#but I couldn’t compete anyway

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

love how hua cheng is just like "I support xie lian rights and xie lian wrongs, except he can never do anything wrong ever even when he kills a bunch of people. Go off king" and Xie Lian is like “This is my beautiful husband, he has committed war crimes, but haven’t we all?”

And their relationship is somehow healthier than anything I've ever been in.

[mossypidder]

Working on finishing up a cloak for a cosplay while Nugget was out. She thinks she needs to steal my fleece.

[phrogwing]

using @auri-ace their template!!!!!

[thats-highly-significant]

Idk there’s something about characters in media who are entirely evil that I really hate. And by entirely evil I mean like has not a single redeeming quality. I love MASH (obviously) but Frank Burns is the kind of character who pisses me off because it feels like such a weak shorthand to me to make a character who is mean and cowardly and criminally bad at his job and has a loveless marriage and doesn’t have any friends and is a huge hypocrite and acts like a child and whines constantly and on and on and on…I just feel that there’s an implication there that bad people have not a single thing that is good about them and they live the exact miserable lives they deserve, and it’s such a boring black and white way to present characters. It’s like Disney movie storytelling where the villains are ugly and the heroes are beautiful. Anyway that’s why I think they did something so different with Charles—he’s still an antagonist for a lot of the episodes and you would hate him if you knew him irl but he has all these little pieces of personhood that show up every once in awhile. It’s like he’s actually there in a way that Frank never was.

[aurumacadicus]

In before I start seeing people bitching about rainbow capitalism MY favorite rainbow capitalism story is about Subaru. Yes the Japanese car company.

In the nineties, they were struggling. They were competing with a dozen other companies targeting the main demographic at the time: white men ages 18-35, especially after a failed luxury car launch with a new ad agency. “What we need is to focus on niche demographics,” they decided, and then focused on people who enjoyed the outdoors. The Subaru was excellent at driving on dirt roads that many other vehicles couldn’t at the time, so it was perfect for all those off-road campers; they started making all-wheel drive standard in all their cars to help with that. And the people who wanted cars to go do outdoor stuff? Lesbians.

Okay. Of course it wasn’t only lesbians buying Subarus. They’re on the list with educators, health-care professionals, and IT people. But the point is, this Japanese car company interviewed this strange demographic (single, female head of household) and realized one important factor: They were lesbians. They liked to be able to use the cars to go do outdoorsy stuff, and they liked that they could use the cars to haul stuff rather than a big truck or van. Subaru had a choice to make then. They had four other demographics they could market to, after all--the educators, the health-care professionals, IT professionals, and straight outdoorsy couples. Their company didn’t hinge on this one “problematic” demographic.

And they decided “fuck it,” and marketed to lesbians anyway. This included offering benefits to American gay and lesbian employees for their domestic partners, so it didn’t look like a cash grab. (This was not a problem. They already offered those in Canada.)

Yes, there was some backlash. They got letters from a grassroots group accusing them of promoting homosexuality, and every letter said they’d no longer be buying from Subaru. “You didn’t buy from us before, either,” Subaru realized, and ignored them. It helped that the team really cared about the plan, and that they had many straight allies to back them up. There was also some initial backlash when Subaru hired women to play a lesbian couple in the commercial, but they quickly found that lesbians preferred more subtlety; “XENA LVR” on a license plate, or bumper stickers with the names of popular LGBTQ+ destinations, or taglines of “Get out. Stay out.” that could be used for the outdoors--or the closet.

Subaru said “We see you. We support you.” They sponsored Pride parades and partnered with Rainbow Card and hired Martina Navratilova as spokeswoman. They put their money where their mouth is and went into it whole hog. In a time where companies did not want to take our money, Subaru said, “Why not? They’re people who drive.” And that was groundbreaking.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

MW2 Reaction to You Being A Virgin

Warnings: 18+, Implications of Smut, Corruption Kink, Purity Kink, Innocence Kink, Ownership Kink, Age Gap, Implied Slight Yandere Graves Inexperience, Objectification, Dominant MW2, Soft MW2, Gaz is anxious :-( but trying his best, MW2 Trying To Be Smooth, Profanity, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.

Ghost

The fact that you, innocent, are his to love and corrupt sends white-hot anticipation between his legs.

He’s imagined what you’d be like in bed: how you’d take him, the sounds you’d make. Of course he has – practically everyone on Base has.

But now, his fantasies are tinged with something feral. A primal need to show you that he is the best choice for you (even if he doesn’t believe it himself) – the only one strong enough and skilled enough to be yours and to make you his.

He’s fantasised about you looking up at him with doe eyes while he pins your wrists to the mattress, voice meek as you tell him, as if it’s a secret, that you’ve “Never done this before…”

He can’t live without it. The fact that he can – will – be your first time. Satisfy you in ways nobody else will ever be able to compete with.

He’d never admit it, but a dark part of him has plagued him with ideas of ravaging and corrupting you, about making your first time so pleasurable and carnal that nobody will ever be able to satisfy you as he can.

“Don’t worry, Sweetheart,” he tells you, taking your chin between his fingers. He lowers his lips to your ear. You don’t see the dark gleam in his eye. Don’t see the deliciously dark idea cross his mind – the impulse to fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to feel anything, nevermind pain. And he makes a promise to you anyway.

“I’ll take care of you.”

König

“Thought as much.” König’s words are blunt yet sharp.

“Seeing as you have everyone wrapped around your finger, it’s clear you have no regard for the way you conduct yourself.”

You may construe König’s words as mean. Derogatory, even. He means it as a compliment. Even if you don’t know it yet.

“You think I don’t see the way you flaunt yourself in front of the soldiers – thinking that you’ll be able to get away with it without consequence.”

König’s frame towers over you. His gaze is ice, and any trace of the socially anxious soldier you knew is gone.

“I wonder how you like it.” he muses aloud. His voice is tinged with something unreadable. Venomous.

“How you’ll take it. Rough, gentle…” His eyes narrow.

“Mean.”

He’s boxed you in with his stature alone.

“Makes no difference to me,” he tells you. Deceptively calm. And then, an offer. One you can’t refuse.

“I’ll fuck you every which way until I find what makes you scream the loudest.”

Soap

“Oh, really?” he says, eyebrow quirked and a hidden smile teasing his lips.

Johnny really couldn’t care less that you’ve never had sex before. But, the fact that you shared this information with him – albeit after he steered the conversation towards more…intimate topics – gave him hope that you were hinting towards something.

Something that Johnny’s wanted since he realised he was massively, whorishly down bad for you.

From his position opposite you, against the kitchen counter, he takes a step forward.

“I suppose you’re not very experienced then, are you?”

He advances until he’s in front of you. A wolf and a lamb. Close enough that you can smell his cologne.

His eyes are piercing, but there is a softness behind them. Something that writhes and wants and needs.

His hands come to rest upon the counter behind you. Nowhere for you to run. The heat from his body is scorching.

“Though, I’d be more than happy to…” His voice husks. “Beef up your résumé.”

Valeria

Corruption kink to the MAX

Valeria is a territorial, dominant woman – that much is easy to see.

And the fact that you haven’t had anyone else before her just does something to her.

Alters her brain chemistry permanently.

There’s not one soldier, police officer or government official she doesn’t own in Las Almas.

So why shouldn’t she own you, too?

Now she’s thinking of every conceivable way she’s going to take ownership of you.

She thinks about it so often that she struggles to complete her paperwork without having to disperse the issue before she can continue.

But be warned: there will come a day when satisfying herself just won’t cut it. When she’s going to seek you out and ruin you.

“It might hurt at first, mi Amor,” she tells you, hand stroking your cheek, coming down to your jaw. “But trust me when I say that–”

Her hand grips your jaw. Tight. A viper’s strike. A fire burns in her eyes and the corners of her lips curl up in a cruel smile.

“I’ll make it hurt a whole lot more if you don’t do as I say.”

Price

Given his age, Price has had his fair share of experiences.

But that doesn’t harden him to the simple fact that you haven’t.

In his eyes, there’s something endearing about how you’ve yet to give yourself to another person.

Another person that, he hopes, will someday be him.

The idea makes something in him stir. The fact that the difference between your age and his makes him that much more confident in his ability to please you in ways no mere boy can makes him anxious to act.

“Oh. Is that right, Love?” He says, eyes light and his smile dangerous.

“S’ppose you’re waiting for the right person.” His posture is inviting. Tempting. Belies the rush he’s feeling — the desire to have you at his mercy in the most carnal sense.

“Pretty little thing like you, you could have your fill of men.”

He’s angling for something. His face says it all.

He steps towards you. Again. Again. He’s in front of you.

His chest is almost to yours. His smile is shallow now. Strained. Like his pants.

“Probably looking for someone with experience.”

He thrives on the way your chest flutters. His does, too, but it’s masked beneath a  heavy stare.

“And trust me, Love,” his voice is low. A message for you and you alone as he brings his lips to your ear, breath hot against your skin.

“I’ve got plenty to spare.”

Horangi

You don’t hear it for his mask, but Horangi lets out a shuttered breath.

“That’s why you’re always so quiet when sex talk comes up.”

He says it as a fact, but you take it as a question. You nod.

Horangi’s arms unfurl from his chest, come to rest at his sides. He’s looking at you.

Even through the layers of his mask, his gaze is heavy. Leaden.

He steps towards you. His frame, broad, fills your vision.

You can hear how heavy his breathing has become. How thick the air is.

How much he’s trying to restrain himself.

“How about a deal,” he proposes. Commands.

“You give me something to have a nice, long, hard think about,” his hips are to yours. You feel him pressing against you.

“And I’ll give you something to talk about.”

Alejandro

“You surprise me, mi amor,” he says, natural as anything. As if he already knew.

“I’d have thought someone would have swooped in and claimed you by now.”

Truth be told, Alejandro wanted to be that somebody so badly that it made him ache in places he’d rather not think about. Especially when you’re already making containing himself incredibly difficult with that pouting, wide-eyed, innocent look.

God, you had no idea what you were doing to him.

“Or…are you saving yourself for someone specific?”

Before you, his frame is broad and imposing even without all his military gear on.

He takes your chin between his fingers. Tilts your head so your gaze can’t escape his. A shiver runs up his spine at the sound of your breath stuttering.

His words aren’t rhetorical. He’s pulled the answer from you – seen it in your eyes.

“Or are you just waiting for a man who knows how to take care of you?”

Rodolfo

“O-oh!” Rudy chokes out. His cheeks are already giving way to a telltale pink. He tries to cover it.

“But– you’re so pretty and smart and kind – I thought you’d have a boyfriend by now!”

In some ways, Rudy’s a bit of a traditionalist: his mind still jumps to the idea that you’d typically only be intimate with someone you’re already in a relationship with.

Not that he’d judge you if this were not the case for you.

But he sees his chance. And he takes it.

“Well, if you’re not with anyone, then…would you like to go out sometime? With me?”

His eyes are wide and filled with hope – something you’d never have expected from a  man in such a brutal line of work.

Sex is the last thing on his mind right now: truly, he’s so taken in with the idea that you’re single and available that your sexual status means very little to him.

Though, that isn’t to say he hasn’t thought about you like that before, or that he hasn’t spent many a night with his face smothered with pillows as your name escapes from between his lips, panting, moaning.

That’s a little secret for you to uncover later in your relationship…

Graves

“So you’re tellin’ me that no one’s had the privilege of fuckin’ that pretty little ass of yours?”

Graves sure has a way with words.

For all his slimy business practices, this is the one time he’s genuinely surprised. Unable to be slick.

He puts his game face on. Gives you a half-lidded stare and lowers his voice. His heart hammers: he conceals it behind a cool tone.

“Well, colour me impressed, Angel,” he says. A hand comes to the hem of your shirt, takes it between slow, intentional fingers. He has to resist the urge to look at your chest when he pulls the fabric taut.

“And here I was thinkin’ I already knew everything about you.”

He’s moving in before you can analyse his statement. Before you can begin to understand how badly this man has lusted after you – how deeply entrenched in your life he’s become. And all without you knowing.

He places a hand on the wall behind you. Presses himself closer to you.

“How much to let me be the first,” he drawls. Your eyes widen. His thin smile grows.

“And last.”

Gaz

Bless his little cotton socks, he doesn’t know what to do with both this information and himself.

See, despite being incredibly intelligent, Gaz is still the youngest of the 141, so he’s not entirely accustomed to situations like this.

He can’t tell if you’re hinting, flirting, or just telling him something about yourself.

He remembers what Soap taught him, though.

Should a situation arise where someone is flirting with you, just use your intuition and don’t fuck it up.

Gaz leans against the doorframe, almost misses, scrambles to resume his ideal posture.

“Oh, so we’re more similar than you’d think, then.”

He can feel Soap banging his head against a wall. Jesus, Gaz – at least try to impress (Y/N) !

At your raised eyebrow and your playful “Oh?” Gaz coughs. His voice lowers.

“But…” he steps closer. “Maybe we can un-virgin each other.”

Long story short, Gaz has no idea what he’s talking about. But, somehow, his nervous disposition and pretty boy charm have enamoured you. And you may have told him you’d take him up on his offer 👀.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

[gremlingottoosilly]

Beekeeping age [Dilf!Konig x fem!Reader]

You're ex-boyfriend is an asshole, so you decided to fuck his hot military dad instead. You're going to find out why his first wife ran as fast as she did, very soon - but Konig is still the best dick that ever happened to you.

CW: Daddy kink(obvi), power imbalance, possessive Konig, perverted Konig, age gap(Reader in her early twenties, Konig in his early forties), mentions of cheating(your ex is a douchebag anyway), slightly obsessive Konig, size kink, unprotected sex.

FIRST PART (can be read separately) AO3

— Why your wife left you, again? 

You stuff your face full of…something. He cooked it – gods did he cook it well. It’s meat and vegetables and spices, and it feels like your dad cooking but twice as good. It feels like pure sin because he says you shouldn’t worry about calorie counts or how fat the meat is, or how good everything tastes fried because he needs his special girl to feel good and healthy and fatten up a little bit, and you…gods, you’re down. Bad. 

You wonder if König’s wife left because she couldn’t compete with his cooking. You wonder if his wife left because he was feeding her too good. 

— Why don’t we leave uneasy questions for later, Schatzi? 

He brushes his hand over your hair, taking in the way you look – dressed up in his shirt, skin covered in bites and bruises from his hold. He can’t see it right now but can almost testify to the way your lipstick was all over his collar – good thing he wasn't wearing his uniform shirt, wouldn’t want to make dorks from Kobra jealous. 

He brings you another plate, he fills your glass – you never knew beer could taste this good, but he whispered something about having his own little homemade brewery for wine and beer somewhere in the mountains, in his Summer house. This man has a hug apartment in Vienna and a Summer house – you think you heard him having enough land to go hunting and to keep bees, and you might have cum a little bit just here and there. 

— I would like to know the story, actually. To not repeat her mistakes, you know. 

— You won’t, Liebling. I can already picture you with a ring on your pretty finger. 

— Not so fast. Maybe I don’t believe in marriage. 

— You’re too young to stop believing in it. 

— Way to talk when you’re the divorced one, sir. 

— Shut it, Schatzen. I can still take care of a good girl like you, ja? König leans in to kiss you, his lips brushing over your mouth – it’s wet and swollen, he bite you quite a few times already, and you feel dizzy just from the way his tongue lingers just a second before going in, taking your arousal even more. His hand gently brushes some hair from your face and you giggle from the sensation of his rough fingers on the softness of your skin. It never failed to mesmerize you, just how seasoned and old the colonel might be – and his hands would still tremble as if he is handling the finest porcelain doll in his hands. He has the expression of an anxious, devoted follower – you are not sure how his wife could left him. If he was looking at you like this every day, even as you go through with pregnancy and a piece of shit kid like Paul, you would die before leaving him. 

— Could you two please stop fucking each other? 

— I thought you wanted to move to dorms.

— This is my house too!

— Not on the documents, it’s not. — You can’t just throw me away, dad! — Your new stepmom needs her space. 

König grasps your shoulder as you try to stop them from arguing again – it’s embarrassing enough that you’re fucking your ex’s dad. Colonel makes it a whole fucking show, parading you around as his controversially young girlfriend, making sure that his son will hear your moans and whimpers as you get fucked at every surface of this apartment. You were wondering if you could ask him to move to the Summer house – even with your college and all. You can take a gap year and write a journalist investigation about lonely veterans and their mastery at brewing alcohol. You can take a gap year and try your best in the new trophy wife gig. König’s hand is firm on your shoulder – you know better than to try and argue with him, the silent recognition of authority loud in your head. You sigh, trying your best to just stop yourself from acting too damn weird. It’s their male thing, and you’re just an intruder in a big T-shirt and old leggings. König said it wasn’t his wifey’s – that he burned all of her stuff when she left. Somehow, you find peace in that statement. 

— How could you even…Jesus fucking Christ, this is disgusting. She is my age! — And the most beautiful girl in the world. I can see why you liked her. — She is my girlfriend! — Schatzi came to me in distress and begged me to take her. I think we both knew you weren’t…the best option. You feel more embarrassed with each second of their conversation. You don’t want to listen, you don’t want to take in their words, you feel like a trophy being discarded between two different winners. You feel like a prized mare on a farm – and they won’t even look at you. Too distracted by the sound of their voices, you eat your dinner in somewhat somber peace because you need to eat, after all, and you really like what König cooks. You like what König does most of the time. All of the time. 

Paul storms off the room after a few minutes of bickering. You feel guilty for not stopping him because he was still kinda your boyfriend. You ex-boyfriend. Your asshole incel-ish ex-boyfriend whose assholless literally made you go and sleep with his dilfy dad, and…god, you feel like a whore. Good. Paul was calling you a whore a lot of the time, you may as well take the new name and plaster it in your new badge. 

König’s hand lingers on your back, caressing it gently. You whimper because you feel bad and you’re still in college, and Paul’s disgusted reaction reminds you that fucking a guy in his forties isn’t the best business decision. Even if the said guy is a retired colonel with shitload of money, even if he still goes to work sometimes, just because he wants to feel cool and shoot guns at bad guys, even if this guy buys you cool gifts and he promised to renovate your car or buy you a new one, and he makes plans and takes you to places that don’t make you feel like begging for attention. 

If anything, you feel like he is drowning you with attention. 

His hand lets go of your shoulder – he was holding you so tight the whole conversation, you can sense the bruises forming on your skin. You lick your lips, and he moves to kiss you again. You feel like drowning, you feel like this is all just a dream – and you’re also drunk because gods, König knows how to make a good glass of…something. 

— You shouldn’t act like this. He is your son. 

He laughs dismissingly. He dismisses a lot of things you said – you think it’s the age difference. You think he is just being traditional, and you don’t want to be too nagging. You don’t want to end up like his wife and wake up from the dear you’ve been seeing. 

König’s lips are soft, and you can look past his hands, taking you too possessively – you can close your eyes, and you can just listen to his accent, smiling as his tongue worms its way into your mouth. He is good, you think – at this whole kissing thing. At this whole “Hi there, I’m a retired old dog and I am fucking the girlfriend of my only son. I’m divorced btw” .

He has experience – you know it when he tucks your lip between his teeth, when he massages your shoulders as you spread your legs already, so wet for him, it’s almost embarrassing. You never slept much with Paul – his poor excuse of a son – it was always never enough lube, it was always never enough attention, he always needed you to shave or to leave your hair to grow a little bit, it was either your perfume being too sweet or you no wearing anything at all. You thought he would have much more fun masturbating to his anime chicks and poor gaming sessions with his friends. 

But König isn’t like this – every time he drops on his knees to eat you out like a man starving, you feel utter and complete devotion. In his tongue, in his mouth, in his teeth as he sucks little marks into your thighs, making sure you will remember it tomorrow when he will ask you to stay for breakfast and then ride you to whatever you need to come next. Last time he promised to drive you to the library, he took a few turns and took you to some restaurant instead. You gushed about not having proper attire, he was still in his half-uniform and rocking dark cargo pants, and he was apologizing every time his fingers hit that special spot in your cunt as he fingered you during the second course of meals. He said that he was so, sorry about not fucking you properly, about having to resort to public displays like this – and you were too high on loving him to care. You still are. — I don’t think we should be…

— He left. Won’t bother us anymore. 

— I’m not in the mood right now. 

— You’re always in the mood, Schatzen. Enough to drive me crazy. — You’re a pervert. Like Paul. 

— He takes on after his father, ja?

It would alarm you how much contempt he had for his own child right now. Then, again, you were the one who dumped his son for the powerhouse of a dad. Maybe it was your daddy issues, maybe it was your dumb reasoning and the summer break that you didn’t want to spend with your family. Good thing you’re spending it with the other. 

König’s face is buried between your legs, his teeth tugging on the soft fabric, forcing your leggings down. God, it feels good – he is so high on wanting you, can’t even wait to take off your clothes properly. You never had a man wanting you so badly before – it’s addicting, it’s crushing, it makes you feel like a goddess among men. Makes you feel wanted, a thing that your ex never did. 

You forget about guilt when he kisses your lower tummy, when his lips trace down to your cunt, taking sharp licks through your panties. You wore them this morning, something from a new lacy set he bought – one of the only ones that weren’t torn off from your body the moment you took them on. He always wanted you to make these little fashion shows for him, making good use of his money – you weren’t a sugar baby, not on paper, you still clutched to the last traces of your dignity, but he did buy you a lot of gifts. 

— S’ pretty for me, Liebling. The prettiest girl in the world.

— I assume after…af..ter your wife. 

You giggle when he frowns, his rugged face filled with concern. He doesn’t like jokes about his marriage – you don’t want to ask him about it because it would mean waking up from a dream you want to experience over and over again, but you heard what Paul was talking about. What his mom told him about. you heard enough to know that kissing a man like König is a safety hazard and a liability that you can’t afford, but it’s warm, and he is rich, and you don’t want to go back to your part-time job this season. You want to be dumb and you want to be young – right now, you’re doing both. — Don’t be so dumb, Schatzi. Although it suits you. 

— I’m not dumb! 

— Nein, you’re not. Just silly. 

— You just call me a different type of dumb. 

— I like it when you’re dumb. Makes you cuter. 

König is awkward and funny, and he buys you things that you could never afford. He is mysterious and kind – to you, not his enemies – and he uses German words randomly in his phrases because he knows the accent, and the pronunciation drives you crazy. You never thought of thinking of yourself as a dilf hunter but, hell, here you are. With his dark ginger stubble – and grey streaks that make you go wild every time you look at him – between your thighs. It’s tickling, and it’s a bit irritating, and he will rub some calming lotion in your skin after this, making sure to cover every inch of your skin with some expensive cream that he knows jackshit about, but you wanted it, and so he went out and bought it. Gosh, you felt dumb even asking him for this. 

