamed stream of warm water. “s-sorry, i’m not sure what came over me.”

compared to his usual stoic expressions and tones, the kageyama before you now looks as though he’s fallen ill, the tips of his ears, nose and apples of his cheeks are all tinged with a rose blush and his chest rises and falls at a rapid, uncomfortable pace. confusion intertwines itself with the beat of your heart and must show on the details of your face, for your lover’s mouth moves to form the question ‘are you alright?’ that is quickly interrupted by your own hazy actions. you pull tobio back onto you by the roots of his dark hair with one hand, the other tilting his chin down towards you. each of his kisses, growing sloppier and sloppier; feel real — not like the fever dream you’ve been walking through since moving into the palace. 

“i can’t…i can’t believe that you’re mine either,” you hum between the pattern of mismatched kisses against swollen lips, letting out a tune of innocent moans like the finest music to your lover’s ears. your shaky fingers curl in kageyama’s soft baby hairs — keeping him close, although the force of your lip locks cause your head to tilt back into the plush array of pillows. 

everything is so hot and passionate and brand new to you, you must be losing your mind. with your eyes fluttering open, you realise that you’ve never seen kageyama look at you so darkly, his own eyes till of sensuality and mirth. you can tell from just a brief glance the depth of his desire for you, he’s waited far too long to have you like this. and now, the sexual tension is obvious.

his rough tongue slips from your mouth to the corner of your lips, dragging a loving trail of wetness down to your prominent collarbones — the prince dares to leave a dark mark in a colour that rivals the midnight skies outside, basking in the cute bleats you let out periodically and the way your nose scrunched up adorably at the pleasure he gives you. using the pointed edge of his teach, kageyama moves to pull down the baby blue, tule bolero the maids had dressed you in — hungrily inching it off of your shoulders while a free hand slides down to play with the doughy, smooth skin of your thighs. almost filling beneath the hem of your nightdress. 

gasping in surprise, you resist the urge to bolt upwards — tentatively tugging tobio by the hair away from you to garner his attention.

“w-wait! what about our wedding night?”

a touch of condescending laughter lays wetly on kageyama’s kiss swollen lips, pulling them back just enough to see toothy smirk and pearly white teeth. “what about it?” without missing another beat he swoops down to steal another salacious smooch from you, tongue edging past the weak seal of your mouth to roll around and toy with your own. he can practically taste the nervous desire on you as he steadies a hand above your head to ground himself. “we’re set to be married shortly. surely i can indulge in my future wife before then…” 

judging by his movements, such as his tightened grip on the headboard above your head and the bounce of his lips between his perfect teeth, you can tell that tobio remains intent on kissing you. not that you can blame him; it’s the most you’ve tasted of one another since your arrival at the palace. but you will yourself to speak and for once, to voice your concern — knowing that your partner will still love you at the other end of your words. “my prince i…i-i haven’t,” inhaling deeply through your nose, you steal your nerves and fight the sweet mewls that brew like a storm at the back of your throat — a natural response to kageyama who now insists on peppering kisses at the base of your neck (since he could not have your lips). “i have not experienced this before. a-and i want you, i do! i’d just… i’d like for our wedding night to be…” 

the crown prince pauses his actions, his dizzy and lustful stare darting up to meet yours whilst his dark, midnight hair no longer tickles your neck. “special?”

“special.” you repeat with a wavering nod of your head. 

a beat passes where neither of you speak and the silence is filled by your ragged panting. for a second, just a split second, you’re afraid that tobio might not understand or may even reject you but just as he were earlier — he lets a tender smile tug in the corners of his soft lips (reserved only for you) as a thread of adoration weaves itself between the jet black flecks in his darkened eyes. “i don’t want to do anything you might regret or that you wouldn’t ask me for…” he murmurs huskily, leaning down so that the words press against the shell of your ear and cause you to arch your back desperately.

“i have no regrets… not right now i just,” you whine into the night, gripping kageyama’s for some kind of the to reality. “want to go slower, not all the way…”

“not all the way…” the prince muses hungrily, smoothing over your inner calf. you feel his teeth tug at your earlobes as tobio’s tone dips into low and sexy territory — setting the butterflies in your tummy alight with newfound lust. “then it’s alright with you…i’d still like to ease you, to touch you. it might help you sleep.” he reaches down, lips ghosting over the faint adam’s apple in your throat, grinning as it bobs beneath his touch. “i promise to be gentle.” 

“promise?” 

“you have my sworn word.” 

you blink up at the crown prince with big doe eyes, willing him to see the trust laced within them. “okay…i’m okay with more.”

kageyama makes haste in his next movements — undoing the poorly tied ribbon holding your bolero together and pushing your nightgown all the way off of your shoulders. a hand squeezes yours reassuringly the more fabric he peels away from your trembling frame. endearing praises, hushed whispers of ‘good girl,’ and ‘you’re so beautiful’, are written across your marked flesh in tobio’s signature too — all the while he remains careful, considerate of your wish as he presses wet, sloppy kisses onto the surface of your newly exposed skin. an almost pained gasp tears through your throat, stealing all of the air from your lungs, when your prince removed enough of your clothing to expose your breasts to the icy night air. a little more, and your soft, supple stomach is revealed too. 

apprehension tingles below your surface. you’ve never been naked in front of someone before, much less a person that you love. the feeling makes you instinctively cover up  — grip retreating from your loved one’s hair to wrap around the curve of your breasts. effectively shielding them from kageyama’s insatiable view. 

“don’t hide from me, my sweet love,” kageyama coos. “you’re so beautiful. i want to see and have all of you.” pulling your arms down until they rest at your sides, he’s quick to sooth you, an eager mouth immediately encapsulating your hardening nipples, tongue rolling over the circumference of your areola wetly. you can’t help but whimper, fingers jumping up like a twitch and tightening in his midnight locks whilst neither of you dare to look away — gazes locked with a key that’s been long thrown away.

the prince’s face flashes with heat while he languidly flicks at your nipples with the searing hot tip of his tongue, a dazed expression etched across the gentle slope of his handsome features, making him appear as a man who’s stumbled across an oasis — dying for water. his very face right now sets your core alight.

it would be distortion of the truth to say the look painted upon your own features didn’t rival tobio’s. there’s got to be tears somewhere or a glossy pout to match the light sheen of sweat dousing your body. either way, you know that you look a swivel-eyed mess — every touch, kiss, bite and pinch you receive from the crown prince accompanied by the unfamiliar twinge of lust you feel for your future husband currently smothering you into satiny sheets, drives you up a wall that was once many feet high. your blood boils hot, buzzing beneath your skin, so hot you might as well have a fever. it’s all so new for you, so overwhelmingly good that you could die here and be happy, slick and cherished. 

somewhere in the mess of your blistering hot limbs and lusty laments, kageyama bunches the skirts of your night dress at your middle and makes his veiny, large hand comfortable between the apexes of your thighs. you quiver violently and even make a darling noise as tobio goes on to prod a knuckle against the seat of your fresh underwear — chuckling almost mutely at the dampness that soils them in response. “oh princess,” kageyama swallows thickly, amused. “you’re soaking right through these already. poor thing.” 

the way in which the prince purrs down at you, eyes murky and hooded, tone superlicious with notes of superiority only serves to drag you further away from the light above. dragging you under the surface of a desire oh so sinful. 

you realise then that you’d be happy to drown in tobio kageyama.

whether you meant to let it out or not, a pathetic sniffle breaks free from the barriers of your pouty lips and clenched teeth — eliciting a sick and prideful sort of expression on the prince’s handsome face. a face that hardly ever moves or shows any emotion for the people of his kingdom. another secret to be kept between the two of you. this version of the charming prince revels in the way that you squirm against his knuckles and finger tips as they bully your swelling clit relentlessly. basks in the juices that darken your underwear despite the innocent gleam to the tears in your eyes. tears that have yet to fall.

“i can smell just how wet you are, princess,” 

shame begins to curl around your organs, but hardly wins the war against your brewing sexual appetite for the dark haired male licking a withering pathway from the valley of your breasts, down your stomach and over your belly button to the point just above your pelvis. “i-i’m sorry, my prince.” 

while tobio battles between torturing you and nurturing you, a hoarse groan loaded with desire vibrates around the cavity of his chest — vibrating through the bed and shooting to your spasaminf centre.  “don’t be, i take pride in knowing that i have this effect on you.” now settled between your shaky legs, your betrothed blows a bout of warm air against your sex, rubbing at you faster and harder until your thighs instinctively spread wide enough for his dirty-minded gaze. “so pretty, mmph.”

“y-you should…you should see the way you look…down there, my love.” bravely, you somehow manage to talk through your pockets of dulcet whimpers and poor attempts to fill your air with lungs. it’s hard to speak and difficult to breathe when kageyama is busy pressing two fingers to your clothed entrance, fucking the slight resistance of your treacly hole as streams of your premature arousal ruins your panties further. azure eyes loose their vibrant shade at the sight, gaze honed in on the newly defined shape of your puffy folds. 

you’re quick to throw an arm over your face in embarrassment afterwards, however, too afraid that you’ve spoken out of turn with the royal despite your improper predicament.

“oh? what a mouth you have there, sweetheart. how… endearing.” tobio smirks zealously, gaze momentarily flickering up towards your angelic face as it twists with uncharted bliss — all the while, he never stops pinching and rolling your clit, ensuring that you’re soaked through and trembling.  “i thought i told you not to hide, that i wanted to see you while i made you feel good,” he continues on, warning you whilst briefly stopping his assault on your slippery sex to push past the lace trimming on your underwear and teasingly pat the entirety of the treasure hidden behind it.

screwing your eyes shut and scrunching up your nose, your head flies back into the pillows while your thighs instinctively snapping closed around your betrothed’s hand — keeping him trapped against your cunt. “o-oh my gods, tobio!” you cry out loud enough to shake the earth down to its core. even with you whinging and writhing, he doesn’t stop touching you, further building on the pleasure at the base of your spine that threatens to explode. stroking you more and more, the more that you ooze. 

“sorry,” tobio laughs airly and presses a kiss to your inner thigh, using your moment of weakness to pull your limp arm away from your pinched, sweaty face. “such a pretty sound, when you cry out my name,” his kisses move higher, ghosting over your drenched underwear and pulsating pussy. “can you do me a favour, my love?” 

blinking slowly, you attempt to catch a breath in the moment of respite kageyama has given you. you’re hardly there as he tugs your panties off all the way, barely able to register the cool hair now hitting your sticky mound. “hmm?” 

“give me your hand,” he commands. you oblige, reaching for his own hand with the one that once covered your face. you let the crown prince manoeuvre you as he pleases — nearly jolting out of your skin when you feel your own rough padded fingertips brush over your clit. “touch yourself for me.” 

“w-what?” your teary eyes, nearly overcome with sleep, fly wide open in shock. you struggle to sit up where kageyama keeps you pinned. 

he smiles. one of those smiles saved only for you.  “touch yourself for me, i’d like to know how my future wife likes it.” he repeats simply, guiding three of your fingers to gingerly circle your throbbing pleasure bud. “like you would if you were alone. i know that you’ve indulged before, i can see it on your face…”

now is no time to be nervous, after all, for the last thirty minutes your crown prince has had you spread wide open and a mess beneath his skillful fingers — scenting him with the slick from your cunt. although you’ve hardly had the time to touch yourself in the past, between the dizzying demands of your cruel step-mother and her petulant children, you’re able to remember what your body likes. what you like. what gets you there the fastest — and now that you have your own prince to fuel your desires, you no longer need to imagine what it’s like to be claimed. owned. fucked.

free from kageyama’s restraint, you shuffle into a sitting position and timidly circle your clit as it pulses with the rapid beat of your heart. you hiss involuntarily and the dark haired male lets out a surprising, withering whimper — laser focused on how you ooze like a tap with running water. 

“thank you for indulging me,” with pools of marina trench blue engrossed by the way you start to move, the soft jut of your hips into your fingers and the way you bite down on your plump shiny lips to keep the whines in — kageyama presses a wet chaste kiss to the back of your arousal soaked hand and then shuffles to sit back on his haunches. kicking off his briefs and other clothes, he knees on his bed — fighting the urge to blush as you watch his cock spring free.  

he stands tall, erect. tan tip flushed against his creamy pale skin as he leaks a fresh wave of precum all over his tense tummy. just as tobio takes a hold of himself, you push two fingers past the tight ring of your unused entrance — immediately curling them to find the familiar pleasure spots clinging to your sluice walls. like a biological instinct, his hips buck upwards, looking for friction to ease the burn in his erection — blood carrying lusty hormones straight to his leaky tip, keeping him hard.

he’s begging to be touched and you need some motivation. 

scissoring your dainty digits, you work yourself open — fucking your cunt silly, faster and faster the less nervous you become in front of your lover. “t-tobio!” you slur, lashes fluttering against your cheeks while you drench yourself in your own slick. your juices begin to splash against the insides of your supple thighs, wetting them like your tongue wets your lips as you lick them — hungrily waiting for kageyama to do something. anything. “tobi…please! n-need to see you…d-do it too…”

“well since you asked so nicely, my love,” the prince finally takes to palming himself, rolling the pad of his thumb over his blazing mushroomed tip — tapping at the string of precum gathering in its centre. he uses it as lube, squeezing himself to the ruthless rhythm of your cunt spasming around your fingers. matching your pace as if to mimic the way he’s going to fuck you. he looks so pretty and flushed — it pulls whistle tone bleats from between your trembling lips. his midnight blue and stormy eyes cloud with desire at every sound you and your slick hole make, those very sounds thick like molasses as they run through his ears. rotting kageyama from the inside out.  

a house of pleasure built by bricks of bliss builds up at the base of your spine — cemented together and supported by tobio’s constant praise and encouragement. a little faster love. such a good girl. ride those pretty little fingers for me. you’re driven by the sight of his dick in his hand, jerking on it cor dear life and spreading webs of white up and down his shaft with each flick of his wrist. his balls are heavy; loaded with cum that he’s saved all for you; it’s predecessor smeared thickly over his thighs and sheets. maybe you stare for a little too long, locking eyes with the prince carnally, because he laughs over the erotic sounds of your squelching sexes and unified moans.

“it’s fair in size, i know,” he says gruffly, gritting his perfect white teeth — stopping his mouth from watering at your body jerking and your fingers that pull out of your tight heat to trace the length of your juicy slit. “but i’ll make it fit on our wedding night,” kageyama thrusts upwards just as your two of your digits sink back into your creamy clenching cunt. “that’s a promise…fuuuck…”

tears tiptoe over the edge of your waterline in response to the filth pouring from tobio’s mouth, streaking a hot part down the apples of your cheeks that now glisten under the high moon. “that’s what i want; for you to fill me… like no one else,” you sour over the saliva pooling in your mouth — no better than the man himself as you tease your thoroughly fucked cunt, bearing down on your own g-spot. “w-would you… will you cum inside?” you ask over the lewd sounds echoing from your squishy insides as they ring out into the sex tainted air. they form the perfect melody with kageyama’s rough groans and laments, increasing in octave the deeper your digits reach into your pussy. 

your elbows threaten to give out and kageyama can tell that you’re trying so hard to sit up and watch him. pride swells in his chest at your vision, a hand between your pudgy thighs and your salacious curves all on display just for him. your skin; marked with beautiful scars and stretch marks glimmering with a light layer of perspiration. you’re perfect, like an angel sent from heaven to watch over him. and he’s so lucky to have found you. “you’d like that, wouldn’t you. if i creamed that princess cunt of yours, filled you with my seed. bred you until you were carrying an heir. all. for. me.” punctuating his horny rambling, the prince bucks his hips into his soiled fist — stuttering as he goes. “got s-such a filthy mouth on you love, you’ll ruin me with it.”

he’s close. the both of you are. if tobio kageyama falls from grace now, you’ll be right there with him.

you nod rapidly, holding back a choked sob as the bedding below your shaking legs darkens from how your juices spill everywhere. “i want your heir, i want your seed, i want your…oh gods!” tipping your head back, the tail end of your words die in a high pitched squeal that dances in the buzzing air between you. everything burns with how close your release is. you drag your forehand up to your bare chest to you with your nipples — tugging on them harshly. anything to impress your lover, get him close too. 

“want my what?” the dark haired prince howls, squeezing the base of his girth. “so greedy and you’re not even a princess yet. punish yourself for me, love. smack that pretty pussy for me — s’pecially if you won’t finish your words.” tobio’s words waft over your mind like a fog over a swamp, pulling a veil of impurity over any remaining thoughts you might have had. dopamine crackles around in your emptied skull, twirling around the ring of your fluttering hole. you gush and gush and gush, pouring the royal family’s future riches out onto the bed like an endless stream of erotica when you pull out from your selfish heat. “come on, love, keep movin’ for me… slap that pretty princess cunt. make your prince proud.” 

