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kokoch4n3l · 5 months ago

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'•.¸♡BUY ME THE MOON࿐ྂ SANO "MIKEY" MANJIRO x f!READER

THREE — skeletons in the closet

chapter summary: like your father, manjiro becomes increasingly obsessed with keeping you hidden and begins tightening the already overwhelming security

chapter warnings: dark content 18+, inaccurate depiction of politics and political climate, loneliness, making out, kissing, rough sex, vaginal penetration, degradation, humiliation, spanking, fantasizing, creampie, no aftercare, cheating, infidelity, dom/sub undertones, slight choking, soft dom!mikey, guided masturbation, fingering(f), praise kink, (slight)voyeurism, aftercare

word count: 9848

masterlist | previous | chapter 4

You spend the month alone. You go to school, come home, eat, do your school work, sleep then do it all again. The routine was something you were used to but perhaps after that night with Manjiro, things kind of changed— unfortunately, it was for the worst. You've been feeling more lonely than usual. Manjiro doesn't come around but ever since then, you noticed the increase in guards outside the mansion in the woods and the hidden ones in the background(perhaps next time you see them, you should tell either your father or Manjiro that the hidden guards weren't so hidden).

The days blur together as you fall into the monotony of your routine. The loneliness you feel has deepened since that night with Manjiro, and his absence weighs heavily on you. You had hoped for more after the tenderness he showed, but instead, you're left with an emptiness that seems to grow with each passing day. You feel like a damn idiot.

Of course, you could call him. You could have but you have too much pride. He was the one who left you in your room after that whole fiasco in the back seat of his car(which you can't stop thinking about actually). After you fell asleep in the backseat with him, he probably carried you up to your room and left without leaving a note or even a text— so why should you call him first?

Days turn into weeks, and the ache of loneliness gnaws at you, a constant reminder of the void Manjiro's absence has left behind. You throw yourself into your schoolwork, trying to drown out the lingering thoughts of that night, but every quiet moment brings them rushing back. You can't shake the memory of his touch, the way he looked at you, the brief tenderness that seemed so out of character for him.

Your pride keeps you from reaching out. You tell yourself that if he wanted to see you, he would have found a way. Yet, every day without a word from him feels like a rejection, a confirmation that maybe you were just a fleeting distraction for him. After all, you were a part of an unnamed transaction between him and his father. Sano Manjiro spent a lot of money funding your father's election and having you out in the open now that your father is president is a risk. If people find out your father was a cheater and had a secret kid it wouldn't look good.

The days continue to pass in a blur of sameness, each one bleeding into the next as you navigate the familiar corridors of your daily life. The loneliness gnaws at you, a persistent ache that refuses to be ignored. You miss the fleeting moments of connection you shared with Manjiro, the way he made you feel seen and cared for, even if only for a short time. But his absence speaks volumes, and the silence only amplifies your feelings of isolation.

Despite the guards and the watchful eyes that you now notice more keenly, your life remains eerily quiet. The increased security is a constant reminder of the world Manjiro operates in, a world you are only beginning to understand. It's as if his presence lingers in the shadows, a ghost that haunts your every step.

One evening, as you sit in your room, staring blankly at your homework, you find yourself wondering if you should swallow your pride and reach out to him. The thought is both tempting and infuriating. Why should you be the one to make the first move? He was the one who left you hanging, left you to fend for yourself in this lonely existence. Your phone sits on your desk, taunting you with its silence. You pick it up, scrolling through your contacts until you find his name. Your finger hovers over the call button, your heart pounding in your chest. But the fear of rejection, the fear of appearing desperate, holds you back. With a frustrated sigh, you toss the phone aside, resolving once again to bury your feelings and carry on.

That night, sleep eludes you. You toss and turn, your mind replaying every detail of that night with Manjiro. The feel of his hands, the sound of his voice, the intensity in his eyes—it all comes rushing back, refusing to let you rest.

A few more days pass after that and now it's 6 pm. You're sitting in the back seat of a Lexus with your usual driver in the front seat as he drives you back from university. Your tote back sits idle in the center seat and your phone is in your lap as you blast music from your headphones. Your fingers fiddle with the lace at the end of your skirt, head resting against the glass as the car speeds past trees and other things.

As the car glides through the familiar streets, your thoughts drift back to Manjiro once again, his absence a constant ache in your heart. You find yourself staring out the window, lost in memories of that night, replaying every moment in your mind like a broken record. The music blaring in your headphones does little to drown out the noise of your thoughts, the lyrics blending together in a cacophony of sound. You feel restless, trapped in a cycle of longing and frustration that seems to have no end in sight.

The car turns into the clearing where your large mansion in the woods was located and the gate opens up. There are multiple cars in the front which means your father was here. You fiddle with the Viviene Westwood necklace Manjiro gifted you as your driver parks the car in front of the entrance and pause your music, removing your headphones . "looks like your father is here" Your driver says, looking at you through the rearview mirror

You don't say anything and just nod your head. You suddenly don't feel like seeing or talking to your dad even though you have been waiting for him to come home all month since he became president. Your driver opens the door for you, and you step out of the car, your movements slow unlike how you usually are when your father comes to visit. You practically drag yourself out of the car, tote bag in hand. Your heels click against the concrete as you make your way up the steps to the large front doors. Wearing heels to university would seem unnecessary and stupid to other people but you were a rich kid doing fashion design as a major. Everyone in your department dressed up all pretty even for early morning classes. It was fun. You liked dressing up. Where else are you going to wear all your expensive clothes? You were at home most of the time and wore pyjamas so you always went all out when you'd leave your mansion in the woods. "good afternoon, [y/n], how was school?" One of the maids asks as she opens the front door and takes your tote bag from your hands

"It was fine" You mutter as you step inside and immediately tug off your heels

Sure they were nice to wear but after wearing them for hours straight, your feet would start to hurt. You sigh in relief as your feet touch the cool marble floor, feeling a momentary sense of comfort. The familiar scent of the mansion fills your nostrils—lavender and sandalwood, with a hint of something floral. Despite the opulence surrounding you, the loneliness within feels overwhelming. The quiet hum of activity in the house, with maids bustling and guards stationed discreetly, only accentuates your solitude. "Your father is here with Ms. Kaya and a few other guests in his study" The maid informs

You just nod. You don't feel like going to see him right now. Not him or your stupid step-sister and certainly not whatever guests were here. You drag your feet up the grand staircase, the weight of your loneliness pressing down on you with each step. The mansion feels emptier than ever, despite the presence of staff and guards. You make your way to your room, seeking solace in the one place that feels somewhat like your own. Just as your hand touches the doorknob to your bedroom, a voice startles you "Hey, fairy princess"

You jump, turning around quickly and see the same pink-haired guy, Sanzu, from 1 month ago. He was the guy driving if you remember correctly. You would have been nice but right now you are annoyed and tired so you say "What are you doing in my house?"

Sanzu's grin widens at your reaction, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Relax, princess," he says, raising his hands in mock surrender. "I'm just here on business."

You scowl, your patience wearing thin. "What kind of business?"

"Manjiro's kind," he replies cryptically, his grin never faltering.

At the mention of Manjiro's name, your heart skips a beat. You however don't want to make it seem to this clearly crazy motherfucker that you missed his boss. So, crossing your arms over your chest you ask "Why are you bothering me then?"

Sanzu simply shrugs and replies "'m bored and you look like fun"

You're about to say something but someone else shows up. "the idiot is right for once. You look do like fun"

This other guy, you remember from a month ago from the night of the election. He's got purple hair with a few black highlights, styled in a very similar way to Sanzu. This purple-haired guy had a hanafuda tattoo on the front of his throat. "oh fuck off Rindo" Sanzu says looking annoyed, rolling his sleeves up "I was here first"

You see a matching tattoo on Sanzu's right inner wrist. "shut up man, you know I hate the whole business bullshit" the purple-haired guy, Rindo, says to Sanzu

The exchange between the two men leaves you feeling more exhausted than before. You try to mask your irritation as you take a deep breath, your eyes narrowing slightly as you address both of them. "Well, whatever business you're here for, I'm not interested. I've had a long day, and I just want some peace and quiet."

Sanzu's grin only widens, clearly enjoying your frustration. "Oh, come on, princess. Don't be like that. We're just here to have a little fun."

You turn to enter your room and hope these idiots don't follow you inside. Unfortunately for you, they do. It was a little odd though. You've never had someone outright ignore your wishes. It was kind of... Exciting. "what are you, a fuckin' princess?" Rindo mutters as he looks around your room after closing the large door behind him

Your bedroom looked like something out of a princess movie. An unnecessarily large bed in an even more unnecessarily large room. Your sheets were cream-coloured and baby pink. Canopies were hung up around your bed and you had one too many pillows but you swear you needed all of them. You had fluffy white carpets, a vanity, a walk-in closet, your own attached bathroom and a balcony. "Yes" You answer Rindo's rhetorical question anyway

Sanzu chuckles as he watches you, clearly amused by your answer. He saunters over to your vanity, picking up one of your perfumes and inspecting it with a curious expression. "Nice place you got here, princess. Real fancy."

You frown, feeling your irritation grow. But you don't say anything and just sit on the edge of your bed, watching them look around your room in fascination. Rindo smirks, leaning against your dresser as he surveys the room. "You know, most people would kill for a setup like this," he says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "But you? You look like you'd rather be anywhere else."

Sanzu, now fiddling with a decorative trinket on your vanity, chimes in. "Yeah, what's the matter, princess? All this luxury not enough to keep you entertained?"

You shoot them both a withering look. You don't wanna tell them that you're lonely. After all, it's a very embarrassing thing to admit. Instead, you say "I dunno... It's not that. Just never had anyone in my room before"

Your words hang in the air, creating a brief silence as both Sanzu and Rindo process what you just said. Rindo's smirk fades slightly, replaced by a more thoughtful expression. Sanzu, on the other hand, raises an eyebrow, his amusement giving way to curiosity. "Never had anyone in your room before, huh?" Sanzu repeats, his tone losing some of its teasing edge.

He sets the trinket back down on your vanity, his gaze shifting back to you. "That's kind of hard to believe, princess."

Rindo pushes himself off your dresser and walks closer to you, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Is that why you looked so miserable earlier? All this luxury and no one to share it with?"

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of their scrutiny. You're not sure how to respond, but the truth is evident in your silence. They might be annoying, but they've hit a nerve you can't quite ignore. Sanzu takes a step closer, his playful demeanour giving way to something more sincere. "You know, if you're that lonely, you could always come hang out with us. We might not be your usual company, but we know how to have a good time."

Rindo nods in agreement, his earlier sarcasm replaced by a surprising note of camaraderie. "Yeah, who knows? You might even enjoy it."

You look between them, weighing their offer. It's tempting if only to break the monotony of your lonely existence. And as irritating as they might be, their presence is a welcome distraction from the endless silence of your mansion. "Alright," you say finally, your voice softer than before. "But if I get bored or annoyed, I'm kicking you both out."

Sanzu's grin returns in full force. "Deal, princess. We'll do our best to keep you entertained."

Rindo chuckles a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Don't worry, we'll make sure you have a night to remember."

The three of you settle into an uneasy truce, the tension in the room easing slightly. As Sanzu and Rindo continue to explore your room, their playful banter becomes less intrusive and more like a background hum, filling the empty spaces that once felt so suffocating. You find yourself laughing at their antics despite your initial irritation. Sanzu's mischievousness and Rindo's dry wit create a surprisingly dynamic duo. They might not be the company you expected, but they are, in their own way, a breath of fresh air.