He traces his kisses along your thighs, tongue lingers to press against your wet, swollen folds. Flirting in front of Paul made you embarrassingly hot, solidifying you as a shitty, bad, horny person who needs fat cock stuffed in your leaking pussy. You lick your lips, and you tremble when he pushes his tongue inside. He is starving, pushy with all of his needs – makes you almost beg for it, like a pet he took from the street. 

— I want to take you to the Summer house next week. 

You open your eyes, shocked. It’s nothing, really, you shouldn’t be this surprised about him wanting to show off his other properties. You want to check out his wine cellar and how sturdy the furniture is. You want to see if he had deers running around the house. If he had any pictures of his family – and if you could ever hope to compete with his ex-wife. It’s a petty competition, but you don’t have much to do and to think about. It’s obvious the love here won’t last until the end of the break, and you want to get as much from it as possible. Maybe even some hot bikini picks at his pool. He has to have one. — What if I have plans, sir? 

It’s innocent and you play the role well. You think some of your friends wanted to hang out or make a study group for the upcoming semester. You are a good girl at heart, with nice grades and a perfectly played-out future, and not as many working opportunities as you may like, but you could manage with something. Writing a killer essay about your life with a smoke show during Summer would be easy with someone like him. 

He laughs, his hand lightly smacks your butt. You bite your lip and whimper, not accustomed to pain feeling this good. 

— You will change them, little one. For the whole Summer. 

— I wanted to study. 

You moan when he lightly presses his tongue on your swollen clit, kissing and licking it. Slick runs down your legs, and he collects it with his mouth. You whimper again, tears prickling at the edge of your eyes – the sensation is sudden and overwhelming, makes you get your hands in his hair and slightly tug. He groans, pleasure from having you so active, so participating is overwhelming. He loves you, loves you, loves you, adores you. God, you’re beautiful. And so, so restrained – just his special good girl. Only for him. — You can study at our house. 

— You mean you and your ex’s house. 

He smacks you again for the foul language – although you know you didn’t even curse, he is still punishing you. In the lightest way possible, of course, you know you won’t handle anything too harsh – still, you feel nice and warm when he isn’t just eating you out, but also smacks you for speaking in such unpretty words again. 

You don’t even register the way he called the house yours too. All too dumb for this, again. 

— I mean our house, Schatzen. Just you and your daddy, ja? You worry too much about studying. 

— I want a nice job. Without…distractions. 

He slips one finger in your warm, tight hole – even just one digit is enough to make you shiver, clenching it like a sloppy whore. He is big in every way – just two of his fingers are bigger than a normal cock, and no, you didn’t want to compare a son with his father, but even Paul’s cock, as big as it was, was still way thinner than his father’s. 

— Why you need a job? 

— Not everyone are retired military. I need money. 

— You have me. 

— I d…don’t want to be a sugar baby. Sir. 

— I have no problems with being your daddy, Schatzen.

König is build like a powerhouse – when he slips just the tip into you, ignoring all previous preparation because, by god, you both need to feel connected, he is dragging you on top of the table, tossing aside the dirty dishes with remains of his perfectly cooked dinner…and you feel like home. Almost. 

You imagine waking up with his cock every morning, and with the nice cup of coffee only he can make. You imagine him gushing about rebuilding the house and working on his tight and neat desk job at the mercenary company – something about instructing, dumb recruits, only the most elite missions as an operator in retirement, creating strategies and tactics for the warfare – and thinking that, wow, your husband is really cool. You shouldn’t be thinking this because this is just a summer fling. Your relationships with Paul weren’t too serious either, you just didn’t want to be alone. 

König gently caresses your fingers, whispering something about numbers – you think you could recognize the word for a ring a bit later when he was making a call to some friend. In German, of course, you don’t quite understand it, but you worm your warm on his lap like a spoiled cat, purring on his crotch like a good fucking girl. But it was a while later. 

Now, you’re gasping and panting, his cock spreading you open and stuffing you like the poor bird he was cooking for dinner. You know you won’t be able to walk after a short while – would probably have to spend the day at his house, with him cooing and gushing about your sore body while he is quietly proud of himself. If you’re lucky, you could convince him to let you go in the evening. If you’re not, he will ask you to stay the night, and maybe even a bit more, and then he will just get the bag with your stuff from your room in the dorm by himself, and then… — What do you think about getting married in August?

Maybe, you do know why his wife left him. 

[p3achfilm]

part 1 here♥︎

fuck it, guess we both ain’t shit! eren j.

cw 𐙚 revenge sex, choking, creaming, video-taping intercourse, spanking, connie crying . . . lmao! minors, shoo!

a/n 𐙚 ya’ll i was supposed to been have had this out! so sorry for the delay, lol. anyways big shoutout to @sugurubabe because she said this was her favorite story and it motivated me to finish<3 as always likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

you were sick of connie fucking springer, sick of crying for him, sick of waiting for him to change, sick of always competing against other women for his attention. you can’t believe how stupid you’d been to actually think he’d change for you, once a cheater, always a cheater. your last plan to get back at him had backfired tremendously, with him pounding into you. so now, here you were in eren’s cozy apartment, head sunk in his bedsheets as he pressed into you deeply.

the sound of your ass bouncing against his toned stomach was deafening, profanities falling from your swollen lips. eren was twice the size of connie, and your poor cunt was sore from the unfamiliar stretch. ”e-eren,” you whine, feeling his hand thunder against your ass. a whimper slips past your lips as he caresses the burning flesh. the sound of your cunt around him is loud as you gush with each thud, you’re so wet for him.

eren smirks, holding your phone steadily in his hand recording you.he makes sure he records how you’re creaming around him,”such a pretty ass. i don’t know how you ever fumbled this man,” eren grunts, choking back a moan as you grip his base.you begin twerking on him, he nearly drops the phone as you squeeze him tightly,fucking only his tip.”oh eren! you’re so big,” you whine, dropping back onto him.this is your third round with him and you couldn’t get enough, god, why did you stay with connie for so long when something better was right in front of you.

your head is spinning with pleasure,hand quickly jerking off eren with each descent of your hips.eren grunts, he knows he’s close.he sends the video to connie and drops the phone to the side, grasping both your cheeks and thrusting into you even deeper, you can only cry and take it.

”yeah, let me show you what you’ve been missing out on,” he mewls.

your phone begins buzzing loudly, you know it’s him.eren is still fucking you wildly,”answer it,” he demands.you gulp, grabbing your phone and answering the facetime call.you have to swallow back a moan as eren snakes an inked hand around your neck,”e-eren, you’re f’king me so deep.” you sob out.

“bitch are you serious?” connie voice thunders through the phone, his face is red and you can tell he’s been crying.you didn’t feel a shred of guilt, even if you wanted to you couldn’t. eren was ramming into you so hard you couldn’t form any words or thoughts.you’re a sweaty mess, the sound of your skin against his consumes you.

“i’ll f’cking kill you.” connie threatens eren.

eren, unfazed snatches the phone from your hand, a wild grin on his face.

“let’s chat another time, i’m about to fill her up.”

click.

[xinxiaogato]

— you're dating who!?

summary. no one believes that you’re dating the esteemed duke of the fortress of meropide. that man is only ever seen locking lips with the orifice of a teacup. however, all of that changes when you and your alleged “boyfriend” are invited to a coworker’s dinner party.

love interest. gn!reader x wriothesley.

warnings. unedited, cursing, bullying, attempted homewrecking, mentions of blood, murder, and assault (nothing crazy), slight angst, lack of communication, a bit suggestive (mentions of light bdsm).

word count. 2,187

note. happy late birthday to wriothesley! this shortfic was inspired by a scene from spy x family (iykyk). you are referred to as “reader” by the way!

while loading up your plate with chips and french fontainian onion dip, you could sense the smugness of your colleagues from all the way across the dining room.

“i mean, we all saw this coming, didn’t we?” one of them piped up with a snarky laugh.

another obnoxiously chortled in return. “i won't forget the day reader told us who could have possibly given them those flowers.”

“right!? and i’m lady furina!”

that joke rocked their worlds to the point that one person started choking on their garlic baguette. your eyes flitted over to your friend, pauline, who was shaking with rage beside you and on the verge of strangling someone.

“why i oughta give them a piece of my mind!” caterwauled pauline, but you perched a hand on her shoulder so that she wouldn’t go ballistic—even if it was on your behalf.

“can’t really blame them,” you conceded. “if you told me you were in a relationship with the iudex of fontaine, i would need a minute.”

“are you saying it’s impossible?”

“i’m saying it’s highly unlikely.”

“hmph! a girl can dream.” pauline haughtily raised her nose into the air and crossed her arms with indignation, which tugged your lips into a small smile. you knew she had your best interests in mind. since day dot, your coworkers were constantly unleashing a tirade of vitriol against you. “anyway, where’s your boyfriend? did he get caught up with something?”

“probably,” you ascertained, taking a sip of red wine. you looked for a seat to settle at; you couldn’t let your chips go cold. “he warned me that he might not make it in time for the party. a new batch of inmates was processed for registration today, and allegedly, they’re unruly.”

her eyes widened after connecting the dots. “are they related to the famous case of the missing paintings? they finally caught the culprits!?”

you raised an eyebrow. “you didn’t know? it’s all over the steambird.”

as you and pauline were sitting down, the hostess of the party, anaïs, and her entourage strode over with purpose. one of anaïs’s minions was the first to start yapping, “well, if it isn’t reader, the person dating the wolf!”

“more like the person who cried wolf!” followed anaïs, which made the group howl like hyenas.

rolling your eyes at their sneers, you replied, “where is your husband, anaïs? don’t tell me he’s at the office ‘working overtime’ with his assistant again.”

all of anaïs’s friends practically broke their necks to look at her.

“h-how did you know about that…!?” anaïs spluttered, her cheeks flared red. “that’s… that’s my personal affairs you’re airing to everyone!”

a follower of anaïs cupped a hand to her ear and hissed, “don’t you remember? reader is friends with charlotte, a journalist for the steambird. she’s notorious for her intel gathering so that she can compete with others for the juiciest scoops!”

“hey, hey, does charlotte know anything about monsieur neuvillette’s type?” pauline whispered to which you were about to answer—only for anaïs to grab your glass of wine.

“you think you’re so high and mighty all the time…!” anaïs said in a shrill voice, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “at least i don’t pretend i’m the bitch of the lord of the fortress of meropide to get attention!”

“i think it would be better for you to channel your energy into divorcing that shitty excuse of a husband,” you corrected her, unfazed by the fact she was threateningly holding the drink above your head. “it’s not your fault that he’s a scumbag, so don’t stick around to see if he’ll change.”

something in anaïs seemed to falter at your words, but it was only for a moment. resentment got the best of her, and in the blink of an eye, red liquid was splashed onto your chest and dripping down your top, making bystanders gasp at the scene before them.

it kind of looked like you just got murdered.

“what is wrong with you!?” pauline furiously yelled after jumping up to shield you, who was still reeling from what happened. “how old are you to be acting like an immature brat!?”

as pauline and one of anaïs’s flunkies began to pull at each other’s hair, a different one pointed a finger into your face while cackling. “ha, serves you right! that outfit must have been dirt cheap anyway, so it couldn’t have been a total loss!”

“oh, you wouldn’t want your shoes ruined, right?” a second cooed, snatching them right off your feet and looking for the nearest window to chuck them out of. “don’t worry, i’ll dry them off for you!”

you got up to take them right back, but anaïs blocked your path, eyes narrowed into slits. “just admit it, reader,” she snarled. “you’re nothing but an attention-seeking whore for the fortress of meropide’s administrator, a goody two-shoes for our boss, and a laughing stock for all of fontaine. you’re nothing!”

“monsieur wriothesley!” a voice resounded from down the hallway, causing everyone in the dining room to freeze. “we’re so honored to have you join us! did lady anaïs invite you?”

before you knew it, a strong arm wrapped around your shoulders from behind to give you a tight squeeze, and a pair of lips kissed the top of your head.

“so sorry i’m late, my love,” a deep voice purred by your ear. “my hands were tied…”

his voice trailed off. wriothesley, whose sudden appearance had dropped every partygoer’s jaw, noticed that your top felt weirdly damp. when he craned his neck to investigate, his heart dropped to the bottom of his stomach. 

he immediately questioned if it was your blood or not.

“reader!” your boyfriend shouted, turning you around and holding you by the shoulders. a fear he had only felt as a teenager flooded rapidly into his system, and it was taking everything in him to not explode. “what happened to you? are you hurt!?”

you were still stunned in the aftermath, but you quickly collected yourself and placed your hands atop his. “no, no, i’m fine, wrio. i’m not hurt. it’s just red wine.”

“red… red wine?”

recovering from his initial shock, wriothesley twisted around, his jacket fluttering swiftly in tandem. his eyes took in the sight of an awestruck anaïs holding something behind her back and a petrified person clutching onto a pair of shoes (which explained why your dogs were out).

in a calm tone more terrifying than him speaking out of anger, wriothesley said to the hostess, “i apologize for souring the mood. however…” quickly, he engulfed your body with his jacket and swept you off your feet, hitching the air in your throat as he held you close to his chest. “my partner is not feeling well, so we’ll be taking our leave. we humbly thank you for the invitation.”

“b-but you just got here!” anaïs fretted.

her first mistake was revealing the wine glass she was desperately trying to hide earlier. in wriothesley’s realm, we call this a foul.

“reader was just a little tipsy and spilled a drink on themselves!” she crooned, tilting her head up at the duke and innocently batting her eyelashes. “why don’t you stay and become acquainted with your partner’s coworkers?”

her second foul: coveting a man in a relationship.

“i mean, they can’t be unwell to the point of needing to go home!”

her third: messing with reader. and three fouls meant a disqualification.

“heavens, no,” wriothesley insisted. “my partner’s health is my main priority, and time is of the essence. besides, the longer i remain, the less time i have to file a detailed report on an assault and battery that took place here.”

it became so quiet that you could hear a pin drop.

“a…assault…?” even through the makeup caked on anaïs’s face, you could see the color drain from it entirely. “what… what assault…!? no assault happened here, your grace!” when his frown spoke volumes, she cried out, “y-you don’t have any proof!”

“oh, i would suggest otherwise. and i believe there are many eyewitnesses to testify.”

you peered around at the guests who had gathered to view the spectacle, and they were nodding in support of wriothesley’s claim, including pauline. even anaïs’s goons were vehemently bobbing their heads up and down, still in disbelief that the man, the myth, the legend himself had graced them with his presence.

“now if you’ll excuse me…” with you firmly in his grasp, wriothesley approached the woman still clinging to your footwear, who immediately began to quiver. “i would like for you to return my partner’s shoes,” he ordered with a look as cold as ice.

“o-of course!” she stammered, extending the shoes toward him. “it was all in good fun, your grace!”

“oh, those aren’t mine,” he said with a cock of his head at your bare toes. “like i said, those belong to my partner.”

finally picking up what was he putting down, the lady shakily slipped your shoes back on your feet for which you glanced up at wriothesley with furrowed eyebrows. he only reacted with a smile that thawed the rigid expression on his face.

“i-i can’t possibly rot in jail!” anaïs was still making a fuss nearby. “i’m so young and beautiful! can’t you look past this, monsieur wriothesley…!? i’ll do anything!”

“well, it’s not something you’ll go to prison for, ma’am,” he said, not even sparing anaïs a glance as he headed for the front door, “but this misdemeanor will forever stain your official records and reputation… just as you stained my partner’s clothes.” (mic drop.)

and that was that. with a quick kiss on both cheeks from pauline, you exited the dead-quiet house in your boyfriend’s arms.

“wrio…” you murmured as he started walking in the direction of your home. “i’m really sorry for inconveniencing you.”

wriothesley momentarily stopped in his tracks to gaze down at you, his lips pursed before sighing. “no… don’t apologize, my love. i’m sorry for not arriving sooner.”

“but that isn’t your fault,” you pointed out.

a chuckle resonated from deep within his chest. “touché.”

however, his lightheartedness faded out with that chuckle when his hands gripped onto you tighter, as if you were about to dissolve into water at any moment.

“what happened, reader?” he croaked, displaying a side of him reserved for your eyes alone. “how long have they been treating you like this? and for you to not even give them a taste of the boxing skills i taught you for these kinds of situations…”

you clutched his jacket tighter to your body. “you already have so much on your plate. i could not dare to tell you something that may weigh on your conscience.”

“please,” he whispered. “i want you to weigh on my conscience.”

after a moment’s worth of hesitation, you finally gave in, explaining that the fresh bouquet of rainbow roses he sent to your office one morning sent your colleagues into a frenzy that turned your life into a nightmare. as you spoke, wriothesley’s expression became grimmer and grimmer. he couldn’t even fathom how much of a shitshow your company was for permitting the kind of behavior he merely glimpsed this evening.

and he couldn't bear the thought that you had been suffering alone for months.

“they didn’t believe me for a second, even when i had pictures of you and me framed on my desk. ‘oh, those must have been edited’.”

realizing wriothesley's muscles were so taut, you attempted to alleviate the atmosphere. “i guess no one can accept an ordinary office worker dating the administrator of the fortress of meropide. like, picture the tianquan of the liyue qixing with an npc.”

in any other situation, your boyfriend would be laughing, but certainly not this one. “no one can determine our relationship,” wriothesley stated with a clear veracity. “you are the light in my bleak world, reader, and nothing is allowed to take you away from me. if so, i will travel to the ends of teyvat to bring you back.”

he then grinned, showing off his cute canines. “and you bet i'll put my handcuffs to use.”

you slapped a hand to your forehead. “way to ruin the mood. i was just about to kiss you.”

in response, he grinded his knuckles into the top of your head, which made you yodel out in pain. “what was that for!?” you exclaimed.

“for not kissing me, but more importantly: for keeping a secret from me,” he clarified, his pale gray eyes twinkling under the moonlight. “no more of that, okay?”

you warmly smiled up at him and rested your head against his broad shoulder, completely wiped out from the party-turned-fiasco. “okay.”

as the two of you reached your abode, a question popped up in your mind. “were you serious about the handcuff thing?”

he smirked. “yes, and you’ll find out just how serious i am after we take a shower together. you reek of wine.”

a pink blush dusted your cheeks. “what? together!?”

“together. you and me.”

“ahhh! put me down!”

“nope. not a chance.”

© xinxiaogato. please do not translate my work without permission or attempt to plagiarize it.

[elizzsush]

“Fuck you Comic Con nerds!” | DC - Batman WIP

Batfam X Isekaied Reader

— in which you, a DC fan gets isekaied into and gets saved by boy wonder. Only to get mad at him and B… it’s only after you calm down (still mad at them) you piece together what actually happened… but should you tell them?

AU: Soulmate (?), isekai Rating: Sfw

Note: You and Damien are the same age and shit. I don’t really remember how old he is but for the sake of fanfiction let’s age him up to 18 (or down I looked it up and it said he was 37? I have no idea where that info was from comic are confusing)

Warning: Y/N swears a lot and makes a like one sexual joke? _________________________________

One minute you were in the greatest, most magical place in the world: Six flags. And the next you were in the sewer. To say you were pissed and totally confused was an understatement. Those funnel cakes by the entrance were calling your name- you were gonna get one before you left! Now instead of that sweet cake smell it was replaced with the smell of shit and piss and whatever else lived in the sewer.

Sixflags was suppose to be relaxing- doctors orders. You just needed to relax and distract from-

You were in the sewers. You dreaded to think about what you may have stepped in while on your quest to find a manhole cover.

So yes, you looked like an idiot in a Superman cape carrying a Wayne enterprises mug wondering around the sewers. The mug was half off and made you feel like you existed in the world of DC instead of the regular merchandise… and the cape was because who doesn’t get a cape when they go to six flags? Or at least bring the cape they already bought with them. Looking back, you blamed the mug. Anyway, you were wandering around this horrible sewer with water greener then green. It seriously looked toxic… when you heard this horrible roar…

You glanced back from where you came- looking towards the sound, when you heard it again. So, like any sane person. You broke out into a sprint.

Bad ideas, because it heard you and was coming closer now.

You seriously doubted you would be able to outrun this thing for long. It was getting closer and rapidly. But, thankfully, luck was on your side- because you saw a manhole cover!

Climbing the ladder you pushed the thing open-

Only to almost get ran over by a fucking car! “Watch it!” You cursed at the speeding car, a certain finger proudly in the air as you climb out. Momentarily forgetting about the creature that was chasing you. Remember that you slammed the man hole cover shut in a hurry.

But, did you think you could compete with some monster when it comes to the battle of strength? Yeah, didn’t think so either. It blasted the manhole cover off of its neat little spot and you hurry back and away from the road. “What the- oh my god.” You breath in relief when the thing was too big to actually climb out of the sewers. “Killer croc… okay… I’m losing it… whatever it is…” you try and breath out to collect yourself but you were interrupted by the sound of a very angry lizard man… thing. Crocodile? “Okay fuck off!” You shouted angrily at the villain and rip your cap off. “Abusive aunts or some shit is hard but by god your annoying!” You huff and run away because that just made him more angry and you didn’t want to stick around for that.

You did run away while waving two fingers at him, each from the middle of two of your hands but that was neither here nor there. You just needed to walk away and clear your head-

And…

You bumped into someone on your little escape. A chest of a fucking cosplayer. “My day couldn’t be going worse- oh my god, Fuck you Comic Con nerds!” You swore at the boy in black, red and green. “Six flags was suppose to be fucking relaxing!” You swore at him and turned away to go the opposite way only to bare witness to the snarls of a certain croc

“get back here!” He made the fucking ground shake.

“Fuck you and your shitty Damien cosplay, I am out of here.” You turn and ran from him only he to met with the silhouette of a bat… man, it was fucking Batman. “Oh I wonder who it is? Bruce Wayne, no fucking duh, Go fight the idiot on acid and leave me out of it.” You hissed because you were cornered. You tend to lash out when your cornered. He approached you quieter now. “…Oh um, I’ll take the crocodile, thanks.” You spoke as you backed up only for him to make the ground shake harder-

“Fine! Boy wonder then god damn. At least he’s hot!”

“How do You know our names?” Boy wonder piped up. He was suddenly standing beside you.

“Are You dense or really into role play?” You hissed at them. “I don’t know what kind of budget your little prank crew is working with but screw off!” Just then the crocadile managed to ruin the ground around him and break free- resulting in Batman and Robin to fight him and you-

The sane one to run away, “I’m so suing six flags for this- didn’t sign up for their fucking role-play shit.”