“tobio!” you mewl for the millionth time under the midnight moon and bring your hand down against your mound in a harsh slap, kageyama’s entire body shuddering at the loud wail you let out. like a songbird chirping for him in the morning. a stream of your juices fly up your arm, glaze the apex of your thighs like icing on a cake as a result. some even reaching the prince himself — drawing a languid lament from him. “s-so close…think i’m going to…”

you cut yourself off, spanking your pussy again and again and again until the prince’s head is heavy with the sound of your broken whines and pap of your sex replaying repeatedly in his mind. “oh you’re so good, so perfect for me love,” his cock twitches, an incredulous amount of his seed waiting for you. his lucky love, his beautiful betrothed, his princess to be. “me too, love. me too, me too, me too,” he’s right behind you, tobio trying to keep his cool and his movements steady but lasciviousness coagulates in the tone of his unsteady voice while he fucks his hand like a mock up of your pussy. “c’mere, beautiful. come here.” 

despite commanding you, kageyama reaches you first — his lean frame collapsing over you as if to shield your sins from the world. the seedy tip of his cock presses hotly against the length of your slit, right over your fingers still moving swiftly over your throbbing cunt. you feel everything, overwhelmed by the humid air between your sweaty bodies — the prince’s lips as they capture yours and the pulsing veins twisting around his cock decoratively. 

the dark haired heir to the thrown continues to gist the base of his erection  — freehand grasping desperately onto the headboard to steady himself as his high quickly approaches. your own freehand finds purchase on the bag of his neck, toying with the damp baby hairs there while the two of you exchange loving, lasting lip-locks. tasting the affection and sweat on one another’s Cupid’s bows. 

it’s this way that the two of you reach your climaxes. it hits you like a thunderstorm over an ocean, dragging you under the surface of white hot bliss. the bricks that were building high walls of pleasure in your lower tummy come crashing down with your orgasm — and you know then that they were either never steady or that tobio kageyama was the only one strong enough to break them down. you cum hard, juices splashing out onto the sheets, painting your lover’s shaft and expelling a musky sent into the heavy air. you scream as it washes over you — souring the man above you on.

“gods…fuck, my love. i love you, love you, love you.” tobio makes the fall not long after you, finishing himself off right over your clit — nudging his cockhead against your abused mound until viscous droplets of milky white cover it, seeping between your fat pussy lips. he cant help but look as he floods your slit with seed, choking on a moan at the sight and releasing the poor headboard from his clutches. “you’re so perfect,” he peppers your face with smooches, all of them gentle and carefully placed to soothe you. even as they cascade down your neck, sternum and eventually hover over your sensitive sex. “i c-can’t stop now, have to taste you.”

not a drop of cum, from you or from tobio, will be wasted tonight.

securing his grip on the globes of your ass, kageyama pulls you into his impatient and eager tongue. he starts by opening wide, slotting his mouth against the entirety of your ruined folds — immediately sucking all of the cum and juices from them and moaning as if they’re the first flavours to hit his tongue after being starved for a millennia. the vibrations make you spiral and arch from the bed, reaching for the high heavens. the tip of his tongue wriggles past your slick entrance, the movement eased by how your fingers stretched you out. it flickers in an upward motion, making you see stars like those of the Milky Way between sloppy and uncoordinated kisses.

he’s eating you out for not just your pleasure, but his own, hungry and rabid — filling you up as you cry and cry at the overstimulation. you taste so good, the prince will drink you dry if he has to. tobio slurps what you leak, pushing his saliva in and out of your messy hole while you keenly rut into his face — effectively covering his puffy lips and chin in liquid gold. your own face feels tight and hot, throat raw from moaning so loud. 

your betrothed can't help but moan with you in tandem, whimpering pathetically at every roll of your cunt onto his tongue — forcing him to eat his cum out of you. “tobi, it feels… it feels—!” you pant and grasp at his sweaty hair — tugging him further into your cunt, making him wriggle deeper inside, against pleasure points you had no idea existed along your own ribbed walls. he latches onto your clit and rolls it between his teeth mercilessly until your nails are clawing at his scalp and the air in your throat escapes you. 

rapture tears you apart and pieces you back together all in one — evident in the way your cunt gushes into his mouth like a fruitful stream. there’s no room to breathe or cope between kageyama’s tongue pinned to your clit and the content gripes he lets out between your soaked thighs. by now he’s probably cleaned his release from you, yours too but he doesn’t dare stop until he’s replaced the mess with a new orgasm from you.

briefly, the prince pulls away from your pussy — tied to you by a rope of cloudy elixir leaked from your hole. a mix of him and you. a visual representation of your union to one. “such a good girl,” he snarls so deep you hardly recognise, but it makes you clench around nothing — pushing cum you didn’t know was there out of your entrance. “chase that feeling, don’t let it go, love.” he goads, spreading your thighs apart even more just to watch the webs of your arousal form and break apart. “so messy… are you close for me, princess?” 

you nod rapidly, tearily, and kageyama sighs dreamily, licking your lips at the sight of your mound glistening under the night’s natural light. he licks you up and down with fever and newfound video — focused on pushing you over the edge once more. the crown prince hooks his strong arms around your thighs and anchors you to his hot, hardworking mouth because he knows that you’re so shaky from the euphoria pulsing in your bloodstream that you’re too weak to do it on your own.  

your betrothed tongues his words wetly into your overstimulated sex. “show me how messy you can get, princess. make my face wet with it. so sticky. so good.” 

“c-cumming! tobio…please!” with a high pitched squeal, your release hits you just as the world around you fades to white and tobio is with you right the way through. his pink tongue flicks at your sluice sex hungrily, brushing over your g-spot to guide you to the other side of your high. it shoots out of you in clear streams, dousing the man between your legs in everything that belongs to you. like some form of ownership. 

you screw your eyes shut to stop the static buzzing behind them. your jaw goes slack and your body falls limp, you tremble so hard that kageyama has to reach up and scoop you into his arms to calm you down. a soft grip tilts your chin towards him as he kisses you once again, allowing you to suck your own flavour from his tongue and eventually settles between your legs. hugging you close to him. 

“i love you,” you bleat gently, finally coming to. how could you not. he’s your prince charming and he’s shown you that he feels the same. 

kageyama shifts, expression melting into one of those special smiles for you. “i love you…” 

for some reason, you feel the need to return the favour — reaching down between your bodies and intertwined limbs for his cock which you know is hardening again. but the dark haired prince is quick to grab your wrist, bringing it up to his swollen lips for a gentle kiss against your pulse point. “don’t,” he mutters against the skin there, tasting your sweat with a teasing lick. “sleep, my princess. we’ll have plenty of time to learn the rest later. on our wedding night, remember.” 

the prince wriggles his eyebrows, eliciting sleepy and heartfelt laughter from you. “but—“

“an eternity, remember.” he reaches for your other hand and laces your fingers firmly. a reminder that he’s never leaving you. not now. not ever. “you are to be my wife, in my arms where you belong and away from your cruel past. i want you as you are and will teach you whatever you want to know. just rest, for now. sleep my love.”

you remain silent for just a moment, mind racing with a million things to say. though, for tonight, you settle on but one thing — despite having said it a million times tonight. “i love you, my prince.” you whisper tiredly, cupping his handsome face with adoration.

“and i, you. forever more, my princess.” your lover, tobio kageyama, parrots back to you tenderly. the clock strikes for once for an hour past midnight — indicating your new chance at life, that you’ve stayed at the ball beyond the twelfth stroke of the clock  and you feel your eyes getting heavy, drifting off in your prince charming’s arms.

the end.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai & recommend elsewhere.

[undressrehearsal]

dare to be stupid

summary: a drunken game of truth or dare overtakes your study session

tags: NSFW, tlou au, college!ellie/reader, mentions of drugs, alcohol, drunk sex, oral (r receiving)

a/n: listen idk how this turned into 7.5k. idk what happened. also this is my first time writing smut. idk if the sex is good but it was already so long. if y'all like this one i'll write a sequel or something idk

part 2

“Truth or dare?” 

It had become a tradition for the two of you shortly after moving in together. It was common for the air in your tiny apartment to grow heavy, the stress and anxiety tangible in the air - often around midterms or finals, or if your roommate had a particularly infuriating project. During these times when the bags under your eyes grew too heavy to carry or the lines around your roommate's mouth deepened into canyons, one of you would barge into the other's bedroom - frequently in disarray with notes and textbooks strewn across every surface - slam a bottle of vodka down on the desk, and utter those stupid, little three words, and the game would begin.

And so you didn't even jump when you heard your bedroom door slam against the wall, heavy boots against the carpet. You had been bent over your desk for so long that your neck ached, your eyes swimming with letters that didn't quite make sense and didn't fit into any of the medical terms laid out on your flashcards. When Ellie slammed the bottle of vodka on your desk, you blinked your eyes clear and looked up to meet her eyes. 

She smirked when she said, “Truth or dare?” 

You didn't waste time in clearing off your desk, shoving your books and cards aside into a toppling pile. Ellie, without waiting for permission, set a shot glass down in front of you, kicked off her boots, and plopped back onto your bed. 

Scooting your chair closer, you propped your feet up against the mattress, pursed your lips, and said, “Truth.” 

Ellie groaned, flopping over onto her side and propping her chin in her hand. She had stripped off her jacket, leaving her in a dark t-shirt that almost made her skin look pale in the low light from your desk lamp. “You're such a fucking pussy.” 

You rolled your eyes even as a grin pulled at your lips. “I've known you for too long, Els, and I know that I need a few shots before I'm willing to shove anything anywhere for your amusement. So, respectfully, eat my ass.” 

“You'll have to dare me to,” she quipped back immediately. She wrinkled her nose as you choked back a laugh, tapping a finger against her lips. You tried to ignore how endlessly cute it was as she said, “Where's the weirdest place you've pissed?” 

Another sound burst from your lips, some mixture of a laugh and a shout. You gaped at her, watching as a laugh crept up, a smile tugging at her lips. 

Shaking your head, you said, “Weird, but that's a pretty tame one. Not gonna ask me about my favorite sex position or if I ever snuck drugs into our dorm room last year?” 

Ellie only shrugged. “Gotta warm you up a bit first, babe.” You ignored the way your heart jumped at such an innocent word. After a moment's pause, she added, “But have you?” 

“You'll just have to ask me. One truth per round, bitch.” You pretended to think about it for a moment, though you already had your answer. “Okay, so you remember when we first signed the lease here and we were a bit short on rent?” 

Ellie nodded, her brows furrowed in confusion. 

“Like, a week before it was due, some girl on Tinder hit me up. She was passing through town and only staying for the night, and she was bored. So, she paid me.” 

Ellie's frown deepened. “To, what, have sex with her?” 

Laughter bubbled up your chest as you said, “No, she paid me to piss in her mouth.” 

There was silence for several long moments. Ellie’s jaw hung loose, her eyes wide as she simply stared at you. Several emotions flashed across her face like a movie reel - confusion, shock, disbelief - before finally landing on pure, unfiltered amusement. The corners of her lips quirked up, her open mouth turning up at the corners until a loud, sharp laugh burst from her throat. When Ellie laughed - really, truly laughed - she did it with her chest, a sound so fathomless and full it filled up whatever room she was in. 

In your small bedroom, her laughter bounced off the walls, echoing in the alley outside of your open window. You couldn’t contain your own giggles, muffling your laughter with a hand over your mouth, snorting as Ellie buried her face in your mattress. 

When she finally looked up, her eyes filled with tears, she only said, around her subdued giggles, “How much?” 

You grinned. “$200.” 

Ellie’s mouth fell open again - you’d have to pick it up from the floor at this rate. “Dude, you’re fucking with me.” 

“I swear,” you said, holding up your hand like a scout. “I’ll show you the Venmo if you don’t believe me.”

Ellie fell back against the bed, throwing her head back. “You have to go find this chick on Missed Connections, she can help with the rent.” 

You threw one of your pens at her. Catching it in midair, she stuck the end in her mouth to chew on it. You wrinkled your nose at her, but she only grinned, the pen hanging from the corner of her lips. 

“You're so gross,” you said, though you were still giggling. 

“Bold words from you, Piss Girl. That's, like, the worst superhero name in existence.” 

You threw your hands up, trying your hardest to glare at her and failing miserably. “Hey, $200 is $200. I'm not one to kinkshame.” Ellie threw the pen back at you. You grimaced when it hit your arm, leaving a small spot of spit on your sleeve before clattering to the floor. “God, it's your turn. Truth or dare, bitch?”

Propping herself up on her elbows, Ellie said, “Dare.” A grin pulled at her lips, her voice low as she added, “Because I'm not a fucking pussy.” You stuck your tongue out at her, ignoring her when she mockingly said, “Mature.” 

Your desk was pressed up next to the only window in the room, cracked open to let the cool autumn air in. Your curtains fluttered in the breeze, the dying sunlight creeping in, casting light like liquid gold over Ellie’s skin. As you thought, scrambling to think of a suitable dare, you could not control how your eyes grazed over her exposed skin, the sunlight dipping in her collarbones like pools of ichor. 

Blinking, you met her eyes once more, your throat tight. Your words came out almost choked when you said, “Okay, I dare you to make a spicy two-sentence story about something in this room.”

Ellie scoffed, sitting up and kicking her legs over the side of your bed. “I’m gonna take a wild guess that your drawer of sex toys is off limits?” 

You sputtered, stammering over your own tongue as you felt heat rush to your ears. “Yes, that’s off limits. You don’t even know what’s in there!” 

Ellie hummed, standing up from the bed and taking a few steps around the room. She didn’t look at you, but you could hear that fucking smirk when she said, “That’s what you think, babe.” 

You watched her, tracking her movements as she slowly stepped around your room, scanning for inspiration. Your bedroom was about what you’d expect from a broke, overworked college student - aside from the furniture that came with the place, it was pretty barren. Ellie scanned the little touches you did have - her finger traced over the Funko Pop of Zuko on your bedside table, her eyes lingering on the pile of fantasy books you kept atop your dresser. She smiled at the posters hung crookedly on your walls, depictions of your favorite video games. She hummed again, looking back at you over her shoulder. 

“So many options to choose from,” she murmured, running her finger along your jewelry box. She had her face turned away, so you could only see the corner of her smirk as she lifted the lid, pulling one of your necklaces from its home. You watched her warily as she approached you, the chain dangling from her slim fingers. She stepped behind you, out of your line of sight, and slipped the necklace over your head, the cold metal resting against your collarbone. 

“She looped the chain around her lover’s neck like a collar,” Ellie said. You felt her cool fingers against the back of your neck, hooking around the chain and pulling it gently against your throat. You coughed against the awkward silence; your roommate had always been a little handsy, but this was something else entirely. What the fuck is she doing? you thought. “She pulled it taut against her throat and leaned in to whisper,” you felt Ellie’s lips against your ear, her rough voice sending a chill up your spine when she murmured, “good girl.”

Reaching back, you shoved Ellie’s head away; her laughter echoed through the room as she rounded in front of you, sitting back against your bed and grinning. 

“Oh, you’re so fucking proud of yourself aren’t you?” you teased, trying - and failing - to keep your cheeks from turning red. Your skin felt aflame, a tingle lingering right where Ellie’s lips had pressed to your ear. You rubbed at the spot under the pretense of scratching your head, willing the feeling to go away. 

Your heart was pounding so hard you could hardly hear her when she said, “Hell yeah, I am. I should’ve been an English major. I could write a whole fucking slutty novel and get famous. I'm an expert - I've done enough research.” 

You rolled your eyes at her cocky smile, but Ellie only winked at you. 

This is how your truth or dare games went - with Ellie being far too cocky, prancing around doing whatever dares you could think of and asking any outrageous questions that popped into her pretty little head; and you, simply trying your damnedest to keep up with her. You flailed, flustered, when she asked you about your toy collection, and begrudgingly relented when she dared you to bring out your favorite. Ellie took a shot before you had even finished daring her to text her last hookup (“I’m not reopening that bag of crazy,” she said, scrunching her nose at the taste.) You took a shot when she dared you to go mix all of the liquids in the fridge (which included pickle juice, old broths, and orange juice) into one amalgamation and chug it (“I’d rather chug the rest of the vodka, Els.”) 

“Truth,” you said before Ellie could even ask the question. You were three shots in and could feel that lightness pressing against your temples, just at the threshold of tipsy. You had moved to join Ellie on your bed, where you sat with your back against the headboard and Ellie’s head on your thigh. The vodka bottle was balanced precariously between you. 

Ellie rolled her eyes, but looked up at you and asked, “Out of our friend group, who have you fantasized about the most?” 

She had not even finished her sentence before you served yourself a shot, a few drops splattering on your shirt. Wincing at the taste, you looked back down at Ellie; her eyes were lit up like a Christmas tree, her jaw slack.

“Don’t-” 

“You have to,” she interrupted you, pinching your thigh and grinning when you squirmed away. “You have to tell me. You can’t leave me hanging here - you didn’t even let me finish the question!” 

“Why did you even assume I’ve fantasized about any of our friends-” 

“Because I know you.” She was scrambling up now, unsteady in her movements as she came to her knees in front of you, leaning back against her heels. She planted a firm hand on your thigh - your skin was still warm where her head had been - leaning into it, her eyes drawing so close you could almost see every speck within the hazel. “And I know that bitches like us always have somebody in the group they fantasize about. So, who is it?” 

“Bitches like us?” you repeated, raising your brow. You were sure each line of her palm was going to be branded into your thigh. “So, there’s somebody you think about too?” 

Ellie’s smile was on the very edge of teasing, a small quirk at the corner of her lips that screamed at you just how wrapped around her finger you were - and, somehow, she didn’t even know it. Her voice was low, nothing more than a murmur that you could practically feel in your own chest when she said, “You really wanna know?” You didn’t answer - couldn’t, really, not when her fingers dug into your thigh and you could count each freckle across her nose. You couldn’t answer when she leaned in closer, her warm breath brushing against your cheeks, smelling of the weed you knew she had smoked that afternoon. You could hardly hear her over the rush of your own heart when she whispered, “You’ll just have to ask me.” 