You lose track of time. For the first time in weeks, you feel a sense of normalcy, of connection. It's not the same as what you felt with Manjiro, but it's something, and it's enough to lift your spirits, if only for a while. Eventually, the three of you end up sprawled out on your oversized bed, talking about everything and nothing. Sanzu tells outrageous stories that make you laugh until your sides hurt, and Rindo shares bits of his life that give you a glimpse into the world beyond your gilded cage.

As the night wears on, you feel a strange sense of contentment. You're not alone, not tonight. And for now, that's enough.

Manjiro sighs as the meeting with the president finally ends. He leaves the room without a word as usual. Sure Saimori Shinichi was president but at the end of the day, it was still Manjiro who had control ad not the stupid rich man. Manjiro had no reason to bow down to this man nor his shitty little daughter he was engaged to who is no doubt following him out of the room. His executives are still in the meeting room with Shinichi, Akashi Takeomi and Haitani Ran continuing to talk to Shinichi about whatever the fuck is going on lately or whatever old men talk about. Manjiro wasn't concerned with any of that. His mind was elsewhere, drifting to thoughts of you. He hadn't seen you in a month, and despite his best efforts to keep his distance, he found himself constantly thinking about that night in the backseat of his car. The way you looked at him, the way you felt in his arms—it haunted him. He told himself it was for the best, that keeping his distance was the only way to keep his goals in sight. As he walks down the corridor, his fiancée, Kaya, quickens her pace to catch up with him. "Manjiro, wait," she calls her voice a mix of irritation and desperation.

He stops but doesn't turn to face her, his eyes fixed on the large windows overlooking the mansion grounds. Kaya reaches his side, her expression a mix of frustration and longing. "Why do you always walk away from me? We need to talk."

He finally looks at her, his face impassive. "There's nothing to talk about, Kaya. This arrangement is political, nothing more."

She rolls her eyes at his cold tone but stands her ground. "You could at least try to pretend you're interested. My father expects us to present a united front when we announce our engagement to the public."

Manjiro's eyes narrow, and for a moment, a flicker of anger crosses his features. "Your father can expect whatever he wants. I didn't agree to this for him or for you. It's a business deal, and that's all it will ever be."

Kaya's eyes flash with frustration, but she takes a deep breath, clearly trying to maintain her composure. "You might see it that way, but the public will see us differently. We need to at least appear to care for each other, Manjiro."

Manjiro's eye twitches and he walks up to her till their faces are mere centimetres apart. "Do you need something from me right now, Kaya?"

Kaya stares up at him, her eyes seeming darker than usual, probably with arousal. A tense silence hangs in the air between them as Kaya's breath quickens. She meets Manjiro's intense gaze, her expression wavering between frustration and something more heated. She places a hand on his chest, fingers trembling slightly as she speaks. "Maybe I do need something, Manjiro. Maybe I need you to show me that you're not just a cold, unfeeling machine."

Manjiro's eyes narrow further, his jaw clenching. The space between them seems to crackle with a mix of anger and unresolved tension. "Kaya," he says, his voice low and dangerous, "this isn't about feelings. This is about control, power, and maintaining appearances. Don't mistake it for anything else."

But Kaya, undeterred, presses closer, her hand sliding up to his neck. "Is that really all it is to you? Because I see something different in your eyes right now."

Manjiro's control slips for just a moment, and he grabs her wrist, holding it tightly. The look he gives her is a warning, but she doesn't back down. Instead, she tilts her head, a sly smile playing at the corners of her lips. "You think you're so untouchable, don't you, Manjiro?"

Before he can respond, Kaya rises onto her tiptoes and presses her lips to his. The kiss is fierce, almost combative as if she's trying to prove a point. For a split second, Manjiro hesitates, the unexpectedness of her boldness catching him off guard. But then, as if a switch flips, he responds with equal intensity, his grip on her wrist tightening as he pulls her closer. Their kiss deepens, fueled by a mix of anger and unspoken desire. It's a battle for dominance, neither willing to back down. Manjiro's other hand tangles in Kaya's hair, pulling her head back hard to break the kiss and look into her eyes. They're both breathing hard, their faces flushed. "This is what you wanted, huh?" Manjiro's voice is rough, laced with disdain "To push me until I reacted?"

Kaya's eyes blaze with defiance. "I wanted to see if there's something more behind that mask you wear. And I think there is."

Manjiro's grip loosens slightly, his thumb brushing against her pulse point. "You're playing a dangerous game, Kaya."

She laughs, the sound almost breathless. "Maybe. But so are you."

That's how they end up in one of the many empty rooms in the mansion. Manjiro has Kaya bent over the edge of a bed, her skirt hiked up and panties pushed aside. His pants are unzipped and pulled down just enough to pull out his cock and pound into her from behind. "fuck" he groans, digging his nails into her hips "If you wanted to be fucked like a whore should've just told me instead of being annoying"

Kaya tries to lift her face off the mattress but he just puts a hand on the back of her neck, forcing her right back down. He doesn't want to hear her moan or whimper. From the last time he did this to her, Manjiro noticed the noises she made just gave him a damn headache. He'd rather not hear her at all. His pelvis smacks against her ass each time he thrusts in, making small pat pat pat noises. Oh god did he hate this stupid bitch. He knows exactly what she's doing, using him to raise her social status, to mark her place at the top because daddy doesn't love her enough. Manjiro could care less though. She was a pawn to be thrown away later and considering the amount of men she had on the side, it wouldn't be hard getting rid of her either. "See isn't this better?" Manjiro grunts, smacking his palm hard against her ass a few times "You're much much more bearable when you're quiet"

Kaya's fingers curl into the sheets and her hips jolt every time his palm makes contact with her rear, turning the pale skin a bright pink colour. Manjiro's mind drifts off to you. He wouldn't fuck you like this. Not the same way as he fucks Kaya.

Oh, definitely not.

Sweet girls like you deserved to be fucked just as sweetly.

Manjiro wouldn't just hike up your pretty skirts like he usually does with Kaya. No, he'd take his time to undress you. He'd pull the pretty ribbons out of your hair, and press kisses to your cheeks. He'd take his time stretching out your tight little hole. After all, you were too sweet for him to just shove his cock into your little cunt like he does with Kaya. You'd probably take him so well too. Something tells Manjiro you might just cry so he'd fuck you on your back. He'd maybe change positions later, have you bent over with a pillow under your tummy for better support, and he'd rub your back and press kisses along your spine.

Oh, he'd be so fucking sweet to you.

Manjiro wouldn't fuck you the same way he fucks your step-sister.

"f-fuckk" Kaya moans, her voice muffled thanks to him pressing her face into the mattress

He feels Kaya's thighs twitch and she convulsed as she comes on his cock. Manjiro keeps going, pistoning his hips faster, rougher into her. He thinks of you, all pictures he had of the men watching you in the background take of you— all the cute little outfits you wear to university and you from a month ago in the backseat of his car, your pretty moans, helpless whimpers and your tight little cunt he needed all his willpower to stop him from pulling out his cock and just sliding in. Finally, at the memory of you moaning his name, Manjiro cums, painting Kaya's insides white. "haa~ fuck" He groans and pulls out, not even waiting for himself to soften

He goes to the attached bathroom without a word and freshens himself up a bit, washing his hands and his face and wiping himself off. Manjiro straightens himself out and leaves the bathroom, then the room, not even bothering to look at Kaya who's fixing her skirt.

He had more important things to do.

"wait so... You're number 2..." You say pointing at Sanzu while you sit behind Rindo twisting the purple strands of his hair into small braid "that other guy with the scar on his face, Kakucho, is number 3 and the rest of you are just executives?"

Sanzu smirks and nods, clearly amused by your curiosity. "That's right, princess. I'm number two. Kakucho is number three And the rest of us are executives, each with our own areas of expertise." He leans back against the headboard of your bed, watching you with a mixture of amusement and interest. "It's a hierarchy, just like any other organization."

Rindo chuckles, tilting his head to give you better access as you continue braiding his hair. "And we all answer to Manjiro. He's the one who keeps everything running smoothly, even if he can be a bit... intense."

You glance between the two of them, processing this information. It's strange to think of Manjiro, the person who left you feeling so vulnerable and confused, as the leader of such a powerful organization. But it also makes a certain amount of sense, given the aura of authority he carries with him. "And what exactly do you all do? I mean, besides hanging out in my room and causing trouble?"

Sanzu's grin widens, and he exchanges a look with Rindo before replying. "We handle a variety of things. Security, operations, negotiations. Anything that needs doing to keep the organization running smoothly."

Rindo nods in agreement. "Yeah, and sometimes that means dealing with problems in... unconventional ways."

You pause in your braiding, your fingers stilling as you consider their words. It's clear that their world is vastly different from yours, filled with danger and intrigue. But despite the risks, there's a certain allure to it all, a sense of excitement that you can't quite ignore. You've always been stuck behind these large walls and even larger gates. You can't deny how exciting it is that you finally get people to talk to and it was even better that they seemed so cool. Before you can dwell too much on it, the door to your room opens, and you all turn to see Manjiro standing in the doorway. His presence instantly commands attention, and the room falls silent. "Sanzu, Rindo," he says, his tone even but authoritative, "leave us."

Sanzu and Rindo exchange a quick glance before standing and making their way to the door. As they pass Manjiro, Sanzu gives you a quick wink, while Rindo offers a small nod. Then, they disappear into the hallway, leaving you alone with Manjiro. He closes the door behind him and takes a few steps into the room, his gaze fixed on you. You frown crossing your arms over your chest. "Can I help you?" You ask him

Of course, you were still mad. Radio silence for an entire month. Sure you could have texted or called him first but you weren't the one that initiated the 'spicy' moment in the back seat a month ago on the night of your birthday. Besides, you don't chase. Your ego and pride wouldn't let you. You don't want Sano Manjiro to think you're desperate for him even though deep down you are. You've never wanted someone so bad in your life. He reminds you of this pretty limited-edition doll you wanted as a kid. Of course, your dad bought it for you and yes, you still had it.

As a child, you wanted the moon more than you wanted dolls. Sano Manjiro reminds you of your limited edition dolls but he also reminds you of the moon.

Unreachable.

You can't have him unless he wants you to.

"what's with the long face, sweetheart?" Manjiro asks and sits in front of you "and what's with the tone, hm?"

You just frown. "There is no tone" You reply sharply and turn away from him

That obviously doesn't last long as suddenly a hand wraps around your throat and you're forced to face him again. He was being kind of rough but not in a way to purposely hurt you. Manjiro's hand around your neck wasn't even squeezing or pressing down. He was simply holding you by the neck and— blood rushes to your face, warming your cheeks. "hm? Must be hallucinating then 'cause I'm hearing a tone"

Your breath catches as Manjiro's hand gently but firmly holds your neck, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. Despite his grip, you can feel there's no pressure, just his presence asserting itself. His eyes bore into yours with intensity, searching for something in your expression. You swallow hard, trying to maintain your composure even as your heart races. "Let go" you manage to say, your voice a whisper, a mixture of defiance and something else you can't quite name.

Manjiro's gaze doesn't waver. His thumb brushes lightly against your jawline, a gesture that's both possessive and oddly tender. "I don't think I will," he says softly, his tone low and intimate.