—————————————

Okay, so after adjusting. You were no longer in six flags- nor some rich nerds cosplay special effects whatever. Hell you didn’t even somehow end up on a movie set shooting for the next Batman. “Gotham more like god dammit, right?” You joked to yourself, and the old women next to you. She just looked at you weirded out and oddly disappointed before shaking her head. “Okay, Fuck me then.”

So, yeah, you were feeling a lot of emotions. Hey, you can adjust to this! Because no way in hell was getting back to your world worth being involved in whatever episode or comic plot this whole thing was. Yeah no, fuck that. You made a checklist.

1. Get out of Gotham (metropolis was lovely, Superman was cool-)

2. Get enough money to fuck off to some corner of the world no one knew about.

And finally 3. Live peacefully knowing you’ll never get that funnel cake.

The only problem? You didn’t have any money, food, shelter, phone, money again, or anything besides the clothes on your back. And you were craving funnel cake. Yes, you were poor in Gotham. That was basically a death sentence.

At least you had a mug. A stupid, useless mug. Hey, at least you can beg for change with it! “I should rob people.” You mutter to yourself because, that seemed like a good easy way to get money- the old women next to you however eyed you warily and moved her purse. “Not you, we’re cool Margaret.” You sent her a wave and a wink and got up. This plan would work.

It was this or sell the Justice leagues names to villains. Which- hey that could make cash and make you dead!

—————————————

Despite what people will tell you, stealing is fun.

Who would have guessed- your a natural pick pocket! If pick pocketing was running past women and tugging their bags away. “My bag! My purse!” Okay, maybe you had a bit of a sick sense of humor but you were desperate! And you made 132 dollars and 25 cents. Had it been two days? Yes, had you been pepper sprayed twice? Yes again, but you avoided it!

The only regret you had? Why hadn’t it been marvel? Marvel just seemed easier to live in. Yes the world did end but it bounced back! You sighed and threw a penny in the air. You were honestly tired. Two days was a long time to go without a bed. You couldn’t get a job either, you tired and needed so much to prove you were a serial killer or a thief- which included a birth certificate you didn’t have and so much more. Background checks would be the death of you. Even at that small cafe you met Margret? Yeah it was Margret. “Well we’ll well, if it isn’t Gotham’s newest petty criminal.”

You dropped your penny. Leaving you with 24 cents.

It was Jason fucking Todd.

“If I die, at least make it by those thighs.” You said solemnly, accepting your death. “I mean seriously, you squat or something?” You did a wolf whistle and now you were being detained. Okay, you tried.

You never claimed to be better then a man. And if you did you lied.

“I got her B.”

.

.

.

.

“Banananannaan Batman! Da Na!” You sang as Batman’s Batmobile pulled into the bat cave. The same one you had been dragged too. “He’s the crime fighting vigilantes who works alone! Besides Robin, Nightwing, Gordon, the Justice League, batgirl, Red Robin, red hood, Oracle, Barbra, um… I know theirs more help me out jay bird?” You sang as he excited the car. “He refuses to kill the joker who’s a mass murder ands death would save thousands! It’s Batman! The hero man! Danananana!”

“How do You know?” Batman asked as he walked towards you.

“The Song? Oh I improvised. Hard to find rhymes for Batman, hero man is pretty good though, huh?” He fucking punched you! “Fuck! What the hell dude? Wait are you the angry Batman who’s quieter or the nice Batman- god it’s so hard to know which one I ended up with.”

“This is serious.” Dick Said as he grabbed Batman hand and pulled him away from you.

“Heard of coping? penis?” You rolled your eyes, “this is kinda how I do it.”

“You sold our information, or Superman’s information too a villain. Tell us why and how you knew it and we’ll let you go.” He continued, “our friend is in serious danger now because of you.” He gritted his teeth looking upset.

You just rolled your eyes and licked your now bloody teeth. “Would have sold your guys information for a lot more then I got on me. Living large with eight dogs- maybe cats? Don’t know how I feel about animals actually. Which do you prefer dogs or cats?”

“We need to know how many villains you sold us out too.” Dick said calmly, his face getting closer to your own. “Now.”

You smile and lean closer to him. “You free after this?” He backed away with a frustrated look and Batman put his hand on Dick shoulder. “Oh B is tapping in now- great!”

“Your the only person who knows who we are.” Another voice said you looked behind you and saw Damien.

“That you don’t trust. Maybe check your inner circles before punching a poor thief! God… you’d think the world greatest detective would fact check- oh wait isn’t the greatest a chimp or something? I’ve always loved monkeys- oh maybe I’d get a monkey for my pent house.”

“You have no family, no friends, no birth certificate- before last week you didn’t exist. There are no records of you being born or traveling to Gotham. Who exactly are you?” Batman leaned close to you.

You stayed silent, thinking of your options. "I was with a traveling circus..." You began, "Then one day someone rigged the equipment for my parent's routine and then batman adopted me, and that was how I began robin..." You spoke solemnly, you noticed how a certain blue suited bird man tensed up. "Aw, don't tell me we have the same backstory!" You accused the Nighwing, "well one of us is going to have to change it and I hate to tell you, but I make it work."

"She knows more about us than our names... or at least more about Nighwing." You heard a robin mutter, the red one.

"Okay being red was his thing” you look at red hood, “and you took it, so you have no place to talk about me and penis's copycat situation- Even though I totally did it first and he should change it." You nudged your head towards Red Hood, "Kinda like how you took his role as Robin, but you know what Ima stay away from that can of worms haha." You laughed awkwardly as Jason stood up from behind you and walked towards you menacingly.

"This is a Major Turn Off for me you know? The costumes just don’t do it- maybe if you strip-“ and your mouth was tapped shut.

_____________________________________NOTE: Y/N is supposed to be Deadpool coded because I was watching Deadpool and laughing my ass off earlier.

[livecrow]

You've been kidnapped by the local butcher and he convinces you he's going to fucking eat you.

Dark!Ghost x fat fem reader drabble

CWs: dead dove, rape, dehumanization, gaslighting, bondage, undiscussed kink(?), animal play(?), threats and talk of cannibalism but no actual cannibalism

(A tidied up and extended ramble I subjected @391780 to on anon. Inspired directly from their post where Butcher!Simon draws a diagram of beef cuts on you.)

_____________________________________________________________

It’s pretty immediately obvious he’s a murderer. He’s probably a serial killer for all you know.

In reality, Simon doesn’t consider himself a serial killer, despite his body count. He’s just someone who doesn’t have qualms dealing with nuisances. He’s a retired vet, after you’d killed enough people, what’s a few more? 

No, his kills were just business, practical. They were men who made the mistake of getting in his way, of being inconvenient. Most, anyway—there’s at least one or two whose only crime was being an especially annoying cunt. Sometimes, some people  “jus’ need killin’”. 

As a butcher, he does find the implication funny, but no, he’s not eaten any of the scum he’s off’ed. “Don’t serve ‘em up to customers, neither”. After all, Simon’s got far higher standards than that. They weren’t even fit for dog food and he has a reputation to uphold. No one can compete with his quality. 

No, you’re nothing like them. You’re special.

Never in his life had he seen a prettier creature—and you’re absolutely prime. He’s salivating just looking at you, plump and oh so soft. He can see it in the way your skin wobbles gently as you move about. Simon couldn't find a straight line on you. And he’s looked. He’s been transfixed watching you, aching.

You live your life meandering obliviously, no brand in sight, not even a tag on your ear. He's surprised no one else snatched you up. Poor thing left to fend for itself ‘s cruel. Nothing else to it. 

Wrangling you was simple, it’s not like your large form actually offered you anything towards your defense. It was easy, really. Your lack of instincts was staggering, it was even more shocking that you lasted this long, he almost couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

You were clueless to the danger, even when it was directly in front of you, it only endeared you to him. Your eyes roved over him, not paying him any mind, just carrying on about your undoubtedly inane business. Only when he was on you and it was too late did you start to kick up a fuss.

The look of panic on your face was just priceless. All this crying and babbling nonsense like, “What are you doing?!” and “Stop!”.

Simon's main concern was not damaging you too much, he was careful. Just a single huge bicep around your neck and any fight you had seemingly evaporated with fright. You're bent over in a headlock, his grip as rigid as a pillory, but he’s not applying enough pressure to actually choke you. You’re just forced helplessly to come along or be dragged.

Not that it would have mattered if you were too wild to be led, he would simply tighten his hold, and allow up a quick nap. He’d pull out the dolly, load up the truck and be on his way.

On the big stainless steel work table the metal stings you even through your clothes. Unfortunately for you, even that scant protection doesn't last. The sight of the shears was enough to paralyze you again, and with a handful of strategic snips, Simon rips your last vestiges of humanity from you. All your skin transforms to gooseflesh, shivering on the table, but your nipples is where his roaming gaze finally settles.

He’ll have to remember to adjust the heat later. After all, “‘s a bit early to start chillin’ you”, he’d chuckle. You were a bit of silly thing, he thought. Maybe it’d be a minute till you’d actually catch on.

You're his little prize. Simon will coddle you, give you plenty of softness and warmth. You’ll not want for blankets, pillows, and other such treats, but not a stitch of clothing will ever touch your skin again. There would be no hiding your nakedness.

“Clothes? Clothes ‘re for people, what y’ need clothes for?” he scoffed. You don’t make the mistake of thinking it’s a question, because he doesn’t want you to answer. A dog doesn’t answer “who's a good boy?” does he? 

He’s measuring you, jotting things down. You think distantly that the pencil looks puny in his fist. While he's at it, he's feeling and squeezing every inch of you. You’re groped and prodded like some saran wrapped package of beef at the grocery store.

Only when you think there’s finally a reprieve, you’re being hogtied. You’re trussed up in practically half a roll of twine, fat bulging between the strands, desperate to escape its bite. Simon says it looks good on you, can’t resist taking one of your new little rolls between his fingers, giving you a teasing pinch. You struggle of course, but the terrifying man commands you to “Settle”, says the only thing your fussing will get you is rope burn. 

He claps you on the ass affectionately, assuring you that the scratchy string is only temporary. He knows a guy for leather, does good work. All hand stitched. Simon will have a proper harness made for you. Something with a lot of d-rings. It will be more comfortable for you and he can situate you how he likes with minimal bruising or chaffing. 

As he admires your skin, he’ll remark offhandedly that he’ll have to ""'ave somethin' from you" too. He’s not usually one to bother, but it’d be a travesty to waste hide like yours. Couldn’t find more supple could y’? He hasn’t decided what’ll be yet, he’ll need to do some maths to figure out how much material you'll make. Behind his mask and the façade of impassivity, he savors your reaction. That’d be about the first time your consciousness flees from you.

Simon will lay it on thick, praise how "well-marbled" you are. Delectable. So plump and well-fed, you can't blame him for any of this, really. He'll say something about kobe beef and taking good care of you. He’ll massage you daily, knead every inch of you between his huge oiled hands. He'd take his time, temple t' toes. You couldn’t get a knot in a muscle if you tried.

Your more delicate bits don’t escape his tender ministrations either. He takes painstaking work in rubbing your insides down with thick fingers, wringing orgasms from you until you're limp and still as the rest of the meat in his shop. Says it’s good for the flavor, will make you even sweeter.

It’s all completely horrifying, it has to be a nightmare. He says all this so casually, like he’s telling you the time of day. This man is truly completely deranged. 

His hands are always on you, it’s never fucking ending. He's taken it upon himself that you never “exert” yourself and you have no choice in the matter. Bastard won’t even let your hands free to eat or bathe. He "grooms" you. Brushes your hair, trims your nails, cleans your teeth, brushes, lathers, rinses, dries, moisturizes your skin. It’s humiliating and you hate every second of it.

The juxtaposition is too much, the horror and absurdity of it all. All the restraints and manhandling, your looming demise, while insisting on soft surfaces for you, water temperature just right, food carefully curated and cut up just so. He won’t let anything happen to spoil the meat.

He doesn’t spare any expense on your “feed” either. You eat what he eats, might as well be eating off his plate. Albeit simple, it’s good food, you don't see a point in denying it. It's fresh and flavorful and to no one’s surprise it includes a lot of meat. Always from his shop of course, only the best for you.

He’ll bring out some new parcel every night for dinner, unfolding the brown paper wrapping, holding up to you to admire his work. “‘S a ribeye”. He goes on about the marbling, the even color of the meat. “Couldn’t find fresher” he’d say, "was only jus' bleedin' this mornin'".

You’re his captive audience. There’s nothing else you can do but warily watch him make dinner, even if seeing a blade in his hand gives your heart palpitations. Steak, sautéed mushrooms, jacket potatoes, roasted broccoli.

You’ve long since stopped fighting him when it comes to meals. Because it can always get worse. After being bent over on the floor, forced to eat off a dish without the use of your hands, you’d resigned yourself to the fact that eating off his fork was a sufferable compromise. Still, if he’s in a mood he won’t even allow that. You'll eat off his fingers, and he’ll laugh at your expense and chide you when you inevitably “make a mess”. 

The food was prepared, but this time the kitchen knife didn’t leave his grasp. It wasn’t a steak knife. It was too big and not serrated, but that didn’t seem to bother Simon. It certainly bothered you. Its presence loomed like a guillotine in your peripheral.

He feeds you bites between his own. Every mouthful and he looks so pleased. You desperately missed his mask at meal times. At least then you couldn’t see his smug fucking face.

On the plate the steam billows and curls. The meat gives easily under your molars, practically melts in your mouth. Hot and rich and juicy, it’s basted in butter, with garlic cloves and sprigs of rosemary, seasoned with cracked peppercorn and flakey sea salt. It’s a touch rarer than you’d like. 

You wish you were capable of escaping the horror of it all for even a second, pretend you were anywhere else, with anyone else.

Simon punctuated his first bite with a low rumble of approval, watching you with those dark, cavernous eyes. He’d continued in that way, a man content in silence.

”...you'll taste better.”

He waited until your last bite to say it, maybe that was mercy on his part. The meat transformed in your mouth, became sinewy and bitter. You couldn’t swallow, and went to spit it out. But he expected that apparently, was on you in a second. Giant rough hand sealed over your lips, practically enclosing the bottom half of your face, smooshing your cheeks up into your eyes. 

“Chew.”

It takes longer than usual, but you try to obey. His hand hasn’t moved from your mouth.

“Swallow.”

His eyes move from yours to your neck, his thumb grazing your throat lightly, tracing the bite’s trajectory as you force it down. His eyes are back on you then. 

With Simon’s free hand he deftly pierces the last drippy morsel off the plate with the knife, popping it between his scarred lips. The hand still on you moves, migrates to cup your jaw, gradually starting to squeeze. You don’t have any fight left and open before it becomes painful.

Fear paralyzes you again, when he brings the knife towards you.

The movement is slow, as if he’s actually concerned about frightening you. He’s holding it longwise, pointed off to the side.

Then it’s on your tongue.

He drags the flat of the blade’s length across the trembling muscle, leisurely, only moving it away to flip it and clean the other side, myoglobin discarded on your tongue 

“They’ll say ’m ‘spoilin’ ‘er rotten’. Eatin’ off my own plate, sleepin' in my own bed, warm under my roof. Keepin’ you safe indoors. Such a sweet, tame thing, are you?”. He strokes your cheek, wiping at a drip at the corner of your mouth with a thumb before popping that in his mouth too.

Whenever Simon’s put up enough with your smart mouth, he enjoys the look of your wide wet eyes and your trembling lips stretched around a padded ring gag.

The sounds you make when gagged are special little nonsense noises, almost like you're trying to talk like a person would. Sweet, pitiful sounds. He also loves when wet, choked sobs that cascade out of your open mouth, forcing you to drool. “You’re so messy, sweet’eart. Nose runnin’, too.” Says you're leaking from practically every hole. Eyes, nose, mouth, cunt.

Sometimes, you might almost be fooled into thinking he feels sorry for you in those moments when you're hyperventilating and hysterical, or wailing so mournfully. He always hushes you when you're crying, pets and hold you, dries your face, as if he’s not the cause of your tears. Despite how much Simon adores the taste of them, adores the soft jingling of the little cow bell tied ‘round your throat when your whole body quivers with sobs, the stress will sour the meat. He’ll say as much, but surprisingly it doesn’t help calm you down.

If it was necessary, he's not opposed to sedation. After all, he's done the research to find one that won't affect your flavor. But most of the time, his solution to your despair is yet another thorough fucking. Dopamine to counteract the stress.

Simon forces the orgasms out of your body as easily as he forces his cock into it, you're utterly helpless to stop either. His livelihood is working with his hands and unfortunately he’s damn good at it. When all's said and done and you're spent, he’ll lightly chastise you for working yourself up, for fussing.

He loves the heft of you in his hands, weighs your heavy tits in his palms, grips your ample belly. Simon can't resist taking mouthfuls of you into his mouth, worrying your supple fat with his incisors. Your tits, ass, thighs, arms, belly, back fat, hell, your double chin. It doesn't matter, any squishy bit of you. You're always afraid he might be getting impatient, that he’ll take a bite out of you, but he never does. Simon says he's just sampling, maybe tenderizing you a little. 

His favorite taste of yours is still between your legs. He has you thank him for being so careful there. Past you inner thighs and plump mons, the pressure of his teeth yields, feeling barely a graze. 

He likes putting mirrors in front of you, says he wants you to see how lovely you are. Your hands are clipped together, chain snagged in one of the shop's many meathooks, just low enough that you don’t strain your shoulders or quite have to stand on your tiptoes.

He directs you to watch, popping the lid off of a permanent marker with a squeak.

He maneuvers you this way and that as he works, dragging the marker down your body. His lines are surprisingly clean considering his canvas is such a pliant, organic shape. Hands are as steady as a surgeon. The marker tickled terribly on skin, the ethanol smell burning your nose, making it hard to think.

It only took a minute to recognize what he was doing. Your skin itches under the felt tip. You flail, trying desperately to smear it, to muss his work, but the ink dries too quickly.

Simon wouldn't let you keep your eyes closed, so in that moment you were grateful for the onslaught of tears blurring your vision somewhat.

That day, he showed you all your different cuts, as if you cared, as if you were together enough to pay attention.

Chuck, rib, loin, sirloin, rump, round, flank, plate, brisket, shank.

He tells you which are his favorite. Tells you which of his mates he’ll have over to enjoy you, ponders what pieces he’ll think they’ll like best. How to cook different cuts to get the best effect, that some cuts are naturally tougher and have to be cooked slowly, while the other cuts are tender and fatty, can be cooked at a higher temperature, quicker. 

From the very beginning, he’s referenced the “Big Day”.

He’ll ask if you're excited over the shinnnnk of a knife against a whetstone. Simon always keeps his tools in order, clean and sharpened expertly, but he thinks he'll polish them up extra shiny for the occasion. To a mirror finish, so you can see yourself. You're so beautiful, it'd be a cryin' shame for you to miss it. 

It’s been months now you’ve been with him and the day never comes. 

...

You didn't dare question it.

But if you did, Simon would just chuckle, amused that you're so eager. Maybe he'll say that he decided he wants some milk from you instead.

[maidragoste]

Cookies

Aemond Targaryen x Wife!Reader

Can we pretend I posted this yesterday? lol

Please if you like it don't hesitate to like, leave a comment and share 🥰🥰💖💖

If you have any more ideas for other drabbles please send them to my inbox 🤗💖

Anyway I hope you have a good read!

Aemond felt his body relax as he entered his house. It was warm there, nothing like the cold outside, and he could smell vanilla from the entrance. He smiled thinking that he would soon be able to try one of your wonderful cookies. He had been looking forward to that since you sent him pictures of you and the kids baking while he was at work.

Aemond hurriedly took off his coat and then went to the kitchen.

“Mmm, smells good,” he said, drawing everyone’s attention. You, Naerys, and Daella stopped decorating their cookies while Baelon stopped eating the frosting on the sly.

“Kepa!” Baelon, Naerys, and Daella shouted happily.

Your husband first greeted each of his children with a kiss on the forehead and then went to kiss you.

“Welcome home,” you smiled on his lips while he placed one of his hands on your lower back just to touch you. “How was your day?”

“Good” he replied and was about to grab one of the undecorated cookies when Baelon slapped him. “Why was that?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

“You can't eat until they're decorated,” the boy replied.

“Baelon is right, kepa,” said Daella supporting her brother.

“We were waiting for you to make the trees. Muña says you're better at decorating them,” said Naerys.

“Okay, okay. First, we'll decorate, and then we'll eat,” he agreed, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. Baelon, stop eating the icing because otherwise we'll be left without decorations.”

“Baelon!” his sisters shouted angrily.

Before a fight between the children began, Aemond took a sleeve of green icing and began to show them how he decorated the trees. You watched fondly as he took the time to make a cookie with each of your children and complimented them on their work. Aemond pretended not to notice as you took pictures of them, surely you would show them later.

At one point, while Baelon, Daella, and Naerys were busy competing to see who could decorate the best, you motioned for your husband to come to your side. Aemond was quick to do so and smiled as he watched you hand him a cookie from under the counter. With his back to the children and making sure they couldn’t see him, he quickly took a bite. He savored the sugar and vanilla.

“Delicious, as always,” he said before kissing you.

Taglist for all my House of the Dragon works

@chaotic-fangirl-blog @venus-flytrap3 @ajordan2020 @iloveallmyboys @sweethoneyblossom1 @fudge13 @crystal-faith @tita004 @ichanelvxgue @snowprincesa1 @joyouart @rosey1981 @alastorhazbin @papichulo120627 @apollonshootafar @jasminecosmic99 @partypoison00 @labellapeaky @rebelliuna @bxdbxtxh15 @impartinghades @thegirlnextdoorssister @angeliod @snh96 @aleemendoza2425-blog @natashaobo @watercolorskyy @nyenye @savagemickey03 @kishie8 @ewwwitsel @nzygftoji @alisoncdariel @cookielovesbook-akie @partnerincrime0 @klara-lily @427120lxld @justhereiguess2 @buckylahey @artistadistrada2002 @thelastemzy @justanotherkpopstanlol @jacesvelaryons @aemondwhoresworld @multiversemayhemme

@decaffeinatedparadisepost @lidivi @alixxhere @xinyourdreamsx

hotd masterlist

[seaspringangel]

kiss kiss kissing game - kinich

you and kinich play a little kissing game. no biggie, right?

pairing: kinich x gn!reader

warnings: none! just pure fluff <3

a/n: so not only is it pocky day, it is also me and kinich's birthday + i had apt by rosé and bruno mars on loop!!!!! so i wrote this dedicated to my new obsession and birthday twin. i hope you guys enjoy <3333

“Kinich, would you like to play?” 