Maybe it was the vodka warming your chest, tingling in your fingers - or maybe it was the way the light from your lamp cast sharp shadows across Ellie’s face, turning her skin into liquid gold - but you did not push her away. Your grip tightened around the neck of the bottle, but you held her gaze when you said, “Truth or dare, Els?” 

Her voice was soft, her half-lidded eyes holding yours as she said, “Truth.” 

“Who have you fantasized about?” The words rushed out of you before you could hesitate.

And for a moment, you believed she would answer. You let yourself believe that she would give you the answer you craved. It prickled at your skin, raising goosebumps along your arm, spreading warmth through your stomach. But your roommate had never been so straight-foward - had never given you an easy answer. She wet her lips, drawing your eyes to her mouth involuntarily, but she only pried the vodka bottle from your fingers. She held your gaze as she raised it to her lips, drinking straight from the bottle without even wincing. 

“I can play that game too, baby.” She backed away, finally giving you a moment to breathe. She settled back against the wall, laying her arms over her knees, the bottle dangling from her fingers. The skin of your thigh still burned, branded with her fingerprints. 

You looked away, huffing out a laugh that you prayed sounded sincere. You could feel her eyes on you when you leaned your head back against the wall, counting the cracks in your ceiling like they were the most interesting thing in the whole world. “It’s getting late, Els,” you said, even as your phone flashed that it wasn’t even nine yet and here you were, too many shots in, your roommate’s presence like a fire blazing in your room. “I should get back to studying.” 

“Do you want to, though?” There was an edge to Ellie’s voice, as though that question was a dare itself. You lifted your head to look at her and found that she was already watching you, her eyes soft in the dim light. 

You took a deep breath - and the vodka must have reached your brain, because before she could ask, you said, “Dare.”

You could see the vodka in the lazy tilt of her smile, in the way her head lolled against the wall. Her eyes were half-lidded, and yet there was something hidden behind her slow, sleepy gaze, something you were too afraid to name - something you were sure was only the imagination of your tipsy fantasies. 

“Close your eyes,” Ellie said, words lazily falling from her lips, as deep and rich as the strings of a guitar. 

It took you several moments longer than usual to process what she had said. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion, as if the two of you were underwater. You shouldn't have felt like this after a few shots - you'd usually only be tipsy at this point. But something about the way the shadows dipped into Ellie's collarbones and the way her shirt rode up, exposing her boxers and the sharp cut of her hips, was intoxicating on its own. 

So it took you several long, heavy moments to say, “What?” 

She chuckled, but there was no malice behind it. There was something soft in the tilt of her head, the way she tilted her chin down to look at you through her lashes. Her hair fell in her face, brushing against her nose; you fought the urge to brush it away, knowing that if you did you wouldn't be able to stop yourself from running your fingers through her hair. You wouldn't be able to stop yourself from grabbing a fistful of the auburn strands- 

“Close your eyes,” she repeated in that same honey-thick voice, breaking you from your thoughts. “For thirty seconds. And don't open them no matter what.” When you only stared at her for several silent moments, she added, “How long have we been friends? Don't you trust me?” 

And the thing was, you did. You trusted her with your entire heart, and so you closed your eyes, and you waited. 

You felt the bed shift next to you but you did not open your eyes. You did not open them when you felt her long fingers grip your shoulder as she struggled to steady herself. You felt her hair first, fine strands brushing against your cheek, smelling of sweat and her shampoo. You did not open your eyes, even when you felt the gentle press of a warm mouth against the side of your neck. You hardly dared to even breathe, your hands tangling in your sheets, afraid that you would not be able to control yourself otherwise. You counted the long, torturous seconds, biting down on your lip when you felt Ellie’s mouth part, the warmth of her tongue pressing against your pulse. 

You had counted to twenty-six when she pulled away, a chill settling over your skin where that warmth had been only seconds ago. When you got to thirty, you opened your eyes to find that Ellie had settled back into her spot, leaning back against the wall. The only sign that she had even moved was the thin sheen over her lips, wet with her own saliva, and a small, pleased smirk. 

You did not allow yourself to think about it, ignoring the way your skin burned where she had touched you as though she were a wildfire. You sounded breathless even to your own ears when you said, in barely more than a whisper, “Truth or dare?” 

“Truth.”

“What are we doing here, Ellie?” The words were out before you could stop them, slipping from between your teeth and hanging in the air like helium. The words felt almost tangible, and yet you couldn't grasp them, couldn't draw them back into your throat. 

For a moment, you thought Ellie would grace you with an answer. She opened her mouth, and you thought maybe she would finally stop playing this game and let you breathe. Instead, just like before, she brought the bottle to her lips and held your gaze. You tried not to watch the way her throat moved as she swallowed. 

She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and recapped the bottle, settling it between you. “Truth or dare?” 

“Truth.” You felt you could no longer trust yourself with any dare she gave you. Your hands were already shaking from clenching the sheets.

“How would you rate your last kiss?” 

You squinted at her, confused by the innocence of the question after everything that had happened in the past hour (had it only been an hour?). “My last kiss was with that one girl I met at the bar a few weeks ago. She was drunk and way too sloppy, but she was hot. I guess I'd give it,” you paused, trying to remember the moment past the haze; you couldn't even remember the girl's name, “a six.” 

Ellie raised her eyebrows, her eyes widening. “A six?” She shook her head, clicking her tongue in disapproval. “You’ve got to be fucking with me. A girl like you deserves more than a six.” 

“A girl like me?” Your voice sounded deafening in the quiet. You thought it had started to rain; you could hear the pitter patter on your window, could see the way it broke up the streetlamps outside like a mosaic. 

Ellie was nodding almost absently, watching the rain. Her lips parted, and you didn’t expect her to hesitate before she said, “Yeah. A girl like you… deserves to be kissed like it’s the last gasp of air to someone drowning.” You watched her mouth as she spoke, even as your mind screamed at you to look away. You scolded yourself, screaming to end this now, but your body refused; it ached to draw her near, a tangible pain in your chest. “A girl like you should get one of those movie kisses - you know, like when the hero saves the day and shit and he kisses his girl and it’s like the world didn’t matter as long as he saved her. The kind that has the whole fucking theater holding their breath. A girl like you…. Fuck….” She trailed off her rambling. Ellie ran a rough hand through her hair, making the strands stick up at odd angles, and finally looked at you. There was a fire in her eyes, blazing in the dim light. “You deserve to be kissed like they’ll die if they can’t have you.” 

Something had stopped in your chest - maybe it was your breath, maybe it was your heart. Your blood rushed in your ears, and you feared the thrum of your heartbeat was so loud it filled your entire bedroom. Your traitorous heart pressed at your bedroom walls, filling up the space and leaving room for little else. 

Your voice was only a whisper, and you wanted to kick yourself when you said, “We should really go to bed. I have an exam tomorrow.” 

Your roommate pressed her lips together, and she did not break eye contact as she said, “Dare.” 

You shook your head, looking away from her to try, desperately, to break whatever spell had taken hold of you; but your eyes were drawn back to her as if she were the only fucking light in the dark. You had to get a hold of yourself before you did something you’d regret, but you felt intoxicated with something far stronger than the cheap vodka you had bought from Walmart. 

“You’re drunk, Els,” you said, and you sounded so breathless you may as well have given up then and there. 

Ellie leaned closer, holding your gaze, and you could see the exact shade of desire in her eyes. She was so fucking warm - your head spun from it, heat radiating from her skin when she planted a hand on the bed right next to your hip. Her wrist brushed against the bare skin under your shorts, and you felt her voice vibrating in your chest when she said, “Dare.” 

And it was like she had finally pulled the last fucking thread that made you unravel, because you couldn’t stop yourself - didn’t even think to - before you said, “Kiss me.” 

You only had a second to register the smile pulling at the edges of Ellie’s lips before she grabbed your face and pulled you in to smother it. You had never imagined what kissing Ellie would be like - had never allowed your imagination to wander so far over the edge - but she did not kiss like she was drowning. She kissed with the same slow gentleness as when she played the guitar, her long fingers plucking at the strings with the careful deliberation of a lover. 

And she felt so fucking warm. You were high with it; high with the heat radiating from her fingers pressed to your cheeks; high from the way her breath snaked past your parted lips, gentle huffs of warmth against your skin. Your head swam as you pressed into her, your hands tangling into the fabric of her shirt, fingers unsure even as you ached to pull her closer. 

Ellie pulled back for a moment - for only a moment, but each second her lips weren't on yours caused an ache in your chest. Her eyes hovered inches from yours, so fucking green it was dizzying - though you couldn't see much of the color passed the eclipse of her pupils. Her cheeks were flushed - from the vodka, from something else entirely - her freckles popping against the color. You could only imagine how you looked, could feel the desire written across every inch of your face. 

Your fists tightened in her shirt, and you used the leverage to pull her back into you; and suddenly, it felt like you were the one drowning. You couldn’t breathe as Ellie devoured you, the gentleness replaced with a hunger you hadn’t known lived inside her. She pressed her tongue against the seam of your mouth until you relented, opening up to her, a soft sound escaping your throat when her tongue ran along the roof of your mouth. 

That sound - nothing more than a breathy sigh - ignited something in Ellie. Suddenly, she was all teeth and tongue and hot, hot breath in your mouth, sucking your bottom lip between her teeth. She bit down when a shaky sigh forced its way from your throat, soothing it with her tongue and swallowing the moan it elicited. Her hands were in your hair, the strands twisted between her fingers, and when you bit down on her lip, she pulled - you gasped at the sharp pain on your scalp. 

“Fuck,” she cursed against your lips, and you could feel that single syllable, hot breath in your mouth that you wanted to swallow. She didn’t continue for a long time, couldn’t form any other words past the way her lips made you unravel. Her hands trailed down your shoulders, fingers grazing lightly over the bare skin of your arms, before finding your hips, gripping them in a vice and tugging you closer. “Fuck, come here,” she said, her voice nothing more than a low growl that you felt in your chest. 

And you were drunk - from the cheap vodka and sleep deprivation and Ellie. You were drunk on the way her eyes were eclipsed, her lips red and bitten and swollen, parted so you could feel each exhale against your cheeks. Her eyes were dark, hooded. Her fingers dug into your hips, and you were drunk, but shit, how the hell could you say no to her? How could you possibly say no when she was looking at you like she was starving? 

Her hands guided you closer so you swung a leg over her hips and settled in her lap, your hands braced on her shoulders. She leaned her head back against the wall and just looked at you for several long moments, biting down on her lip. You couldn’t stop watching her mouth, mesmerized as she said, “Fuck, look at you.” 

And then she was kissing you again, her hands gripping your hips like it was a lifeline. Your hands found their way to her hair, curling your fingers in the short locks, using it as leverage to pull her closer. You could feel how each point of your body fit into hers; your thighs against her legs, her hands curling perfectly over the swell of your hips. You could feel the swell of her breasts against your chest, and you so badly wanted to feel her skin against yours. You felt like you’d go crazy from the raw want radiating from your body. 

Ellie’s lips traced a map across your cheek, down your jawline. You tilted your head so she could kiss the hinge of your jaw, the spot right below your ear. She paused there, planting hot, open-mouth kisses across your neck, before her teeth bit down on that sensitive spot, pulling the skin into her mouth, and you practically melted into her. You couldn’t control the sounds falling from your lips like honey, gripping at her hair as she soothed the bruise with her tongue. 

“Ellie….” Your voice was nothing more than a whimper; you swallowed hard and tried again, pressing a hand firmly at her shoulder. “Ellie.” 

She only hummed against your skin, and you could feel the vibration against your pulse. The sound went straight to your stomach and dipped even lower when she bit at your collarbone. 

The next time you said her name, it came out as a moan; you cleared your throat. “We can’t do this - you’re drunk, Els.” 

Your roommate hummed again, but she relented, leaning her head back against the wall to look up at you. And - fuck. Her lips were red and swollen, still wet from the kiss. Her cheeks were flushed, and - God, her eyes. You had never understood the term bedroom eyes, but Ellie looked at you as though she wanted to devour you. Like any second her hands weren’t on you was torture. Like she wanted to bite and kiss and taste every inch of your skin. 

“Truth or dare,” she said, her voice so hoarse you had to clench your thighs around her hips. 

“What?” 

“Truth or dare,” she repeated, her eyes never leaving yours. And this wasn’t part of the game, but you played along anyway, unable and unwilling to tell her no. 

“Truth,” you sighed. 

One of Ellie’s hands traced up your side. She ran her fingers across your collarbone, up your throat, before stopping to cup your jaw, her skin rough against yours. “Do you want this?” 

You nodded, the vodka making it impossible to feel shy. 

“How long have you wanted this?” Ellie’s thumb pressed at the seam of your lips, and you let your mouth fall open. She watched, hypnotized, dipping just the tip of her thumb between your lips before withdrawing. 

It was against the rules - two questions for one truth - but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. “A long fucking time.” Your voice was weak and breathy, and you couldn’t bother to be embarrassed about that either. Your attention had narrowed in on Ellie, and the way her fingers skirted across your chest, the way her other hand gripped your hip - how you could feel the warmth of her thighs between your legs. 

Taking your chin in her hand, she drew you closer, and you could feel her lips moving against yours: “So what the hell is stopping us?” 

This time, when she kissed you, you did melt into her. You gripped her hair in your fists and swallowed the moan it drew from her, shivering when her teeth caught on your lip. She had both hands on your hips again, and she gripped them so hard you were sure you’d find bruises there in the morning in the shape of her fingers. She pulled you closer, pulling your hips down into her; the friction through your pajama shorts made you moan against her lips. 

And you decided to play her game. 

“Truth or dare?” you said, drawing away just enough to see the eclipse of her eyes. 

Ellie, always stubborn, murmured, “Dare.” 

You tugged at the hem of her shirt, your fingers brushing the warm skin beneath; you marveled at the shiver that ran through her body. You ducked your head to kiss along her jaw, pressing the words into her skin. “Take this off.” 

She didn’t waste any time tugging the shirt over her head, tossing it to the floor before skidding her fingers over the bare skin above your shorts. You lifted your arms and let her pull your shirt over your head before realizing you weren’t wearing anything beneath. Who wears a bra to study in their own apartment? 

But you didn’t have a moment to cover your body in embarrassment before Ellie’s lips were on you again, as if it pained her to not taste you for even a moment. Her hands spread across your back, pulling you into her as she peppered hot, open-mouthed kisses across your collar; you hissed when her teeth bit down over your collarbone, soothing the pain with her tongue. 

“Tell me to stop and I'll stop,” Ellie said, her voice muffled as she kissed down over your chest; you shivered when her teeth sank into the skin of your boob, sucking another bruise there. She certainly loved leaving her signature on any inch of your skin that her mouth could reach. 

You groaned low in your chest, your fingers tugging at her hair, pulling a gasp from her lips. You almost didn’t recognize your own voice - breathy and thick with desire - when you said, “Please don’t stop.” 

The next thing you knew, Ellie was shoving you off of her lap; your back hit the mattress, your head just barely missing the headboard, but you couldn’t even think about that. Your roommate was crawling over you, and you were hypnotized by the way her muscles tensed, her arms caging you against the bed. Her skin was fucking obscene, smooth plains stretching for miles, cast in liquid gold in the lamplight.

“God, look at you,” she said again, pressing a kiss to your clavicle. Her hand was like worn clay when it traced a teasing line over your hip. Her voice was muffled against your skin, but you caught the end of her sentence: “- so fucking pretty.” 

Your only response was a choked gasp when Ellie pressed the flat of her tongue to your nipple. You gripped her shoulder, feeling her lips close around you as she sucked your skin into her mouth; you winced when she released it, feeling her teeth graze maddeningly over your nipple. 

“Truth or dare?” she said into your skin, her voice vibrating in your bones. 

You groaned, gripping her shoulder when she licked a line over your other nipple. If you had thought about this (which, if anybody asked, you didn’t), you never would have imagined your roommate being such a fucking tease. 

She hummed, and you could feel the vibration in every nerve. For a moment, you couldn’t find your tongue, your voice caught in your chest until she released your skin with a pop of her lips. She looked up at you, batting her eyes, and dammit if your body didn’t arch, searching for her mouth again. 

Propping herself up on her elbows, she watched you through her lashes, an intoxicating smirk across her lips; they were still shining wetly. She broke you from your thoughts when she murmured, “Use your words, angel.” 

Your thighs clenched around her words, automatically and unconsciously. You were sure you could get drunk on the way her voice filled the room, rough and rich as the chords she played. It was through clenched teeth that you said, setting your pride aside, “Dare.” Your cheeks burned when it came out as a moan. 

You could feel her smile against your skin as she kissed down your stomach, silent for several long, torturous moments. You felt her teeth sink into your hip bone briefly, your hips jerking at the sensation. It earned you a chuckle before you felt Ellie’s hands pressing your hips into the mattress, holding you still. You groaned low in your throat when you felt her tongue against the skin over the band of your shorts, licking a stripe right above the fabric before taking the elastic between her teeth and tugging. You jumped when she released it, the band snapping back against your skin. You didn’t have to look at her to see the sparkle in her eye. 

You swore your heart stopped completely when she murmured, “I wanna go down on you.” 

Despite this game she was insistent on playing, it wasn’t said like a dare; it was said like a question, or a request. There was no expectation behind it. Ellie was asking, you realized with dizzying satisfation, for permission. 