Your mind races, torn between anger at his audacity and the undeniable thrill of his proximity. You can feel his warmth seeping into you, eroding your resolve bit by bit and also unfortunately creating a small wet spot in your panties because you had no fucking idea you were into this shit. "This isn't funny" you retort, your voice trembling slightly despite your attempt to sound steady.

He leans in closer, his breath mingling with yours. "Who said anything about joking?" His words send a shiver down your spine, and you find yourself leaning into him involuntarily, drawn to the magnetic pull he exudes.

"I'm serious," you manage to say, even as your hands betray you by gripping his wrist lightly, not to push him away but to feel the solidity of his touch.

Manjiro's lips curl into a half-smile, the corners of his mouth quirking up in amusement when he realizes you weren't pushing him away. "So am I," he murmurs, his gaze never leaving yours. "I haven't been avoiding you, sweet girl. Just been busy"

His admission hangs heavy in the air, filling the room with an unspoken tension. You search his eyes, seeing a raw honesty that takes you aback. "Then what do you want right now?" you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

He releases your neck slowly, his hand trailing down your arm until he's holding your hand in his, his touch surprisingly gentle. "I want you," he says simply, his voice low and rough with desire. "I want all of you."

Your heart pounds in your chest, his words echoing in your mind. You've wanted him too, despite your pride and the barriers you've tried to erect. But now, faced with his confession, you find yourself unable to resist any longer. Without another word, you lean in, closing the distance between you. His lips meet yours in a hungry kiss, a collision of pent-up desire and longing. The kiss is fierce and passionate, a tumultuous exchange of heat and need. His hand moves to cup your cheek, his touch is reverent yet possessive. For a moment, everything else fades away. There's only the sensation of his lips on yours, the intoxicating scent of his cologne, the heat of his body pressed against yours. It's a whirlwind of emotions and sensations, overwhelming yet exhilarating. Oh you'd been thinking about the kiss you shared a month ago every night since then and this was probably even better than that. The number of times you've slipped your hand down your pyjamas at night thinking about Manjiro, the way he kissed you, touched you— oh man it almost wasn't fair to think about. When you finally break apart, breathless and dizzy with longing, Manjiro rests his forehead against yours. His eyes are dark with desire, his breathing ragged. "I've wanted to do that for so long," he admits, his voice husky with emotion.

You caress his cheek, your fingers trembling slightly. "Me too," you confess softly, unable to deny the depth of your feelings any longer.

He pulls you into his arms, holding you close as if afraid to let go. "I'm not going anywhere," he murmurs against your hair, his words a promise.

Manjiro pulls you even closer and now you're in his lap, making out all messy and eager. As you tangle your fingers in his white hair you hope you don't seem too desperate. It just feels so nice being with him, kissing him. Especially now that he wasn't treating you like a stain. Instead, Manjiro is sliding your white lace trim cardigan off your shoulders and throwing it somewhere. You're greedily about to slip your tongue into his mouth but he pulls away, making a whine slip from your lips at the loss of contact. You're pushed off his lap to fall against the pillows in a half-sitting half-laying position under him with your legs hooked over his thighs on either side of his hips. "You're quite greedy for someone that has everything" Manjiro says unbuttoning his suit jacket and throwing it in the same place he threw your cardigan

You're heart is beating too fast as you watch him undo the top few buttons of his black dress shirt and roll up the sleeves to his elbows. Sano Manjiro was unnecessarily hot but perhaps that's why you wanted him so bad. "you miss me that much, sweet girl?" He asks, a large calloused hand sliding down your left knee to your bare thigh and the other hand on your midriff keeping you down

Your breath hitches at Manjiro's touch, his hands igniting a fire under your skin. His words wash over you, their effect both thrilling and unsettling. There's no denying the intensity of your desire for him, even as you struggle to maintain your composure. "I..." you start to say, your voice barely a whisper, but he cuts you off with a finger against your lips.

"Shh," he murmurs, his voice low and commanding. "No need to explain. Actions speak louder than words."

With that, he leans down and captures your lips in another searing kiss, his mouth hungry and demanding. Your hands roam his back, feeling the strength of his muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt. He breaks the kiss only to trail hot kisses along your jawline, down your neck, eliciting soft gasps from you. Your mind is a whirlwind of sensations, each touch from him sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. His hands continue their exploration, sliding under the hem of your blouse, causing you to arch into his touch. He teases your skin with feather-light touches, his fingers tracing patterns that make you ache for more. "I missed you" you confess breathlessly, your voice filled with a mix of longing and urgency.

Manjiro's gaze darkens with desire as he looks at you, his fingers caressing your cheek tenderly. "I know," Manjiro murmurs, his voice thick with emotion as his fingers tug at the necklace he gifted you "How about you show me what you've been doing all this time, hm? What've you been doin' while thinkin' 'bout me"

"s-show you?" you repeat shakily

Your voice trembles with a mix of nerves and anticipation as Manjiro's gaze intensifies. He nods slowly, his fingers still gently tracing the contours of your cheek, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. "Yeah," he breathes, his voice a deep murmur that sends a shiver down your spine. "Show me."

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of his stare on you as you try to gather your thoughts. His proximity, the heat of his body against yours, makes it difficult to think straight. But deep down, you know what he's asking for—what you've yearned for in his absence. "show me baby" Manjiro croons, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek "You touched yourself thinking of me didn't you?"

A shiver goes through you. You didn't want to admit to him that you did. You didn't want to admit you thought of the way his fingers caressed your most intimate parts and how he kissed you but he knew anyway. "show me how you did" He coaxes and before you know it, he hooks his thumb into your panties under your skirt and tugs them down your thighs

Your heart is beating fast. Way way too fast. "oh, would you look at these" Manjiro is pulling your white lacy panties off your ankles "These are pretty"

Your panties are white, with lace around the trim and a little white bow in the center. You couldn't even tell Manjiro you wore these for him because for one, you didn't know he'd be here and two, most of your panties are in the same style. They were cute and you liked wearing cute things. Thankfully, Manjiro doesn't ask if you wore them for him but instead "Think I'll keep these" and he stuffs them into his pocket

Your outfit itself was all lacy and cute. Cream-coloured skirt with little pink flowers, a pink ribbed cami top with a bow in the center and lace straps and trim. You were happy you hadn't dressed up in your typical depressed university student get-up like a month ago on your birthday. That had been a bit embarrassing to be seen by him in that outfit. However now that you think about it, this was only the 3rd time you met Manjiro and he's already got your panties off. But then again, the second time he had his hand shoved down your shorts. Maybe this was going too fast...

You liked him definitely but this was only the third time meeting him. Was it right to be doing this already? There are so many things to think about before doing this but the throb in the little space between your thighs stops any rational thought from truly making sense. So when Manjiro takes your hand and guides it between your thighs, you let him. "show me" he repeats as he flips your skirt up

Your movements are shaky and nervous as you scoop up your slick and spread it over your sensitive little bud. Your hips jolt at even the smallest touch and your eyes fall shut. This was embarrassing and the finger 8s you're drawing on your clit are shaky but when you open your eyes and see that Manjiro wasn't even looking at your cunt but rather your face with a softened gaze, a new rush of confidence goes through you. You let out a small shaky noise as your fingers hastily circle your nub, now a little too focused on just coming. "hey... a little slower" Manjiro whispers

Your fingers stop their pace and you look at him in confusion, eyes watery. Manjiro isn't smiling but his expression isn't cold. Rather it's soft. He looks endeared and the way he's looking at you causes this odd tugging feeling in your chest. "slower baby" Manjiro repeats and before you know it, his calloused fingers have replaced yours, lazily and slowly stroking your clit

A gasp leaves your lips and your other hand flies up to grasp at his bicep. It feels so much better than how you do it. So so good and you think you might as well just fall apart right then and there but Manjiro pulls his fingers away and guides your hand back down. "like that" he murmurs "'kay, pretty? You can do it like that for me right?"

The low tone of his voice makes your head feel fuzzy. You feel like you're drowning in his eyes and the dim lighting of your bedroom and the sun setting outside your window make this whole thing even better. It's almost romantic, even better than what you've fantasized about.

Manjiro is even better than you've dreamed of.

Even your dreams can't do the man above you any justice you think as you rub your clit in the same slow way he just did. His features are overall sharp but the slope of his nose is softer. His white hair is a bit messy now and his pink lips are a bit swollen. Everything about Manjiro is so pretty and it makes your head get even foggier. "there we go... doesn't it feel better when you go slower?" Manjiro asks, his thumb rubbing over the skin above your knee "one finger inside baby... take it slow"

He's being slow and coaxing and you feel yourself so easily complying, sliding your middle finger inside. A little whimper leaves your lips at the feeling. It doesn't feel as good as he did it. In fact, it hasn't been feeling as good since Manjiro touched you. Nothing else felt as good. Your fingers didn't feel as good as his did. "'Jiro..." You whimper

"Shh~" he hushes and kisses your cheek "add another"

You do just as he says, slowly thrusting two fingers in and out. It felt better but not as good as when he did it a month ago. "there we go, you're doing so well" Manjiro murmured and wrapped a hand around your throat again "Just wanna watch you make yourself feel good, baby"

He's once again not squeezing, just holding. It feels good. You like the feeling of his hands on you. "f-fuck~" Little whimpers and moans slip from your lips

Your hips jolt and you grind your clit against the heel of your palm needily. You want more. You want him. You want it to be Manjiro's fingers inside you, not your own. "'Jiro" You whine

"Yeah baby?" he presses a kiss to your jaw "What does my sweet girl want?"

You shiver, whimpering out his name needily and your eyes turn glassy. "P-Please... want y-you to do it"

"hm? Want me to do it for you?" Manjiro presses a kiss to your forehead "Are your own fingers not enough for my sweet baby's little cunt?"

You grind your clit against your palm, so badly needing some kind of friction. "N-No it's not. they're not" You feel like you might cry

"awe my poor baby" he croons and kisses your cheek

Honestly speaking, you thought you'd need to beg or that he'd make you bed but perhaps Manjiro was feeling nice so he simply pulled your hand away from your needy cunt and replaced your fingers with his own. As soon as his thumb touches you sensitive nub your eyes roll back and lips part. Your hips jolt once his fingers start making scissoring movements and curling upwards. "there we go, good girl" Manjiro whispers and presses a kiss to your throat after you throw your head back "you just needed a little help didn't you?"

A string of whimpers leave your lips as his soft words of encouragement fill your ears and it has you falling apart in mere seconds.

As the night draws on, you realize that maybe, just maybe, this unreachable moon might be within your grasp after all.

Kaya put a hand over her mouth as she shut the door of your bedroom she had opened a crack. She watched it all. Watched as Manjiro kissed and caressed you, watched as you came apart beneath him and he lifted you off your bed to carry you into your bathroom. She listened as he praised you and he encouraged you to keep going. Her heart pounded in her chest, a mixture of anger, jealousy, and something else—something more vulnerable—churning inside her. She had seen a side of Manjiro she had never witnessed before, a side that made her feel more isolated and unwanted than ever. Kaya knew this engagement was a business arrangement, but seeing him so tender and passionate with you stirred emotions she couldn't control.

Quietly, she turned away from your door and walked down the hallway, her mind racing. She needed to talk to her father, to tell him what she had seen. Perhaps there was still a way to salvage this, to make Manjiro see that she could be the one he desired.

Or wait.