Your smile was truly saccharine, possibly more sugar-sweet than the chocolate glaze that covered the thin stick you waved in front of his face, and it made Kinich’s heart skip a beat. 

He was too caught up in staring at you to answer at first. He stared at how your eyes danced with such pretty whimsy, how your face glowed like a star in the grass before him, forever bright and burning, the setting sun behind your back dousing you in a golden radiance that sent him silently spinning, much like the world on its axis.

Staring at your lips, still stained with fruit juice, glistening red as if you’ve been passionately kissed. Would you like to be kissed?

“Kinich?” You tilt your head to the side, brows furrowed in such an innocent way that he feels his heart racing again, making him feel like he was standing on the needle-point edge of a mountaintop, ready to fall into the embrace of something greater.

Kinich could only hope his face didn’t betray the emotions creating a storm within him, lest he be blown away. “I heard you. Play what?”

You smile even wider, even brighter, even lovelier. “The pocky game!” 

…what?

“What.”

You laugh, mirth shimmering in the air around you like a veil spun from the fabric of your joy, and Pryo Archon above, how he wanted to lose himself in you - in the bell chime of your laughter, in the light that sang from your very being.

“It’s a game, like the ones you compete in here in Natlan.” You glance up at him beneath the butterfly wings of your lashes, a little dream unfolding before Kinich’s eyes. “...but without, y’know, the maiming. Or the potential death.”

Kinich couldn’t help but feel his lips quirk up slightly at your cheekiness. You always seem to make him smile, even without meaning to. 

“That’s a shame. I was looking forward to being resurrected again actually.”

You roll your eyes. “Veeeery funny. Anyway, this game is simple and silly, and it may not be as adrenaline-inducing as bungee jumping or the like but I think we’ll both find it fun. And I figured…”

Suddenly, your smile becomes soft and Kinich doesn’t know what he’d do if you kept looking at him like that, with your pretty eyes crinkling with a tenderness that stoked a blaze hotter than Turnfire within him. 

“...I figured since it's your birthday too, we could do something silly, I guess. Together.”

You were still smiling, but there was an undercurrent of vulnerability in your voice, swelling like a tide. You just wanted to make him happy. You just wanted him to be carefree and unburdened as you were, even if was for one day, and how could he possibly turn you away when you looked at him like that, pure glitter in your eyes?

It was as easy as plunging head-first off the edge of a cliff.

“Whatever game you want me to play,” Kinich said softly, “I’ll play it. Just for you.”

You lit up, a dazzling flame of happiness made from Kinich’s dreams. 

“Okay so,” you begin to explain, “I put one end of the pocky in my mouth, and the other end goes in yours.”

You press the chocolate-covered end of the pocky stick against his lips, and his lips parted to allow the treat entry. The sugar of it rested plainly on his tongue.

You laugh a little as you eye how stoic he looked still. If only you knew how he felt on the inside. 

“To play, we have to start eating our ends. Whoever mouth lets go of the pocky first, loses. Or…”

And this is when you begin to blush a little, and Kinich relished in the way your cheeks pinked like the clouds rolling overhead, so sweet and beautiful. “Or we both get to the middle and kiss, making it a tie. But it’s not a big deal or anything!”

Kissing you, with your cheeks so flushed and your lips looking so petal-soft. That was certainly a challenge worth more than its weight in gold. And a challenge he wouldn't back away from.

And for the rest of the day, and beyond that, with chocolate and satisfaction still melting on his tongue, nothing could’ve compared to how sweet you tasted, how soft your lips were against his, plump as a daisy, just as addictive as the fruit juice coloring your mouth painting his own like smeared lipstick. A kiss kiss kiss here and there until he had you laid out on the grass, saccharine and sugar sweet all for him.

tags: @houseofsolisoccasum

[thecoochiefairy]

━━ 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑒 .ᐟ toji + suguru.

warnings 𑄽𑄺 17.3K word count. hockey player! toji, hockey player! suguru + toji third person omniscient pov, black woman, threesome, double penetration, vaginal penetration, angry sex, rough, lil bit of sweet talkin’, hair pulling, squirting, creaming, oral [f] [m], choking, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, a lil degrading, condomless sex, kissing, cream pie, spanking, aggressive toji, aggressive suguru, lil bit of sweet toji, a lil bit of sweet suguru, violence between two men, jealously, butt stuff hehe, minors aren’t welcome!

song to play while listening; 𝑖 𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑛’𝑡 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑛𝑢𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟 ; 𝑏𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑒 𝑒𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑠ℎ

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ let’s cut to the chase. y’all know i got two baby daddy’s, i had to! love y’all. enjoy. 🫶🏽

SWEETIE, that was her name. Well, that’s what they called her anyways. She was—sweet. From the bone straight smile she carried, cat-like eyes flickering beneath dark lashes, glaring as if she was always trying to entice the audience. Her pom-pom’s clasped under her fingers as she shook them around, swinging her hips, rosey pink hair flowing as her body moved to the beat of the family friendly songs they played along the arena. But no matter how hard she danced—or how effortless she made it look—fans were always going to pay more attention to what they came for—the hockey game. 

High cholesterol snacks being thrown into the mouths of aggressive sports junkies as equally aggressive players sped along the ice, crushing into one another as they competed in their game. It was a rush to even be in the atmosphere, never knowing what to expect before the night ended. Being a professional Ice Girl had its perks. Traveling from city to city, dancing in places she never thought she’d be able to see as a child. Here she was, living her dream while doing something she loved. Sometimes it could be annoying. If it wasn’t having to constantly repeat the same eight count, it was sweating beneath the lights shining against the bleachers, to freezing cold in her tightly fitted uniform as she had to scrape the ice for the players safety. 

Her eyes scanned the numerous men inside the cubicle— it’s almost comparable to a shark tank— searching for a familiar face. Maybe she was searching for one, maybe she was searching for both. 

She could imagine him without his helmet as he squatted down next to his partner, nudging to get his attention. Midnight hair, piercing gray eyes, tall and broad muscular build. Ink danced all over his body beneath his black and white jersey, FUSHIGURO plastered along the back and front. His scarred lip wafted with his intimidating persona, being the troublemaker of the two—always getting into physical fights more than anyone on the team. Then there was the good to his bad cop—good by default, anyway—equally dark hair that fell past his shoulders, usually up in a bun or half-bun if it wasn’t under his helmet. Those damn hazel eyes. Tattoos scathed his body, eyebrow and lip piercing shining beneath the lights of the dome, GETOU printed in alabaster. He was the mouthpiece, talking shit from earth to hell, never keeping his opinions to himself. She knew both of them in more ways than one. 

Despite their infamous reputations, they were…opposites. You’d expect their roles to be reversed. Toji was surprisingly sweet—unless he was within a game—while Suguru could be sweet. If only she’d known that her own antics would twist the three of them into issues she couldn’t take back, maybe she wouldn’t have entertained their attraction to her. Then again, maybe none of that mattered. 

It was a regular night for them, the Ice Girls dancing behind the wall of the rink, cheering with the rest of the crowd. It was now one of their final intermissions, the team having fifteen minutes to strategize their plays, the girls also taking a break from their routine. Unfortunately their work was never done. The women placed themselves into a line, preparing to clear shavings from the ground for the teams to safely return to the game. 

She held her broom towards her chest, taking a deep breath before she hopped onto the ice, pushing her body as quickly as the men did, swaying her hips to get a good weight along her feet. 

Her eyes briefly caught those gray one’s. His vision scans the short-shorts that cling to her round hips and ass, desperately wanting to rip through the fabric if they could. The long sleeve she wears is snug, matching the black and white jerseys that the men wear, having their own individual nicknames on the back. Her pink curls complimented her toffee skin beautifully. Hair in a half-up half down style, matching bow pinched against her ponytail, freckles and dark lashes sprucing beneath the lights. She almost looked innocent—if only she was, he thought. 

Neither of the men were subtle, even if they thought they were. They both watched in unison as she pushed her body around the ice, the little twist in her hips and sway in her body didn’t go unnoticed as the two stood in the tunnel of the court. 

Maybe she wanted to smile. But instead, she added another twist in her hips as she continued to skate. When she arrived back up to the boards of the rink where the men stood in preparation to step back down, she was met with another pair of eyes—hazel, softer than gray— moving quickly, not wanting to become distracted by him. His helmet is off, head dipped down as he quickly pulls his long hair into a bun behind his strident features, dark eyebrows furrowed as he focused in on her. Mission failed.

 As she pushed herself up the step, she felt fingers brush along her hip as his deep voice asked, “You’ got it?”

“I got it,” she tells him, nearly rolling her eyes in reply. Although something in her wanted to squeal like a girl with a crush, she suppressed the stupid grin that wanted to go along her face, moving his hand away as she carried herself back towards the group’s dancing spot. 

Her friend and teammate, Bubbles, watched all of this happen. She waited until they got back into their standing positions, then leaning over as she confronted, “I saw that.” 

Sweetie’s eyes followed over to her friend, bringing them back to the crowd as she asked, “Saw what?”

“The way that the both of them can’t take their eyes off of you,” Bubbles replied. 

Sweetie shrugged, a small grin on her face as she said, “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit.” her friend countered, chocolate brown skin glowing beneath the lights as she raised a dark brow.

How could she not notice them? Of course she did. Toji’s eyes were always locked on her ass, and Suguru's were focused on her face, watching her lips.

“Bullshit to you,” she shrugs, “Besides, I’d rather watch them instead. Don’t you just love athletic men?” She hums, leaning against the glass by her elbows, watching as they all hop back onto the ice effortlessly.

Bubbles sighs, crossing her arms over her chest as she looks out at the game. She knew her friend entertained both men, impressed that she knew how to maneuver through two different personalities off the ice, and that all three of them hadn’t killed each other yet. It was almost a full time job. 

Her friend rolled her eyes, a playful smirk on her face as she responded. “I love sporty men, but most of them are just assholes. Literally, they’d have a long stick up their ass if they could,” she moved her eyes back to Sweetie, “I don’t know how you deal with that.” 

“By fucking them good enough to where they have so much dopamine in their system, they don’t have a reason to ever be mad.” 

Bubbles shook her head, chuckling in response, “You’re terrible.”

The game continued as usual. The girls were now back to their routine, fluttering their pom-pom’s around skillfully. At the same time, the crowd began to notice as a player on the other team jabs the shaft of his stick towards Toji, cursing out at him angrily. Wrong move.

 Everyone watches as Suguru swipes his feet closer to his teammate who immediately becomes angry, placing his arm in front of him to stop him from attacking the opponent. The crowd cheered as this was usually expected at these games, fights not a crime within the sport of hockey. 

“Oh god, here this nigga goes,” her teammate mutters, crossing her arms over her chest. 

This was unfortunately a usual thing. Toji getting mad, and Suguru having to stop him from being benched. Even if the crowd enjoyed acts of violence, it wasn’t an overall good look that the same player was known to crash out each time someone pissed him off. With him and Suguru being close, he was usually the one to pull him away from stupid scenarios—unfortunately, this wasn’t one of those times. 

Just as they thought that he had calmed down, Toji quickly turns as he effortlessly raises his leg, the slice of his blade crushing into the man’s chest, his body dropping to the ground like a sack of potatoes. 

Screams of both people and players echoed through the arena, the players on the ice immediately stopping their actions as their eyes all fixated on the scene unraveling in front of them. Some of them immediately rushed to help their teammate, others stood and watched in utter shock. 

“OFF THE GODDAMN ICE, FUSHIGURO!” his coach angrily shouted, throwing the clipboard within his hand. 

The referee’s immediately dragged Toji off of the ice who lashed out curses. Suguru was now equally pissed as he shouted, “That’s bullshit! This fuckin’ idiot started it!” referring to the player still laying on the ground trying to catch his breath, his teammates trying to help him up as he nearly passed out from the loss of oxygen.

As the ref tried to talk Suguru into returning to the game, he smacked his lips as he shouted, “Fuck you! Learn how to call a fuckin’ foul!” 

Sweetie could do nothing but let out a sigh as she crossed her arms over her chest, seeing as the two problem twins worked their magic once again.

The players all stood along the sides, shaking their heads at the situation that always occurred at least once every week. The player on the ground clutched their chest, pain seeping through their body. The ref’s attempted to hold Toji back as he tried to lunge over the edge of the barrier. 

“That’s it!’ the ref’s shouted. “You’re both gettin’ a game suspension!’ 

They should’ve expected this.

“Shit,” she mutters, “This is messy as hell.”

“Sweetie and Bubbles! Are you here to watch the drama,  or entertain the crowd?!”

Their own coach catches their attention. Sweetie turns her head as she shouts back, “Sorry, coach!” Both women grabbing for their pom-pom’s. 

“Say sorry while you both clean the ice off tonight—by yourselves!”

Both women's mouths dropped open. Sweetie standing up as she frowned, “C’mon, coach!—“

The rest of the girls snickered in the background, overhearing as their coach announced their punishment. They knew they weren’t supposed to be nose deep in the drama, the usual resolution being to lead the crowd in a chant as distraction. Their coach was harsh enough whenever something happened, never letting things go without punishment. 

“And I don’t wanna see a bad job, or that’ll be a week's worth of extra workouts, you got that?!” 

The girls both nodded their heads, replying in unison, “Yes, coach!”

The game picked back up to a more calming finish, their team winning and ending the night off successfully. 

Both Sweetie and Bubbles were now in an empty arena, teams grabbing their belongings and exiting the building, leaving the rink quiet as their skates slid around the ice. 

Sweetie mutters, “This is bullshit. Everybody watches fights when they happen!”

She wasn’t wrong, it was bullshit. Fights happened, people loved the drama, and yet they happened to be the only ones punished for it. Even a few parents and children let out laughs from their seats. 

Bubbles agreed alongside her, “I know, right? It’s not our fault that Fushiguro and Getou wanna fight every game.”

“Well, technically Suguru was trying to stop him—more so guilty by association,” she shrugs, sweeping the access water along the ground. 

“Taking up for your man, hm?” Bubbles teases. 

“Shut up,” she chuckles. 

Silence goes in between them for a moment, Sweetie bringing her eyes up as she feels her friend wanting to ask another question. She could just tell. 

“Yes, Bubbles? Please ask before you explode.”

“Sorry, I just—uh…so…do they like….know?” 

Sweetie picks her face up with a frown, “Know what?”

Bubbles gave her a deadpan look, raising a brow towards her and responding, “ The fact that you’re fucking the both of them.”

“Yeah?” She tilts her head, “Why?”

Her friend shrugs, “Don’t you think that’ll be a pain in the ass if one of them starts liking you?”

“It’s a good thing they don’t. When I asked Toji if it was a problem, he said he was a grown ass man that could handle the situation, and Suguru doesn’t do relationships so—it’s fine.”

“Right, because a grown man always says what he means,” Bubbles replies, rolling her eyes, “They’re dudes, Sweetie. They don’t say shit they actually mean.”

“Well I don’t know, Bubbles, I’ll just have to live in my delusions?  I like fucking both of them, and until it becomes a problem, let’s not hope for the worst, shall we? I don’t think I wanna see Toji ninja kick Suguru’s pretty face.”

“Oh god— he do got a good ass leg on him. It’s like the motherfucker did ballet or something. Sounds terrifying. Suguru’s too pretty,” she agrees, “This is ghetto. Why couldn’t you just stick to one?”

“Because where’s the fun in that? Why not have one, when you can have all?” she winks, her friend then sighing with a laugh, “You’ really are terrible.”

“Yeah yeah, but you love me, don’t you?”

Sweetie drops her broom, playfully grabbing Bubbles by the wrists as she begins spinning the both of them atop the ice. They both laugh like children, playing around when they should’ve been cleaning. They could pay the price later. 

Another thirty minutes pass as they finally get back to cleaning. As they finish up, the sound of the locker room opens, heavy feet booming along the ground. She can feel the tension along him, scarred lip twitching as he walks, deadpan face as he heads for the exit door of the building. Onyx hoodie pulled over his head, Nike sweats paired at the bottom as he looks more comfortable, but seemingly still upset from what happened earlier. 

Bubbles says, “I’m heading out, you coming?”

Sweetie looks back to the footsteps still echoing beneath the bleachers. She mindlessly replies, “Uh…I’ll meet you back in your room, yeah?”

Bubbles looks back to where she sees Toji walking, putting the math together that she didn’t need to be apart of this conversation. Taking this as her exit opportunity, she shrugs, “Have fun with Satan’s spawn. Deuces!” 

She begins swaying to the opposite side towards the girls locker room, picking herself up to pass the bleachers. Sweetie turns her attention back towards Toji who continues to walk, calling out to him as she greets, “Hey, Hothead.”

A dark brow raises as the nickname echoes through the empty dome, stopping in his tracks as his face turns towards her voice. His eyes scan her up and down as he comes to a stop at the side of the barriers, grabbing onto the top of it with both hands while he responds to her, “Hey, Bubblegum.”

“Bubblegum?” she scans him up and down, “Cute. I’d assume you’d still be pissed off from being benched.”

Toji grunts in response, the scowl still on face while he remains leaning over the side. “I am. Should’ve put my blades in his fuckin’ mouth.”

“Did you get suspended from the next game?” 

“A couple days,” he replies, his gray eyes focusing back on her as he continues, “And I gotta go to bullshit therapy.” 

She laughs softly, “Awe, such a crybaby you are. Don’t wanna talk about your feelings?”

Toji’s scowl remained on his face as he scanned her up and down, “You gonna clean the ice or just stare at me?”

She tilts her head, ignoring the deflection within his response. She then says, “Mmm, nah. Was wondering if you wanted to come play with me for a bit, let off some steam.” 

He shakes his head, “I’m good. Last thing I wanna be on is that ice.”  

“Good thing I wasn’t talking about hockey then.”

The look on her face is innocent, but her eyes tell another thing. They’re dark, blinking at him in an enticing manner. Those damn eyes. 

The shift in the conversation wasn’t something he expected, but as her beauty sunk into him, he wasn’t opposed to her offer. 

He raises an eyebrow with a chuckle, shaking his head as he says, “Neither was I.” 

Another usual routine of theirs. The aggression that he held within the game always seemed to fall back on her. But, she wasn’t complaining. They went from staring at each other, to her forehead now pressing against his, Sweetie hovered atop of him as her hips rotated from above, his rough hands clawing against her back, sending a gasp stumbling from her throat. He grunted as his eyes looked up to meet hers, a dark smirk on his lips.

This was Toji’s way of handling his emotions. He preferred this type of therapy instead of talking out his feelings. 

His hands moved against her body, now finding their way to her waist as he guided her above him, watching as her hips rocked and moved. A low groan escaped his lips as his eyes continued to scan over her body, wanting to touch more, touch all. 

“Wanted to play with me, huh?” He muttered, a smirk still on his face.

He could be arrogant—she knew that. Being as needy as she was when it came to him, it was a vulnerability she couldn’t stand to show. She hides her face within his shoulder. Her grip is deadly amongst the back of his hair, a whimper releasing from her lips as she softly cries against him, trying to move her hips as her own sense of control, losing it each time his strength overpowered.

His grip continued to tighten on her hips as he let out a low, “Fuck,”, his smirk only growing as he felt her struggling against him. He was enjoying watching the control he gained, his strength always winning.

 “Always so fuckin’ sensitive,” he smacks his lips at her attempts to hide herself, gripping her wrist that withheld his hair. He twists their fingers into intertwining themselves as he begins thrusting his hips sharply upwards, other hand firing a spank to her ass, gripping the flesh in his hold as he picks up speed. 

She wraps her free arm around his neck, clawing at his back as he rotated her hips, dropping her down against his dick, causing her eyes roll to the back of her head as she whines, “Oh, fuck.” 

His smirk only grew even larger as her walls tightened, a low growl escaping his lips at the very enjoyable feeling of her nails clawing at the skin of his back.

 “Look at you—“ His hands once again gripped at her hips as they rocked back against him, pulling her down as he grunted in response, “Takin’ my dick just right.”

She pulls her face up to meet his, a shy but sultry laugh falling from her lips at that. Her eyes never fully made contact with his. She pushes him farther back onto the bed, pressing her hands along his chest as she grinds against him, face tilting up to the sky as she feels him grunt, gripping onto her skin as he does so.

“Look so fuckin’ pretty,” Toji groaned.

Even if she couldn't admit it, she tried to be more vocal for him—he loved that. She drags her hand up to reach his jaw as she leans forward, lips hovered above his as she teased, “Yeah?” Breathing along his face as she begs quietly, “Say it again, please.”

Her lips were only a few inches from his own, the feeling of each breath making his chest rise even more. He released another low chuckle as she begged for him. 

“You look so fuckin’ good on top of me, pretty,” he repeated. “Like you were made to be here, riding my dick.”

His tone of voice made her lose her sense of control once again.  A flush came to her face as she leaned herself farther into him, lips right against his ear as his hands grip her skin beneath the sheets. His palms tighten around her lower back, holding onto her as he raises her body, bouncing her along his lap. The sound of their skin sticking and releasing one another’s, echoing against the room, makes her drag out a moan, holding onto him as she whimpers, “Agh, I—I’m close…” 

“Fuck that. You can take more.”

She shakes her head, feeling him now grasp her hair into his palms, tugging at it harshly, holding her in one place as his hips begin sharply snapping upwards. She could only tremble above him, attempting to reach back to slow his movements, his free hand latching onto her arm, snapping it behind her back.

His eyes watched as she looked down at him, her expression being one full of sensitivity. Toji could feel her body beginning to shake in his hands, trying to slow him down as much as possible, but that wasn’t going to happen, not here. 

“Uh uh,” he clicked his tongue, “Don’t cry now, you wanted this,” he muttered, his hand clutching her body tighter.

She shudders, entire body shaking as if she’d been tased, his palms holding onto her as she sobs out a moan, dropping her hips down as her lower body explodes in pleasurable raptures. He grips her face as he kisses her, swallowing her whimpers as her body relaxes above him.

He continued to hold her in place as her body shook against him, his kisses muffling her sounds. He savored every reaction that came from her as he finally let go of her arm, allowing her to move freely. Slowly, Toji’s other hand released itself from her hip, Sweetie jumping as he spanked her in reward, caressing the side of her face, his lips finally leaving hers as he spoke, “You did good, baby. Real good.”

She leans her head on his shoulder as she tries to catch her breath, hiding her face within his skin as a warmth appears on her cheeks again. He pulls her face up to his, gripping her in a kiss, her mouth whining softly at his roughness.

The warm feeling of her body against his was something he adored. He didn’t get to feel this way with anybody else. 

He pulled her in for another kiss as she hid her face, Toji eventually pulling away as he darkly chuckled, “You’re cute.” 