“Fuck.” It came out as only a breath, a whisper against your tongue. Your fingers ached from gripping the sheets and she hadn’t even touched you yet. “Fuck,” you tried again, and it was a groan this time but at least it was louder. “Yeah. Yeah, please, fuck.” Words were just falling from your lips because when you looked down, Ellie - your roommate, your friend - was watching you, propped between your legs with that fucking smirk, and how could you possibly string together a complete sentence? 

And Ellie… didn’t. She didn’t follow up on her dare. Not immediately, at least. No, she took her sweet fucking time - always so damn precise, taking her time in hooking her fingers over the band of your shorts. She pulled them down so slowly you could feel every inch down your legs. And then you were lying beneath your roommate in nothing but your underwear - and dammit, if you had known this would be happening, you would have opted for something a little sexier than a cotton pair with constellations on them. 

Ellie smiled. “Cute,” she said, before sinking her teeth into the flesh of your thigh. You were thankful it was cold out - you’d have to wear layers to hide all the places her mouth had been. 

Your roommate ducked her head, and you gasped when you felt her press a featherlight kiss against the fabric of your underwear, right where warmth pooled between your legs. 

You huffed, twisting the sheets between your fingers. “God, you’re such an asshole - fuck-” You were cut off when Ellie licked a stripe up your panties, warm tongue pressing against your throbbing clit. You moaned at the relief, feeling the wetness of her mouth through the fabric. It wasn’t enough - you needed to feel her against you, needed her tongue to unravel you piece by piece. You pressed your hips down against her lips but her hands held you in place. 

You huffed out a breath, her name slipping from your lips when you moaned. “Ellie….” 

And then she was yanking your underwear down your hips; you gasped, lifting your ass to help her shove them down. She had only gotten them just below your knees before she was pressing back in, too impatient to finish the job. 

And - fuck, her mouth. Ellie’s mouth was fucking magic. You moaned into the quiet room when she pressed the flat of her tongue against your pussy, licking a stripe between your lips. You couldn’t control the curses slipping between your teeth when her tongue made teasing circles around your clit until you were whimpering, aching for her. She had released your hips to dig her fingers into your thighs, nails digging in, and you’d surely have crescent-shaped bruises there tomorrow - even more to cover up. You pressed your hips down against her, groaning, her name only a whisper: “Fuck, Els-” 

And then she finally, finally, gave you what you wanted. 

Ellie ate pussy like it was her fucking job, like she was clocking into a shift and working her ass off for those tips. She lapped at your clit like she was starving, pressing her lips against you until you were dizzy, your entire body tuned in to the warmth of her tongue and the gentle graze of her teeth. You shuddered when you felt that tongue press into your core, a brief pressure that pulled curses from your lips, words tripping over each other: “Ah - fuck - fuck, Ellie - oh my God, fuck-” 

It didn’t take long for tension to build in your stomach. You were intoxicated; you were tipsy, yes, but something about the way Ellie moved her tongue - long, slow circles around your clit, using the flat of her tongue to draw you closer to the edge - was like a damn drug. You got what you wanted: She unraveled you with her tongue, tugging curses from your lips. You could hear your own moans echoing against your quiet bedroom and you couldn’t even feel embarrassed about it. 

Ellie took your clit between her lips and sucked, pulling you into her mouth and-

A long, low moan pulled at your throat when you came. Your hand came up to grip at her hair, fingers twisting in the soft strands. She moaned when you pulled, and the vibration against every nerve pushed you further; you could feel your orgasm in your chest, could feel it trembling in your thighs. 

Ellie worked you through it, her tongue dancing against you as you rode out your high. She didn’t stop, pressing her lips against you, dipping her tongue into your core again, until you were shoving against her head, your hips bucking at the sensitivity. 

When she raised her head, she was grinning, that wicked, infuriating grin she always had when she was pleased with herself. She rested her head against your thigh for a moment, watching you as you blinked the stars from your eyes. You relaxed your fingers in her hair, smoothing your thumb across her temple. 

The only thing you could say, breathless and dizzy, was, “Fuck, Els. What the fuck?” 

Ellie laughed, the sound unarming the silence around you, the anxiety of what this meant. She pressed a kiss to your thigh, right over the little indentations where her nails had dug into the flesh, and just said, “Yeah?” 

You giggled, tugging at her hair gently. You looked down at your roommate - and you didn’t know what this meant for the two of you, but that could be a problem for tomorrow, when you weren’t drunk and sleep-deprived and naked beneath your friend. For now, you only said, “Truth or dare?” 

Ellie blinked, raising an eyebrow, and said, “Truth.” 

You considered not asking for a moment, unsure if you wanted to know, but curiosity pressed at you until you asked, “What do I taste like?”

The grin spread wider, Ellie’s eyes sparkling as she pushed herself up. She crawled up your body, taking a moment to press a kiss to your stomach, to the bruises she had left littered across your chest - you moaned when she took a nipple briefly into her mouth. She kissed her way up your neck, across your jaw, sucking at the skin beneath your ear - another fucking bruise to worry about. God, it was like she wanted her signature on you, branded in every inch of your skin. 

Her face hovered an inch above yours, propping herself up on her elbows, smirking. She leaned in close, leaving room for you to turn away if you wanted. Instead, you tilted your chin up and kissed her again. 

You wrinkled your nose at the metallic taste of yourself against her lips. You didn’t like it, the way your own scent wafted over you. But fuck if you didn’t open your mouth when you felt Ellie’s tongue pressing at the seam of your lips. She moaned when your tongue ran along the roof of her mouth, pressing into the taste of you. 

When she pulled back, her eyes were soft, her cheeks flushed. “Like that.” 

You rolled your eyes, turning your face away; you had to admit, even if you hated how you tasted - tasting yourself against her tongue sent a wave of heat between your legs all over again. You only said, “Gross.” 

Ellie leaned in again, and you felt her lips ghosting against your jaw. You felt her breath against your skin when she whispered, “Truth or dare?” 

You lifted your chin to give her access to your neck, sighing when she pressed a kiss against your pulse. “Truth.” 

Her breath huffed against you when she chuckled before raising her head to meet your eyes again, that same cocky smile spread across her lips. “Was that better than a six?” 

“Oh, fuck off.” You shoved against her until she rolled off of you. 

She flopped back against the mattress, still laughing, but she was holding her arm out for you. You only hesitated for a moment - but even if she was your roommate, she just made you see stars, so it’s not like cuddling would push against the boundary you had already broken. You curled into her, laying your head on her chest, the sports bra she was still wearing soft against your cheek.

You sighed, skimming your fingertips against the warm skin of her stomach. “Yeah,” you whispered before you could stop yourself. “Definitely better than a six.” 

You were starting to fall asleep, your eyes growing heavy, your study notes effectively forgotten. You burrowed into her further, wrapping your arm around her and pressing your fingers against her hip. You briefly wondered where the vodka bottle had ended up in the mess, but Ellie didn’t seem in any particular hurry to untangle herself from you, so you figured it could wait - surely it would be okay if she slept in your room for one night.

Just before you dozed off, you heard Ellie murmur, “You left the window open.” 

[justarkive]

THE JEONS | 01

01: Baby ?

summary: a collection of chaotic family drabbles. thats it.

contents: family!au, non!idol jungkook, girl!dad jk, fluff, angst, sensitive topics sometimes!

chapter contents: literally just family fluff. jungkook gets smacked by his baby, its just super cute HAHA

a/n: i wanted to start a fun little series of little drabbles cause like girl dad jungkook?!!!! hello!!! and these sre rlly fun to make anyway so enjoy, lmk if i should make more and if anyone likes this idea as much as i do haha (i will.)

masterlist , series masterlist

The room is bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, the air still, quiet—except for the occasional rustle of sheets as Jungkook shifts beside you, his arms wrapped protectively around the tiniest little human you’ve ever seen.

Hana is barely a few days old, her whole body small enough to fit perfectly against Jungkook’s chest. The sight of it is almost too much—his broad frame, his strong hands, the sheer size of him compared to her fragile little form. And yet, he holds her with the gentlest touch, like she’s made of something more delicate than glass, something holy.

“She’s so tiny,” Jungkook whispers, voice tinged with something awed, something disbelieving. His fingers, tattooed and calloused, ghost over the curve of her back, pressing just lightly enough to feel the rise and fall of her breath. “How is she this tiny, baby?”

You smile, propping yourself up on one elbow to watch them. “She’s a newborn, Jungkook.”

“I know, but—” He exhales, eyes never leaving her face. “She’s ours.”

She stirs then, her little mouth twitching, face scrunching up in the way it does when she’s on the verge of waking. Jungkook stills, watching intently as her lashes flutter.

“Think she’s waking up,” you whisper.

Jungkook grins, leaning down to press a feather-light kiss to her forehead. Then another. Then one more, because he can’t help himself.

And then—

Smack!

With all the strength her tiny newborn body can muster, Hana’s arm flails up, her small hand landing right against Jungkook’s cheek with an audible little slap.

Your breath catches. You stare at her. You stare at him.

Jungkook freezes, eyes wide, completely stunned as if his own daughter has just betrayed him. “Did she just—”

Before he can finish his sentence, a sharp, high-pitched wail erupts from her, shaking her whole body like the force of her emotions is just too much for her little frame.

Jungkook’s jaw drops. “Oh my god.”

You burst out laughing, hand flying up to cover your mouth, but you can’t stop the way your shoulders shake. “Jungkook—”

“She smacked me!” he hisses, like he can’t even believe it. “And then cried about it!”

“She just woke up.” You can barely get the words out between giggles.

Hana’s wail tapers off just as quickly as it started, and as if nothing happened, she lets out a soft, contented sigh and nuzzles right into Jungkook’s chest, her tiny limbs going slack.

Jungkook looks down at her, completely dumbfounded. “What—”

“She put herself back to sleep,” you laugh, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye.

“After assaulting me.”

“You probably startled her!”

Jungkook scoffs, shifting just slightly, careful not to wake her again. His hands find their place, one cupping the back of her head, the other resting on her waist to keep her from rolling. Her tiny legs sprawl out haphazardly, the way newborns do when they don’t quite have control over their bodies yet.

You watch him for a moment, his dark eyes still wide in disbelief, his lips pursed like he’s going to hold this against her forever.

Then, so softly, he exhales. And just like that, the shock fades, replaced by something much deeper, much softer.

His fingers trace slow, soothing circles over Hana’s back, his voice dropping to a whisper. “She’s lucky she’s cute.”

You grin, leaning over to press a kiss to his temple. “You’re lucky she’s cute.”

Jungkook huffs, but his smile betrays him. He tugs you closer with one arm, his other still securing Hana against him. “Guess I am.”

And though the bassinet is right there, just a few feet away, neither of you move.

Not yet.

[phantomwithbreakfast]

~ Scarred For Half A Life ~

DP Phan Fic.

[“You want to see a danger? You should see me in a crown.”]

So uh—this is a scene I have in mind for my story. Because of the song, yes!

I mean, I already wrote it down, to add later on into the story! And I was really enthusiastic about it, so I drew Danny with a crown. An ugly crown (because it’s made out of paper). [sketch lurking at the bottom]

If you want you can read and follow it! But—BEWARE!

———————

Genre: Angst / Hurt And Comfort (and a little Horror)

AU — OOC

Trigger Warning: Emotional Distress — Violence — Graphic Content

Rating: M

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Summary:

Danny had been captured by the GiW once again, or so he thinks. Leaving him feeling utterly helpless—vulnerable. There was nothing he could do. What will happen to him? And why again? (Summary might change as the story goes on)

———————

So, this is a piece of that potential chapter:

“Wait! Don’t move. I want to take a picture!” Jazz exclaimed, her voice brimming with excitement as she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone.

Danny groaned, rolling his eyes. “Seriously? A picture? What are you, my dad?”

Jazz ignored his protest, already angling the camera toward him. “Come on, Danny, it’s your birthday. Let me have this.”

He sighed, slouching slightly. “Fine, but make it quick. And don’t expect me to smile like an idiot.”

Jazz smirked. “Oh, don’t worry. You’re already an idiot. The crown just completes the look.”

Danny couldn’t help the small grin tugging at his lips as she snapped the photo, capturing him sitting there with the gold paper crown tilted slightly on his head, a mixture of amusement and irritation in his glowing green eyes.

“There,” Jazz said triumphantly, glancing at the picture on her phone. “Perfect. I’m definitely keeping this one.”

———————

And a piece of the scene with the song in my head that plays in the background:

“Phantom,” she said icily, her voice like a blade. “You’re not my son. You’re a danger. I was merciful letting you stay this long.”

That was it. That was the final crack that shattered the fragile restraint Danny had been holding onto. His aura flared violently, glowing with an intense, cold light that filled the room, making the shadows dance erratically on the walls.

“You wanna see a danger?” Danny growled, his voice dropping into something almost inhuman, vibrating with power as his feet lifted off the ground. His white hair swirled beneath the gold paper crown, caught in an invisible wind as the room seemed to grow colder by the second.

Danny’s arms hung by his sides, his fists clenching tightly. A brilliant green energy began to materialize, steam curling off his fingers like fire, licking up his forearms in tendrils of raw power.

“You should see me in a crown.”

A burst of cold ectoplasmic energy erupted from Danny’s palms, shooting straight toward Maddie with icy precision. She dove to the side, flipping the table over in one swift motion to shield herself. Plates shattered, the pancakes splattered across the walls, and the dining room filled with a deafening roar of energy.

———————

As for my own commentary about my DP drawing…

I hate drawing hands, and I don’t like to draw shoes. Maybe because I just can’t!! I’m not good at drawing mouths either, or I was just having a bad day at drawing. And we are definitely not going to talk about the nose. I have zero idea what went wrong with coloring/painting, and I couldn’t fix it at that moment. Maybe I was hurrying it, don’t care. I wanted it out of my head! And I really wanted to share this, because I like it for once, something of my own. As for the style, still searching my own, trying things out, so at the moment, I have no idea what I’m doing. Might redo it later.

[flightlessribbons]

MINI MENACE ERA: COLLEGE KIDS

I have a part two that I’ll add to a reblog of this sometime, but here’s the first part for their college days! I couldn’t draw everything I wanted to, so more blabbering and elaboration under the cut!

Since this AU has turned into a fanfiction based off the concept art, the characterizations and roles of the characters can be pretty detached from canon- so just a disclaimer for that. Canon is merely a suggestion- and I’m not listening to it most of the time.

Their majors: 

Sabine Cheng: fashion/ business

Pia Lahiffe: education

Nathalie Sancoeur: business/ economics

Otis Cesaire: environmental science

Gabriel Agreste: fashion/ art history

Emilie Sphinx: fashion/ performing arts

Amelie Sphinx: business/ economics

Andre Bourgeois: law/ (later) education

(Tom Dupain works full time at his dad’s bakery)

SUMMARY (and some extra details) OF THE HEADCANONS DRAWN: (since I am too lazy to do my full transcript tonight)

Sabine and Pia have been best friends since they were 13. Pia knows she’s Ladybug, and the two work together at Master Fu’s shop.

Pia knows that Fu has the turtle miraculous and makes sure he’s not overworking himself in his superhero retirement.

Sabine’s an open book with her emotions, doubly so when she was younger in college. Her fuse is short, and she’ll say one of her flaws is her pettiness. 

Andre is the estranged son of a corrupt politician that works with Richard Sphinx. His dad originally paid for his tuition (to keep Andre away from him) but eventually cuts that off when he officially disowned him.

He and Audrey met like once at a social event years ago. Andre does not remember this, Audrey does but only because she thought his suit was so fucking ugly.

Audrey is the daughter of a Pergue (Sphinx’s company) investor. She eventually gets an ultimatum to get married, or else all her cards and cash get cut off.

Remembering “Ugly Suit” Andre has recently lost his dad’s tuition money, she asks him to marry her in return for her paying for his school. Andre becomes a trophy wife on paper, and the two never get closer than that. She writes his checks, he doesn’t get into scandals- easy!

Gabriel’s dream was to have his own atelier and specialize in lace products. His designs really push the limits of lace and beadwork. (He’s a huge nerd.) He never wanted a big brand.

Emilie has a crush on him and tries to talk to him often. Gabriel is conflicted between talking to the pretty girl in his class and interacting with the daughter of the enemy. 

Emilie dresses eccentrically. Half of the time it’s costumes for theatre events, and the other half is her own style. (You can never tell which is which though- she’s always dressed like a time traveller.)

Otis is in the same econ class as Sabine and befriends her (Nathalie and Emilie are also in that class but they don’t interact with Otis or Sabine) and mentions her to Tom as a “girl he’d like.” Tom insists that’s what Otis says about every girl with a bob and a fringe.

Tom first sees Sabine that same day bursting in the bakery to ask for cookies while in a frenzy. Otis says it is the calmest he’d ever seen her. 

Amelie has a huge crush on Nathalie, who is an intern assistant for Richard Sphinx. She refuses to act on her crush…as Amelie anyways ;)

MISC HEADCANONS FOR COLLEGE MM ERA:

Sabine, Pia, Otis, Andre, and Gabriel are the group for the longest time. They’re not all that close to the Sphinx twins in the beginning, but they get integrated into the group once Gabriel and Emilie start dating

How they all met/ some dynamic notes:

 Sabine and Pia were childhood friends

Tom and Otis were friends since in high school

Tom befriended Andre when he became a regular at the bakery

Sabine met Gabriel and Emilie in their shared fashion courses

Amelie and Nathalie have so many common classes bc of their shared majors

Sabine, Pia, Otis, and Andre would study and hangout at the bakery, Tom would feed them

Sabine and Otis are the outspoken ones in the group, they bond over complaining. 