She stops in her tracks as a better idea crosses her mind. Kaya remembers her father was still yet to tell you about the engagement and she doubts Manjiro told you about it either. Perhaps... Perhaps she could use this to get back at you. Kaya smirked to herself as the plan began to take shape in her mind. She didn't need to run to her father just yet. Instead, she could leverage this secret engagement to her advantage, to twist the knife and regain some control over the situation. She continued down the hallway, her steps light with newfound resolve. There was more than one way to fight for what she wanted. "Dad" she bursts back into the meeting room as her father is still talking to Kokonoi Hajime, another Bonten executive, about their favourite poker games, the rest either smoking or in the midst of getting ready to leave

Her father sighs and Kaya's stomach twists uncomfortably at the irritated way her own father looks at her. "yes?"

Kaya clears her throat and eyed the annoying criminals in the room and they all roll their eyes and left, the pink-haired one with the scars on his mouth whose name she forgot, brushed a little too close past her. "anyways..." She mutters and sits next to her father "Have you told [y/n] about the engagement yet?"

"No, not yet. I was going to see her just now" Shinichi responds, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension

Kaya smiles and musters up the sweetest voice she possibly could. "Maybe for now don't tell her"

Shinichi raises an eyebrow, intrigued by his daughter's sudden interest in the matter especially something concerning you, his favourite. "And why shouldn't I?" he asks, his tone cautious.

Kaya leans in closer, her voice low and conspiratorial. "Because I have a plan. I've seen how Sano looks at her. You told me Dad, that we needed something to keep Bonten in check since they've been getting too bold. I saw two of them laughing and playing with her earlier—"

"Kaya I do not want to put [y/n] in any kind of danger, especially with those snakes. It was bad enough they already knew about her when I've been trying my best to hide her. I don't want to make things worse" Shinichi says rubbing his forehead

Kaya leans back slightly, considering her father's words. She knew he was protective of you, and rightly so. Bonten's world was dangerous, filled with rivalries and power struggles that could easily ensnare an innocent like you. But Kaya was driven by her own desires, fueled by the need to regain control over her crumbling world and jealously that once again you were getting love. Her father loved you more than her and now her fiancé, who for one sure she didn't like at all, but it still annoyed the hell out of her because Manjiro always treated her so cold and rough. “I understand your concern, Dad, but hear me out. We can use this to our advantage without putting [Y/N] in harm's way.”

Shinichi's expression remains skeptical, but he motions for her to continue. Kaya takes a deep breath, knowing she has to tread carefully. "If we keep it a secret, we can observe their interactions and understand what their true intentions are. We can use her as a... a way to gauge their loyalty and plans. If Manjiro is distracted by [y/n], he might make mistakes. We can use their attachment to her to our advantage. Manipulate the situation and you can win back your power and truly be president and not just a man sitting in a chair while a criminal takes control from the shadows."

Shinichi leans back in his chair, considering her words carefully. He knows Kaya is not to be underestimated when she sets her mind to something, but the thought of involving you in the dangerous dynamics of Bonten worries him deeply. "Kaya, this is risky. [Y/N] is not just a pawn in some game. She's..."

"Exactly, Dad," Kaya interrupts softly, her voice pleading now. "She's a leverage we can use and so far, three of them seem to like her"

Shinichi sighs heavily, torn between his protective instincts for you and the strategic considerations for Bonten. He rubs his temples, his expression tight with concern. "Kaya, I understand your point, but I can't risk [Y/N]'s safety just to gain an advantage over Bonten."

Kaya's jaw tightens, frustration simmering beneath the surface. She leans closer to her father, her voice urgent. "But Dad, we need something to keep them in check. They're getting bolder, and if we don't do something soon, they could undermine everything you've built."

Shinichi's gaze flickers with indecision, his mind racing through the implications of Kaya's proposal. He knows the precarious position Bonten is in, with internal tensions and external threats looming. And yet, involving you, his precious little girl, in their dangerous games is something he's always strived to avoid. In fact, he tried avoiding even letting you out of the mansion. You were his little secret, his illegitimate daughter, someone that wasn't supposed to exist— yet his first daughter was encouraging him to use you. "You want [y/n] to be our eyes and ears?" Shinichi confirms Kaya's words which do make sense as it was something you would agree to doing

Kaya nods eagerly, her eyes locking onto her father's with determination. "Yes, Dad. With [Y/N]'s connection to Manjiro and those two others, we can gain valuable insight into their plans and intentions. We can use her presence as a leverage point, without putting her directly in harm's way."

Shinichi's brow furrows deeply as he weighs the risks and potential benefits of Kaya's proposal. He knows Rindo and Sanzu, mostly the latter, are influential within Bonten, and any leverage over them could indeed strengthen his position. Yet, the thought of involving you in the dangerous world of Bonten is a bitter pill to swallow. You were his secret, his beloved daughter, sheltered from the brutal realities of the world. "Kaya, you know how I feel about this," Shinichi begins slowly, his voice tinged with reluctance. "I've kept [Y/N] out of the public eye for a reason and not just because of the backlash I'd get. She's not like us, not like you and me. She's innocent, untouched by our world."

Kaya internally rolls her eyes. Oh, she hated how her father couldn't see how much of a little bitch you were. She hates that you, the spoiled sheltered little brat with nothing to offer, is his favourite and not her. "I know, Dad. But she's already involved. Manjiro and those two are interested in her. We can use that to our advantage. She's not just an innocent girl anymore; she's a potential asset."

Shinichi rubs his temples wearily, grappling with the weight of his decision. "And what if things go wrong? What if they find out we're using her?"

"We'll be careful," Kaya insists, her voice earnest. "We won't put her directly in danger. We'll monitor the situation closely, and if it gets too risky, we'll pull her out. But right now, we need a way to keep Bonten in check. This could be our best chance."

Shinichi stares at his daughter, torn between his paternal instincts and his responsibilities as the president of Japan. He knows the risks, but he also understands the necessity of maintaining control over his new position as president of the country. Finally, he sighs heavily and meets Kaya's gaze with resignation. "Alright," he concedes reluctantly. "But we do this carefully. [Y/N]'s safety is non-negotiable. She's to be kept out of direct harm's way at all costs."

Kaya nods emphatically, relief washing over her features. "Of course, Dad. I'll make sure of it."

Shinichi gives her a stern look, his voice firm. "And Kaya, remember, [Y/N] is not just a pawn to be played in our game. She's family."

Kaya's expression softens, and she nods solemnly. "I know, Dad. I won't forget."

With a heavy heart, Shinichi rises from his chair, his mind already racing with plans and strategies. "Let's proceed cautiously, then. We'll keep the engagement a secret for now and observe the situation. But the moment I sense any danger to [Y/N], we pull the plug."

Kaya nods again, determined to prove herself and regain control over her fate. "Understood, Dad."

So they leave the study and down the hall see the snake— Bonten, standing around, seemingly talking about something. "Sano-san" Shinichi calls "I need to talk to you about something"

Manjiro is fixing his collar, his gaze cold as he looks at the president and his fiancée. "yes?"

The rest go quiet as well, waiting for Shinichi to speak. Kaya doesn't understand how you managed to get three out eight of the top members of Bonten wrapped around your finger when they're all so damn scary. She hates your guts but she sure applauds you for it. "about my other daughter..." Shinichi starts

Manjiro's expression remains stoic, his demeanour unreadable as Shinichi mentions you. Kaya observes him closely, noting the controlled way he holds himself, the mask of indifference he wears so well. It's a stark contrast to the passionate intensity she witnessed earlier in your bedroom, a side of him she hadn't imagined existed. "What about her?" Manjiro asks curtly, his voice devoid of emotion.

Shinichi hesitates briefly, exchanging a glance with Kaya before continuing. "I was planning to inform her about the engagement soon, but I think we hold off on it for now."

Manjiro's gaze flickers, a hint of curiosity betraying his outwardly composed demeanour. "Is that so?" he replies, his voice neutral.

Kaya watches him closely, trying to gauge his reaction. She wonders if he suspects anything if he knows about the plan she and her father have discussed. But Manjiro's expression remains inscrutable, giving nothing away. Shinichi clears his throat, his tone measured as he continues, "sibling rivalry and all. You know how it is with girls"

Kaya can't help but narrow her eyes a little at her father's excuse. "Kaya, the adults are talking, how about you go see what's for dinner" Shinichi says to her

She bites her tongue and pretends to leave but listens to the rest of the conversation behind a wall. "[y/n] and Kaya have always had fights growing up and telling [y/n] might cause even more problems..." Shinichi says

Manjiro's gaze shifts between Shinichi and Kaya, his expression guarded. He's accustomed to navigating the murky waters of alliances and rivalries within Bonten, but the mention of sibling dynamics brings a flicker of interest to his eyes. "I see," Manjiro responds evenly, though there's a subtle tension in his posture that Kaya notices.

She knows she's testing the waters here, trying to see how much Manjiro knows or suspects. Despite her envy and frustration, she's also intrigued by the depth of his composure. Shinichi nods, his tone deliberate. "Yes, I'd prefer to handle the situation delicately. Their relationship is... complicated."

Kaya watches Manjiro closely, searching for any sign that he might see through their facade. She knows her father is trying to buy time, to use you as a pawn without you being aware. But with Manjiro, she senses there's more at play—his intelligence and perceptiveness could be a challenge to their plans. "I understand," Manjiro replies, his voice betraying no hint of his thoughts. "Family matters can be sensitive."

Shinichi nods in agreement, his gaze steady on Manjiro. "Indeed. I trust you understand the importance of discretion in this matter."

Manjiro inclines his head slightly, a gesture of acknowledgement. "Of course."

Kaya smiles and pulls her bottom lips between her teeth. She couldn't wait. But Kaya also knows she needs to bide her time. She can't reveal her cards too soon, not when you and Manjiro are still in the honeymoon phase of your blossoming relationship. She'll wait, she'll watch, and when the moment is ripe, she'll strike.

In the meantime, she'll play the role of the supportive sister, the innocent bystander caught in the complexities of family dynamics. She'll observe your interactions with Manjiro, noting every smile, every touch, and every whispered promise. And with each passing day, her resolve strengthens, fueled by jealousy and ambition.

It would tear you apart and she knows it will.

[END SCENE]

"hey sweetheart" You hear your dad's voice echo in your room as you lie in bed now showered and changed in your pyjamas

You sit up in bed, your heart warming at the sound of your father's voice after such a long time apart. Despite the complications and secrets swirling around you, his presence brings a sense of comfort and familiarity. "Hi Dad!" you exclaim with a bright smile, pushing aside the lingering thoughts of the evening's events.

You notice the tiredness in his eyes, the weight of responsibility that seems to have settled on his shoulders more heavily than usual. Being president must definitely be hard. Shinichi steps into your room, a small smile tugging at his lips as he takes in your appearance. "You look well," he remarks softly, his gaze filled with paternal affection "my little girl barely looks a day over 10, I can't belive you're 20 now"

You pout as he sits down in front of you. "hey! I do not look 10"

Shinichi chuckles warmly, reaching out to playfully ruffle your hair. "Alright, maybe not 10. But you'll always be my little girl, no matter how old you get," he says fondly, his tone tinged with both pride and a hint of melancholy.

You lean into his touch, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. Despite the complexities of your family's situation and the secrets that seem to hover just beneath the surface, moments like these with your father are precious to you. "I missed you, Dad," you admit softly, your voice carrying the weight of the time you spent apart.