A silence went between the two, comforting in its own way. His hand continued to rest on the side of her cheek, caressing along her skin as he commented,  “You’re too…pretty like this. You know that, right?”

Oh. 

His voice…admitting that to her, made something in her body feel as if she was smacked into reality. This always happens. He became sentimental, and it scared her a bit. She tried to lean upward, Toji catching her throat within his hands as he tugged her towards his face again, saying along her mouth, “Come shower with me. I’ll fuck you again.”

That makes her giggle softly, “I have to go.”

Toji’s grip on her throat grew slightly tighter as she tried to pull away from him. He never let her go when she felt the need to pull away, instead always pulling her right back to him. 

He smirked as she giggled, his lips close to hers as he responded back, “Nah, you don’t.”

“I do. We both have practice tomorrow morning, Fushiguro,” she calls him by his last name, reminding him of more important things than another round of sex.

He grunted as his grip on her throat finally relaxed, watching as she began climbing off of him. There was a slight frown etched on his face as he sat up, “You’ running away from me?”

She searched for her clothes, too in a rush to actually look for them. She then snatched up the hoodie he was wearing earlier, pulling that over her head as she looked back at him, “Suguru texted me earlier. I forgot. I gotta give him his room key back, I haven’t seen him since the game.”

The mention of his friend wasn’t something that usually irritated him. But when she says that, it suddenly does. When she doesn’t hear a response, she looks up, noticing the look along his face, something she’d never seen before. 

She raises an eyebrow, “What’s the face for?”

He huffed in response, “Nothing,” with a low tone, his voice showing that he was clearly becoming pissed off.

He watches her pull shorts over her legs, thinking over his next set of words. If only he’d hesitated a little more. 

“So what—you’re gonna fuck me, leave and then go fuck him, right?”

Sweetie halts. A deep frown coming to her face as she looks back up at him. 

“Why are you doing this right now? Do you think I’d go fuck him right after fucking you, Toji?”

The jealousy within him had fully taken over at this point, and he no longer cared how he treated her. His eyes continued to glare at her as he spoke, “You’ve done it before. What’s so different now?”

He knew exactly what he was doing as the words continued to slip out of his mouth. His arms were now crossed over his chest as he sat along the bed, watching her get dressed.

She blinks, “Even if I did—which I would never—I’d have enough respect not to play in your face about it. Why do you care? What happened to you being a grown ass man that didn’t care about what I was doing when I’m not with you?” 

He scans her body, no emotions returning along his expression before he agrees, “I don’t. Get the fuck out.”

She’s taken back by his words. It makes a laugh of utter shock come out as she raises an eyebrow, “You’re serious? You can’t be.”

“I am. Get the fuck out,” he repeats back dryly, not a single hint of humor in his voice as his words were harsh. 

He continued to watch as she stood there looking dumbfounded, clearly not expecting him to actually tell her to leave in such a manner. He knew he was being a prick. He didn’t care. 

She was a sweetie, until she wasn’t. His sweetie, until she wasn’t. Her anger gets to her first. She picks up the pillow that had dropped off the bed, using all her strength as she chucked it at him with a snarled, “Sleep off whatever bullshit you’re dealing with,” yanking the front door open as she lowly insulted, “Fuckin’ stupid ass nigga,” as she slammed the door behind herself.

He watched as she threw the pillow at him, catching it within his own hands before he tossed it to the side, “Yeah, whatever,” to her last words. 

The sound of the door slamming echoed throughout the room, Toji grunting at the sound. He runs his hand over his face, letting out a heavy sigh as he laid back on the bed. He’d probably feel bad later on. 

Her thoughts flurry through her mind as she takes the elevator up to the third floor of the hotel, making her way down the hall as she pulls the key out of her bag. Maybe she felt a little bad. But it’s not like she was trying to rub anything in Toji’s face, purposely trying to make him jealous. She knew he could be the possessive type, wanting things his way. She just didn’t know she factored into that. 

Suguru was probably asleep by now. She planned to leave the key on the nightstand as she trudged farther down the hotel’s hallway. The annoyance from the argument between her and Toji kept resurfacing even as she tried to push it down, wondering what suddenly made him shift.

 She thought about her friend's words. What if one of them did catch feelings? 

That was gonna make shit extremely complicated. 

She waited until the door’s red light went green, quietly opening the door to a pitch black room. She could hear the mini fan buzzing in the corner, figuring he’d fallen asleep a while ago. In and out. She sighed, running her fingers through her hair as she placed the key card along the nightstand. 

As she turned back towards the door, she felt arms suddenly clasp around her hips, the unexpected feeling making a scream release from her lips, one of the hands covering her mouth as the other lifted her legs into their chest, bridal style. 

Her heart nearly knocked out of her chest as the lights came on, Suguru’s half-naked body hovering above her as he chuckled deeply, ignoring the swats she gave his arm as he threw her down along the bed. 

“Fuckin’ dick! Why would you do that?!”

She continues to shout at him, going to push herself up when he locks her arms beneath his larger ones. 

Suguru laughed at her reaction, her swats only making the grin that was plastered on his lips widen. He had expected her to come in at some point, but he didn’t know it would be so soon. 

He took a moment to admire her appearance as he slowly climbed above her, “You’ look aggravated, I had to fuck with you.”

She sighs, watching as he climbs above her, “I am. Why are you still awake?”

He continued to hover above her, eyes scanning over her face. He smirked as he responded, his voice low and deep, “Couldn’t fall asleep. Been thinking about you.” 

Suguru brought his face closer to hers, his hands now resting on either side of her head. “You look good as fuck right now.”

She sighs, “Thanks,” the word coming softly from her lips. 

For once, a frown comes to his face, feeling her energy off. He wasn’t the one to ask too many questions.

Suguru slowly leaned himself forward, “Your big ass head is filled with too many thoughts right now.”

“Oh? Let me shut my brain off then,” she rolls her eyes, “I’m…fine. Fushiguro pissed me off.”

He smirked at her words, leaning himself down, now hovering too close to her mouth, “Don’t worry, Imma’ take your mind off of it.” 

Suguru slowly began to move himself down, bringing his lips near her neck as he muttered, “I’m less of a headache anyways.”

“Ha-ha,” she drops her eyes down to him, “Cute. He said some mean things, I’m just irritated about it.”

She wasn’t expecting Suguru to play therapist, he wasn’t the type to ask too many details nor care about anyone’s feelings—he barely cared about his own. But she couldn’t help but ramble off at the mouth.

His lips traveled along her skin, moving further down her throat as he spoke, a small chuckle leaving his mouth, “Yeah? Y’all both act like fuckin’ children, always arguing over some stupid shit,” he muttered against her skin, “I think you’ll survive.”

“He thinks I came here to fuck you after fucking him,” she continues on, almost ignoring his lips along her neck, trying not to become annoyed with his deflection of the conversation.

Suguru lifted his head to look at her, his eyes meeting hers as he questioned, “You didn’t?”

Her eyebrows deepen, her elbows along the bed as she sits halfway up, “No? I came to give you your key-card back like you asked. Why would I do that? Who do y’all think I am?”

He chuckled at the look on her face, clearly seeing the offense in her expression. The tone of her voice only made him laugh a bit more. 

Suguru shook his head slightly, leaning himself back down, “I’m just fuckin’ with you,” his lips returning to her skin once again, “You need to relax, baby.”

She watches his lips travel down her stomach, kissing along the skin as she exhales, “I’m serious. I’m not just some hoe that wants to fuck on the both of you.” 

“I never said that. Dumbass probably has a crush,” Suguru suggests, tongue dragging along the skin of her hip. 

“And you don’t?” She raises an eyebrow.

He raises an eyebrow in response to her question, “I don’t get those.”

She wasn’t sure why something in her chest shifted at his response. Maybe she liked the idea of two men crushing on her, but she knew Suguru wasn’t the emotional type. She would’ve never expected Toji to be one of his feelings, but maybe she was wrong about a lot of things. 

She looks over his face, lip and eyebrow piercing shining beneath the lights, a handsome expression almost devilish to her. 

She then shifted her body beneath him, watching as his lips trailed farther down her abdomen with a quiet sigh, “That’s too bad.”

He chuckled as she spoke, lifting his head to look her in the eye, “Yeah? Why’s that?” 

He began moving himself further down her body, his lips now close to her thighs, “Are you disappointed?”

She subconsciously lifted her hips as he removed her shorts, his mouth now pecking along her inner thighs, the rush bringing a small chill up her spine.

 Her breath hitches before she replies softly, “…No.”

Suguru dropped his face down, his fingers digging into the back of her thighs as he pushed her knees into the comforter beneath them. His warm breath tickles her core that glistens beneath the lowlights of the room. 

“You’ sure?” 

She leans herself against her elbows again, watching as he pushes her legs back farther, her knees on the sides of her as she shudders, “Suguru—“ 

His mouth is against her clit, dreadfully suckling it in between his lips. Her chest pangs, her heart pounding along her skin as his hands tightly trap her along the bed.

Her head feels like it’s spinning as she gasps, abdomen trembling as she says, “D—Didn’t come here to fu…oh.” 

“Pull my hair out of the way. You know how to do it.”

She immediately obliged. Her fingers trembled as she pulled his hair out of his face, watching as his tongue dragged along the entirety of her, a grunt pulling from his mouth at the taste. 

His hand gripped her thigh, his mouth stopping as he waited for a response. “Why are you here then?”

She should’ve held on just a bit longer—but she couldn’t help herself. She tugs at his hair, digging her teeth into her lip as she whimpers, “Needed you.”

His tongue continued to flick against her, raising his arm as he used it to trap her legs under him, watching as she clung to the bed. He chuckled as he heard her words, “That’s exactly what I thought.” 

His mouth is demonic, the way he speaks—the way he eats. The slurping sound his lips create as he gives her core a deep kiss, he twists his head from side to side, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. 

Suguru began to move his tongue a little faster as he then commanded, “Beg me to fuck you.”

Her eyes roll to the back of her head, “Stop it,” gripping his hair tighter, her legs somehow spreading wider.

His mouth was relentless, not letting up despite her pleas. His tongue flicked against her clit, teasing her before sliding down to her entrance where he gave her a long, slow lick. Suguru could feel her grip tighten in his hair, her legs spreading even further apart.

He kept his pace chaotic, his tongue swirling around her sensitive clit, dragging it up and down, tracing his mouth everywhere but her opening. 

He grunts, “‘Should tongue fuck you, but I know what you want more.”

She continues clutching his hair in between her fingers, desperately trying to close her legs. Yet, she can’t help but watch. She glances all over the beauty of him, dark gauges within his ears, the coolness of his lip piercing connecting with her flesh, dark brows furrowed as he focuses on her. She wants to drown in his sight.

His tongue continued its assault on her clit, making sure to pay extra attention to every twitch and spasm it caused. He lifted one of his hands, bringing it down hard on her thigh, leaving behind a red handprint. “I know you fuckin’ heard me, beg.”

She gasps at the spank he gives her. Her eyes fluttering shut, swallowing down the embarrassment she feels as she says softly, “I want you to…fuck me,” shying away the moment the words release from her mouth. 

A smirk made its way onto his face at her tone. He sat up to now hover above her, their faces so close to one another that he could hear the small whimpers that left her lips. He swirled his tongue into her mouth to kiss her. Her eyes shut at that, consuming the taste of herself. Suguru then took a grasp of her wrist, raising her hand as he pressed it above her head, bringing his other hand to grip above at the banister. 

Her hips jump at the feeling of his tip grazing her clit, sliding down to her opening. She felt like she was underwater—holding her breath in as he slowly pushed himself into her, his voice almost in a mocking manner as he muttered, “Talk to me. Where’s all that fuckin’ mouth you have?”

He was mean, giving her no time to respond, instead choosing to thrust his hips, burying himself inside of her completely. He groaned deeply, feeling how tight she was wrapped around him.

“Suguru,” she whines out, his mouth above her own, her gasp being inhaled by his dark chuckles each time their hips connect, the banister beginning to screech along the wall. 

His lips began to move from her ear down to her neck, gently trailing kisses against the skin. The sound of the bed banging against the wall was now echoing throughout the room as he continued to move his hips, “Ooh, fuck, baby. Say my name like that again. I love that shit.” 

It was like her brain was melting , her eyes nearly in the back of her head as she dumbly admitted in a broken moan, “I came here to fuck you, baby,” crying softly as she gripped him by his back, pulling him closer to her as she panted out, “Don’t stop…”

Suguru lifted himself away from her neck, bringing his face back up to look down at her, “Was that so hard to admit, huh?” gripping her by her throat, placing his thumb into her mouth, watching as she whimpered at that, sucking at his finger. 

“Shut up,” her eyes close, “Just fuck me. Fuck me, baby. Fuck me.” 

“That’s more like it,” he muttered, beginning to roughly move his hips as her mouth opened in response. His hand continued to hold her own arms in place, “You’re so pretty.”

Suguru chuckled as her legs wrapped around him, “So fuckin’ needy.” 

Her phone rang beside her, the familiar name flashing against her screen—Toji. Suguru kneeled his face into her neck, lips by her ear as she clutched him closer, her legs trapped beneath his broad frame, the sound of their skin connecting causing a low sob to shudder from her lips, nails digging into his back. 

Both of them ignored the name on the screen, Suguru continuing to hover over her body as the bed slammed against the wall. His lips were still near her ear as he muttered, “You’re gonna ignore that, right?” 

His mouth continued to harshly move against her neck before he picked his head up again, “You’ better fuckin’ ignore it.”

She cried out, “Ughnnn—mmm!” embarrassingly bleating from her lips, instead of the answer she thought she was going to give. 

He laughed above her, picking up his pace as he continued to hold her arms up above her head, “That’s it. I wanna hear more of that shit.” 

He brought his lips back to her neck again, biting against the skin, “Or answer the phone. Let him hear me fuckin’ you. How good it feels, shit feels good, doesn’t it?” 

Her ears could only listen to the banister hitting the wall so hard, the wood would have cried if it had emotions. She holds onto him by the nails clawing into her skin, pleasurable tears collecting in her ears as she nods her head, “Agh—yeah. So good. Sooo good.” 

“Yeah?” He replied in a cocky manner. 

“Yeah,” she gasped, “I’m…I—I’m gonna…oh…” she grips him closer than she ever has, pressing her mouth up to his as she begs, “Kiss me.” 

At her words, he pushed his tongue into her mouth, holding her in place as he pressed himself firmly against her. Their mouths continued to move together as he began to move his hips faster and rougher than they were before, groans leaving his mouth as they broke apart for a moment, “Fuck. I’m gonna—“ 

He bit down on her lips again, “Tell me you’re about to cum.” 

She gives him an even better response, hips nearly jerking away from him as she sobs out, desperately trying to grip his arm as he firmly holds her down. She whines against his face as he talks filthy to her, wanting her to feel every second of her orgasm. 

He continued to press himself against her while she came, “Oh shittt, baby,” squirming beneath his hands as he groaned, “Nah, fuck all that. Cum on my dick.” 

She whimpered as her body relaxed, shuddering as her legs trembled from the heavy orgasm he gave her. Her head kneeled against the bed, her eyes still shut as she panted heavily. 

He continued to watch her, panting himself—But he wasn’t done yet.  Suguru gripped her chin with his fingers, lifting her head to meet his eyes, “Look at me.” 

Her eyes fluttered open, listening to her demise as he told her, “We’re not done yet. Turn over, arch your back.” 

It was gonna be a long night.

                           °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🧚

SHE COULDN'T GET THIS DAMN CROOK OUT HER NECK. When the next day came, Sweetie stretched across from Bubbles, trying to prepare for practice with the rest of the girls. She watched as the men slid around the ice within the rink not too far from their mat, also practicing but more so playing around with their coach too busy on the phone. 

Sweetie groaned as she felt a soreness in her lower back, bending forward as she asked her friend, “How are you so flexible? It’s like a talent or something.”

Bubbles chuckled at her words, watching as the men continued to mess around on the ice, she replied, “I’m double jointed,” placing her leg up on the bench, stretching it out, “Y’all just don’t got it like me.”

“God, I feel like I’ve been hit by a fuckin’ bus,” Sweetie mutters to herself.

“Hm, and did a bus hit you last night? Since you somehow didn’t make it up to my room like you said you would,” Bubbles tilts her head.

Sweetie halts from stretching her neck, holding her hand along her own shoulder as she raises an eyebrow, “You’ tryna’ be funny right now?”

Bubbles chuckled at her response, a smirk growing on her face as she continued, “No need to be defensive.” 

She stood up straight, crossing her arms as she looked back over at her, “Where’d you really go?”

Sweetie sighs as she looks out to the ice, seeing Toji sat out on the bench as he watches practice, face stoic as usual. 

She looks back to her friend as she says, “Me and Toji got into it.”

Bubbles now watched Toji too, his usual expression still intact on his face as he continued to sit on the bench. At her words, she quickly moved her head back around to look at her, “What? You’ guys fought?” 

“It wasn’t the worst thing in the world. I…” she stops herself, rolling her eyes as she admits, “I think you might’ve been right about your little hypothesis.”

A smirk once again made its way onto Bubbles face, her arms still crossed as she chuckled, “You’ve got to be shitting me.” 

She watched as Toji sat on the bench, expression not changing, her eyes glancing back over to her friend, “So I was right, huh? That dude’s in love with your ass?”

“Not exactly. I just don’t think he’s a fan of sharing me with his bestie anymore,” she glances to Suguru who’s on the ice, the good looking bastard laughing with his other opponents as they talked shit to each other, long hair in a bun, tendrils falling along his face. The same way it was when he—

“I mentioned going to Suguru’s room, and he snapped at me. Asked if I was going to fuck him, then kicked me out.”

Bubbles nodded in response, taking her words into consideration as she watched Suguru on the ice, “Ahh, yeah I could see that happening. That’s crazy though.”

“I didn’t think he would. I went to Suguru and tried to talk to him about it, but Mr. Unemotional completely deflected my conversion, and instead ate me out and fucked me until I wasn’t even thinking about it,” she leaned along the wall, arms crossed over her chest.

“Of course he did,” Bubbles responded. Her lips twitched, trying not to smile at her, “Toji’s gonna need some time. He gets all pouty like that. And Suguru always acts like that, you can’t expect him to ever talk about his feelings.”

“It’d be nice if both of them were head over heels for me, maybe I’d feel like a princess or something. Unfortunately I am just pussy to one of them,” she sighs, almost disappointed at the thought.

“Can’t have your cake and eat it too, hm?” Bubbles teased.

“Not at all.”

“Cheer up, at least we have this outing tonight. Both coaches are going out of town for a meeting, so the boys are taking us out to the bar! Aren’t you excited?”

“To be with a bunch of drunk hockey players?” She raises her head, “Not in the slightest.”

Bubbles chuckled as she continued to talk, “Oh c’monnn. It’ll be fun. You can get drunk, shake that fat ass,” she nudged her shoulder with her own, “It’ll be good to get out with the team for a while.” 

She looked back to the boys on the ice, “Besides, I think you could use a night out. After that whole fiasco with Toji.”

“For him to get drunk and kick me in the chest ? Yeah, sure. Sounds like Disneyland,” she says, Bubbles chuckling as she returns to her stretching. 

When the night finally arrives, Sweetie takes this time to find something cute to wear, most of the time being under the force of her uniform. Both teams agree to the silly idea of dressing in children’s pajama pants, choosing their favorite childhood character. Sweetie stares in the mirror as she wears a pair of pink hello kitty shorts, her ass poking out from the bottom with a white baby tee, clips in her hair with furry boots to match. Bubbles stands beside her, matching kuromi shorts and a black baby tee.

 Her teammates playfully listen to music and dance together in her hotel room, her energy too low to join in on the fun. She feels a nudge come beside her as she sees Bubbles, holding a bottle of Don Julio. 

“Sure there isn’t poison in that?” She tilts her head at her, Bubbles rolling her eyes as she says, “Girl, drink this before I shove it up your ass.”

She opens her mouth to let the shot be poured in, throwing it back into her throat, the liquid practically burning her insides. She almost feels it instantly. A deep breath releases from her as she thinks—she did need to stop moping around and enjoy her night. 

She cheers herself up, pulling Bubbles into the group of girls as they sing along to the music, dancing all around her room until it’s time to go. 

When they meet up with the men at the bar, they all giggle as they fully follow through with their idea. They all wear solid colored T-shirts, pants varying from SpongeBob, Courage the Cowardly Dog, even to Mickey Mouse. The bar is noisy as they all order drinks. But with the shot in her system, Sweetie feels good. Maybe one more shot wouldn’t hurt. She downs another, the burn not as bad as before. Maybe another wouldn’t hurt either. 

An hour goes by, and she was now giggly, playing around with her friend as music blared around the building. She laughs as one of the guys from the team spun her and Bubbles around to dance with him, finally enjoying their time together without their coaches.

A lot was on Toji’s mind to say the least. He felt like he’d been in limbo the past twenty-four hours, the conversation between him and Sweetie never leaving his mind. He felt bad for how he spoke to her, but he just wanted to understand where their relationship stood. Did she care about him more than just the time they spent together? He couldn’t tell. 

Suguru was the complete opposite. His mind was careless, thinking about the bottle of beer he held within his hand. His eyes scanned over to the side of the bar where the girls stood around, crowding the dj’s booth as they requested song after song. He eyed Sweetie, who was the lesser of shy tonight, dropping her hips and swaying upwards, serenading the music as the other girls followed with her. When he noticed some of his teammates watching her with arousal, something in his eye twitched. Something. 

Toji leaned against the bar next to Suguru who downed the rest of beer, distracting himself as he talked to his teammate. He watched Sweetie. She wouldn’t stop giggling towards his teammate that talked to her. 

What the fuck was so funny? 

He didn’t know exactly what she’d been drinking, but he knew it was something strong enough to have her giving her flirtatious eyes, hooded as she spoke with a natural sultriness. 

“You’ good?” Suguru questions, tilting his second beer bottle up to his lips, noticing his friend's attitude.

“Good as fuck.” Toji replies in a somewhat bitter tone, never removing his eyes from her. 

Suguru then sees where he’s staring. He then tells him, “You’re a shitty liar,” as he takes another sip, watching her dance as well. His eyes narrow, trying to understand why he wasn’t entertained as he states, “She’s uh…enjoying herself.”

Toji clenched his jaw, “I see that.” 

Despite his own discretions, he’s not in the mood for his friend’s tantrums. “‘Fuck are you so pissy for? Coach isn’t on our ass, and you got’ beautiful women all around you. Maybe you need pussy or some shit.”