Everyone admires Tom’s boundless optimism, the freebie baked goods are just a bonus

Andre and Sabine are unexpectedly close. Her rough, and oftentime bad, jokes get both of them to laugh until their stomachs hurt. No one else finds them funny, but they find the twos’ laughter contagious.

Gabriel and Pia like to work in silence together, they’re both grateful someone else favors a more quiet setting to focus

Sabine is originally intimidated by Emilie’s enthusiastic and extroverted nature, but they eventually bond over fashion designs even before the Sphinx twins join the group

MISC CONT:

Sabine’s designs are more conceptual and abstract, often trying to emulate feelings or experiences. Can seem a little scrappy to some, but sturdy compositions. She also thinks about ways to integrate her pieces into performance art works.

Gabriel’s designs are based on pushing technical craftsmanship, mostly detailwork. The pieces can seem fragile or delicate because of their meticulousness. They usually have some historical influence, but don't look for accuracy. 

Emilie’s designs show off her theatre inspirations, and are often very costumey in nature. Similar to Gabriel, she enjoys historical influence, but isn’t as detail oriented as him. She favors exaggerating the historical features of costumes and playing around with silhouettes.

Amelie often “runs into” Nathalie while she’s out patrolling as Chat Noir. The two get closer when she’s transformed, and Nathalie develops a crush on Stray.

HOW THEY GOT THEIR MIRACULOUS (and reasons for fighting Pergue):

Sabine Cheng: got from her late grandfather when she was a teenager. Fights for revenge for his death and the other victims of Sphinx’s crimes.

Otis Cesaire: got it from an old mentor. Hates Pergue’s monopoly of businesses and services.

Gabriel Agreste: found brooch in his great-grandmother’s sewing box. Believes that Sphinx has the other half of a missing tapestry of his great-grandmother’s.

Emilie Sphinx: got the broken peacock miraculous from her dad. Works for Sphinx when transformed.

Amelie Sphinx: got it as a family heirloom from her mother before she passed. Wants to see her father fall.

Andre Bourgeois: his paternal grandmother gave it to him. Wants to expose the corrupt politicians  and investors like his father that collaborate and fund Pergue.

Tom, Pia, and Nathalie do not have miraculous

[julymusings]

i could be yours part one

i could be soft and sweet, i could be hard and loud, i could be anything you ever need somehow.

prequel to simplicity!!!

or; an entire summer of chance encounters with the so-called prince of gotham [9.5k]

Jason todd x f!reader warnings: intoxication & vomiting (w/ description), suggestiveness, discussions of toxic relationships (cheating, emotional manipulation, misogyny); special dedication to @fluffy-anna who inspired this au with the ask that started it all‼️‼️😳

part one | part two | series masterlist

June 12th

Jason finds his brother at the entrance of the event, waiting for him with crossed arms and looking displeased.

“You are very late, Todd.” Damian looks up at him. His face is shadowed in front of Jason, whose head blocks the sun from Damian’s view. He wears a t-shirt with the Wayne Animal Sanctuary logo printed across the front and a name tag on the left side of his chest.

“Sorry, kid,” Jason says, and he means it. “Traffic.”

“No matter. I have a job for you.” Damian turns toward a table with a sign that reads, ‘Volunteer Sign-in”, but Jason stays rooted in place.

“What? No, I’m not letting you put me to work,” Jason scoffs.

“Why else would you be here?” Damian asks, looking affronted.

“You asked me to show up, I showed up. Isn’t that enough?”

“It is not, Todd. All you have to do is sit in a chair and ensure no one steals a dog. Is that too much work for you?”

“If someone manages to steal a dog from you of all people, they deserve to keep it.”

“Flattery is not going to get you out of doing work. Do not push me.”

Jason snickers. “Don’t push you? Or what? You’re half my size. I’m so scared.”

Damian huffs. His bright eyes narrow to something more menacing. He takes a sharp breath in for what Jason thinks is an attempt at puffing his chest and appearing intimidating— he’s wrong.

“Wow, Todd,” Damian bursts out loud enough for the surrounding tables to turn their attention. “You think we should send them to a kill shelter? Shame on you!”

Jason can feel the scathing stares shot at him without breaking his glare at Damian. “Funny. That’s really funny, Damian.” Jason says, sarcastically. “I’m leaving now.”

“You think we should abandon them on the side of the road?” Damian shrieks. “That’s low even for you.” He shakes his head disapprovingly.

Jason doesn’t engage, only turning around to walk back to his bike. He stops short, however, when he sees a little boy looking up at him with widened eyes. He's frowning, one tiny hand fisted in the hem of his cat-decorated shirt. The other is wrapped around the fingers of another man, presumably his father. Though Jason towers over him, the father looks at him with disgust.

He stifles a groan and turns back to Damian, who sports a brilliantly cheerful smile. Jason drops his head and sighs. “Where do I go?”

“You have to sign in, first.” Damian leads him to the center table, and Jason accepts a pen from the stink-eyed woman behind it to add his name to the list.

“Will you be making a donation?” Damian asks. When Jason hands back the pen, the woman purses her lips in contempt. Jason glares at Damian, but he is unmoving in his fake oblivion.

Jason reaches for his wallet.

“You could at least pretend you’re excited to be here.”

You hold your hand in front of your face, shielding it from the brightness of the afternoon. “Why?” You grumble. “I doubt the animals care.”

“Of course they do!” Your friend is much too bubbly for someone who stayed up until early morning drinking wine and watching reruns of nineties sitcoms on cable. “They can literally smell your emotions. They’ll know if you hate them.”

“I don’t hate them.” You roll your eyes, though it’s blocked by your large sunglasses. “I would just really rather be in bed right now. And I’m surprised that you wouldn’t. How are you not hungover?”

“Um, maybe because I didn’t drink an entire bottle all on my own.” He takes your hand and leads you through the throngs of people gathered around playpens of cats and bunnies.

“Did I drink that much?” You say it quietly, more to yourself than to him, but he picks it up anyway.

“Yeah…I only drank, like, two glasses? You didn’t notice?” He’s stopped at the end of a line leading to a pen of small rescue dogs.

You tilt your head, squinting at him through your sunglasses. “Does it look like I noticed?”

The line moves up as others clear out, having had their fill of playing with the dogs. The late spring sun beats down on your neck and arms, the light and sounds intensifying your headache, and you can’t help but sigh.

“Oh, what now? I planned this for you. I thought you wanted to adopt a dog.” He says, lifting up your sunglasses to get a peek of your eyes before you swat his hand away.

“To adopt a dog, you need a place to live.” The two of you move up forward in the line. “I’m sleeping on your couch right now.” Your stomach twists, and you’re not sure if it’s from the hangover or the reminder.

“Right now,” he reminds you. “But you’ll find a new place, and a new guy, and then you can take it on walks to your old place and make it poop on the lawn.”

Your forehead crinkles as you draw your brows together. “The guy or the dog?”

“Whichever one you want.”

This earns your first (sober) smile all week, and he brightens up.

“I don’t think I want a new guy just yet,” you say, crossing your arms.

“Well, you don’t need, like, a serious guy,” he says. “Just, like, a rebound.”

“A rebound? Seriously?” You scoff at the idea.

“Yeah, seriously. Just to get back out there, you know? Take your mind off of…” His voice fades out, both of you already knowing where he was going.

“I don’t think a rebound is what I need right now,” you say, avoiding his eyes. “I just need to find a new place to live.”

“Not even if it’s him?”

You follow his gaze to the person manning the area, his face coming into view as more patrons clear out.

“Damn.” Your friend fans himself as he comes into full view.

“You are so dramatic,” you say, but you can’t stop your gaze from sliding across his broad shoulders.

“Oh my god, I think I’m about to pass out. He looks like marble.” He grips your arm, pushing his weight onto you with a pleading cry of your name. You swat him away. “Please. Please. If not for you, for me.”

The man is…well, he really could pass as marble. His face is composed of sharp angles and rigid features, with a hard facial structure and crooked nose stolen from David himself. He sits in a chair next to the playpen with a relaxed posture, his arms crossed and legs stretched out in front of him. He looks indifferent to the noise around him—lazy, even—but there’s no mistaking the alertness of his eyes, the way they scan along the length of the park, surveying each passing patron with mechanical precision; as the line moves up and people speak to him, he studies their faces, eyes falling to their hands, their pockets, and their shoes. It earns him some uneasy glances— the discomfort his probing, baring gaze causes, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he does, and he just doesn’t care.

By the time it’s your turn, the crowd has lessened. The sun is just past its peak, and the late-afternoon drowsiness has set in for most people. The dogs are romping around in the shady grass underneath a tent to protect them from the heat, and you’re grateful to get a break from the harsh sunlight when you approach, finally able to lift your huge sunglasses and rest them atop your head.

The man—Jason, the sticker on his shirt reads—takes your tickets and you let yourselves into the playpen. He looks you up and down with the accusatory eye of a trained spy; you begin to feel guilty for things you never did, every small mistake you’ve ever made coming to the front of your mind. He looks at you like he can sense it. Now that you’re seeing him up close, there’s a small tuft of white hair at the front of his hairline that, from afar, looked like a reflection of sunlight. It’s a bit jarring, making someone so young-looking stick out in a crowd. You catch yourself staring, and so does he. His jaw tenses and he looks away.

“Five minutes,” he says.

Immediately, you and your friend are overrun by small and medium-sized dogs jumping onto your legs and climbing over each other for your attention. 

“Okay, wow. Hi there!” You squeal, kneeling on the ground as they crowd around you and your friend. All the dogs have tags on their collars with their names and the Sanctuary logo on the front. Your friend zeroes in on an excitable retriever puppy who jumped into his lap and is licking all over his face. 

“Lucy,” he reads from her name tag. The dog’s tongue lolls out, teeth baring in a smile as he scratches under her chin.

“Cute,” you say, watching their interaction. Lucy jumps into his arms and he coos, attacking her with kisses.

“Isn’t she?” He scoots closer to you. “Aren’t you feeling better?”

“I guess so,” you sigh, patting another dog's head before it notices two other dogs fighting over an enticing twig and scampers away to join.

“You know what would make it even better?” He asks, and you raise your eyebrow, though you know where he’s going.

He jerks his head towards Jason, eyes widening suggestively. When you stare at him, unamused, he scoffs and smacks your arm with the back of his hand.

“Come on, he’s perfect!” He whisper-shouts. “Just look at him. God, if I were single…”

You roll your eyes but look at him anyway. He looks flushed from the sun. That, or his decision to wear jeans and a leather jacket in this weather.

“I’m not sure I trust someone who dresses that warm in June,” you reply.

“Why worry about how he’s dressed? Just worry about un-dressing him.” Your friend snorts at his own joke, and Lucy startles at the sound, sniffing around his face for the source.

“Besides,” he continues, “I’m not sure you’re in the place to judge what he’s wearing.” His gaze drops to your shirt. “Like, I get the whole ‘putting-in-no-effort-post-breakup’ thing, but what is that shirt? Why is there a cockroach on it? And why is he holding a briefcase?”

You’re a little offended by that. “It’s…it’s The Metamorphosis. We read it in high school. Together.”

He narrows his eyes. “You know I blocked out everything from before I turned twenty-one.”

You press your lips together. “Fair enough.”

You spare a quick glance back to Jason, but he’s busy staring down someone walking by. Near his chair, in the corner of the pen, you notice for the first time a slightly older dog sleeping under small streaks of sunlight that seep through holes in the corner of the tent. It’s almost silly how it mirrors Jason— dark, furry legs sprawled out in the grass against black denim doing the same. Its ears flop open, just like the black waves that stick up in some places. The dog is even graying around its nose, white whiskers stark against the expanse of black fur.

You shuffle over on your knees, and the dog’s ears twitch, brown eyes opening to peer at you.

“Hi,” you murmur, palm outstretched for him to sniff. His tail thumps against the grass. You rub his belly and he rolls completely onto his back, tail wagging harder. 

You can’t help but giggle. “What are you doing all the way over here? Didn’t want to play with your friends?”

“Senior dogs aren’t as popular.”

You look up; Jason’s gaze is fixed on you, calculated, yet unreadable. You feel warm under his stare.

“Sorry?”

“He’s a senior dog. Most people prefer the puppies. More energy. Cuter.” He looks across the pen, to where your friend is holding multiple puppies in his lap. “Easier, emotionally speaking. ‘Cause they’ve got more life left.”

Your heart sinks as you look down at the dog in front of you. He pushes himself onto his legs, and it's clear he moves much slower than the younger dogs, but he’s just as adorable. His nose pushes at your hand— a request to keep petting him.

“That really…sucks.” You scratch behind the dog’s ear and his back leg twitches.

“Not much we can do about it.” He sounds aloof, but he rubs at a spot over his chest as he says it.

“Well, I’d adopt him if I could. Little…” You check the tag hanging from his collar, leaning closer to make out the engraving. “…Monster…Truck?”

Jason’s brows knit together. “Seriously?” He turns toward you, and you show him. He laughs— it surprises you. He looks so different when his face is broken into a smile. Nothing like the guarded, indifferent look he wore until now.

Jason looks behind you, squinting. “He seems…eager.”

Your friend is lying on his back, laughing as the dogs climb over him.

“He is.”

“Good idea to come here,” Jason notes. “Seen a lot of couples around; fun place for a date.”

Your lips quirk up and you shake your head, opening your mouth to correct him when you’re interrupted.

“NO!”

You both whip around and see your friend bolting upright. The dogs skitter away from him, and he crawls over to you.

“We are not a couple, I guarantee you.” Your friend is close to shouting. “I’m actually—” He flicks his wrist down, and you stifle a groan. “And also taken. So this—” He gestures between the two of you. “Not happening.”

Jason nods. “Oh, okay. Um…sorry.”

He points to himself. “Not single,” he says, then points to you. “Single. Not single,” he points to himself again, then back to you. “Single.”

“I think he got it.” You keep your eyes locked on the ground in front of you.

“Just making sure! You know, we’re in the middle of a misinformation crisis. So, you should always be fact-checking.” He pats you on the back and looks Jason right in the eye. “She is single.”

You face him, eyes wide with pursed lips. “Thank you,” you say, through gritted teeth. “For that.” 

“Anytime,” He flashes a bright smile and shuffles away.

You take a steadying breath and slowly turn back to Jason. He looks confused more than anything else.

“Sorry.”

“No—no worries.”

You stay silent, patting ‘Monster Truck’ on the head.

“Nice shirt, by the way,” Jason says, after a minute of silence.

“Oh! Thank you,” you grin. “Do you…like Kafka?”

“Yeah, I do. Is The Metamorphosis your favorite?”

“Definitely. Although I might be biased; I have a preference for tragedies.”

Jason leans closer. “You think it’s a tragedy?”

You tilt your head. “How is it not? Gregor never wanted to become what he did, but his parents still blamed him for it. They hated him, hurt him, and were relieved when he died when all he wanted was to keep being their son.” The dog rests his head on your knee, and you move your scratches to his back. There’s a quirk in Jason’s cheek, like an almost smile. “But the tragedy is that, in their eyes, he stopped being their son the second he changed. He was a monster to them, and he stayed that way until he died. He hoped that they would love him again, but he was doomed from the day he changed.”

“You don’t think Gregor was a monster?” Jason asks amusedly; you didn’t mean to get so passionate about Gregor Samsa today, but he’s clearly not complaining.

“Of course not,” you scoff. “Do you?”

“No, not at all.”

“Good. I’m surprised you don’t think it’s a tragedy. What is it to you?”

He shrugs. “Horror?”

You narrow your eyes. “Okay, sure.”

He chuckles. “You don’t agree?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Seems like you don’t,” Jason teases.

“Please don’t put words in my mouth, Jason.”

He laughs again, louder this time, and it sounds like music. You can’t help it; you break into a grin—something about his laugh is so contagious. You want to swallow the sound and be drunk on it for days.

“Seems unfair that you know my name and I don’t know yours,” Jason says.

A high-pitched squeak sounds from behind you, followed by a gruff throat-clearing, and a mumbled Sorry. You ignore it, eyes squeezing shut in a silent prayer that he can’t sense the sheer amount of heat radiating off of you.

You tell him your name, and he repeats it quietly to himself. Like it’s something special to be held close.

He tears his eyes away from you when more people approach the pen, a line beginning to accumulate. You realize you’ve been here way longer than five minutes, and stand, brushing grass and dirt from your knees.

“We should probably…” You nod towards the people waiting.

“Yeah,” Jason agrees, sounding disheartened.

He stands, offering a hand so you can step over the playpen walls. His skin is rough, but warm, and your skin buzzes under the contact. As you swing your legs over, Monster Truck whines and paws at the walls of the enclosure.

You frown, leaning down to give him one final scratch under his chin. “Sorry buddy, I’ll miss you.”

Your friend climbs out after you, but steps away, giving you some distance.

“Maybe, um…” Jason’s hand comes up to rub the back of his neck. “I’ll see you later?”

You nod, smiling. “Definitely.”

The sun is setting, and you’re drowsy and sun-tired from spending the day walking around the park. At every table and tent you visited, application forms for adoption and fostering taunted you from their piles, and you thought about little Monster Truck, old and lonely in his cage at the shelter, while there’s nothing you can do about it. Then you thought about Jason, his interesting views on literature that you’d love to hear more about, and how good he looked under the dappled sunlight shining down on him through the trees. Maybe he could be a good rebound, you think as you walk around the park, stealing glances at where he sits in the hopes of catching him as he leaves. But the more you think about him, the more your traitorous mind, too romantic for your own good, spins ‘rebound’ into possibilities of ‘casual’ into ideals of ‘relationship.’