His expression softens, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder. "I missed you too, sweetheart," Shinichi replies sincerely, his gaze searching yours. "I'm sorry for being so distant lately. Things have been... complicated."

You nod understandingly, knowing all too well the pressures and responsibilities that come with his position. "It's okay, Dad," you assure him, reaching up to squeeze his hand gently. "I know you're doing your best."

Shinichi smiles gratefully, his eyes reflecting his gratitude for your understanding. "Thank you, [Y/N]," he says softly. "I appreciate that more than you know."

Silence settles between you for a moment, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. Finally, you decide to ask him "Why does Bonten know who I am?"

Shinichi sighs. It was time to let the skeletons out of the closet.

notes: I hope you enjoyed this chapter and the smut was okay

likes, asks, comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡

taglist: @m-ilkiee @reiners-milkbiddies @short-cxke @brisssaaa009 @tenjikusstuff4

@asirensrage @fushiquro @iwasei @kiwixpi @mysouleaten @luminouslaybyrinth @merrymerrykiss

@maraya-007 @dolfiins-art @yuyu12mm @kodzubaby @zantetsuwu @hayatisyourlife @bachiraslvr @bontensbabygirl

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222col · 4 months ago

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sugardaddy!patrick finally has you to himself, an unfortunate tale of events for sugardaddy!art | part three of sugardaddy!au | 18+

art wakes, arms reaching out for you. you're not there, he rubs his eyes and sees your note on the nightstand.

i love you, art donaldson.

the two of you had never uttered those words to each other. he wanted to, so badly, so many times. but he knew the arrangement, and didn't want to make you uncomfortable. he slips on a pair of boxers and heads downstairs to find you. he stumbles into the kitchen, still half asleep. tashi is sat at the breakfast bar, handing him a protein shake. "let's go, you've got training in an hour." she carries on typing on her laptop. "what? you said i had today off," he lifts the shake up to his lips. "well, now you don't." she shuts her laptop. "where is she?" he questions his wife. "gone, i sent her away." it's like art's world just stopped moving. he's ready to call his lawyer immediately and get the divorce papers together. "get her back, now tashi. you can't do this to me. i love her." tashi puts her laptop in her handbag. "and that's exactly why she had to go."

patrick wasted no time pulling you into his room and fucking the life out of you again. you're becoming like a drug to him already. the two of you lay together on his hotel bed. "now, you gonna explain to me why you were sat with tashi yesterday? leaving with her and art?" walking over to the open window, he lights a cigarette. "she told you, i'm modelling for her new campaign." even after the hurt she's caused you, you still lie for her. he shakes his head, taking a drag of his cigarette. "the real reason, not some weird pr reason that tashi uses to cover up." you debate telling him everything, tashi took art away from you, you doubt patrick would tell anyone anyway, given him now being in the same situation with you that art was. not yet, you think. "can i tell you some other time?" you sit up. patrick shrugs, "sure, princess."

he throws his cigarette out the window, pulling a clothes bag out of the wardrobe. "i bought you this, to wear later, to my match." he unzips the bag, showcasing a white loewe dress. "you want me to come to your match?" you question, eyes not leaving the beautiful garment patrick is holding out for you. "well yeah, what if i want my cock sucked after i win?" it's like he knows. knows that's exactly what you did to art only minutes before he caught you in the hallway yesterday. he's smirking too. "well, you gonna try it on or what?" you jump up, almost snatching the clothes bag from his hands. "there's some lingerie in there too that i want you to wear, oh and i got a girl at sephora to pick out some make up for you, that's in the bathroom, so you don't need to go home and get ready." your brows furrow, looking up at patrick. he's so thoughtful when he's not being an arrogant fuck. "what?" he laughs, finally handing you the outfit. "i told you, you look after my needs and i'll make sure you look extra pretty as you do."

you carry the clothes bag into the bathroom, giggling as you go. you jump into the shower, washing yourself quickly before pulling the lingerie out of the bag, white lace to match the dress. you don't even want to know how the hell he got all your sizes right.

(he called up a stylist you'd worked with, telling them he was a stylist too, who'd lost the document with your sizes on. he's very resourceful when he needs to be)

you apply your make up and blow dry your hair, exiting the bathroom, still just in your underwear. he'd gotten ready for training in your absence, tiny black shorts and a matching tank. fuck. art's tennis shirt is still in your purse. the purse with his initials on. you pray that patrick has bought you a new matching bag.

"god, you're ridiculous." patrick mutters, sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling your body towards him as he kisses your stomach. "christ, if i wasn't already late to practise i'd fuck you again right now." he looks up to you as you smile. "you'll just have to be patient then, patrick." you turn around, he falls backwards on the bed at the sight of your ass. "jesus christ," you laugh walking back to the bathroom. "put your dress on, you're coming with me to training." you keep the door open, slipping the dress off it's hanger and placing it on your body. fits like a glove. "you're sure? you don't want me to just make my own way later to watch the match?" patrick stands, zipping up the back of your dress. "i'm not letting you out of my sight princess, i wouldn't dare, can't risk someone else coming along to try and take you from me." he places a kiss on the back of your neck. he points over to the chair in the corner of the room, matching shoes and bag wait for you. "when did you even do all this?" you question. "yesterday." he's smug in his answer. "but i hadn't even said yes yesterday!" you jokingly shove him. "i knew you would."

you're nervous in the car there, patrick drives with his hand on your thigh. what if art is there? what if tashi is there? what if either of them see you with patrick? patrick carries his bags on his shoulder, linking his free hand with yours, leading you to his dressing room. it surprises you, art kept you so private, never touched you in public unless he knew for certain no one was around. yet here's patrick, holding your hand, in the middle of a tennis tournament, not even considering the thought of caring who might see. frankly, he wants people to see. he wants people to know you belong to him now. he drops one of his duffles in the room, keeping the other on his shoulder. "c'mon princess, you can sit on the side and watch me practise." you can't believe it, he seriously isn't hiding you in any way, shape or form. there's a few rows of bleachers at the practise courts, he walks you over to them. kissing your mouth, winking and meeting his coach on the court. "i know, i know, i'm late," his coach looks at him, then you. he laughs at patrick, throwing a ball to him. "can't even blame you, patrick, i would be too."

for the first time since arriving at patrick's hotel this morning, you check your phone. 27 missed calls. from art. you open up your texts, reading through the mass he's set you along with the attempted calls.

baby, please come home.

don't worry about tashi. i'll work it all out.

you don't have to be scared of her. i miss you so much.

i love you too baby please just come home.

you can't reply. for fear of tashi, you ignore them all. you're sad, of course. heartbroken. but falling in love with art was never part of the deal. you let it go too far, he was married for god's sake, you won't let it go that far again. you look up, back to patrick. he winks to you, carrying on with his serves. you lift your feet onto the chair in front of you, returning to your phone. scrolling through your social media for a while before patrick appears at your side. he's sweaty, his skin glistening in the sun. "you know i can see your lacy little panties from down there with your feet up on the chair like that." he takes a swig from the water bottle he's holding. gasping, you move your feet back to the floor. you're blushing, he loves it. leaning down to you, his lips grazing your ear. "put them back." he orders. he's so dirty, you're revelling in it. he moves his hand between your legs, teasing you. you're so grateful his coach is turned around picking up the stray tennis balls. you moan into his ear. "you're so easy to turn on, baby." he lifts your legs back onto the chair in front, kissing your knee and walking down the stairs of the bleachers. "don't fucking move them or you're in trouble."

despite his distraction, patrick plays well. following all instructions from his coach. wrapping up after an hour or two. he rushes up to where you're sat, pulling you down the stairs and back to his private room just as quick. he sits on the bench in the room, pulling you onto his lap, legs straddling him. "we've got a couple hours before my match starts," he's kissing your face as he speaks. "so i say we get some food, get you some drinks, give me some pussy, what'd ya think, kitten?" you're grinding slowly against him as you reply. "can we do it in reverse order?" you tug on his earlobe with your teeth. "oh christ, absolutely." he hitches your dress up, letting it bunch up around your waist. shimmying his shorts and boxers down his legs, pushing your underwear to the side. you reach between your bodies, lining patrick up with your pussy. you pump his shaft as you hold him there for a few seconds, he bucks his hips up, forcing his way inside you. "stop fucking teasing."

he pulls out of you before he comes, his load landing over his tank. "you're lucky that didn't land on my dress." you giggle into his neck. "oh no, then i'd have to buy you a new one." he mocks you, kissing the side of your head. he cleans himself up, changing into a white polo. "let's go, princess, i'm ready to eat after that." he takes your hand again. "are you sure you want to leave to do that? i'm all for you eating me out in public but that might get you disqualified." you joke with him, taking his hand. rolling his eyes and laughing. "we'll have to wait until later before i lap up my dessert." he kisses your lips, opening the door for you, leading you to the bar. his hand doesn't drop yours, as you thought it would, only once he finds a table. pulling out a chair for you to sit. you peruse the menu of light lunches the bar has on offer, telling patrick your order as he leaves the table to order at the bar.

"what the fuck are you doing here?" tashi has occupied patrick's seat. "i told you to stay away from us." you're scared, and anxious, but you can't let tashi see through you so easily. "i'm not here for either of you." tashi scoffs, folding her arms. "bullshit. why are you here then?" patrick returns to the table that moment, placing his smoothie and your tequila lime soda on the table. "oh you've got to be kidding me." tashi scoffs again. "look, tashi, i don't know what business the three of you have going on. but i can tell that whatever it is, is over." her gaze leaves you, looking up to patrick in disbelief. looking tashi in the eyes as your name leaves his lips, placing a hand on your shoulder, "is here with me, as my date. so can you maybe leave us to it?" holy fuck. he's defending you. to tashi. calling you his date. so openly. tashi stands, breathing deeply as she leans down to whisper in your ear. "didn't take you long to jump from art's dick to his best friends, did it now? wonder how art would feel about that?" goosebumps rise on your skin. she walks away, patrick sitting down opposite you. you know she'd never tell art, it would break him even more than she already had, meaning he'd grow even further away from completing his grand slam, the one thing tashi actually cared about.

patrick's legs touch yours under the table. "hey, fuck her, okay? whatever she said, ignore it. you're with me now, don't worry about it." you nod your head at patrick's words. sipping your drink, rubbing your leg against his. food arrives as you and patrick share more about yourselves, his interests outside of tennis, your life outside your career. you're more compatible then you thought you would be. after eating, sharing more about your lives and a few more drinks, patrick walks you over to your seat in the stands, it's the best seat in the house, the first row, right in the middle of the court, the net mere feet away from you. you grow shy with the amount of looks on you, patrick leans over the barrier that separates him on the court and you in the stands, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before speaking sweetly to you. "i told you baby, i'm not letting anyone take you from me, so i gotta show them you're mine." he pecks your cheek before taking off to warm up and get ready for his match.

you check your phone again while waiting for it to start. more calls and texts from art. you can't even open them, instead opening instagram, snapping a picture of the bottom half of your outfit, purse on your lap, legs crossed, showing off your new shoes. the picture shows how close you are to the court. captioning the image 'day two of a tennis filled week' and uploading to your story. you're texting your friend about a date she's about to go on when art replies to your story.

are you at patrick's match???

is this becoming a mini series yes i think it is idk about u guys but i cant get enough

#art donaldson #art donalson x reader #art donaldson smut #challengers #challengers fic #patrick zweig #art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig #patrick zweig x you #patrick zweig smut #patrick zweig x reader #sugardaddy!au

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planetpedri · 8 days ago

Text

Silver soul — Pedri González.