Toji looked at him, a frown taking place on his face, “Nah, I’m good. Just need some more beer.” 

He continues to drink, feeling himself becoming equally tipsy. His thoughts continue to scramble—why hadn’t she spoken to him since their argument? Did she miss him? Was she thinking about him as much as he thought about her? 

A fourth bottle encourages him to have the confidence to go up to Sweetie who sits at the bar, curves enticing him as she arches herself towards the bartender, talking to him with an almost dreamy sigh to her tone. He wanted to choke her. Or fuck her. Probably both.

Bubbles mutters, “Uh-oh,” as Toji comes over.

 Instead of him crashing out like Sweetie expected him to, he’s the calmes he’s ever been. He asks, “Can I come get my sweatshirt from you tonight?”

She blinks at that. He was good with his approach, but if she didn’t immediately hear an apology, she wasn’t in the mood for his bullshit. Her eyes scan down to the Nightmare Before Christmas pajama pants he wears. She says briefly, “I’ll give it to you tomorrow.”

Toji looks at her, the liquor going straight to his head as he leaned onto the counter with one hand, “Nah, I want it tonight.” 

The alcohol made him bold. The way she had herself perched on the stool made it even worse. His eyes flicked down to her hips, seeing as they were completely visible.

It’s right on cue, Suguru coming to rescue his friend that had an equally bad mouth on him, if not worse. If Sweetie wasn’t annoyed, she would’ve giggled at the Coraline pajama pants he wore. Suguru also knew he was pumped up with beer, but unlike Toji, he wasn’t the type to cause a scene in public. 

He comes up as he asks Sweetie, “You’ good, pretty?”

“I’m fine,” she tells him, “Get your friend. He’s drunk.”

“I’m good as fuck,” Toji repeats, “I’m not a fuckin’ child.” 

“Then be an adult and get the fuck away from me!” She exclaims, her friend behind her having a worried look along her face, also knowing that Sweetie was equally as drunk. 

Suguru then says, “Baby, get some water. You’re drunk.” 

“Fuck off, you ain’t my damn daddy!”

Suguru’s soft tone drops, “And you’re not my child. So fuckin’ act like it.”

When he goes to grab for her, she yanks away as she says, “What? Tryna’ tell me what to do like your stupid ass friend? You know what? You’re right—I am drunk!” 

At this moment, the other girls are also a bit tipsy, beginning to climb atop of the bar as they dance to the music playing, men whistling below them as the team cheers them on. She follows after, catching her weight as she begins to sway her hips, dropping down as she rubs her hands along her body. To be as drunk as she was, she carried herself well, an intelligence as dangerous as a sober person.

Toji could practically feel the veins in his arms throbbing. Suguru had a tight grip on his shoulder, equally glaring. Usually, Toji was the action, Suguru the mouthpiece. But their roles had switched. This was all it took. 

Both men made sure the show was coming to an end. Sweetie squeaked as she felt a hand grip around her arm, yanking her down back onto the ground. Suguru began dragging her towards the front door, Toji directly behind him as they pulled her outside. 

It’s slightly cold, Sweetie able to see her breath as she yanks away from him, swaying as she exclaims, “Get the fuck off me!”

When she fully tugs away, Suguru then says, “‘Fuck are you doing the extra shit for? Showing your ass in front of a bar?”

“Why do you care, Suguru? What happened to you not having any feelings for me, huh? Remember? You don’t have those?” 

 He knew she was right, but he never responded to it, not wanting to give her any satisfaction. 

Toji was getting increasingly irritated, clenching his fist as Suguru gripped her again, holding her against him firmly, “We’re taking you back to your room. You’re clearly too drunk. You’re getting on my last bullshit nerves.”

“Fuck you,” she spits, “Fuck both of you. Acting as if you’re some emotionless bastards, now look at you—angry over a girl you’re supposed to just be fucking, dancing on top of a bar, just like any other bitch standing inside!” 

The way she carelessly speaks to both of them, Suguru feels himself becoming angry in a way that he never did before. He didn’t know how to handle the emotions he felt—his words retracted from his mouth before he thought about them. 

“Maybe I don’t wanna see the girl I’m fucking with get the eyes of anyone else!” 

Sweetie flinches back. She didn’t even have time to react, Toji catching their attention as he narrowed his eyes, “‘The fuck do you mean by that?” 

Suguru didn’t respond, his lips remaining in a tight line. The alcohol was making them all say things they would’ve left out had they been sober.

“Nothing.”

Suguru avoided eye contact with the both of them. He was starting to sober up, realizing what he’d actually said.

Sweetie narrows her eyes between the two, realizing where this was going. She says, “You know what? Y’all can both go to hell. You can fuck each other for all I care.”

She turns around as she drunkenly trudges back towards the door of the bar, poking her tongue out as she blows a raspberry, smacking her own ass before pointing the middle finger at them. 

Both men stood dumbfounded, unsure of who to be mad at in this entire situation. They’d figure that out once they sobered up. 

                            °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🧚

THE NEXT MORNING was essentially a resting period for everyone. The coaches wouldn’t be returning until that night, preparing the team for the rivalry game they had coming up, meaning everyone’s head needed to be on a swivel. 

Sweetie had been in bed most of the day, her mind on one thing—her phone was entirely silent. No call, no text from anyone. She couldn’t lie, it scared her. 

The team practiced separately from the girls this time, which meant she still hadn’t seen, nor spoke to either Suguru or Toji. She didn’t see anything of them up until that night, the crowd completely full as it was their rival team, the audience set for a game like no other.

Toji and Suguru had been avoiding each other for a majority of the day, trying to recollect their minds on the events that had occurred the night before. They both knew they were starting to catch feelings, but neither wanted to confront it, keeping their distance from each other. 

Tonight’s game was a rather important one. The two teams were on equal footing, neither one being better than the other. Everyone was present in the stadium, the stands packed to the brim with attendees.

There was still a great amount of tension between Suguru and Toji, neither of them saying much to each other if it wasn’t about their plays within the game. Sweetie continued to cheer on the outside of the ice with her team, putting on a fake smile as she tried to take her mind off everything. 

Once the game began, the girls shook their pom poms together, giving encouragement as the puck hit the ice. Sweetie could tell Toji wasn’t playing to his best ability, his head clearly somewhere else. Unlike Suguru who swept through the floor effortlessly, getting the team their first score, their rivals seething from how quick it happened.

After that first score, the pace of the game picked up, the teams starting to get more aggressive the longer it went on. Toji kept struggling, playing more sluggishly and making more mistakes than usual, constantly missing the puck. 

Suguru was doing most of the work at the moment, trying to ignore how shitty Toji had been playing all night.  As the time ticked down, the end of the second period drew near.

The score wasn’t too bad, but Toji’s playing was still not what anyone expected, even himself. The teams all skated off the ice for the end of the second period, Toji ripping off his helmet and throwing it at the wall as he sat on the bench towards the front. Suguru was now becoming more frustrated, not having time for his tantrums. 

The coach did his usual digging in everyone’s ass, —especially Toji’s—sending them back onto the ice with an enraged tone. Toji quickly picked up his helmet, placing it back over his head as he got in place along the ice. 

Suguru passes by him, saying in a harsh tone, “Get your fuckin’ head out your ass.”

Toji turned, “What?” eyebrows now furrowed deeply.

“You heard me.” Suguru replies, “You’re playing like an ass. If you got some sort of problem going on in that thick ass skull of yours, take it somewhere else until we’re off the ice. You’re causing us to be two goals behind.”

Toji could feel himself becoming more angry. He wanted to keep himself calm, not wanting to get into it with someone he considered a friend. But if he didn’t give a fuck, why would he? 

“Fuck you,” he spat, “Don’t talk to me like I’m one of these fucking idiots, Getou. I’ll punch your fuckin’ mouth straight.”

Suguru let out a scoff, turning to him as he replied, “Don’t act like a fuckin’ child, Fushiguro. I don’t wanna hurt your sissy ass feelings. We’re behind because you can’t focus. It’s no one’s fault but your own. Get your shit together.”

“Sissy?” Toji seethes, “You’re an undercover bitch, I saw that all last night. Save the stupid shit for Sweetie and fuck off.” 

Hearing those words wasn’t something that Suguru expected to set him off— but it did. And it all happened so fast. 

He swung forward, throwing a punch so crushing that it knocked Toji’s helmet off, catching him off guard as he slammed into the ground while Suguru hovered on top of him.

The pain surged through half of his head, his ears ringing. The anger that had been building up over the past few weeks had finally exploded into one massive blow. His vision blurred, and that’s when he saw it— rage taking over. 

Toji felt himself get up from the ground, rushing back at Suguru and tackling him onto the ground, throwing a punch at his jaw.

The crowd gasped into shock, the other half cheering. Sweetie’s eyes went wide as she gasped, “Holy fucking shit,” watching as the two large men nearly tried to kill one another.

Their bodies slammed into each other, the two rolling around on the floor as they continued to throw punches, trying to take the other out as much as possible. Every impact sounded painful. Blow. Blow. Blow. 

The referees, even the coaches scattered onto the ice, no skates and all, pulling the two apart. Neither of them looked physically hurt, matching up to each other in weight class, nearly needing three to four men to break each of them up.

Even players from the other team were trying to break them up as best they could, everyone watching in pure disbelief at what was taking place. Toji was practically fuming, yelling curses at Suguru as he wrestled with the men who held him from behind. In that moment of complete anger, everything he’d been holding back for the last few weeks spilled out.

Bubbles looks at Sweetie, her eyebrows raising as she expects her to say something, yet her friend says nothing at all. She was in complete shock herself. 

The game continues without them. Sweetie was unable to get her mind off of the two men fighting—she felt like it was her fault. Their team had unfortunately lost to their rivals without their best players, everyone knew they were probably somewhere getting chewed out by their coach. 

Both coaches ordered a curfew for the team, everyone now being locked in their hotel rooms. Sweetie paces in Bubbles’ room, nearly about to chew her nails off as her friend scolded her for the entire situation. 

“How could you let it get this bad?” 

Sweetie frowns at her, “Me? I didn’t make them fight, Bubbles! I didn’t even know they were that mad at each other.”

“But you’re the reason they fought,” she pointed out. 

“If this is you tryna’ mom me, I don’t wanna hear it. I didn’t think this would happen, okay?”

She slumped down on a nearby bed, burying her face in her hands. “I just….. didn’t think it would end up like this. They were literally tryna’ tear each other apart. I thought they’d just ignore each other and move on.”

Bubbles sighed, “You really haven’t spoken to them since the bar fight?” 

Sweetie shook her head, “Neither of them called me. They probably hate me. Probably think I’m some slut that ruined their friendship.”

“You’re not a slut, and you didn’t ruin their friendship. They’re two idiots who need to learn how to control themselves,” she said, sitting beside her, “But you know what the real problem was?”

“No,” she lied, already knowing where this was going.

Bubbles raised an eyebrow, her tone going from light to serious, “The problem is that they both have feelings for you.” 

“That’s not the point of this,” Sweetie mutters.

Bubbles says, “Fine. So let’s get to the real point, do you have feelings for them?” 

She turns her head, blinking at the question. She’d never really thought about it. But as she sat on that, she realized that she enjoyed both of them in different ways, there wasn’t one that she liked more, and that was the problem. 

She scratches her arm as she comes to the conclusion, “…I like both of them,” admitting it softly.

“So what are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know. Cry? Get my head back on a swivel, stop fucking my co-workers and focus on my dancing. I don’t want any of us to lose our jobs because of stupid drama,” she admits, “I just wanna go to bed. Coach is gonna fry my fuckin’ ass if she knew this was about me.” 

“That’s probably the smartest thing to do,” Bubbles agreed, “But you can’t keep avoiding them.”

“I can try,” she mutters, “I’m gonna take a shower and try to get some sleep. Can I stay here?”

“Of course. You know you don’t have to ask,” Bubbles rubbed her arm, giving her a weak smile. 

She pulled her friend into a hug for the advice, deciding to lock herself within the bathroom, hoping a shower would clear her head. This was a rough situation.

The shower took her mind off of most of her problems, releasing her hair from the shower cap she wears as she plans to wrap it before going to sleep. Just as she’s doing her nightly routine, her phone buzzes. She glances over at the screen as she reads the text. 

suguru’s emo ass:  

we need to talk. come to my room. 

She blinks at the message, a frown coming to her face. Hesitantly, she replies back. 

me: 

now?

She began drying her hair, debating on whether to respond or not. Going back and forth in her head, the phone pings again, displaying—

suguru’s emo ass: 

hurry up.

His tone was completely different—more firm. He wasn’t asking, he was telling her to come to his room.

It was now late, Bubbles already dozing off along the bed. Sweetie looks at her purse as she realizes she had taken Suguru’s key-card again. Throwing their team's sweatshirt over her head and house slippers, she runs her fingers through her hair as she makes her way up to the third floor, quiet as she goes to his door. 

His lights were on this time, Sweetie turning to shut the door behind herself. When she turned back around, she halted.

Both Toji and Suguru were sitting in the room. 

She leaned her fingers against the knob as she looked between them, unsure of what to do or say. The two men had been sitting in silence, neither of them saying a word for at least ten minutes. Neither were injured from their fight. Both of their gazes fixated on her.

“Lock the door behind you,” Suguru tells her.

She hesitates for a moment. With an exhale, she locks the door before she takes a step forward, arms crossing over her chest. 

The first thing she asks is, “You’ guys okay?”

Toji was the first to reply, replying with a grunt as his eyes remained focused on her, “We’re fine.” 

Suguru patted the empty spot between the two of them, “Come sit,” he ordered.

“I’m fine standing here,” she tells him, “Say what you want to talk about.”

Both men didn’t take kindly to her going against their orders, Toji saying, “Don’t be stubborn, come sit.” 

Suguru was the less blunt one, trying not to seem too demanding, “We need to discuss what’s going on. That would be easier if all of us were sitting.” 

She looked between the two again, neither of them budging from their statement. She rolled her eyes. With a cross to her arms, she sits between them, posture perfect as she tries to make sure they didn’t touch her.

Suguru broke the silence, looking at her, “This relationship we have going on between the three of us, this shit isn’t working anymore.”

“You two beat each other's asses in front of thousands of people on account of me,” she points out, “It definitely isn’t working.”

“That’s because this fuckin’ idiot couldn’t keep his temper in check,” Toji comments as his gaze shifts to Suguru, his eyes narrowing.

“Shut up, dumbass. We’re trying to avoid an argument here,” he snaps, annoyed in his tone, “We already hashed our shit.” 

“I know that.”

“What’s there to clear on my end then, Suguru? This all started because you declared you didn’t want to share me. If anything, you need to talk to Toji—who essentially started this because he’s emotional,” Sweetie tries to deflect.

Toji couldn’t help but let out a scoff at that, a small smirk going on his face, “Of course you blame me,” he says sarcastically. 

Suguru smacks his lips, “There’s more to it than that. You know that.”

“I’m not blaming you,” she says to Toji, “I’m saying that y’all need to kiss and make up. This doesn’t have shit to do with me.”

Toji lets out a scoff again, “You’re the only thing it’s about, are you really acting that fuckin’ dense?”  

“Who the fuck are you calling dense?” She stands from the bed, standing over Toji who doesn’t fall back either as he replies, “Who the fuck else am I talking to?”

Suguru shoots them a look, “Cut the stupid-shit out—Both of you. It’s not helping.” 

Suguru turns, looking directly at Sweetie, “This is something that involves all of us. Don’t try to distance yourself from this.”

“This is why we can never get anywhere,” she goes back to Toji, “ You’ got a fighting ass mouth, and that’s why you’re always getting socked in it!”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Toji mutters, hand coming over his face, “Your mouth is just as bad.”

The both of them continue to go back and forth, Suguru once again feeling in the middle. But he was right about one thing—this was childish. 

Sweetie halts herself from arguing with Toji, pulling back as she says, “Wait. Stop. We are being stupid,” she crosses her arms over her chest again, thinking to herself to solve this somehow.

“Can we…try something?” 

They both blink at her question, slightly tilting their heads at her words. Toji has a raised eyebrow, while Suguru looks at her with a curious expression, “Try what?”

“We used to do this in my family where we’d turn away from each other and explain our feelings. That way tones of voice, expressions, they weren’t taken out of context and started arguments. I think that’ll be better here, yeah? Can we do that?” She asks, slender eyes switching between the two.

They both go silent, looking at one another before looking back at her. They’re silent for another few moments, taking her suggestion into consideration. 

Toji nods, “Yeah. Okay.”

Suguru hesitantly nods, “If it gets you two to stop getting at each other's throats, fine.”

All three of them sit on opposite ends of the bed, turned away from each other. It’s silent for a couple of minutes, each mind trying to find the right words. 

Sweetie says, “I’ll uh…go first.”

All of their interactions seem to wrack her brain at this moment. She doesn’t feel entirely wrong in this situation, but she knew where her faults came in. 

“I’m sorry—to the both of you. I didn’t mean to cause this type of tension between two friends. Even if you told me that it was okay, I should’ve never done this to begin with.”

Both of the men sat silently, listening intently as she began speaking. Toji had a hard expression on his face. Suguru had a more thoughtful look, taking in her words. He wanted to say something, but he knew it wasn’t his turn yet, so he kept his mouth shut.

“I also want to apologize to you separately as well. Toji…I um, I’m sorry, really. I don’t want to jump to conclusions about your feelings for me, but it feels like…more than sex for you. I care about you, and…I like you, a lot. You’re sweet. Without all the fighting and stuff. I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings, it was easier to leave those conversations floating in the air,” she says quietly, softly to him.

Toji tenses up at her words, a small warmth forming on his face. His expression remains the same, though internally he was feeling a mix of different things—annoyance, anger, but a small sense of happiness to hear her speak those words.

“I care about you too.”

She turns towards him—although that wasn’t a part of the exercise—“You don’t like me?”

He didn’t reply for a few moments, just looking at the wall before he finally said, “You already know the answer to that,” he says, “Don’t ask stupid shit.”

She turns back towards her wall, hands in her lap as she says quietly, “Okay.” 

She then takes another breath as she says, “Suguru…I want to apologize for putting you in a complicated situation, but I’m not gonna apologize for my feelings for you. You said yourself you weren’t the relationship type, so it was hard to understand you. And what you said at the bar…I think it made things complicated for me.”

Suguru remains silently sitting, listening to each of her words. He felt a pang of guilt within his chest at her tone. He hated how upset she sounded. But he tried to keep his expression neutral, no matter how badly he just wanted to reach out and comfort her. 

She was right about that, and he knew it. He wasn’t the relationship type, so why did seeing her with Toji bother him so much? Why did his blood boil that she also liked him too?

“You’re not wrong either,” he says quietly, “It made shit more complicated for me as well.”

“I’m not exactly sure what you want from me,” she looks down to her lap, “But I…I like you just as much as I like Toji. So,” she leaves it at that, awkwardly twiddling her thumbs.

That had been a little hard for him to hear, especially being put next to Toji like that. He wasn’t angry. But not towards her. He was never truly upset with her through this whole thing, he was upset with himself for putting himself in this situation in the first place. 

He doesn’t reply right away, simply sitting there. Then, he spoke in a low voice, not turning to look at her, “And if I said I wanted more with you?”

She kept her head down, tongue in her cheek as she breathed out, “I don’t know.”

Now it was his turn to be frustrated, letting out an annoyed huff as he ran a hand through his hair. Nothing was ever going to be that easy when it came to her.

“What do you mean, ‘you don’t know?’” He repeats, “Answer the damn question.”

She turns her head, seeing as they both keep their faces to the wall. She frowned, “I don’t know, okay? I like both of you. It sounds fucked up, but it’s the way I feel.”

His jaw tensed up, his annoyance and irritation towards the entire situation reaching its peak. He didn’t turn to face her, keeping his back towards her as he spoke, “So what is it then? You’re just going to keep fuckin’ the both of us?”

She fully turns, seeing as neither of them look at her. It almost makes her want to cry. She scoots closer to Suguru, feeling that he’s more frustrated than her or Toji. 

She places her hand along his back as she says, “I wouldn’t do that.”

He tenses up when she scoots closer, not expecting her to touch him, let alone place a hand on his back. Her touch is oddly comforting for him, despite how frustrated he was. But he tried his best not to show it.

“Then what would you do?” He asked, finally turning his head just slightly to glance at her.

She blinks at him, glancing in between both him and Toji who still looks to the wall. She felt equal emotions for both of these men. 

Her mind goes blank for a moment, her thoughts pushing into something she would’ve never expected herself to do. Without thinking too much about it, she climbs along Suguru’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck as she says softly to him, “Kiss me.”

His eyes widen at her actions, watching as she moves to climb into his lap. She felt good on top of him, her body pressed tightly against his. He could feel her heat, along with her breath against his skin as she leaned close to speak. 

But shockingly, he didn’t hesitate this time. He kisses her.

This kiss was different from any kiss she and Suguru shared, always lustful and primal. This was full of passion, tongues colliding together as she dug her fingers through his hair, lightly grinding her hips along his lap.

He inhaled deeply, his hands going up to her thighs as her hips began moving against him. She was driving him absolutely insane, and they were only kissing. 

He broke the kiss, his lips still just inches away from hers as he gruffly said, “Jesus, you’re gonna fuckin’ kill me like that,” He mutters against her lips.

Her mind moved a thousand miles a second. She breathily sighed, pulling back from him. Suguru leaned forward to kiss her again—except, she swiftly crawled off of him, making her way to the other end of the bed on all fours. 

She repeated herself, hoisting along Toji’s lap as she wrapped her arms around his neck as she asked, “Still mad at me?”

Toji’s body equally tenses up as she climbs on his lap, his hands reflexively going to her waist to keep her from falling. He doesn’t reply immediately, hesitating before he responds, “Not when you’re sittin’ on me like that,” he grumbles, “But yeah, I’m still kinda pissed with you.”

She sees Suguru watching, a look on his face she couldn’t read. She brings her eyes back to Toji as she asks him, “Do you want me?”

Toji’s hands tightened around her waist when she asked that question, his gaze completely focused on her now as they spoke, “That a real question?”

His eyes darted to her lips for a moment, before going back to her eyes. “You know I do,” he mutters, “I want you, I need you.”

“Show me, then,” she flicks her eyes to Suguru, “Both of you.”

Toji’s hands slid beneath her sweater, his touch light against her bare skin as he looked at her with a hint of hunger in his eyes. “You’ sure about that?” He asks, voice low.

She nods her head, pulling him forward, brushing her lips against his as she says softly, “Yeah.”

And at that confirmation, it was like a dam had been opened. 