Your friend is pulling the car around when you spot him a few tables down, an easy smile on his face as he talks to a beautiful woman with red hair and glasses.

He’s standing so close to her, you notice. He laughs at something she says. It’s the same laugh he gave to you. It leaves a bad taste on your tongue.

How much do you even know this guy? One conversation isn’t enough to gauge his character. You were presumptuous to assume he was flirting with you; there’s no way someone like that is single. Looking at him now, you’re brought back to days as a bright-eyed tween girl with a crush on the pool’s college-aged lifeguard. In other words— delusional.

He leans down and kisses the top of her head.

‘Relationship’ suddenly follows a thread of lies, manipulation, and excuses, all woven into a tapestry bearing nothing but three wasted years.

And for what? Ideals?

Shame sinks into your stomach, burning through to the surface of your skin. It’s like he can feel your stare because he looks up and his eyes immediately find yours. Frustrated tears prick at your eyelids as he squeezes the woman’s shoulder in goodbye and makes his way over.

Two seconds too late, the car pulls up to the park's edge. Your friend waves you over, and you’re half-tempted to make a run for it. But Jason calls to you, and on instinct, you turn.

“Hey, I was looking for you.”

You manage a strained smile, unable to form any words.

“Are you leaving?”

“Mhm.” You give him a nod.

The minute tilt of his head tells you he knows something is off.

He rubs the back of his neck. “Okay, well, there’s a good place for coffee not far from here. If you’re interested.”

“I’ll be sure to check it out.”

There’s a shift in the air. You both feel it.

“Actually, I meant…if you wanted to go now,” he says.

The fucking nerve of this guy.

“Why would I want to do that?”

This gives him pause. He looks at you with those calculating eyes, searching for something you refuse to give him. After a few too many seconds, he responds.“I thought you maybe wanted to—”

“Oh my god, Jason, no!” You spit. The force of it catches both of you by surprise.

He clears his throat, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Okay. Sorry to bother you.” He walks away before you can say anything.

Your legs carry you through your haze of indistinguishable emotions and into your friend’s car.

“What was that?” He asks, as soon as your seatbelt clicks into place.

“I don’t know.”

You spare one last look at the park. You have a clear view of Jason through the crowd, back with the same woman and now joined by another man. He’s shorter than Jason, and a little more tanned. He claps Jason on the back in a warm, familiar fashion. He and the woman’s hands are interlaced, and from the way she looks at him, it’s clear you made a mistake.

“Oh, fuck me.” You lean back against the headrest, taking a deep breath to soothe the stabbing pain in your chest.

“Do you want to go back?” Your friend offers. He peers at you sympathetically, and that only makes you feel worse.

“No. No, please just drive.” You drop your face into your hands, voice cracking.

His palm finds your shoulder. “Maybe it’s for the better. Like, everything happens for a reason, you know? For all you know, he could be a murderer. Or something.”

You want to find comfort in his attempts, but you just can’t.

“Drive. Please.”

“Things are gonna get better for you. I can feel it.” He shifts gears and peels away from the curb. The park disappears in your rearview mirror, and you can only hope he’s right.

June 30th

Things got worse.

On one particularly difficult day, you drag yourself back to the animal shelter because you just couldn’t get Monster Truck out of your mind.

“For the record,” the employee says as he leads you to his enclosure, “We just call him Monty.”

Monty, having already heard your voice as you approached, was waiting at the gate with wide eyes. His tail swung from side to side, and the sight of him had you melting.

The employee unlocks the gate and Monty lumbers out, panting happily and jumping onto you as you kneel.

“Hi, buddy!” You smush his face between your hands. “I missed you.”

“Have you filled out an application?” The employee asks.

“Oh.” You flush. “I’m sort of…in the process of moving right now. So…no.” It’s a half-truth. Your stuff is all in boxes and ready to be moved. You just don’t know where yet.

“That’s okay, you can still fill one out now! The process might take some time, anyway. Where are you moving to?” He has an unsettlingly bright smile. You feel like he’s already judging you.

“I’m…not sure. Yet.”

“I see.” He smiles even wider, somehow. “Then where are you living now?”

You blow out a sigh. “At a friend’s.”

“So, you’re essentially homeless?”

“Woah, dude.”

“If you aren’t planning to adopt, then you can’t visit the animals as you please. This isn’t a petting zoo.”

You share a few choice words with the employee, including a not-so-whispered ‘jackass’ (to which he says, ‘I heard that’ and you shout a ‘You were meant to!’) on your way out the door.

Later on that month, you heard about a modest one-bedroom apartment from a friend of a friend, whose friend knew the landlord; a little above your price range, but you could manage. You went through all the proceedings— references, background check, credit check, coming up with the money for a deposit—you were all ready to sign the lease and move in when you got the call.

These things fall through sometimes, the landlord said. Sorry it didn’t work out.

So tonight, when your friend, sick of your week-long pity party on his couch, hauled you into his Uber to join his date night, you thought, what the hell. Sure. 

Your friend and his boyfriend are insufferably cute. Normally, you’d smile at the way they’re all over each other on the drive to the club; kissing each other’s palms and stroking one another’s hair. 

Now it feels gloating.

Although this, you suppose, is your normal now, and while you can bear their playing footsie in the Uber, bear the hands in each other’s back pockets while waiting in line, bear playing photographer for them over the first round of shots, you draw the line at the sensuous, touchy dance moves happening three feet away from you. Not wanting to be the jealous and bitter third-wheel, you manage to grab their attention long enough to point to the bar and make your escape.

Still fairly early in the night, most of the stools are empty. You slide into one, and the bartender, a dark-haired woman whose name tag reads ‘Luisa’, approaches with a smile.

“What can I get you?”

You order a shot and, after a quick glance back to your friends (they’ve escalated to full-on grinding), you add a cocktail.

You throw back the shot with barely a grimace and start downing the cocktail. Luisa whistles.

“Everything okay?”

You merely shrug, not bothering to remove your mouth from the glass. Or breathe. The liquid level lowers at a steady speed until you’re left with only a few ice cubes.

Someone from a few chairs down scoots over to the seat next to you. 

“Wow.”

You don’t look at him, but the voice sounds male.

"I like a girl who can handle her liquor. Can—"

“No,” you say, not lifting your eyes from the counter.

You hear him scoff from beside you. “You could at least—"

“Nope.” You swish the straw around in the glass, pushing the ice cubes about. They clink against the corners of the cup.

“There’s no need—“

Something about this guy, and every guy to ever exist, fills you with exhaustion and rage. You drop your head into your hands, and groan. Loudly.

You hear his footsteps receding, as well as some curses flicked your way, but take an extra minute to hide in your hands. You think to yourself, when did men get so much audacity?

Another glass is set down in front of you. You look up; it’s Luisa. She wears an understanding grimace.

“Thanks,” you mumble.

“Break-up?” She asks, and you nod. “This one’s taken care of.”

“By who?”

“Don’t worry about it. Though, I do expect a generous tip later.” She winks, and you crack a smile for the first time that night.

“Why are men so…” You pause, searching for a word that adequately sums up what you’re feeling, but come up with nothing. She seems to get the point.

“Trust me, I know.”

“Yeah? What happened to you?” You sip the drink; the glass is cold in your hands, and it feels good against the humidity of the packed club.

She sighs, resting her forearms against the bar counter, fingers playing with the edges of her apron. “What didn’t?” At your sympathetic look, she continues. “I was with this guy for a few months, and everything was great. He was so sweet and loving. I thought he was, like, the one. Met each other’s families and everything. He started talking about moving in together…I was worried we might be moving too fast but he kept pushing it, saying stuff like ‘I want to be with you for the rest of my life, and I want the rest of my life to start right now!’” She accentuates her imitation with finger quotes and a high-pitched voice.

You squint at her with furrowed brows. “Isn’t that…When Harry met Sally?”

She laughs dryly. “Yeah. I hadn’t seen it. You want another?” She nods toward the glass you set down, now empty.

“Please.”

While assembling yet another cocktail for you, she resumes her story. “So I agreed, and he moved into my place, and then…” Luisa trails off, muddling mint and lime juice at the bottom of a shaker.

“Then…?” You prompt.

“Well, I found out that the day he started pressuring me into moving in together…that was the day he got his first eviction notice.”

“No.”

“Yes.” She pours your drink into a fresh glass and adds a straw, then slides it over the counter to you. “And I found out because he was four months behind on rent, and the landlord came to my place looking for him.”

“Oh my god!” You gasp, your chest burning with anger on her behalf. “What did you do?”

“I called my sisters. While he was at work, we changed the locks, packed up all his stuff, and left it on the curb.” She smiles at the memory. “Then I never saw him again.”

You snort into your hand. “So…you evicted him.”

“Essentially,” Luisa shrugs. “What about you?”

You huff. “Cheated,” is the only word you can get out, shoulders sagging as you fiddle with the straw.

“I’m sorry,” Luisa says.

"S'not your fault," you slur. Your three drinks are catching up to you. That doesn't stop you from ordering another.

Later into the night, when the crowd density around the bar has almost doubled, Luisa excuses herself to tend to the rising drink demand. You miss talking to her as soon as she leaves, but it's no matter because you're not sure your speech is even intelligible at this point. You're left with a grand total of three cocktails and two shots, the empty glasses surrounding your personal pity party at the bar. You're entertaining yourself by stacking the glasses atop one another when you hear a second set of footsteps behind the counter, though you're in no condition to comprehend the exchange.

"Hey, have you gone on break yet?"

"No, not yet."

"Okay, go. I'll cover you."

Your phone vibrates, and it takes a few tries for your clumsy hands to wrestle it out of your jeans' minuscule front pockets.

Unknown Number hey i want to fix this we can't throw away three whole years just because of one silly argument

You sho is yhid

Unknown Number i had to get a new number because you blocked me

You new nuumbrt who ids oj

Unknown Number wait are you drunk right now?

You y7es

Unknown Number i can't believe you, i'm trying to fight for our relationship and you're out drinking?

You fuvk ogg twat

"New number my ass. D'you see this shit?" You hold the phone up, facing the screen to Luisa. "How much you wanna bet he jus' borrowed— oh."

When you look up to where Luisa's face was, you're met with...nothing. A black void encapsulates your entire field of view.

"Am I passing out?" You ask, to no one in particular.

"What?"

The sound comes from above the black, and you follow it.

"Oh, shit."

You find a pair of green eyes narrowed at you, scanning you up and down. If you were more sober, you might feel somewhat intimidated by the burning stare. But any hint of sobriety has been thrown out the window and apparently took your filter along with it.

His face is somewhat blurry, but the unmistakable streak of white hair has you ninety percent confident that it’s...him in front of you.

Jason. From the animal shelter. Who you got along with, and then treated like shit.

“Woah! What’re you doin’ here!” It comes out as an exclamation more than a question and your words blend together, the alcohol making any speech require ten times the usual effort.

“What am I doing here?” It’s not accusatory, but rather genuinely confused. His voice is even, distant. Not a trace of the warmth you had last time to be heard.

You mimic his expression. “Do you, like…work here or something?”

He stares at you, dumbfounded. His face reads, this must be a prank. His mouth reads, after a moment’s pause, “…Or something.”

You sweep another look down his body. A black, short-sleeve T-shirt, well-loved jeans, and a pair of work boots grace his deific figure. You linger on his arms for a few seconds.

He clears his throat, and you’re drawn back to his face. He raises his eyebrows, unamused. The morning will be clouded by a haze of regret for how openly you check him out. But the morning’s not here just yet.

“You’re the barten—the bar…bar-man?”

He opens his mouth to respond, but you answer your own question.

“Nah, you’re…you are…can’t be bar-man. You don’t gotta apron!” You point at him, jabbing your finger so aggressively it shakes your whole body—a clear mistake from the way it makes the alcohol slosh in your stomach.

He says nothing and steps away to deal with the other customers. You return to your cup-stacking but, a moment later, the glasses are pulled from your reach. Your arm follows them with a whining protest, and a tall glass is placed in your hand.

“I didn’t order any more rum.”

“This is water.” Jason begins to turn away, but stops. “Did you think I brought you a full glass of rum?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I’m kinda drunk,” you mumble. You take a few sips, and then place it back on the table. 

“Oh, are you?” His tone has a bite to it. You look down at the cup, tapping your nails against the glass. You don’t give yourself the right to be offended; you deserve it, you think, as the events of that day replay in your head.

“Sorry for being such a bitch.” It comes out quieter, scarcely audible over the raucous sounds of the club.

“All you said was, ‘You’re not wearing an apron’.”

“Not now. Before. Last time.”

He doesn’t say anything. Then, “Just drink the water.”

“No, I’m gonna go throw up.”

“Wait—”

You jump from your stool, threading through the hordes of sweaty bodies to round the corner and bolt for the bathroom. You barge through the first door marked ‘vacant’ that you see and hurl in the toilet. Several times.

When your stomach is finally empty, you sit back against the wall, head hitting the tiles. A mixture of vomit and spit dribbles down your chin and onto your top. You take a deep breath, but the air stinks of sweat and smoke and you retch, but there’s nothing left for your body to purge.

The cold tiles do little to soothe your damp, heated skin. You need water. Water and fresh air and maybe a time machine, so you can go back and warn yourself to eat something before going out, or to pay more attention to what’s right in front of you, or maybe just go back and make sure you never say yes in the first place to that fucking—

“You in here?”

A swift knock on the door. Stern enough to knock you to your senses, and also rouse some shame. The amount of times you’ve embarrassed yourself this month alone— it brings another wave of nausea.

You don’t answer—you can’t, not with the acid and bile burning your throat and your head spinning from the glaring fluorescent lights. The door handle is pushed down achingly slowly, rusty hinges screaming in protest as the door is cracked open. Jason peeks his head in, the familiar tuft of white poking out from behind the door first, followed by the rest of him.

“Can I come in?” 

You nod. He leaves a crack in the door and approaches carefully, as if you’re a wounded animal in the wild, ready to bolt at the first sudden movement. He squats down to eye-level, careful to avoid touching his knees to the floor. Smart, you think, becoming acutely aware of your shoes sticking to the ground by way of some mystery substance.

“Sorry ‘bout this,” you croak, closing your eyes in the hopes that it will relieve some of the ache.

“It’s fine.”

“No,” you slur, “’s not. Can’t stop embarrassing myself.”

“Believe me, I’ve seen much worse.”

“Doubt it.” You open your eyes to look at him. He remains a respectable distance from you, so his features are still a bit fuzzy, but you can make out the thin line of his lips pressed together. He’s indecipherable, and you wonder if it’s on purpose that he hides himself, or if that’s just his face.

“Can you stand?” He asks, rising back to his full height. Still delirious, you manage a soft groan from the back of your throat and extend your arm to him. He gets the message, taking ahold of your elbow and pulling you to your feet with ease like you weigh nothing.

You hobble over to the sink and splash cool water on your face, wiping at your mouth and neck and cursing at the stains on your shirt.

“Do you need a new one?” 

It almost doesn’t register over the ringing in your ears, which is only compounded by the loud bass that bleeds through the walls and reverberates through your skull.

“You…hm?” Your voice crackles as you turn to face him. He’s oddly relaxed in his stance where he leans against the door, hands in his pockets and watching you intently. 

“I can give you a shirt. If you want one,” he says. His voice is soft, but whether it’s from sympathy or pity, you can’t tell. 

“Yeah, sure. Fine,” you reply, breaking eye contact to stare at the grimy wall behind him. More than anything else, you want a break from the way he looks at you; as if he’s peeling back your layers and staring right into the center of you. It makes you feel like a scolded child, walking to the principal’s office with a pit in your stomach and no idea what you did wrong, but knowing there must be something.

Your hands feel cold, suddenly, and you flinch at the unexpected sensation. Looking down, you see Jason pressing a bottle of water into your hands. You hadn’t even noticed he stepped closer.

He slips out the door, closing it behind him. You rinse out your mouth a few times, but the dry, acidic burn in your throat remains, so you go for the water bottle, but your fingers are too weak and shaky to remove the cap. You set it down forcefully on the sink’s edge and lean your weight against the sink, hands gripping the porcelain so hard your knuckles turn white. You stare at them, unable to bear your own reflection. You can feel the pressure building behind your eyes and screw them shut, clamping a hand over your mouth to muffle the choked-out sob that breaks from you.

“Fuck,” you mutter to yourself, wiping away at the moisture. “Get it together.”

You’re trying to steady your breathing when he knocks on the door, his request to come in muffled through the wall.

A stiff “Yeah,” is all you can manage; it’s so quiet you don’t think he heard you, but a moment later the door creaks open again and Jason’s head peeks in. You steal a quick glance at him in the mirror, and that’s all it takes for him to notice the shine of your red-rimmed eyes. He freezes, hovering halfway into the bathroom, unsure if he should come in or give you your privacy.

“Here,” he says quietly. You turn around at the light rustle of him holding out a large, light blue t-shirt, and a plastic grocery bag. “I’ll let you—”

“Wait,” you say, without thinking.

He looks at you expectantly, and after a few seconds of silence, you realize you need to say something.

“Can you—” You fumble for the water bottle that sits on the sink and hold it out to him. “Can you open this?”

He twists the cap open and hands it back to you. You take a small sip. The two of you stare at each other.

“Is there…anything else?”

“I, uh…”

There is something else. But you’re not sure what it is. The only thing your drunk—and clearly stupid—mind can think about right now is how much you want him to stay.