Pairing: Pedri González x Fem!Reader

Summary: When banter leads to an interesting chain of events.

Word count: 1.6k

Disclaimer/s: banter + fluff + light angst

A/N: i unfortunately did change the initial summary + plot but i’m too lazy to change the name

Annoyance seeped through your expression as your head turned to face Pedri’s. The two of you had been the last ones left outside when your friends has moved inside to do various things. You were expecting Pedri to leave along with them, wanting your moment of peace. Unfortunately, he was not going anywhere.

“You couldn’t possibly let me have any peace, could you?” Your eyes narrowed into slits as you shuffled in your seat, bringing your knees to your chest.

The fireplace casted a warm glow across the Tenerife man, making his face adorn a warm color that enunciated his features. You hated how good he looked, it make him so much harder to hate.

Pedri’s mouth forms a lazy grin. “What? You don’t appreciate my company?” He knew what to say to set you off, loving the way your face scrunched in annoyance.

“Not even in the slightest.”

His low chuckle made you even more agitated. He was so likable and charming that it pissed you off, not to mention how easy conversations seemed to flow with him. Every time you spoke, hours would pass without you even realizing.

Pedri leaned back in his chair, head tilted to the side as he looked at your stoic face as you watched the flames dance. “Ay, guapa.” His words catch your attention, your head snapping in his direction. [beautiful]

“Ay, cabezón.” You shoot back, refusing to give into his flirtatious compliment. [big head]

The raven haired man laughed, his head falling forward, shaking slightly. “Okay, I was being nice and you just want to hurt me.”

Your shoulders move up and down, shrugging. “When will you realize you flirting isn’t going to make me dislike you any less?” You tug at the corners of your blanket to lift them over your shoulders to grow more comfortable.

“You know what I think?” Pedri asks, his eyes never leaving you, not even when you give him a hard, challenging glare. “I think you secretly like it.”

A laugh of disbelief leaves your lips, “and what makes you think that?”

Grinning wider, Pedri leans over in his chair. His elbows prop up on the armrest and he holds his head up with his palms. “You may not realize it, but your lips twitch every time I do.”

“Do you ever shut up?”

Pedri shakes his head, “no…” He was about to get real risky with what he says next, “but you can try and make me.”

Oh! Right, right. Funny.

Your lips pull into a thin line, eyes darting around his face. Is he being serious right now? But Pedri doesn’t look like he’s joking, his stupid smirk was gone, a serious look overtaking his face. He was.

“And how do you suppose I do that?” You nervously—wait. Nervous? Why were you nervous? Your knee had began to bounce, something that you did whenever you got anxious and, or nervous.

You were not anxious right now.

Your breathing slowed when Pedri’s gaze fell to your lips. He doesn’t say anything, just hums. He knew exactly what he was doing and you shake your head.

“Yeah, no.” You cough, turning away from him to look at the fire again. Your face was burning and it wasn’t because of the heat from the fire.

Pedri cracked up, finding it ever so amusing how flustered you’d gotten. He never realized how easy it would be to get you riled up like that.

And just like that, you’d stopped talking to Pedri. Completely. And every second of it was hell. All you could think about was his beautiful brown eyes that had a strong orange hue, the way his hair fell so softly on his head, the way he smiled with his teeth. It was so frustrating.

Pedri felt your absence the first time you didn’t show up to a gathering. Even when you didn’t come to a home game. Even when you said you hated him, you showed up periodically every three games.

He texted you, you didn’t respond. He asked your friends about you, they simply gave a, ‘she’s busy’ in response, but he noticed the slight questioning in their tone—like they didn’t believe what they were saying.

So, at his whits end, he stood outside your door in the rain. Pounding on the oak wood door, he progressingly got harsher and harsher until you finally swung it open.

“What—oh.” You falter, stepping back in surprise. “Pedri.”

“Yeah, Pedri. The guy you’ve avoided like I had a disease or something?” He snapped tightly, his hands moving as he spoke in frustration. “Tell me what I did wrong!”

You were taken aback, to say the least. You didn’t think your absence would affect him this much. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” You answer quietly. “Are you cold?”

Pedri was befuddled. Cold? Was this your way of avoiding conversation? He was, of course. “What do you think? I’m drenched.”

“Come inside.” You step out of the way, motioning for him to come inside of your house.

Pedri’s mouth clamps shut. He strides inside and shrugs off his hoodie, leaving him clad in a white tee shirt that was still damp from the water that seeped through.

He’d never been to your house. It was exactly like he pictured. Neat, pops of color, random paraphernalia of the things you liked—yet subtle enough that nobody would know unless they liked those things or knew you well enough. It was all so.. you. He smiled a little.

“I can get you a blanket, coffee, tea? I don’t want you to get sick.” You were already moving toward the couch a few feet away, reaching for one.

Shaking his head, Pedri grips your arm, stopping you effectively. You glance back at him with furrowed eyebrows. “No. Stop stalling. Talk to me.”

Your eyes drift to his hand, ignoring the way his touch sent a bolt of electricity up your arm. “I have been busy. Not really feeling all the socializing. It’s not you.”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me it isn’t true.” Pedri demands, dropping his hand to give you the stage. His arms cross and he cocks his head to the side with a hard stare.

You play with the hem of your sleeve, reluctantly looking at him. “It’s not you.”

Confusion flashes across his face. “Then what is it?”

“It’s me!” You exclaim, rubbing your face. “It’s my complete and utter lack of ability to get you out of my head! It’s the way I can’t stop thinking about you! It is—“ You turn around and take a breath. “My head makes it so difficult to be around you.”

Pedri listens intently, ignoring his urge to reach out and shut you up. His heart races and his head pounds and God he just wanted to kiss you!

He says your name, softly. But you weren’t finished.

“—Not to mention, I want to forget you so bad and I can’t! You have always been annoying but it’s reaching an insufferable level!”

“Are you done?”

“Yes.”

“If you think this is one sided, you are dead wrong.” And that was all he had to say. He wasn’t going to waste your time and ramble about how deeply he felt your absence, or how he couldn’t sleep because your face was the last thing he pictured when he closes his eyes and he didn’t want it to go away.

Your mouth parts, your breath hitching in your throat. Words fail your tongue. When you can’t get anything out, your shoulders slump. Okay. Okay! This was good. Right?

He says your name again, snapping his fingers in your face. Blinking, you take a long breath, a slightly confused smile overtaking your lips. “Wow. Alright. Oh. Now what.”

“Now, I ask if I can have that blanket because I’m pretty fucking cold.” He says through a breathy laugh.

Your head dips when you chuckle, “yeah, yeah. You can sit on the couch. I’ll make you tea, too. You’ll probably catch a cold.”

You were so caring, even when you pretended you couldn’t stand him. You were caring all the time, Pedri supposed that was what he loved so much about you.

When you were back with the blanket and tea in hand, you plop down beside him. “I haven’t been busy. I’ve been miserable.” You confess, leaning your head back against the couch cushion with a loose smile.

“I’ve been miserable too.” Pedri admits, setting the mug aside and leans back as well. When he’s facing you, he takes the moment of silence to scan your face. Every small feature, he took in. Burned it into his brain.

Your stomach hurt with his examination because with it came the softest, most endearing smile. “Are you always going to creepy-stare at me? Or will this end after tonight?”

“Always.” Pedri shrugs, lifting his hand to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing your soft skin. “Don’t do this to me again. Don’t make me have to get upset at you, I hated every second of it.”

You nod, your eyes fluttering shut to sink in his every touch. “Never again.”

“And—“

“Can I shut you up?”

The call back to the conversation that happened only weeks ago had Pedri laughing. “Yes.” Without another word, your lips pressed to his.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you want to be tagged in future pedri posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @sakashq @ar4ujos @joaoflms @gadriezmannsgirl @hrts4havertz @spidybaby @unx100to @st4rgirl-ellie

#pedri #pedri gonzalez #pedri gonzalez x you #pedri gonzalez fluff #pedri gonzalez one shot #pedri gonzalez x reader #pedri gonzalez imagine #pedri x reader #pedro gonzalez #light angst #blurb #football #fluff #fanfic #fc barcelona #fc barcelona fic #fc barca

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fandoms-x-reader · 4 months ago

Text

Autistic! MC

Requested By: @g0dwat3r

Summary: The brothers' reaction to finding out MC has autism and certain food aversions. Word Count: 2,655

You used every ounce of your strength to try not to make a noise or facial expression of disgust as you placed the fork in your mouth, immediately regretting your decision to do so.

If you had been by yourself, you would have immediately spit the food out and pushed the plate far out of your sight.

But, unfortunately, you were sitting at the dining table with all seven of the demon brothers, eating a meal that Asmo claimed to have made especially for you since he was on cooking duty.

You didn’t want to offend the fifth-born and there wasn’t really much else to eat in the House of Lamentation thanks to Beel’s ravenous appetite.

So, you forced the food down, pleading with your body not to reject it.

You’d been doing this since your arrival in the Devildom. Whenever there was something you considered particularly unpleasant, you would do your best to force the food down and put on a smile while doing so only to later then have to throw it up.

No matter how hard you tried, the texture and taste ended up bothering you too much.

You had been so careful about not letting the others catch on to what you were doing after dinner those nights, anxious about how they would look at you if they found out the truth.

But, tonight, there was something specific in Asmo’s meal that was driving you crazy.

You tried to ignore the feeling and eat another bite, but the more you tried not to think about it, the more bothered you got.

Eventually, it led to you dismissing yourself from the table prematurely.

The brothers watched with concern as you left the dining room but they continued to eat their meals, albeit in silence.

They were only able to sit there for a few minutes until the absence of your presence became unbearably uncomfortable and one of them decided to go check on you.

Lucifer had been worried about you since the moment you stood up.

He hadn’t ever seen you leave the table so early into dinner or so quickly, So, he figured something must have been wrong.

He knocked on your door, attempting to be respectful. But, when you didn’t respond, he invited himself in.

He didn’t see you anywhere in your room and was about to call out your name when he heard you throwing up in the bathroom.

His eyes widened for a brief moment, not expecting to find you in a sick state.

He wanted to help but he wasn’t sure if you wanted him to enter the bathroom.

He opted to wait until you were done.

As soon as the bathroom door was open, Lucifer approached you and gently led you over to your bed, having you sit down.

His hands moved quickly as he pulled out his D.D.D. He wanted to call Diavolo and have him send over the doctor to check on you.

You stopped him though, placing your hand over his and pushing his D.D.D. down, reassuring him that you were fine.

He didn’t believe you for a second, he heard you throwing up in the bathroom.

If you didn’t want him to call the doctor to give you a diagnosis, then you better tell him why you aren’t feeling well.

You let out a small sigh before explaining the situation to him, admitting to everything.

Lucifer’s pride was a bit hurt by your confession. How had he not picked up on the fact that you were hiding something like this from him?

He doesn’t care what your reasons are. Didn’t you know that he would have done whatever he could to help you?

He’ll have you write a list of all the foods you can’t stand to eat and all the foods you like and he’ll make sure those are all taken into consideration when making your food.

Even if the brothers had to make something extra on the side just for you, he knew none of them would put up a fight.

And if they dared to - he would be more than happy to string them up for it.

“Please be honest with me in the future. I can’t stand to see you in pain over something I can fix.”