Toji’s tongue pushes into her mouth forcefully, not having any interest in taking things slow. He wanted her.

His hands move up her abdomen, roaming over every curve and dip of her body. He groans lowly into the kiss, wanting nothing more than to have her wrapped completely around him.

His kiss was even more distracting than Suguru’s, melting away her thoughts in seconds, almost like a trance. He was always more tender with her, but she could feel him trying to hold back, his nails digging into her hips. She hadn’t realized Suguru making his way to their side of the bed, up until she felt fingers digging into her scalp, a soft gasp coming from her lips as he tugged her head back, latching his own lips onto her mouth. Toji’s own lips are now sucking the skin of her throat. The feeling of them trying to be gentle with her made her breath heavy, unable to find somewhere to put her hands, not knowing where to touch.

Toji continues, sucking and biting as he nips his way down her throat, leaving behind multiple hickey’s in the process. She tasted so good, her skin was so soft, he can’t get enough of this. 

Suguru still had a hold on her hair, and now he used it to pull her head back further, wanting access to her throat as well. 

“You’re supposed to be paying attention to me,” he murmurs against her neck. 

She gasps at his words, his hand twisting her hair in his palms, both lips upon her neck in a way that felt overwhelming. But something in her felt…defiant. 

Her face came down as she met with Toji’s mouth, pushing her tongue past his lips as she grazed her fingers along his body, pulling at his shirt for him to remove it, giving him the attention Suguru commanded for.

He tightens his hold on her hair, keeping her in a firm grasp. He groans lowly at the sight of her making out with Toji, the sound coming out as a near growl.

His free hand begins roaming over her, slowly lifting the sweatshirt up her body. He was tempted to just rip it off, but something told him to take his time. He wanted to draw this out, he wanted to see how worked up he could get her.  

With the hold still along her hair, Suguru lightly tugged her back, mouth hovering over hers as he asked, “You’ tryna piss me off?”

She sultrily giggles along his mouth as she says, “Maybe.” 

With that, he pulls her into a rough kiss, tongue practically fucking her mouth as he then commands to her, “Open your mouth since you want him so badly.”

Her thoughts were just as filthy. She wanted to show just how badly she wanted them—the both of them. She’s already reaching for Toji’s sweatpants, releasing his length from beneath his boxers, greedily attaching her mouth along his tip, causing him to grunt at the feeling.

Sweetie wraps her mouth around him, his hands instinctively reaching for her face, caressing her jaw. His eyes close for a moment as he enjoys the sensation, his hips bucking upwards involuntarily. 

Suguru keeps his eyes down to watch her, grip of her hair still in his hold as he tells Toji, “Fuck up her throat.” 

She feels as Toji takes hold of her jaw and cheek, mouth stretching as she tries to fully take him, almost struggling as she does so. 

Suguru leaned forward, “Don’t act fuckin’ shy now, you wanna play, so show me what the fuck I’m missing.”

Sweetie moans against Toji’s tip, wrapping her free hand around the base of him, coating him with her saliva as she slaps him along her tongue, keeping her eyes against his gray one’s.

Toji’s breathing becomes heavier, his grip tightening around Sweetie’s hair as he begins thrusting into her mouth. The wet sounds of their actions fill the room, along with Sweetie’s muffled moans. 

Suguru watches intently, occasionally running his fingers through her pink hair, encouraging her to take more of Toji inside of her mouth.

“Like that?” She asks softly, bobbing her head up and down as slowly as she could, his length appearing and disappearing within her mouth, Toji’s head leaned back as he grunted, “Fuck, don’t do that,” which makes her giggle. 

“Just like that, baby,” Suguru grunts, “That’s good.”

Suguru’s hand slides along her throat as he pulls her up to look at him, a dark chuckle coming from his lips. He leans down as he kisses her, holding her jaw within his palms as he spits into her mouth as he gruffly tells her, “Keep going.”

She continues, her jaw burning from the amount of movement she does, but it makes her all the more aroused. Seeing Toji’s eyes blown with lust, holding her face and caressing her jaw, he lightly slaps her face as he grunts, “Got a fuckin’ mouth on you, baby,” which makes her moan against him in response, pulling her mouth back as she works her hand against him, running her tongue along her lips.

Toji's eyes were wide open, watching her every move as she worked his dick in and out of her mouth. "Fuck...," he muttered, gripping tighter in her hair. "God damn, you're sexy."

She climbed farther along the bed, arching her back as she leaned down to take him deeper into her mouth, pulling him out as she attached her lips to the side of his dick, coating spit all around it, praising him affectionately. 

She moans against him, “Such a pretty dick, baby. Love it, always.” 

“Yeah?” He says lowly, “Keep fuckin’ sucking it, then.” 

She complies, taking him back into her mouth, loving every second of pleasuring him. All the while, Suguru came behind her, pulling off the sweatshirt she wears, seeing the baby pink thong under the oversized material. He’s pressing kisses along her back, going to the back of her thighs, the feeling making Sweetie shudder lightly, nonetheless pushing her focus back to Toji. 

She almost halts as Suguru pulls the material to the side, running his tongue along her core, dropping his lips back down to her clit, wrapping it under his mouth as he sucks. It causes her to press her thighs together, moaning lightly.

Toji watches her, his eyes growing lower with each sound she makes, each time she moves her head. He reaches down, grabbing onto her hair again, guiding her head so that he can thrust further into her mouth. "Damn, your mouth feels so fucking good," he growls out.

Suguru’s mouth latching in between her legs distracts her for a second. Her mouth pulls back as she softly moans again, wrapping her hand around Toji’s length to keep his pleasure going, now unable to focus. Suguru’s head bobbed up and down, a sloshing sound creating as he moaned into her, dipping his tongue in and out of her opening, fucking her with his mouth. She turns back to watch him, her eyes being caught as Toji pulls her face back towards him. 

“Nah, keep sucking my dick. Nobody told you to stop.” 

The pleasure Suguru begins to give her makes another moan fall from her lips, a short whimper in response, “Toji—“ 

“I don’t wanna hear that shit,” he grunts, “Open your mouth.” 

She complies, taking him back into her mouth, trying to keep her eyes from fluttering shut as she jolts from Suguru’s palm slamming against her ass, pulling back as he moans, “Pussy tastes so fuckin’ good, baby. I could eat this shit forever.”

Toji takes control of the situation once more, his large hand cupping the back of her head as he starts thrusting into her mouth again. His other hand grips tightly onto her hair, keeping her head steady as he fucks her mouth. "Mmm," he groans, "You’re too fuckin’ perfect."

She pulls her mouth away as she feels Suguru spank her more harshly, pulling her hand back to get a hold of his hair as she whimpers, “Gonna make me cum, baby. Slow down.” 

“That’ your spot, baby?” Suguru almost mocks her, seeing as she nearly pouts, nodding her head in agreement. 

She suddenly feels Toji snatch her hands forward, gripping her wrists under his palms as he grunts, “Make her squirt on your face.” 

Suguru’s dark chuckle rumbles against her core, diving his tongue in and out as he says, “She likes to be fucked like this, just by my mouth. Don’t you, baby?” 

Her back arches, eyes nearly rolling back as he goes…extremely…slow, twisting his head side to side as he sticks his tongue out, rubbing it up and down, dragging it along her core before pushing it back into her walls. She gasps, legs trembling as she’s quick to do exactly what Toji knew she would, gushing along Suguru’s face effortlessly, shuddering heavily when another spank comes to her skin.

"Fuck..." Suguru groans, licking up the mess that Sweetie had made for him. 

It was unfortunate that he didn’t feel satisfied, grunting, “Too fuckin’ sensitive. You’re gonna cum as many times as I want you to.” 

He’s back at it, eating away at her as if he starved, like she was the last thing on earth he could consume. He’s French kissing her core, making out with her folds as he goes back down to her clit, suckling at it with a popping sound. Her eyes flutter shut as she attempts to pull away from Toji again, causing another spank to her skin. She had to be red by now. 

Toji tsks her, “Let that shit feel good. Relax.” 

“Toji,” she whimpered again, his reply being, “Stop calling me.” 

When she pulls one of her hands free, Toji clasps them both again, now slamming them behind her back, pushing her back inward to give her more of an arch. He tells her, “He’ll eat your pussy until you fuckin’ cry. That’s what you want?” 

She shakes her head, moaning out as Suguru spanks her again, drinking up her arousal as he grunts against her opening, spreading her inner thighs farther apart, practically diving his face into her.

"Fuck... I'm not stopping until she cums." Suguru grunted, the vibrations from his voice sending shockwaves through Sweetie's body. He continued to lick and suck at her pussy, using his fingers to spread her open even wider so he could feast on her without any obstructions.

Suguru's hands were planted firmly on either side of her, holding her in place while he ate her out. His tongue was relentless, exploring every nook and cranny of her wet folds.

Suguru's tongue delves deeper into her, curling up to hit that sweet spot inside of her. He hummed, the vibration shooting straight to her core and causing her to buck her hips against his face.

Meanwhile, Toji leaned down to capture one of her nipples between his teeth, giving it a gentle tug before letting go. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his hot breath ghosting over her heated skin.

Her hands trapped behind her back only allows her to pull her upper body up by strength, Toji’s free hand palming at her breast, pulling them into his mouth as he grunted at the softness of them. She digs her teeth into her lip as she groans from the sensitivity, looking down to him as she warns with a gasp, “I’m gonna cum…”

With her warning, Suguru pulled away abruptly, leaving her panting and whimpering in protest.

 He grunted, “C’mere,” pulling her backwards by the waist, lifting her up until she was standing on the edge of the bed. He then pushed her forward, so she was bent over with her ass in the air. 

Toji scooted with him, Suguru now taking both of her wrists beneath his one hand, guiding her with the other as he pulled himself from his sweatpants, tip fat and heavy as it grazed her core. It was familiar to her.

 Toji took a hold of her face as it all happened at once, Suguru slowly pushing his tip into her tight opening, stretching her in a way that felt like he hadn’t been there before. 

Her eyes were blown, mouth lightly parting as Toji caught her lips against his own, moaning mockingly with her as she sucked in a breath, whimpering deeply before dragging out another moan, the pleasure blinding the pain that itched her in a erotic way.

She whimpered against Toji’s mouth so silent, she could barely hear herself as she muffled, “Oh my…god,” her eyes fluttering shut as Toji brushed his lips against hers, holding her face as he lowly muttered back, “Yeah, you cumming?” 

She panted, almost as if she were falling into an asthma attack as she whimper back breathlessly, “I’m fuckin’ cumming, baby.” 

“Yeah, just like that? From me putting my shit inside of you?” Suguru talks to her now, gripping her hip as he rolled his hip forward, pushing deeper into her. 

She pushed him back, gushing out again, Suguru groaning as he spanked her, “Ooh, shit. That’s a good fuckin’ girl, baby.” 

Sweetie moaned out, dragging the sound messily, embarrassingly, making music against Toji’s mouth, his hands upon her throat and face as he arrogantly smirked, watching her fall apart. He then made it worse, pressing his hand against her shoulder as he pushed her back again, the suction of air releasing from her folds as she moaned louder at that.

Toji kept his grip firm on her face, forcing her to watch him as Suguru began to thrust into her, their bodies slapping together each time he buried himself deep within. The sight alone was enough to make Toji harden again, his other hand moving to stroke himself as he watched.

"Shit, she's so tight," Suguru grunted, his pace picking up as he pounded into her, "Feels so fucking good."

"You should see this view," Toji said, smirking as he moved his hand faster, "It's amazing."

She cried softly, “Suguru…”

“What? You want me now?”

His hands on her shoulder, tilting her body slightly to the side as he snaps his hips, hitting her deepest spot, exactly where he knew she’d whine from. The whine comes directly after, body trembling, turning her eyes towards him, watching her ass clap against his abdomen as she whimpers, “A—Always want you, baby.”

Suguru chuckled, "I know you do. Pussy is gripping me like she can’t let go.” 

Her eyes roll to the back of her head, senses gone as she talks, “Always been your pussy, baby.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeahhh,” she inhales deeply, almost creating a headache as her eyes stared into darkness, too busy being stuck in the back of her head. 

“He fuckin’ you that good, huh?” Her voice hears Toji’s talking to her, his hand still upon her throat, other hand stroking himself, “Losing all your senses, baby?” 

She looks down at him, shaking her head as she whimpers, “Miss you, Toji.”

“No you don’t.”

“I—I promise…” she brokenly moaned.

He leans himself back, “You promise? Come bounce on this dick and show me.”

“Nah, she’s gonna make me cum first,” Suguru says, gripping her hair again, pounding her harder, snapping his hips forward, Sweetie’s head practically spinning, no words falling from her lips.

“Wait to cum, gonna fuck her together,” Toji tells him, “She needs to come fuck me first. Prove all that shit she’s talking.”

Suguru looks down to her, seeing his dick being coated with her arousal. A dark laugh comes from him as he pulls out of her, spanking her again as she shudders. 

Her legs feel like noodles as she crawls into the bed, climbing on top of Toji, placing herself on her knees. He shakes his head as he commands, “Put your feet flat on the bed.” 

If she already wasn’t so tired, she’d roll her eyes. She listens nonetheless, placing her feet along the comforter, grabbing for his length as she leans herself on his leg, slowly sinking herself down into him. Her hips desperate quiver as the back of her thighs stick to his abdomen. His palms are on the skin of her ass, hoisting her up as he drops her down, her hand along his chest as she sucks air into her mouth, his movement hitting her cervix in a way that has her groan in pleasure.  

Toji grunted under her, his hands squeezing her ass as she bounced on his lap. "Fuck, you're so wet," he growled, his hips bucking up to meet hers with every downward motion of hers.

She was. She could hear herself, squelching each time his tip was halfway in, quelling each time her ass clapped back down against his skin. He’s holding onto her hips as she mewls, the only thing she could do. 

He talks in between each clap of her ass, “Keep…pulling my shit in like that…” he grunts, “You wanted to be fucked just like this. This is what you needed, huh baby?” 

His hand travels up to her mouth, shoving his fingers in between her lips, pulling her down by her teeth. She sucks along his fingers as she nods, giving a whimper in return. 

Suguru comes from behind, taking his middle and ring finger as he rubs in circles on her clit, Sweetie gasping as he says in her ear, “You’re too fuckin’ nice to her,” his other hand along her side, picking up her hips and dropping them down when he sees her slowing down.

Toji let out a low, guttural growl as he felt Suguru's hands helping move her hips. He looked up at her, his hands tightening as he began thrusting up into her, his movements growing faster and rougher. "Fuckin’ hell... Talk to be, baby. You’re too quiet."

Suguru kept rubbing her clit, his finger circling faster as he whispered in her ear, "Tell us how we're fucking you."

"I..." she panted, “Love bouncing on your dick, baby…” her grip tightening on his shoulders as she rode him. "It's filling me up so good..."

Suguru continued to rub her clit, his finger moving faster as he whispered in her ear, "That’s good baby, keep talking.”

She shakes her head, leaning back against Suguru as she whimpers, “Can’t. Gonna cum again…” 

“Then cum again,” Toji grunts. 

“Nah. Remember what you said,” Suguru reminds, Sweetie’s body jolting as she feels his thumb prodding at her other hole, a pleasure she hadn’t expected to rush over her, making her moan in a way she thought she wouldn’t.

 His thumb pressed harder against her hole, pushing inside until he'd buried himself up to the first knuckle. "If you cum again, it’ll be from the both of us.” 

Her body trembled as he spoke, the feeling of his thumb stretching her open making her whimper. She nodded frantically, biting her lip to keep from crying out.

"Good girl," Suguru murmured, his thumb continuing to push deeper into her. He leaned over, whispering into her ear, "You want me, don't you? You want us to fill you up?"

She nods her head, dropping herself down harder against Toji, “Need you too baby, so…fucking…horny…” she whimpers, grinding herself against his hips, unable to wait any longer.

Toji's thrusts grew even more forceful, his hands digging into her hips as he pounded up into her. "Ooh, fuck. She’s wet, she needs you," he groaned, his own climax coming close.

He could feel her becoming tighter, squeezing him in a way that he wasn’t sure he could handle. Suguru released her hands, Sweetie pulling Toji’s upper body up to be closer to hers, rotating her hips against his as she moaned against his mouth. 

They kissed as they moved together, his hands gripping onto her ass tightly. He could feel his climax building—he knew he wasn't going to last much longer.

Suguru moved his hand away from her, reaching down to align his tip with her hole. The silence between the three returned, Toji taking a hold of the side of her throat as he kept her eyes along his, lightly kissing her lips as he kept her relaxed. It was like a fire had aligned against her lower body, Sweeting wrapping her arms around Toji’s neck as she whimpered uncomfortably, Toji apologizing, “I know, baby. Give it a second.” 

Suguru grunted, feeling as she clasps around him, bringing his hand around to clasp for her throat as well, lips along the back of her ear as he grunts, “You’re doing so fuckin’ good, baby.”

Toji's grip on her throat tightened as he held her there, his thrusts slowing down as he tried to give her time to adjust to the new sensation. He could feel his climax approaching quickly, his breathing heavy and ragged as he fought to hold back.

Meanwhile, Suguru slowly pushed into her farther, his fingers digging into her hip as he forced himself inside. "Fuck, you're so tight."

She felt like she was nearly going blind, her mouth parting open as she shuddered, “Oh my…” feeling as Suguru tilted her face to kiss her, sliding his tongue into her mouth as he pushed deeper, both of them moaning into each other's throats.

Suguru released her lips, giving her a couple more pecks as she shuddered out another moan. He gently grasped her neck as he pulled her down, giving her a slow and gentle thrust. She sucked in a breath, brushing her lips along his in return. She whines, so horny, “You can fuck me, want you to cum in me, Suguru.”

"You want me to cum in you?" Suguru asked, his thrusts growing faster and more desperate. He could feel his climax approaching quicker than he assumed.

Toji watched the two of them closely, his grip on her throat loosening as he felt her relax a bit. He was also close, his stomach flipping at the sight of her falling apart. 

She nods her head, “Want you to cum in me,” she filthily says, “Wanna belong to you, and Toji.” 

Toji begins moving his hips again as he talks to her, “Yeah? Say it like you mean it.” 

“Wanna be yours,” she says to the both of them, both of them thrusting sending a shock wave to her, her body spazzing, sending her brain into a mush. Her eyes return to the back of her head as she begins grinding herself against the both of them, “Feels so…fucking good. Oh my god…”

"Say our names," Toji commanded, his thrusts getting faster and rougher as he listened to her moans. Suguru's thrusts became erratic as well, his grip on her hip tightening as he felt his climax near.

“Toji…” she kissed him, wrapping her tongue against his as she circled her hips against him, clawing her nails against his back. She then reached behind her as she pulled away from him, kissing Suguru as she arched her back, dropping her hips down against him from behind as she whimpered, “Suguru…”

Their moans escalated like a symphony, their heads kneeled along her shoulder, moans, grunts, it all broke through their lips in shock waves. Sweetie’s body trembled as a groan forced out of her throat, sobs and mixtures of weak screams enveloping her lips. They followed after her, grunting as they both released inside of her, kisses masking along her skin from two pairs of lips. 

She felt breathless, emotions heightened as she panted against them. Her face felt warm, fingers sliding along their skin as she tried to find the words to say. 

“We should probably clean up…we have practice tomorrow,” she says under her breath, her face still completely warm. 

“You’re cute when you’re shy,” Toji tells her, tickling her ear with his mouth, Suguru pulling her into a kiss as he chuckles at her embarrassment. 

“She’s right. We have a therapy session as well. Thanks to this fucking idiot for talking shit to me.”

Toji glares, “You started it.”

“Can y’all not fight, please?” Sweetie sighs.

They realize they’re quick to bicker, rubbing their hands along her skin as a form of an apology. Toji then clears the silence, unable to help himself.

“So does this mean I gotta’ date him too? Suguru’s not my type.”

“Fushiguro, shut the fuck up.”

“Oh god…” Sweetie sighed, knowing this was gonna be never ending.

[hsunrry]

better // one shot

drew starkey x fem!reader

summary: you’re both actors, who’re competing in everything what’s possible. (special request from my dear love @drewsvies)

|| masterlist ||

words: ~2,3k

tropes: rivals to lovers

warnings: smut18+, dirty talking (praise, degradation), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, cum play, chocking, hair pulling, size kink, edging (if you squint)

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

you thought you’d never get along with him. you two had too big of an ego to ever admit one of you is better than the other. not even at any interviews or whatever. the worst thing was, that you were getting tired of it, but you were stubborn. so stubborn you couldn’t even process the thought of admitting that. “look who it is.” he smirked, leaning on the wall next to you when you were reading your script. you rolled your eyes at his appearance, causing his smirk go bigger at your reaction. he knew you hated when he was looking at your script, but he did it anyway just to provoke you. “what are you reading?” he tried to look at it, but you quickly closed it.

“what do you think?” you asked sarcastically. he chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“i think it’s probably some boring script you’re trying to memorise for your next mediocre role.” he teased, pushing himself off the wall to stand beside you.

“better than yours anyway.” you shrugged, going back to reading.

“oh come on, we both know my last role was amazing.” he scoffed, trying to peek at your script again.

“yeah, keep telling yourself that.” you shook your head.

“fine, be that way.” he crossed his arms over his chest, pouting sarcastically. “but just so you know, i heard the director is looking for someone to play the lead in his new project and he thinks i’d be perfect for this role.”

“okay? if it’s male role then i don’t really care.” you shrugged.

“they didn’t decided yet if it’s male or female. it’s just the lead.” he emphasised.

“so both?” you raised your eyebrow. he paused, realising his mistake.

“well, i mean, even if, you know i would still get it over you anyway. we both know i’m the better actor here.” he quickly tried to recover. you smiled slyly.

“it’s gonna be mine.” his expression turned competitive at your words.

“no way, it’s mine.” he leaned closer to you, his voice low. “and when i do get it, you’ll have to admit that i’m the better actor.”

“let’s bet then.” you smirked, looking up at him. he grinned, taking the bait.

“okay, if i get it, you’ll have to admit i’m better. if you get it, i’ll admit that you’re better.” you nodded, extending your hand. he looked at it and then at you. “and, to make it more interesting…” you raised your eyebrow at his words, backing away your hand. “if i win you have to be my personal assistant for a week and if you win i’ll be yours.” he extended his hand, waiting for you to shake it. “so, do we have a bet?”

“fine.” you shook his hand. he grinned triumphantly.

“great, and no backing out.” he winked at you, his confidence oozing out of every pore.

“you know i’d never back out.” you smirked.