“You remember Monty?”

“Monty?” Jason raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah, you know. Monty.” You lean against the wall, resting your head on the tiles that are definitely carrying some kind of virus. At least they’re cold.

“No, sorry.” He shakes his head.

“Jason.” You cross your arms. “Monty!”

“I don’t…know who that is.” His ears are turning pink as he looks you up and down, likely wondering if the bacteria in this bathroom can cause hallucinations.

“Monster Truck. The dog.”

You can see the gears turning in his brain, and the moment the light bulb flickers on. “Oh,” he sighs. “Yeah.” His shoulder leans against the doorframe, and he pushes the door open a few more inches.

“Y’know I went to see him?” 

He hums in response and tilts his chin up, signaling for you to continue.

“Motherfuckers kicked me out.”

At this, his mouth falls open. “They…what?”

You nod vigorously, grateful that you’re not alone in your outrage. “Said if I don’t have a place to live, being there’s basically loitering.”

At his silence, paired with his microscopic frown, you wonder if he agrees. It occurs to you that this is the first he’s heard of your living situation—you rush to defend yourself.

“I had a place to live. Then I moved out. Was about to move into this new place, literally jus’ had to sign some shit, but this old bitch pulled it out from under me. Worst part is, she’s not even gonna live there. Just wanted it ‘cause it was around the fashion district, an’ I guess she just wanted a place to, like, put her feet up or something after a long day of shopping.”

If Jason wants to cut in, you don’t notice. You’re fully aware that you’re rambling, but can’t bring yourself to care; it feels nice to finally get all this out. Even if it is making you look even worse in his eyes.

“And you wanna know the worst part? I had the apartment. Was basically mine already. But then she had to go and bribe the damn landlord with all her…damn rich lady money!” Your volume increases as you go on, getting angrier at the injustice. “And then he lied to me about it! Said it just ‘fell through.’ Then I showed up to talk to him in person about it, and he broke like a…like—like something that breaks easily, I don’t know. Like, if you’re gonna fuck people over, at least be good at it. Don’t be a snitch!

“And, apparently, the lady—she said that she wanted that apartment because it was ‘the safest she could find’ and she didn’t wanna ‘get mugged,’” you say, using air quotes. “Bitch! If you wanna live somewhere safe, get the hell out of Gotham!” You’re practically yelling now, and Jason suppresses a smile. You know it’s probably mocking, but still, he listens patiently to your rant.

“But, actually, she was kinda right. It was a nice place. On Tyler Street. Totally bougie—the muggers don’t even come out ‘til after midnight.”

He actually snorts at this, and you feel yourself smiling at it.

Your eyes fall to the shirt in your hands. You hold it up to get a good look. It’s an icy-blue color with a monocled cartoon penguin in front of an iceberg. Underneath is written ‘The Iceberg Lounge: Gotham Waterfront.’ 

It’s so cheesy, you can’t help but laugh. “Why do you have this?”

“From the gift shop.”

“What kinda club has a gift shop?”

Jason shrugs. “This one.”

He steps out, shutting the door behind him. You peel off your old shirt and stuff it in the plastic bag before tugging on the new shirt; it’s soft and surprisingly good quality. After a few moments of deliberation, you decide to stuff the plastic bag in the trash—it’s not like you’ll miss it.

You open the door, startled when you see that Jason is waiting outside.

“I’m good, you can go back to work,” you tell him.

“How are you gonna get home?”

“‘S fine,” you mumble. “I’ll jus’ call an Uber.” You drag yourself out of the bathroom, leaning one hand against the wall for support. Jason follows, hovering like an anxious parent. You shoot your friend a text letting him know, and he replies telling you to call him from the car.

“That’s—” He rests his hand on your back and maneuvers you around a flock of drunk dancers whom you’re too absorbed in your phone to notice. “I can give you a ride.”

“It’s okay. You’re working.” You don’t listen for his answer, making a beeline for the exit. He stays on your tail, and you realize as he guides you in the opposite direction that you don’t actually know your way around this place.

“Not anymore.” He pushes open the front door and holds it for you.

“You can’t just leave in the middle of your shift, Jason.” The door swings shut behind you, and sounds of traffic and light chatter replace the ear-splitting music. Jason nods to the bouncer at the entrance before turning back to you.

“I wouldn’t worry about it.” He leads you around the side of the building.

“No, I will worry about it. You already hate me enough. I can’t be the reason you get fired.”

Jason stops walking. “You think—”

“I’m calling an Uber.” He tries to interject, but you don’t let him. “Look! George is three miles away, and he has a five-star rating.”

“I don’t want you getting into some rando’s car. I can take you home.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “What’s your problem? You don’t like George?”

“I don’t trust anyone in Gotham this late, and neither should you,” Jason says firmly.

“Then why should I trust you?”

He opens his mouth, then closes it. You scroll through your recent messages, surprised to see your ex’s ‘new number’ has called you four times in the last hour. Two of those calls have voicemails.

You skim through the voicemail transcripts. “Fuckin’ weirdo,” you seethe.

“What’s wrong?” Jason asks.

“Nothin’.” Your shaky fingers try to navigate to the ‘block’ button, but the screen shifts to an incoming call. It’s him. Again. You decline it. Not even a moment later, he calls again.

“Leave me alone,” you mutter, rushing to press ‘block’ before he can call again.

Releasing a heavy sigh, you drop to the curb, head falling into your palms. After a moment, you hear Jason sit down next to you.

“Is someone bothering you?” His tone is rigid, and it’s a shocking switch, abrupt and cold enough to send a chill down your spine. You lift your head to look at him. “If you don’t feel safe—”

“No, it’s just my stupid ex. Probably only calling ‘cause his fuckin’ mistress finally left him. Good for her, I guess. Bad for me, though. Now he’s lonely and won’t leave me alone.”

“How many times has he called you?”

“I don’t know, five? It’s fine. He’ll give up.”

“Are you sure?”

You nod. His shoulders relax. Barely. You don’t miss the way his jaw tightens, or how his hand flexes as he stares at your phone.

“If he keeps harassing you, tell someone.” At the way he speaks, you almost fear for your ex.

“I…don’t know if I’d call it harassment. He’s just an idiot.”

Jason looks you in the eye. “That’s not an excuse.” His gaze is sharp. You look away, something burning in your chest.

Quiet settles in the space between you.

“Feels like you’re judging me,” you murmur.

“I’m not judging you,” he says gently. “Why would I judge you?”

“I don’t know, just…for being with someone like that.”

It takes him some time to respond.

“People change.”

“And what if I told you he was always like that?”

“I still wouldn’t judge you.” This time, his reply is immediate.

“Maybe you should. I was with him for three years.”

“Why?” He asks, but it’s not critical; it’s curious.

“We were friends for a while first. I guess I was kind of a late bloomer if you wanna call it that. Never got much attention from…whatever.”  The alcohol’s lingering effects weigh heavy on your tongue, making all your admissions come too easily. “Then one day, that changed. He was the first guy who asked me out. Claimed he’d ‘always had a crush on me’. Guess I got excited, or something. I was so high on the feeling of being…wanted. Never noticed how selfish he actually was.”

“What did he do?”

“It was subtle. He wasn’t the only one who started noticing me; I started getting approached more. But it felt worse, almost. ‘Cause it’s like…I don’t know…I didn’t even change anything.” You hug your knees closer to your chest. “But then all of a sudden I was getting all this attention. And I didn’t know why, and he was like, ‘you really don’t know? You got super hot over the summer.’”

You hear Jason wince next to you. You tilt your head back and take a deep breath, filling your lungs with fresh air when all the remembering brings a familiar pressure to your chest.

“And I know it was supposed to be a compliment,” you continue, feeling yourself sobering at the memory. “Every time it happened, I would tell him about it, thinking we could laugh, but then he’d say some shit like, ‘Well they only like you now. I was the only one who liked you even before.”

“So, until now, you…lived with him?” Jason’s eyes are on the side of your face, you can feel it, but you don’t dare to look at him.

“Yeah. Moved in together after graduation with a lease in his name ‘cause I didn’t know any better.” You chuckle self-deprecatingly. “Found out in the spring that he’d been cheating on me for months, so I moved out. Been moving between friends’ couches ever since.”

A bout of heat runs through your veins as the gravity of everything you’ve told him settles in. You breathe out a long sigh, keeping your eyes trained on the sky above. There are no stars in Gotham, not since the sudden boom in factories and highways and airborne bio-weapons, and the moon is barely visible, waxing on the edge of a new moon. The sky is an endless expanse of gray.

“What about you? Don’t make me the only naked one here.”

The blinking light of an airplane catches your attention, and you track it across the sky. The alcohol has slowed your cognition; it’s nearly a full minute before you realize Jason hasn’t responded. You finally look at him—his lips are parted, eyes narrowed.

You frown. “What?”

“…Naked?” He asks.

“Yeah.” You shrug. “Never heard that before? It doesn’t mean naked naked. It means, like…naked.”

His face remains blank.

“C’mon, Jason, I have no interest in seeing you naked naked.” You look him up and down with distaste, hoping to support your statement, but get caught—again—on his arms. But who can blame you? You’re drunk, and lonely, and his sleeves are hugging his biceps like that, and they look big enough to crush your head.

When your eyes find his again, his jaw is tensed.

You dart to your feet, too quick to help your dizziness and burning with embarrassment.

“Whatever, can we go?”

“Please,” he says, and leads you down the street.

You stumble, tripping over your own feet as you walk and almost crashing into him. Jason huffs and reaches out to wrap his hand around your upper arm. His grip is firm, but not painful, and it holds you upright for the remainder of the walk. In the back of your mind, you wonder if he’s holding up your entire body weight in one hand.

“Wait a second–wait.” You freeze in the middle of the sidewalk, and he jerks to a stop. “That thing? ‘M not gettin’ on that.” You swallow back the lump forming in your throat as you stare at the massive motorcycle parked at the side door.

“Why not?” You can tell he’s getting antsy now, having to look after you like a babysitter, but not even the fear of being a burden can outweigh the uneasiness that comes from…that.

You take a step back. “That’s—you know how dangerous those things are?”

He looks to the sky, taking a deep breath. “Only if you don’t know how to drive them. I do.”

“Look, I get it, you got that whole thing goin’ on, with the bike, and the leather, and the big muscles—” His eyes widen a bit at that last part. “—But do you know what the chances are of being injured when you’re in a motorcycle accident? Do you, Jason? Ei—”

“Eighty-two percent,” he cuts in.

You jerk back, narrowing your eyes. “How’d you know that?”

He scoffs. “How did I know that? You don’t even have a motorcycle!”

“You don’t know that!”

“I do,” he snaps. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t be throwing a fit right now. So please, just get on the bike so I can take you home.” Jason shoves the helmet out to you, his expression fiery and pleading in a way you’ve never seen before. Still, you hesitate, chewing on your bottom lip and looking between him and the helmet.

Your eyes meet, and he sighs. “I’ll drive slowly.” He speaks softer, and somehow, it settles some of your nerves.

You take a deep breath and take the helmet, sliding it over your head. Jason tightens the strap below your chin, and his fingers brush against your neck. You feel dizzy again, your eyelids drooping with sleepiness. With him standing so close, you can smell the cologne wafting from him, layered on top of something deeper; a mixture of fresh soap and natural musk. 

“You smell good,” you murmur.

He snaps your visor shut.

“Good?” He asks.

“Good,” you say, though it’s muffled through the helmet, so you nod.

Once you’re both on the bike, you wrap your arms around his waist, squeezing tightly for fear of falling off. You feel his body vibrate as he says something, but you’re too tired to worry about what it is.

He revs up the bike and takes off, circling back to the front of the building and merging onto the main road. And yeah, he’s not going that fast, but it’s fast enough to leave your stomach a few feet behind. You cling to Jason, pressing yourself impossibly tighter to him.

Your eyes are closed the whole way, but the cold wind blowing against you feels nice on your skin. You’re so lost in the hum of the engine sending relaxing vibrations through you, how soft Jason feels, and the helmet drowning out the sounds of Gotham traffic that you don’t even notice when he stops in front of your friend’s building and takes off his helmet. When the light taps to your knee don’t work, he squeezes your leg with a stern call of your name. You jump in surprise, knocked out of your reverie, but pry yourself off of his back.

He gets off first, holds his arm out to offer stability as you clamber off, then undoes your helmet. By now, you’ve sobered up considerably, but you still lack just enough of your senses to stand on your toes and throw your arms around his neck. It’s a split-second embrace, so quick that you barely catch the fresh earthiness of his scent before pulling away. You swear the air feels heavier on your lower back, warmth bleeding through fabric where a hesitant touch hovers, but when you step back his arms are firmly at his sides.

Looking up at him, the tips of his ears are dusted with pink, and his eyelashes flutter in a gust of summer wind. 

“Thanks for putting up with me,” You mumble through a drowsy grin. “‘Specially after I fumbled you that badly.”

Jason blushes harder. “Get some rest,” he says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “And call your friend,” he calls as you climb the steps. You wave goodbye, and he just nods, waiting until you get through the door to mount his bike again. 

He’s just about to kick it into gear when he pauses. He stares at the door for several seconds, fighting with himself, before groaning out a string of curses, pulling out his phone, and searching up Tyler Street.

divider

there are so many notes bc this was so long omg. it ended up being longer than i anticipated so i split it into 2 parts don't hate me🫥

omg...the birth of an au...i still can't believe so many people liked the first part, this is a prequel for how they met. ty for reading my writing🤭i looove writing iceberg lounge jason!! part 2 of this fic and more parts coming soon!!!

so uh...maybe i'm going crazy but i could've sworn that wayne animal sanctuary was a canon thing when i started this, but then i tried to look it up and couldn't find anything :/ but then i included it anyway bc i'm The Author and i can do whatever i want!

the metamorphosis shirt is based on this "working bug" design that i ❤️ (i have the sticker!).

the motorcycle accident stats were for 2013-2017 from the new jersey division of highway traffic and safety website- basically if you were in a motorcycle accident in those years you had an 82% chance of sustaining injuries from it. wasn't sure if it was clear😬

[yannawayne]

INJUSTICE 2 INTRO INTERACTIONS. batboys x villain! reader

SYNOPSIS: I have very specific and odd hyperfixiations. Warnings for typical blood and violence + suggestive flirting in Dick, Jason, and Tim.

-> BATMAN X ALTERNATE UNIVERSE! BATMOM -> NIGHTWING X CATGIRL! READER -> REDHOOD X AMAZON! JOKER'S KILLER! READER -> RED ROBIN X IVY! READER -> DAMIAN X FORMER ARRANGED L.O.A WIFE! BLIND! READER

──────── ⵌ GAME LOADING ...

-> BATMAN X ALTERNATE UNIVERSE! BATMOM

Bruce is transported to an alternate universe where you two were never in love and instead enemies. He can't bare to see what you might have become without him or his sons.

(Bruce slowly removes his cowl, revealing his pained blue eyes staring at you, filled with sorrow and longing.)

BRUCE: "You'd be proud of the men our sons have become."

(You tighten your grip on your sword, the knuckles turning white. For a brief moment, a flicker of something unreadable crosses your face, but you quickly mask it with indifference. You shake your head and raise your blade.)

AU! BATMOM: "They mean nothing in this world."

(With a burst of speed, you launch yourself at him, the clash of metal on metal resonating through the night as your blade meets his defense. The force of your attack drives Bruce back a step, but he holds his ground.)

BRUCE: "In mine, they are everything because of you."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(A cloud of smoke erupts, obscuring the dimly lit alley as Bruce emerges from the shadows. His cape billows behind him, creating a striking silhouette against the flickering streetlights.)

BRUCE: "Our sons would never recognize you like this."

(You stand still for a moment, the sharp slice of blades cutting through the air as you flip them effortlessly. The sound is a whisper of danger. Your stance is guarded, eyes steely and cold, betraying no emotion.)

AU! BATMOM: "Good. I have no use for children."

(Bruce scowls, the harsh lines on his face deepening. He curls his hand into a fist, muscles tensing visibly under his suit, readying himself for the inevitable confrontation.)

BRUCE: "But every son deserves a mother’s love, no matter the universe."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(Bruce reaches into his utility belt with practiced ease, pulling out two Batarangs. He holds them firmly, the metal cool and reassuring in his grip)

BRUCE: "I can't look at you without seeing her."

(You lift your chin defiantly, a sharp smile playing on your lips.)

AU! BATMOM: "Ha! I am not your wife."

(Bruce frowns, his eyes narrowing as he shifts his weapons closer to his face, preparing to defend. He refuses to fight you.)

BRUCE: " "But you wear her face, and that’s enough to remind me of what I’ve lost."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(Bruce maneuvers the Batmobile with precision, stopping abruptly before flipping out and landing on the ground.)

BRUCE: "I see the pain behind your eyes. It's the same pain she hides."

(You huff, striding towards him with purpose. The sword at your hip sings as you draw it, the blade catching the light ominously.)

AU! BATMOM: "Don't presume to know me."

(Bruce stands straighter, his glare unwavering as he meets your gaze head-on.)

BRUCE: "I know her, and that’s why I can’t give up on you."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(Bruce holds a photo in his hands, a photo of your family. His eyes soften as he looks at it, his grip tender despite the battle raging around him.)

BRUCE: "I dream of bringing her here to show you what you could be."

(Your back is turned against him, but you slowly face his way, the sound of your sword being unsheathed filling the tense silence.)