Mammon is the opposite of his older brother when it comes to respecting your privacy.

He had a bad habit of barging right into your room without so much as a knock when he wanted to see you.

And nothing was different when he entered your room today.

However, he was not expecting to hear you throwing up in the bathroom.

Mammon froze for a moment as if trying to confirm what he heard.

And when he heard you throw up again, he decided to barge into the bathroom as well.

He panicked slightly when he saw the state you were in and helped you in whatever way he could.

Holding your hair back - check. Rubbing your back - check.

He doesn’t care if you think it’s embarrassing. He isn’t going anywhere.

When you’re done, he’ll make sure you’re nice and cozy in your bed before interrogating you like you just stole his favorite treasure.

You knew that Mammon wouldn’t drop this until you told him why you were throwing up so you decided to give in and tell him what was going on.

At first, Mammon was confused - what was this Autism thing you were telling him about?

But after you explained what it was and how you had been hiding it from him this whole time, he’s pouting.

Didn’t you trust your first man?

You’ll have to reassure him that it wasn’t because you didn’t trust him, you just didn’t want to burden him with it.

Although autism was fairly common in the human world, it wasn’t something that existed in the Devildom because their biology was completely different.

Mammon turns into your bodyguard real quick. He now sees mealtimes as an opportunity to protect you from anything you don’t like.

He doesn’t care if he has to make a scene to get you something you like.

He’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re not hiding things from him again and to make sure you don’t have to force yourself to eat food you don’t like.

“Don’t ya worry, the Great Mammon will make sure you’re taken care of!”

Levi wanted to be dismissed from dinner early as well so he didn’t blame you for doing so.

He fully believed that you just wanted to go and do something more fun and entertaining.

Maybe you had an anime you wanted to watch or a new game you wanted to play!

He had just gotten a new game and that’s why he wanted to leave early, so the idea wasn’t completely far-fetched to him.

But when he entered your room and heard you retching in the bathroom, he went into full-blown panic mode.

What was wrong with you? Were you sick? Did you have one of those normie diseases or infections like the stomach flu??

You exited the bathroom a moment later and you jumped slightly when you saw Levi standing there.

He had been so quiet, you didn’t even hear him come in.

The two of you were caught in a stalemate, neither one of you moving first.

You assumed he had heard you but you weren’t positive and you didn’t want to out yourself if you didn’t have to.

And he was trying to figure out what to say. He was trying to figure out what he could do to help.

When you finally explain the situation to Levi, his immediate reaction is to go the self-deprecating route.

Of course, you’d keep something like this from - who would want to tell their secrets to a yucky otaku?

But he decides to not make this about him and he asks you what he can do to help.

He understands not wanting to have your business out in the open for everyone to see, but he doesn’t want you hiding it anymore.

He has access to tons more food options thanks to his premium Akuzon membership and he’ll get you whatever food you want to eat.

“You’ll never have to eat that stuff again!”

Being the most observant of his brothers, Satan could tell that something was off about you when eating meals.

He assumed that you just needed a bit of an adjustment period to get used to the Devildom food. After all, it was completely different from any human world food.

But Satan was mistaken in the severity of the situation and that realization only dawned on him when he heard you throwing up in the bathroom.

Had it been this bad this whole time?

Satan moved to help you but when he reached the door, you were already opening it.

The two of you locked eyes for a moment before he helped you over to your bed.

He immediately ran a full health check on you.

He’s feeling your forehead for a fever, making sure your eyes aren’t dilated, checking your pulse. He even tried to look in your throat when you stopped him, assuring him that you weren’t sick.

Satan was beyond confused when you told him that. He knew that vomiting was a symptom of being sick so why were you telling him you weren’t?

You took a moment to find the right wording and then explained your autism to Satan and how certain foods just bother you.

Satan was surprised when you told him. With all of the reading he did, how had he not heard about this before?

Would you tell him more about it?

Satan will do tons of research on autism and make sure he’s an expert in the subject so that if something like this ever comes up again, he knows you to assist you.

He’ll go through the checklist in the information book he found and ask you which of the things on the list you’re sensitive to so that he can be on the lookout for them.

“You know you can always come to me for help, Y/N.”

Asmo was freaking out when you left dinner early.

Since he was the one who cooked dinner, he immediately started going through all of the steps in his mind, making sure he didn’t add in any ingredients that could be dangerous to a human.

It was a new meal that you hadn’t tried, so maybe you were just so blown away by Asmo’s cooking abilities!

He wanted to believe that - but when he reached your room and heard you throwing up in the bathroom, he knew that it wasn’t true.

Asmo felt really guilty. He tried so hard to make you something that you liked. He didn’t mean to make you sick!

When you opened the door to the bathroom, you saw Amso standing there with tears and worry in his eyes.

He started apologizing profusely, afraid you wouldn’t forgive him for cooking you something you didn’t like.

You immediately moved over to comfort him and assure him that he didn’t do anything wrong.

He asked you what exactly about the meal you didn’t like so that he could avoid making the same mistake in the future.

And that forces your hand to explain your autism to him.

Asmo is surprised to hear the truth but so supportive of what you're sensitive to.

He’ll make an extra effort to make sure you’re comfortable in whatever situation you’re in.

Please don’t force yourself to eat things that bother you anymore.

Throwing up that often is terrible for your body!

“I’m here for you, hun.”

Beel didn’t think twice about you leaving the dinner table early at first. He was too distracted enjoying everything that Asmo made to eat.

But he felt the uncomfortable tension that fell over the table and then he began to think more about the situation.

Why would you leave dinner early? Were you not hungry?

But, he hadn’t seen you eat anything earlier so that couldn’t have been it.

Beel practically inhaled the food on his plate before getting up to go check on you.

Like Mammon, when he heard you throwing up, he immediately rushed into the bathroom to help you.

His eyes were filled with concern as you threw up. Was it something serious?

He moved you to your bed when you were done and he immediately started asking you what humans needed to feel better.

Was it soup? A warm blanket? He could get Satan to track down some medicine!

You stopped Beel from panicking when you placed your hand on his arm to bring him back to reality.

You told him that you didn’t need medicine and that you only threw up because the food was bothering you.

Beel was confused by your statement. What do you mean it was bothering you?

You explained everything to Beel, including how after some meals you can’t help but throw up because of the taste and texture.

Beel is devastated at the news. Everyone should enjoy their meals!

If you didn’t like the food, you should have told him! He would have done whatever was necessary to make sure you had food that you could not only eat but enjoy.

Beel will make sure you always have food that you like at meal times and if there’s anything else that bothers you, he’ll find a way to help you with that too.

“Whatever you need - I’ll make sure you have it.”

Belphie had fallen asleep at the dining room table. So, he didn’t realize when you stood up from your seat and left.

It was the sound of Beel setting his plate down a little too eagerly that jolted Belphie awake.

And when he did wake up, his eyes immediately searched for you.

Where did you go?

Belphie asked his brothers what happened and when they told him you just up and left, he decided to investigate.

He entered your room with the full intention of taking a nap with you, but he didn’t see you in your room.

He decided to slip under the covers anyway and wait for you.

He had nearly fallen back asleep when he heard you throw up.

His eyes snapped open as he quickly sat up in your bed, staring at the bathroom door.

You exited a few moments later and stopped in your tracks when you saw Belphie sitting in your bed under your covers.

You let out a small sigh before simply getting in the bed next to him. You weren’t in the mood to kick him out.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked simply.

Part of you wanted to scoff at how straightforward he was and part of you wanted to ignore his question entirely.

But he knew how to push your buttons in all of the right ways and he will keep pestering you until you tell him what's going on.

Don’t believe him? Please try him.

With a groan of frustration, you explained everything to Belphie who was once again looking shocked - this time at your words.

You didn’t know how to react when, at the end of your explanation, he laid down on top of you and merely stated, “Okay.”

Did you expect him to react differently? To see you in a different light? Because he didn’t.

You were still the same Y/N he loved.

He wouldn’t tell you this, but he started paying more attention to things that made you uncomfortable and if he notices it, he’ll immediately take care of the problem.

And if he finds out that you’re forcing yourself to eat food you don’t like for the sake of others again, he’ll throw, he’ll make a huge deal out of it.

“I’ll take care of you.”

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saphronethaleph · 5 months ago

Text

Lizard v Wizard

“Long have I waited for my grandchild to come home…” Palpatine said, then the smile fell off his face. “...you are not my grandchild.”

“Yeah, we swapped jobs,” Finn agreed, shrugging off a backpack and letting it drop to the floor. “Rey said she was having visions about her falling to evil and sitting on the throne of the Sith, and I said that I hadn’t had any of those visions.”

“Your arrogance will be your downfall, boy,” Palpatine informed him. “Either I will destroy you or you will turn to the Dark Side.”

Finn paused, frowning.

“...huh,” he said. “You really do call it that? I guess I owe Rey an apology.”

“Explain yourself,” Palpatine snapped. “What are you talking about?”

“The Dark Side,” Finn explained, stressing the word. “Seriously, you use that language and it’s going to make me think the Force is a bit racist.”

Palpatine sat in complete silence for several seconds, as his brain rebooted.

“I mean, if you were black yourself, I’d maybe buy the idea that it’s meant to be a matter of pride,” Finn went on. “Reclaiming the term, and all that. But then again you have this whole white power thing going on with the stormtroopers, so it’s not that.”

He shrugged. “And then there’s the bit where you blow up planets as a hobby, because that just makes it really obvious that you’re not even trying to pretend any more.”

“I am going to do you the courtesy of ignoring your nonsense,” Palpatine said, icily. “Make your choice. Turn to the Dark Side, or die.”

Finn laughed.

“Wow,” he said. “You’re making that sound like it’s a threat that works.”

Palpatine’s eye twitched.

“I escaped from the First Order and I was on a capital ship when it got hyperspace rammed,” Finn said. “Also, I came here to fight you, which I think qualifies as a particularly elaborate suicide anyway.”

He shrugged, walking around in a half circle. “I would like to survive this, don’t get me wrong, but… like… if I don’t, and you don’t, I actually think that’s an absolute win.”

“I’ve made my decision,” Palpatine said, with an almost glassy calm. “I’m going to kill you now.”

He raised his hand, which spat lightning, and the lightning stabbed out at Finn – and vanished, as it passed over his backpack.

Finn picked the backpack up again. “Huh, they work,” he said. “Lando said it would but I had to take it on trust.”

Palpatine looked at his hands, then tried to blast Finn for a second time. Again the lightning vanished, then both men looked around at the sound of running feet.

“Rey, I hope you’re in here!” Ben said, then skidded to a halt. “Aren’t you the traitor?”

“We call ourselves the Resistance,” Finn answered. “What are you doing here?”

“Running away from a dozen very angry ex-followers!” Ben replied. “I’ve turned back to the Light Side.”

“Huh,” Finn replied. “Away from the Evil Side?”

“It’s called the Dark Side,” Ben corrected.

“We already had this discussion before you turned up, I think the term Dark side is racist,” Finn said, then Palpatine tried to electrocute him again.

“STOP IGNORING ME!” Palpatine shouted.

“I never thought of it that way, but I think it’s meant to be the absence of light, as in starlight?” Ben guessed, as the sound of stampeding Knights of Ren came down the corridor.

Something exploded overhead.

“Huh, Rey must be doing well,” Finn said, ignoring Palpatine. “And, yeah, I can buy that.”