“i can’t wait to see the look of your face when i win.” he paused, then added smugly. “but hey, at least you’ll get a week of quality time with me, right?” you only smiled sarcastically at his words. after a week, you were both sitting on set, waiting for emails about this role. he checked his phone for the millionth time, his leg bouncing nervously. “i swear, if this email doesn’t come through soon, i’m going to lose my mind.” he glanced over at you, furrowing his brows. “you seem awfully calm.”

“because i’m sure i got this.” you smiled. “oh, someone’s nervous, Drew?” you pouted mockingly. he glared at you, his face flushing slightly.

“shut up, i’m just… eager.” he crossed his legs, his fingers drumming on the armrest. “you’re really not worried at all?” he asked, his voice tight with tension. you shrugged.

“shit, i got an email.” you said, looking at your phone. his eyes widened slightly as he looked at his own phone.

“fuck, me too.” he sat up straight.

“should we open equally?” you bite your lower lip, looking at your phone.

“on three?” he asked and when you nodded he continued. “one, two, three…” together, you both tapped on the emails to open them, the both of you silent as you read. he let out a low groan. you smirked, still looking at your phone. his face pale when he looked at you. “you… you got it, didn’t you?” his voice barely a whisper. he reached out and snatched your phone, his eyes scanning the screen. “fuck!”

“well, Drew, i’m listening then.” you smiled, grabbing your phone back. he glared at you, his jaw clenched.

“fine. you’re… better.” he gritted out. he leaned back in his seat, chuckling humourlessly. “what’s on my to-do-list for today, your highness?” his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“bring me coffee to my dressing room.” you stood up from your seat. “black, no sugar.” you started going towards your room. he rolled his eyes, annoyed. you quickly undressed yourself completely, putting on red silk bathrobe to be more comfortable at your break. after few minutes you heard a knock.

“your coffee, princess.” you heard, his voice dripping with sarcasm one again. you said he can come in, and when he did he froze in the doorway, his eyes widening as he took in your appearance. he swallowed hard, trying not to stare at your bare legs. “uh, here’s your coffee.” he managed to say, his voice a little hoarse and he could feel himself getting harder in his pants.

“just put it somewhere.” you said dismissively, looking through your vanity table. he stepped further into the room, setting it down on the table that was standing near the couch. “here.”

“thanks.” you mumbled, bending down for the few baskets that were on the floor. his lips parted slightly when your robe opened slightly, giving him a view on your cleavage. his body reacted instantly, his pulse quickening as heat pooled in his stomach. he cleared his throat, trying to regain some composure. “you’re waiting for another command, dog?” you smirked when you straightened. he glared at you, his face flushing in frustration.

“you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he growled. you bit inside of your cheek, fixing your robe. “you’re… you’re not wearing anything under that?” his voice dropping to a low rumble. he could feel himself hardening even more, his body aching with need.

“excuse me?” you let out nervous chuckle. he stepped closer, his eyes locked onto yours.

“just answer the question.” he could feel his self-control slipping, his body urging him to touch you, to find out for himself. “are you naked under that robe?”

“well, yeah.” you shrugged. he let out a low growl, his hands clenching at his sides.

“you can’t just… walk around half-naked in front of me.”

“and why is that?” we’re in my dressing room, i can even walk naked if i want.” you stated. he looked around the room, as if searching for an escape route.

“because i’m trying not to do something stupid.” his voice strained as he talked. “and it’s really fucking hard when you’re standing there, looking like a fucking goddess.” your eyes widened at his words. he clamped his hand over his mouth, he couldn’t believe he said it out loud.

“well, well, well, Drew Starkey just said something nice about me, what’s the occasion?” you smirked, crossing your arms on your chest. he groaned, looking at your exposed cleavage, before going back with his eyes at your face.

“i’m gonna do something i’ll regret.”

“what?” you chuckled. before you could even react, he closed the distance between the two of you, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours, kissing you deeply. his hands grabbed your hips, pulling you flush against him. you moaned into the kiss as if shocked that he was hard. he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips to tangle with yours. your hand unintentionally brushed against his length. he broke the kiss, buckling his hips into your touch.

“please... please touch me.” he begged, his voice dripping with need. he couldn’t believe he was begging you like this, but at this moment, he didn’t care.

“fuck, what are we doing?” you took few steps back, your legs hitting the couch, causing you sit down on it. he followed you, his eyes on you this whole time.

“i don’t know, but i don’t fucking care right now.” he kneeled down in front of you on the floor. his hands untied your robe, opening it and exposing you to him. he leaned in, pressing his lips to your nipple and sucking it. you took sharp breath at the contact. his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wider as he continued to lavish attention to your breasts. his hand slipped between your thighs, his fingers parting your wet folds. he slowly slid one finger inside of you, pumping in and out few times before adding second one. his thumb rubbed against your clit in slow circles.

“fucking god.” you gasped, your head snapping back. he watched your face as he fingered you, his own breath heavy and ragged. he could feel your walls clenching around his fingers, your body trembling already. he added a third finger, scissoring them inside of you. “holy fuck.” you moaned. he pumped his fingers faster, his thumb rubbing harder against your clit. he could sense you were close, your body tensing and shaking. he curled his fingers inside of you and it was enough to make you finish. you cried out, arching your back. he moved his fingers slowly to prolong your pleasure. as you came down from your high, he removed his fingers, bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean. he stood up, his hands unbuttoning his jeans, pushing them down along with his boxers. your eyes widened at his size. he knew he was big, and judging by the look in your eyes, you liked it. he took off his t-shirt as well, crawling on top of you on the couch. he settled himself between your legs, nudging his tip against your entrance.

“i need to fuck you. hard.” he licked his lips. you nodded, feeling him thrusting into you hard and burying himself to the hilt. you almost screamed, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he started to pound into you hard and fast. only sound filling the room were your mixed moans and skin slapping against skin.

“fuck, you’re so big.” you cried out. he groaned, his pace becoming even more frenzied. he was losing control, his mind consumed by the feeling of being inside of you. he pulled out almost completely before slamming back inside, his thickness stretching you to your limits.

“you’re so tight, i’m gonna fucking ruin you!” he muttered, wrapping his hand around your throat, applying just right amount of pressure to make your eyes roll back. he could feel your pulse pounding against his fingers and it turned him on even more. he started to thrust even faster and harder. “look at me, slut. look me in the eyes when i fuck you.” you looked at him through half-lidded eyes. he squeezed your throat a little tighter. “i love watching you look at me like that. so pretty, so fucking helpless.”

“fuck, Drew.” you gasped, wrapping your legs around his hips. the new angle allowed him to go even deeper, his cockhead kissing your cervix with every thrust.

“taking my fucking dick so well, good girl.” he could feel your body tensing up again, your inner muscles clutching at him tightly. he knew you were close. he slowed his pace. “not yet, baby. not until i say.” you whined desperately at his slow moves, making him chuckle. his hand let go of your throat, caressing your lower lip instead. “patience, sweetheart. i’m going to fuck this perfect pussy until you’re a babbling mess. then, and only then, i’ll let you cum on my cock.”

“please.” you cried. he slowly withdrew until just the tip was inside, then pushed back in inch by inch, painfully slow. he did it few times, before pulling out and gripping your hips. he turned you around, so you were on your hands and knees. he positioned himself behind you, slowly pushing back. he immediately started pounding hard and fast, making you moan loudly. your hands gripped couch cushion.

“that’s it, baby, fucking take it. scream for me. let everyone know who this pussy belongs to.” he grinned, grabbing your hair and pulling your head back hard, making you look at the ceiling and arch your back. “look at that face. so pretty and fucked out. you’re mine, baby. my pretty little fucktoy.”

“yours.” you whined. he fucked you harder, his hips slapping against your ass with brutal force.

“fuck, i’m gonna fill this pussy up. you want that, whore?” he panted.

“yes, fill me up.” you moaned.

“good fucking girl, i’m gonna breed you so good.” he groaned loudly.

“yes, fucking god, yes!” he felt your body shook as you came, your inner muscles clenching around his thick shaft. his own release washed over him, his hips jerking forward as he buried himself to the hilt and unloaded inside of you. his warm seed spilled out around his thickness, dripping down your thighs. you could feel your body getting weak. he slowly pulled out, his softening cock slipping free from your stretched hole. he turned you over, sitting you astride his lap. his lips found yours in soft, sweet kiss. when he felt his release dripping out of you he cupped your swollen, well used folds with his hand.

“you took me so well, baby.” you rested your forehead against his, smiling softly at his words. he smiled back at you, his fingers gently caressing your swollen pussy, spreading his release around. he slipped his finger inside you, causing your whine. “shh, just relax, sweetheart. i’m going to keep all my cum inside this perfect little cunt.”

[charliemwrites]

Nikto's Commandments part 8! (and the first half of the Jealousy Duet).

I'll be honest, I got stuck with this one! For some reason I just couldn't get a good flow going and had to try writing this a few different times. I think it shows in the beginning, but I get the rhythm back towards the end.

Also, apologies if there are more errors than usual. I kind of powered through it and am too afraid I'm going to hate it if I try to read it over.

Anyway, please enjoy as always <3

Content: Jealousy, Acts of Devotion, Declarations of Love, Kissing

It’s your first mission since Nikto failed you.

(You may have forgiven him. He’s even accepted that you have, merciful as you are. But that doesn’t change the truth of what happened – that he failed you. That he left your side, and then almost didn’t return. You’ve forbade him from hanging himself with “almost,” but that doesn’t mean he can’t feel the noose around his throat.)

You’re long since healed and recovered under Nikto’s devoted watch. Nurturing may not come naturally to him, but he’d bend himself into any shape for your use. So, he made himself into your caregiver. Weeks of helping you sit up, walk, bathe… until you were back in the gym, right by his side, gritting your teeth through physical therapy.

A scar is all that’s left now, silvery and tender. The only sign that Nikto’s world nearly bled away on dirty concrete. A reminder of his failure, his disgrace. How could he possibly deserve a place at your side, when he couldn’t even protect you? When he thought, for even a moment, that vengeance mattered more than your life?

Still, he returns to your side. Because you told him to, all that time ago. Because he has so much to make up for after everything. And because you haven’t given him leave to be anywhere else.

(He prays that you don’t the only way he knows how. Through meals from his own hand while you grin, nipping at his fingers. Through tea shared from one cup. With fragrant products in your wet hair while you sigh. You haven’t told him he could be anywhere else, beckoning him into a bed bigger than the one on base, still tucking in close like one of you might fall off the edge.)

It’s not that he thinks you incapable now. He would never blaspheme that you are anything other than utterly competent. It’s just that every blink superimposes pools of blood over his vision, a strobe of you near death.

In his most selfish, private thoughts, he imagines taking you away from it all for good. Tucking you away warm and safe in the cathedral of your off-base apartment, where a god belongs, in their own house. He soothes himself on visions of devoting himself to you fully and wishes he were a prophet. But for all you’ve given him, visions of the future are not one of them.

You were eager to return to duty, nearly cornered O’Conor once you got final clearance from the doctors. Nearly shook him down for a new assignment – for the both of you. Even if he had reservations about sending you to duty so soon, an opportunity to keep Nikto and his temper away a little longer was too tempting. (The bruises Nikto left on his throat were long gone, but the memory clearly was not.)

And so here you both are, in the gym of an SAS base, sparring with Task Force 141.

“Oi, lass! Care for a match?”

“Bring it, MacTavish!”

Nikto stands back to observe as you and the sergeant square off.

The 141 has been cooperative, despite previous tensions with KorTac. You, Nikto, and Konig have managed to build a decent working rapport – though most of that work has been yours. Their captain seems to like your friendly personality and straightforward professionalism; their lieutenant has been cordial. But the two sergeants (especially the Scottish one) have taken a liking to you.

“Fuck!”

Nikto jerks as you get taken down on your bad side – no, it’s not your bad side anymore. You’ve fully recovered; he must remember that. Interrupting a sparring match would be unwelcome and unnecessary. Not just overprotective on his part, but disrespectful to you as well, as if he doesn’t think you can hold your own. Still, he balls his hands into fists as you struggle against the sergeant.

At least you’re laughing, breathless and curse laden as it is.

“She is okay, ja?” Konig asks.

Nikto grunts the affirmative, eyes sharp as he watches you knee MacTavish’s side. Good, he thinks proudly as you twist to get on top. You’ve been working tirelessly to improve your groundwork techniques, learning all the different ways you can use your smaller stature against bigger and stronger opponents.

“He is… friendly,” Konig continues.

Another grunt of agreement. Most people are with you. It’s a natural reaction in the face of divinity; to reach out to a smiling god. It worked on Nikto, anyone else would be helpless. It’s just the natural order of things like green grass, blue skies, or gravity.

There’s a pause that starts to prickle the back of Nikto’s mind. Disinterested as he may be in socializing, he understands how it works. A program that runs in his mind – body language, tone, inflection, facial expression. A complex algorithm that computes to emotion, conversation, feeling. It’s just not an equation that applies to him, or that he can apply to himself anymore.

And right now, Konig is trying to imply something. Nikto cuts his eyes to the side, meets Konig’s.

“Too friendly, don’t you think?” he adds.

Nikto snorts and turns back to the match – where you are just tapping out. MacTavish is unwinding his arm from your windpipe. You’re sat between his legs, back to his chest. A tough position to get out from in a fight. As you’re scooting away, the sergeant pats your hip, leans to say, “good match” in your ear. You shoot him a grin over your shoulder and then push to your feet, sauntering back to your own team.

“Whose turn is it?” you ask, wiping sweat from your brow.

You don’t see MacTavish’s eyes darting up and down your body, zeroing in on the sliver of skin revealed by your lifted shirt. But Nikto does.

“Mine,” Konig answers, stepping forward.

You smile at him, bump fists with him. “Kick his ass for me, yeah?”

“Ja.”

He shoots Nikto one last, pointed look before stepping onto the mat. But Nikto has no interest in watching his match. Not when you’re right in front of him, a sheepish look on your face.

“I can’t believe I lost like that,” you groan. “Guess I need more practice.”

“We will practice,” he promises.

You beam and knock the back of your hand gently against his.

Like an insidious weed, Konig’s observation takes root and sprouts. Sergeant MacTavish’s friendliness.

It’s almost like Nikto is hallucinating again – or perhaps that he has just stopped. A veil pulled away from his eyes. A creature camouflaged in the brush, his eyes skipping over the landscape until an irregularity in the pattern was pointed out to him. And now he cannot stop seeing it.

MacTavish saying hello to you first every morning, asking how you slept with a twinkle in his eye. He offers to accompany you to training sessions, often chooses you first for cross-team drills. In downtime, he’ll invite you to socialize (with the rest of the 141, sure) and always save you a seat or a spot. Usually right next to him.

And it is not that he doesn’t acknowledge Nikto or Konig. He is amicable with both, works well with either of them when paired up. But there is always a tilt to his mouth when he speaks to you, a lilt to his voice. A subtle incline to his shoulders that makes every interaction seem just that slightest bit intimate.

A week into the assignment, and he is touching you freely. First a hand tapping elbow or shoulder. Then an arm around the back of your neck. Platonic, commiserating. Within a day, that arm drops to your shoulders and he’s leaning the side of his head against yours, something a bit warmer than a hug.

One morning, he scoops you up in a hug, your toes nearly off the ground. You seem surprised, reciprocate with a pat to the back before you’re set down and offered a chair.

And the sparring… the sparring gets worse. Not just an exchange of blows and a chance to improve skills with a new partner anymore. It’s become a game of teasing you, joking with you. Tagging you with hits to coax you into going after him. Wrestling with you on the ground and dragging it out while he grunts and huffs against you.

And Nikto… Nikto burns.

This is not hell, he knows; but maybe this is some form of purgatory.

He has no place, no right to suffer. Knows that trying to claim you as his own would be like trying to cage the sun. It wouldn’t just be selfish; it would be heresy. You’ve already given him a miracle; you told him you love him. That is far beyond anything he could deserve, anything he could hope or dream or long for. To take after all that, to demand more of the time, attention, energy you pour into him like holy water…

And yet.

And yet he wants to claw his skin off when MacTavish winks at you. Wants to set the world on fire when that accent purrs “bonnie” or “hen” at you. An awful, deafening static scream fills the fractures of his mind when you smile at the sergeant, when you wish him a good morning or evening.

“How are you with a sniper, hen?” MacTavish asks one day.

You hum, glance over at Nikto. He’s been training you with his own rifle for months now – though it’s obviously been on pause since your injury. “Well, I’ve been working on it, but I definitely need some improvement.”

MacTavish crosses his arms, biceps bulging against the sleeves of his t-shirt. “I wouldn’t mind giving you a few pointers, if you want to come down to the range with me some time. Promise I’m a good teacher.”

You blink, hesitate. Then lightly, “Yeah, maybe!”

Nikto can’t hang himself on an “almost,” but he’s gutted on a “maybe.”

That night you come out of the bathroom frowning. There’s a furrow between your brows that you only get when you’re both frustrated and worried; if it stays, you’ll have a headache within the hour.

“Nikto?”

He glances up from the knives he’s polishing. You stop, eyes darting all over him, towel frozen in your hand.

“Hm?” he prompts.

You don’t answer. Instead, drop the towel carelessly on the floor and stride across the room. Towards him. He only just manages to shove his equipment out of the way by the time you reach him. And you don’t stop, climbing onto the hard desk chair he’s in, straddling his lap. Your fingers curl so tight in his chest straps that he can hear them creak.

He’s trapped as much by your gaze as your weight. Something swimming in the pools of your irises that he hasn’t seen in them before. Doesn’t know how to name or how to tame.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

He jerks back in surprise, but you’ve got a solid grip and there’s nowhere to go.

“Did I… do something?” you ask. “Or… or not do something?”

He stares. “What?” he asks, mouth gone suddenly dry.

Your eyes are still darting between his, like you’ll find answers playing peekaboo between them.

“You haven’t been right the past few days. Maybe even a week,” you explain. “I’ve been giving you space to tell me, but you won’t. And I’m sorry, I’m not trying to pressure you, but please just talk to me.”

Now his brows furrow. “I haven’t been…?”

You sit back a bit, assured that you have his attention – as if that isn’t guaranteed.

“You’re not eating the same. Didn’t even take the green beans I put aside for you,” you say. “You’re not sharing my tea or letting me wrap your hands. You keep leaving for a smoke in the middle of the night. Hell, you’re wearing your mask in our room.”

It dawns on him like apocalypse. That he has been worrying you, affecting you.

“And you’re not… you’re not talking to me.” Your white-knuckled grip eases a bit as you run out of steam, sadness tinging your expression. “I know we don’t talk the normal way but… I haven’t been able to read you. You won’t look me in the eye or press our legs together. You’re even pulling away in your sleep.”

His heart is trying to claw out of his ribcage, wants to crawl into the palm you press to his chest.

“So… if I’m doing something or not doing something… you can tell me. I promise I won’t be upset. I just miss you.”

He crumbles.

Weeks under torture, but he breaks at four words.

You gasp as he rips the gear off his face. Try to help, but he just pushes your hands away. Knows he’s aggravated the old wounds, but a balm is at hand, pressing his face into the crook of your neck.

“моя любовь,” he whispers fervently. “моя надежда. моя богиня.”

You curl around him instantly, arms around his shoulders, fingers fluffing through the fuzz of hair at the back of his skull. Gentle and kind and everything that sinners and saints would fall on their swords for. And yet all you ask of him is to speak, to confess.

“I fear,” he rasps into your skin.

“Fear what?” you ask.

He is your protector, your disciple. Yours to command, to damn, to sacrifice if you so wished – and he would gladly spill his corroded innards at your feet, careful not to bloody your shoes. And he fears that you won’t ask him to.

“You are not mine, but I fear losing you,” he admits. You suck in a breath, arms tightening around him. “If not to MacTavish, then to the world. I will be left here without you again.”

He squeezes his eyes shut as the scars sear all over again, crushes his crooked nose against your collarbone.

“I am yours,” he whispers, lungs burning, “and I cannot be that if you are gone.”

You shift, pressing closer, tighter. Lay your cheek on his head and squeeze him so tightly he wonders if you’re not inviting him inside your ribcage.

“I thought you understood,” you whisper, and even that cracks with emotion. “I’m sorry, I thought I made it clear. I thought you knew…”

You urge him back. He wants to resist. Wants to stay right there in the hollow of your neck, breathing in the soap you two share, basking in your warmth. But you are bidding him to do something, and he is a weak man to your command.

Your eyes are shiny, but there’s a smile on your face when you look at him.

“You’re mine,” you assure him, “you will always be mine. I will never turn you away.”

His eyes flutter with relief. Always. He has no business questioning the truth of that. You’ve said it; it is so.

“I’m yours too, Nikto.”

His eyes snap open again, but you hold him still, hold him right there.

“Our love isn’t a cross for you to bear,” you murmur. “I belong to you the same way – the exact same way – that you are mine.”

“I don’t—”

“You remember what I told you in that car all those months ago?”

Don’t deserve it? That’s not your choice. Don’t understand? You don’t have to. I just do. It wasn’t a choice I made.

Your word is genesis. It is revelation. It is creed and commandment, redemption and atonement.

You’ve said it; it is so.

“Here.”

You snatch a pad of black ink from one of the desk drawers, grab at one of his useless, hovering hands.

“What are you—”

You smear his bare fingertips across the damp pad. Then press them to your forearm. He jerks his hand back, but it’s too late. His smudged fingerprints stain your skin in inky little pools. When he looks up at you, you’re grinning. Wide and beautiful and so damn proud of yourself.

“C’mon,” you coo. “Do it again.”

He hesitates. But his eyes are drawn back to his fingerprints on your skin. His mind echoes with your declaration.

You are his. You are his.

To deny you this, to deny your belonging, would be beyond blasphemy. Beyond sin.

You have said it; it is so. You. Are. His.

You beam as he takes the inkpad and gets his fingers wet again. Begins leaving marks all over you. Along your arms, over your collarbone. Lean back to get palm prints on your thighs. Sits you on the desk to smear lines up your calves. You even tug your shirt up, giggling all the while, so that he can mark up your stomach.

He pauses at the gunshot. Places his blackened thumb over the entry scar. Pulls it away to see the whorls of his fingerprint covering it.

You soften, kind hands cupping his jaw and guiding him up. Up and up… until your plush lips are slotted against his. His own stained hands land on your hips – likely ruining your little sleep shorts – and pull you as close as he can get you. Infusing himself with the taste of you, of your love, of your belonging.

“Yours,” you murmur against his mangled mouth.

“Yours,” he repeats.

The next day, you walk into the mess hall with Nikto’s fingers hooked into your belt loops. There’s a single black smudge on your jaw.

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