AU! BATMOM: "Dreams are for the weak."

(Bruce pockets the photo with care, then assumes a combat stance, his eyes never leaving yours.)

BRUCE: "No, they’re for the hopeful. And I will never stop hoping for you."

 ༻⊰───⋅ (Bruce grunts as your legs tighten around him, choking him. His face contorts with effort as he twists his body, managing to knock you off and get to his feet, breathing heavily.)

BRUCE: "In my world, you're my everything. Here, you're my nightmare."

(You walk off the fall and stand tall, your posture defiant and unwavering. A cold smirk plays on your lips as you step toward him.)

AU! BATMOM: "Dreams and nightmares are two sides of the same coin, Bat."

(Bruce braces himself, legs apart, muscles coiled like a spring, preparing for the inevitable clash.)

Batman: "I just wish I could flip it back."

 ༻⊰───⋅

-> NIGHTWING X CATGIRL! READER

You've been playing this cat-and-bat chase ever since he was Robin. Now as Nightwing, he can't help but long for something deeper.

(You perch on a rooftop edge, your silhouette lit by the moonlight as you smirk down at him. Leaping from the edge, you flip gracefully through the air before landing in a crouch in front of him.)

CATGIRL: "You know, curiosity killed the cat."

(Dick steps towards you, pulling his escrima sticks from his back. He hits them together, producing a crackle of electricity that illuminates the smirk on his face.)

NIGHTWING: "Good thing satisfaction brought it back."

(Purring, you trail your claws down your chest, your eyes locked on his.)

CATGIRL: "Show me how you satisfy, Nightwing."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(Dick whistles as he walks towards you in his police uniform, swinging handcuffs with his fingers. The polished badge on his chest glints under the bank’s dim lights.)

OFFICER! GRAYSON: "Why don't you switch sides? You'd make a great hero."

(You laugh and stalk towards him, not even bothering to avoid the tripwires in the bank. The alarms remain silent, disabled by your expert touch.)

CATGIRL: "A kitty in a cape? Not my style."

(Dick shakes his head, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he unlatches the handcuffs, the metal clinking softly.)

OFFICER! GRAYSON: "You could do so much good, you know."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(Laughing, you knock Dick to the ground, but with a swift move, he rolls you over, tackling you to the side and straddling you with a grin.)

NIGHTWING: "I know all your weak spots."

(You feel the heat of his body against yours, but you twist from his grip, slipping out and flipping away to a safe distance. You land lightly on your feet, drawing your claws with a predatory smile.)

CATGIRL: "You think you can make me purr?"

(Dick smirks, his eyes glinting with challenge. He rolls his shoulders, the muscles rippling under his suit, and tosses his head back.)

NIGHTWING: "I’ll have you screaming my name."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(Dick watches as you strut along the edge of a building, hips swaying with each step, your balance effortless. )

NIGHTWING: "You know, Blüdhaven could use someone like you."

(You toss your head back with a playful smile, bending before executing a flawless flip towards him, landing gracefully.)

CATGIRL: "What, their own version of Catwoman?"

(Dick’s expression softens, the playful smile fading from his face, replaced by a more earnest look. He steps towards you and twirls his escrima sticks in the air.)

NIGHTWING: "No. Another hero."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(You flip yourself over a rooftop edge, your hair falling in loose waves as you look down at Nightwing's panting form from above.)

CATGIRL: "What's the matter, Nightwing? Can't handle a little cat-and-bat chase?"

(Dick grins and throws his head back to look up at you, exposing the strong line of his jaw. Beads of sweat trickle down his face and neck, glistening in the moonlight. With a slow motion, he tucks his batons back into his back.)

NIGHTWING: "Oh. I can handle a lot more than that."

(Smirking, you slip off the rooftop and land right in front of him with a thud. You purr as you step closer, lashing your whip around you.)

CATGIRL: "Prove it, and I might let you handle me."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(Snarling, Dick licks at the stripe of blood running over his lip. You saunter a few feet away, licking your canines, which are stained with his blood.)

NIGHTWING: "You know, we could stop all this fighting."

(You smirk and draw your claws, eyes narrowing into slits.)

CATGIRL: "And what would we do instead, loverboy?"

(Dick smirks and crosses his arms, giving you a tantalizing view of his biceps, the fabric of his suit straining slightly.)

NIGHTWING: "I have a few ideas. None of them involve clothes."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(Dick speeds through the city on his motorcycle, the engine roaring beneath him. With a swift, fluid motion, he flips off the bike, landing perfectly on his feet. The bike crashes in the distance, a burst of sparks lighting up.)

NIGHTWING: "You keep running, but I’ll always catch you."

(You turn to face him, a sharp smile playing on your lips, a shiny new jewel glinting in your hand under the moonlight.)

CATGIRL: "Maybe I just like the chase."

(Dick rolls his eyes, a mix of exasperation and amusement crossing his face, before he drops into a fighting stance, tensed and ready.)

NIGHTWING: "How about we skip to the part where I pin you down?"

 ༻⊰───⋅

(The jail cell door clanks shut as Dick locks you inside. You coo at him, reaching out to cup his cheek, but he knocks your hand away, his eyes filled with anger.)

NIGHTWING: "Every time you run, it feels like you’re slipping away from me."

(You frown and move away, slipping back into the shadows of the cell, the dim light casting eerie patterns on your figure.)

CATGIRL: "Running is all I know."

(Dick frowns, his hand tightening on the cold metal bars. His voice is filled with a deep, aching sincerity as he gazes into the darkness where you stand.)

NIGHTWING: "I just wish you'd run towards me instead."

 ༻⊰───⋅

-> REDHOOD X AMAZON! READER

Wonder Woman's daughter, once a proud heroine, now an outcast from the League after you killed the Joker in a vengeful rage for your lover's death. You try to run, he doesn't let you.

(With a fierce cry, you bring your sword down in a powerful arc, slicing through your enemies. Blood sprays as you cut down your chasers, the ground beneath you becoming slick with the crimson evidence of your wrath. You turn around just in time to see Jason charging towards you.)

A: "Cease this. The League will hunt me down like an animal."

(Jason scowls, his expression dark as he cocks his guns and reloads his rubber bullets. He barrels into the fray, firing relentlessly and mowing down the wave of heroes coming after you.)

JASON: "They won’t touch you as long as I’m breathing."

(You spin, delivering a bone-crushing blow to an opponent's jaw, feeling the satisfying crunch of bone beneath your knuckles.)

A: "You can’t fight the whole League, my love! I’m a liability."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(Jason frowns and reaches for your wrist, pulling you back into his arms. The battle still thrums in the air around you, but in this moment, it's just the two of you.)

JASON: "Don’t let B’s opinion define you."

(You knock him away with a fierce shove, drawing your shield up defensively. Your sword hangs by your side, stained with the blood of your enemies, the weight of it a reminder of your actions.)

A: "He’s your father. His scorn is a heavy burden to bear."

(Jason steps forward, dropping his guns. He cups your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him, his touch both gentle and firm.)

JASON: "To hell with what he thinks. I love you, and that’s what matters."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(The two of you circle each other, eyes locked in their own battle. Jason's guns are pointed at you, his face twisted in agony.)

JASON: "I hate that your hands are bloodied for my sake."

(You drop your shield and sword, the clatter of metal echoing in the tense silence. Raising your stained hands, you step closer, showing him the blood that marks your skin.)

A: "I’d stain them a thousand times for you."

(Jason's eyes flicker with pain and frustration as he lowers his guns.)

JASON: "And I wanted to keep them clean."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(With a growl, you swing your sword at Jason, the blade whistling through the air. He ducks, rolling to the side and coming up with his guns aimed at you. You charge forward, deflecting his shots with your shield.)

JASON: "You think running away will solve anything?"

(You catch his leg with your shield, throwing him off balance before punching him in the jaw.)

A: "You don’t understand the price I’ve paid!"

(Jason wipes the blood from his lip, eyes flashing with anger and sorrow as he lunges at you.)

JASON:"I understand more than you think! And I’m here to help you!"

 ༻⊰───⋅

(You stand at the edge of a cliff, the wind whipping through your hair as you face Jason. Swinging your sword, you knock it against your shield, the clang echoing in the open air.)

A: "You think you’re man enough to stop me?"

(Jason scoffs as you lunge at him. He blocks your hit, twisting your arm behind your back and pulling you close.)

JASON: "I’ve got the scars to prove it."

(You twist out of his grip, using your strength to knock him to his back. You pick your shield back up, foot moving to press down on him.)

A: "Show me those scars up close."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(You scream as you're thrown back with his kick, your back slamming into the wall. Gasping for breath, you watch as Jason reaches for your shield, which had been knocked away during the fight. He picks it up and walks over to you, dropping it to your feet.)

JASON: "They say love makes you do crazy things."

(You take the shield from him, your breath still heavy from the exertion. You stand tall, despite the pain coursing through your body.)

A: "Like taking a life for the one you love?"

(Jason's gaze intensifies, and he steps closer.)

JASON: "Like risking your heart for a broken soul like mine."

 ༻⊰───⋅

RED ROBIN X IVY! READER

Poison Ivy's protégé, you and Tim couldn't be more different. He thrives on technology and his man-made gadgets, while you draw your strength from the untamed power of the green.

(A large vine from above dips down, its lush, green leaves swaying gently as you perch on it. Your eyes sparkle with mischief as you look down at Tim.)

IVY: "You think you can handle all this greenery, techie?"

(Tim smirks, twirling a small device in his hand. With a flick of his wrist, the device emits a pulse, causing the vine to tremble and wither.)

R! ROBIN: "I’ve got a green thumb, but I'd rather get my hands on you."

(You slide down the vine, landing gracefully in front of him, your eyes narrowing. You summon a thick vine to wrap around his legs, but Tim's quick reflexes kick in as he flips over it, landing in a crouch.)

IVY: "Hm. Only if you promise to get dirty."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(Tim steps closer, his expression softening as he activates his bo staff, the weapon extending with a mechanical whir. He swings it in a wide arc, deflecting the thorny vines you hurl at him.)

R! ROBIN: "You're not like her, you know."

(You scoff, crossing your arms as a cluster of flowers bloom at your feet. You raise your hand, sending a barrage of petals sharp as knives his way. Tim deftly spins his staff, creating a shield.)

IVY: "Who, Ivy? Maybe not yet."

(Tim's eyes soften, his grip on the staff loosening slightly as he steps closer.)

R! ROBIN: "And you don't have to be."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(You pace around him, a vine curling up from the ground and snaking towards his feet. Tim notices and sidesteps, slashing at the vine with his staff.)

IVY: "Ever think about leaving the Bat?"

(Tim frowns, his bo staff sweeping down to cut the vine before it can ensnare him.)

R! ROBIN: "Ever think about leaving Ivy?"

(You grin, a sly smile playing on your lips as you summon a wall of thorns behind him. He leaps backward, landing nimbly on top of the thorns, balancing effortlessly.)

IVY: "Touché."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(Tim looks around at the flourishing plants, his staff humming with energy as he uses his tech to scan for weaknesses in your creations.)

R! ROBIN: "I see you've been busy with your plants again."

(You gently caress a leaf, your voice soft as a tendril wraps around his ankle. He quickly discharges an electric shock from his staff, causing the tendril to release him.)

IVY: "They listen better than people do."

(Tim's staff whirls, cutting through the tendril effortlessly as he advances.)

R! ROBIN: "Maybe you just need the right person to listen."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(Tim steps closer, his voice dropping to a whisper as he disarms a trap you set with a quick twist of his wrist. He flips over another set of vines you send his way, landing in a crouch.)

R! ROBIN: "Your touch brings life to these plants."

(You raise an eyebrow, intrigued as flowers bloom around you. You step down from your vine and saunter toward him.)

IVY: "Imagine what it could do to you."

(Tim smiles, a challenge in his eyes as he deactivates his staff, stepping closer.)

R! ROBIN: "I’m willing to find out."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(Tim walks towards you, engrossed with the device on his wrist, tapping on the holographic table that hovers above it.)

IVY: "What’s a techie like you doing in a place like this?"

(Your voice coos at him as you emerge from the ground, vines whipping all around you. Tim smirks and turns his attention back to you, the holograph shutting off.)

R! ROBIN: "Looking for a beautiful flower to pick."

(You smirk, your vines thriving in the light as you swipe at him, narrowly missing. He ducks and rolls, coming up with a blade ready. Scoffing, you trace a hand up your neck, your eyes narrowing with playful menace.)

IVY: "Just make sure you can handle the thorns."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(Tim reaches out, brushing his fingers against a blossom, his staff ready at his side as he keeps an eye on you.)

R! ROBIN: "We could build something beautiful together."

(You shake your head, a hint of sadness in your voice as you create a protective barrier of foliage around yourself. Tim uses his tech to create a small opening, stepping through it.)

IVY: "Beautiful things always wither and die."

(Tim takes your hand, squeezing it gently as he deactivates his staff, the barrier of foliage parting around you. He pulls you closer, his voice soft and earnest.)

R! ROBIN: "Not if we tend to them with care."

 ༻⊰───⋅

-> DAMIAN X L.O.A! READER

Arranged to marry since birth by Talia, Damian had promised to be yours for life. However, after his betrayal of the League, he left you behind. You were labeled as a co-conspirator, and as punishment for his treason, you were blinded.

(Blades glint under the dim light as you twirl your fan, the air around you whistling with its sharp edges. Damian stands a few feet away, his katana ready in his hand, emerald eyes fixed on you.)

DAMIAN: "Has my mother sent you?"

(You laugh and throw your head back in disbelief. The cloth wrapped around your eye flows in the wind. Raising a hand, you slip it off and show him your empty eyes.)

L.O.U: "Do I look like her pawn? Do you not see what she has done to me? This is my kill, not hers."

(Damian's eyes narrow, his stance shifting as he prepares to engage. )

DAMIAN: "Then why do you hesitate?"

 ༻⊰───⋅

(You feel the rush of air as Damian's katana swings towards you. Instinctively, you duck and counter with a sweeping arc of your fan, sensing his presence.)

L.O.U: "You walked away from everything."

(Damian's footsteps echo as he moves swiftly, his voice carrying a note of deep regret.)

DAMIAN: "Only to realize everything is you, habibti."

(You pivot on your heel, using your heightened senses to track his position, your fan poised to strike again.)

L.O.U: "Fool! You think words can mend this?!"

 ༻⊰───⋅

(The sound of his breath and the shuffle of his feet guide you as you launch a series of rapid strikes. Damian blocks each one, his katana creating a rhythmic pattern against your fan. Finally, he pushes his blade against yours, locking it between his fist.)

DAMIAN: "Beloved, losing your sight... I did not know my mother... I cannot even imagine—"

(You lash out with your fan, the blades narrowly missing Damian’s face as he parries with his katana. You both step back, circling each other, the tension between you palpable.)

L.O.U: "I do not need your pity, bastard!"

(Damian's eyes harden, but his voice remains soft.)

DAMIAN: "Not pity. Guilt. And a desperate need to make things right."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(You leap forward, your fan spinning with deadly precision. Damian blocks the first strike but then purposefully drops his katana, stepping into your range. You scoff, surprised, as he grabs your wrist and forces you to drop your fan.)

L.O.U: "You think your guilt means anything to me?"

(Damian's movements falter for a brief moment, his voice raw with emotion. You kick and scream against his chest so hard he felt as though there would be bruises but he could care less.)

DAMIAN: "It tears me apart every day."

(You pull back, freeing your wrist and shifting into a defensive stance, your voice dripping with bitterness.)

L.O.U: "Good. Now you know a fraction of my pain."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(Without your weapons, you both engage in a flurry of hand-to-hand combat. Damian blocks your strikes, deflecting your blows with minimal force, showing his reluctance to hurt you.)

DAMIAN: "Our marriage was more than a strategy to me."

(You laugh, a harsh sound, as you aim a kick at his midsection. He catches your leg and gently sets it down.)

L.O.U: "Yes. It was a lie."

(With a scream of anger, you tackle him, but he twists mid-fall, using his momentum to pin you to the ground. You struggle beneath him but he leans closer, his breath warm against your ear.)

DAMIAN: "No, it was the most real thing I've known."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(Wind whirls as you scream and hurl your fans in his direction. The blades spin through the air, nearly striking him, but he dodges with a series of agile flips. Laughing haughtily, you reach for your dagger in your belt.) L.O.U: "What do you desire, Habibi?"

(You advance on him, your steps swift and deliberate, knives dancing between your fingers. You hear a thud as Damian lands back on his feet with a grunt.) DAMIAN: "You. Only you."

(You scoff and fling another fan at him. He sidesteps and deflects it with his katana, the blade slicing through the air with a sharp hiss. Undeterred, you rush forward, using your heightened senses to anticipate his next move. Your fan blades clash against his katana in a shower of sparks.) L.O.U: "Then come and claim me."

 ༻⊰───⋅

(You sit on a stone bench in the garden of his new home. Wayne Manor, he had said. The night air was cool against your skin. Footsteps echo as Damian approaches, his katana sheathed at his side. He sits beside you, his gaze filled with longing.)

DAMIAN: "I dreamt of you every night."

(You scoff and trace the edge of your fan, the blades cool under your fingers.)

L.O.U: "Did you dream of my pain as well?"

(Damian’s expression turns into anguish, his hand reaching out to cover yours. A thumb moves to caress the metal band on your finger.)

DAMIAN: "Yes, and it’s unbearable."

 ༻⊰───⋅

ive been playing this damn game and mk1 for dddays