He reached into the backpack. “Blaster or lightsaber?”

“I don’t have a lightsaber and I would really like one,” Ben said, then caught the Skywalker Lightsaber as Finn threw it to him. “Thank you so much.”

Finn retrieved a blaster from the bag as well, then did something that went beep.

“Five,” he said, throwing the bag at Palpatine. “Four. Three.”

Palpatine raised his hand to bat the backpack away, and got hit in the face by it.

For his part, Finn dove to the floor, and Ben did so as well just before Finn’s count hit zero, and a thermal detonator went off.

The explosion did unfortunately kill the ysalamir in the bag, but by then Palpatine was a little bit too dead to take advantage.

#star wars #palpatine #another bad day for palps #finn #ben solo

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lunasblunt · 4 months ago

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what is and what should never be

𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪

SFW!!!!! pt.2

pairing: logan howlett x original female!mutant character

PT.2 TO BARRACUDA

summary: terra, a mutant with the ability to manipulate earthly elements, and grow plants/flowers from her palms, finds herself incredibly fed up with logan as they’re forced to to train together.

suggested song: what is and what should never be by led zeppelin the back and forth between soft/calm and loud/heavy do u get it… i hope u get it…. yeah……

CW: nothing too crazy she just wants bro so bad tbh… slight nsfw thoughts? idk it’s a sfw fic so it’s definitely not too dirty

A/N: i will always love hugh jackman. can’t even pretend like i’m mad abt the hype bc the edits are SO GOOD. alsoooo requests are always open i’d love some prompts :3 that’s all ;D

reply/lmk if you’d like to be added to a taglist for this fic!!!

𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪

the next few days are hazy for terra. the bandages wrapped around her palms are itchy, and she can't stop herself from replaying the entire scene in her head. the way logan had glared down at her like she was worthless, the way he puffed his cigar and tossed his tank top over his shoulder on his way out. she couldn't help but wish she had stood up from her bloody mess and kicked his ass. she mentally curses at herself for being so uncoordinated.

when the time for their next training session comes, terra is buzzing. she prepares an endless amount of comments to throw at him, a million ways to kill him with kindness.

unfortunately for her, logan never shows. three hours, she waited, pacing back and forth; laughing to herself about how stupid this was, how stupid charles was for thinking this could possibly work.

as she storms out of the training room, terra, without thinking, beelines straight for logan's room.

pounding on the door, she tries to ignore the way the pace of her heartbeat quickens.

logan opens the door slowly, his brows furrowed in confusion. when he notices the fiery brunette standing in front of him, his demeanor changes.

“new pair of boxing gloves?” he smirks, sarcasm dripping from his lips as he gestures to her bandaged wounds.

silence fills the space between them. terra can’t even bring herself to dish a remark right back. logan bites the inside of his lip impatiently, he didn’t have the time for this. as he goes to shut the door, terra speaks up.

“i’ve been waiting for you, y’know.” she says softly, an angry, disappointed, yet calm look on her face. logan feels a shiver down his spine. the way she spoke so quietly, the look in her eyes almost… upset? no, unsatisfied. “three hours,” she laughs condescendingly. “do you feel that sorry about what you’ve done that you couldn’t even bring yourself to show up?”

logan scoffs at that accusation. she really knew how to irritate him.

fighting the urge to slam the door in her face, logan leans against the doorframe, waiting for her to continue. he wanted to see just what else, and how much, she could throw at him.

“i mean i’m truly flattered, logan.” she can’t stop the words from spilling out of her mouth. “you obviously care so much about me, about this,” she raises a hand, reminding him of his work. “that you’ve shut yourself up here, conjuring just the right words for the perfect apology!”

finally, logan feels the need to butt in. he can’t stand to hear the sound of her whiny voice dragging on and on, poking fun at his absence.

“you got just what you were asking for, sweetheart.” he snarls, inching toward her, clenching his jaw in between sentences. “you can’t bite off more than you can chew and expect to get away with it…” at this point, the man is hovering over her, clearly trying to dismiss her presence with intimidation. “you may think you’re some free spirit, some ‘make love not war’ flower child, but i’ve been around, and in the real world…” logan leans his head down, his face inches from hers. “your actions have consequences.”

terra tries not to show it, but his words send a piercing sensation up her legs and to the apples her cheeks, a light pink color washing over them. she can't help the way her knees buckle when logan's forehead just barely rests on hers, his breath practically reaching out and tickling her nose. she doesn't understand where this is coming from, but she can't say she hates it.

logan finds himself entertained with the scene below him. the way the girl’s face lit up a bright pink color the second his body got closer to hers, the shock written all over her expression. he’d been waiting for this, for someone to give her a goddamn reality check.

“now you’ve got nothing to say?” he chuckles, waiting for another reaction. whatever this game was that he’d started for himself, he liked.

the silence between the two is deafening. nothing but the soft murmurs of students passing by to their dorms can be heard.

“tomorrow. hand to hand combat. no powers, no tricks,” logan speaks up, repeating his rules from their last session. bending over ever so slightly, the man whispers the last bit into her ear. “all raw.”

terra’s left in a confused daze as she watches logan smirk, then shut his bedroom door behind him.

taglist: @somestardeww @keigohawks

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natailiatulls07 · 1 year ago

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Drive to survive

Charles Leclerc & leclerc!driver!reader

Summary - Netflix's drive to survive interviews Y/n and Charles Leclerc about something that caused immense issues

Warning - Cheating, car crash, panic attack, fire, crying, swearing and self doubt

Reader drives for Ferrari

Purple is flashbacks

Y/n Leclerc, Ferrari

"Hello, I'm Y/n Leclerc. I'm 24 years old and I race for Ferrari alongside my twin brother, Charles Leclerc" I sat in the seat just in front of the camera, my anxiety throw the roof. My last season had ended on a bad note, with some personal troubles effecting my focus on track.

The producer settled herself down just to the side of the camera with a hand full of questions and topics that we would talk through for Netflix. "How are you feeling right now?"

Taking a deep breath in and out before answering. "yeah..I think I'm good. but yet I guess I'll have to be" A nervous chuckle left my lips which earned me a look of sympathy from the producer.

Looking down at her paper, she prepared herself to ask the first question. "So how do you feel after your ending last year?" Her voice calm and collected, as if she wanted me to feel that energy, this was what I was grateful for.

It took me a second of debating, debating my answer. "Um yeah, I mean it was a hard time obviously...I had some personal problems regarding my relationship and unfortunately that had its effect on my performance" A pause to think over my answer. "Of course I should not have um let that effect my performance, which I am greatly disappointed at myself for"

Walking into my appartment, I noticed the absence of Theo in the open plan kitchen lounge. I searched further into the appartment. Thats where I saw Theo in my bed with another girl.

Tears were welling up in my eyes, I had been dating him since I was just twenty but yet he decided to throw that away for some girl. "What the fuck?!" Shock, betrayal and heartbreak. Thats all I felt.

That night I kicked him and his sidechick out of my appartment, wanting to see nothing of them ever again. Luckily my three brothers were coming round that evening. So when they saw me, cheeks burned with tears, they knew something happened.

It was the last grand prix of the season, Abu Dhabi, I was sat in p4 just awaiting for the five red lights to flash away. My head was clogged with that day, the day I got heartbroken. "Radio check, radio check" My race engineers voice came through my headset.

"Loud and clear..." Voice low and weary as I replied.

"Y/n...you can do it, just forget and clear your mind" He knew of my heartache, heck everyone knew, wanting nothing more for me to end the season on a high note.

That race was my worst race to date. I didn't finish it. It was the Abu Dhabi race where I crashed, the Abu Dhabi race where I just sat by my burning car tangled up in a panic attack. I couldn't control my breathing or my mind.

Not my finest hour, in my opinion it was my very worse.

Looking down at my lap, I could see my leg persistantly bumping up and down. It was hard to talk about that time. "What was your first instinct to your crash?" The producer asked her next question.

Once again my mind was casted back to that night. "Well um I remember that after I got out of my car, I couldn't stop crying and I couldn't control my breathing. I was having a panic attack and I just couldn't calm myself down"

It was loud. I could hear the safety team trying to calm down the fire. I could hear fans watching on from the sidelines. I could hear my race engineer trying to calm me down through my headset. I felt like I was moving away from the real world every second.

My mind couldn't focus on one thing. I felt the warmth of the fire on my body. I felt the hands of a safety team member trying to bring me back down to earth.

When Charles heard the red flag through his radio, his mind went straight to Y/n. Where was Y/n? Is Y/n okay? Growing up Charles grew more and more protective of his twin.

So when he saw her car and herself not in attendance of the Ferrari, he became even the more distressed. But when he saw the crash on the large television screen, he set off run towards it much to the team dismay.

Charles ran until he reached the burn car. He saw her sat there curled up in her arms.

"Bébé bébé peux-tu m'entendre? Je suis là, souffle souffle écoute mon coeur" He pulled her into himself, moving her head to rest just above his heart. Wanting her to hear his heartbeat and copy it.

Charles knew of her panic attacks, he watched them grow worse and worse as they grew up. But he always knew how to help her, calm her down and breath.

Charles Leclerc, Ferrari

"How did you feel when you saw your teammate and sister crash and then have a panic attack?" The producer asked the 25 year old Ferrari driver.

His eyes downcasted, that night was his nightmare. "I remember feeling um this sense of terror fill me when I saw her crash. Aside from being my teammate at Ferrari, Y/n is my twinsister. She's has always had her panic attacks but that night..." Charles felt his eye water up even at the thought.

"That night was the worst panic attack she has ever had, I don't think I'll recover from that night" Standing up from his chair, Charles walked away from the camera. Tears flooding down his cheeks.

Y/n Leclerc, Ferrari

"It was only when Charles came that I started to come back down to earth. It's always when he comes that I come back." It was always Charles who helped me through my panic attacks.

Charles. He has been my rock ever since forever. He had been my rock when times got rough and tough. Before each race checking on me and everyday checking on me. He knew how hard I was taking my breakup and just wanted to help me through that.

Once again, I took in another deep breath, trying to distance myself from that night. "So 2023, how are you feeling about returning to Ferrari with Charles by your side?" The producer continued.

A small smile made its way to my face. "Yeah um I'm excited of course. I love racing, I love getting behind that wheel and fighting for a place on the podium, fighting for first place" Nodding my head, with approval of my comment.

"Well thank you so much for talking with us today, I know it's hard to talk about something like that" The camera were cut off, we both stood up from our seats.

Walking out of the studio, I felt a sense of relief and solace fall on my shoulders. This replacing the deep sorrow and disappointment.

I heard my appartment door open and close. Walking into the kitchen lounge, Charles had a proud smile on his face. "Whats got you smile like that?" I laughed at my confusion, Charles joining in with my amused laughter.

"Lucy, your manager, just called me and she told me about your interview with Netflix today...I'm so proud of you baby sis" His tears cloud his waterline whilst tears of my own clouded my own.

Finally, I had gotten over my anxiety and my regret. I could breath again.

#formula one #formula one x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #x sister reader #arthur leclerc #arthur leclerc x reader #lorenzo leclerc #pascale leclerc #f1 #formula one x y/n #lando norris #max verstappen #daniel ricciardo #lewis hamilton #george russell #yuki tsunoda #fernando alonso #carlos sainz

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miss-oranje-disco-dancer · 8 months ago

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lessons for a shopaholic

pairing: real dad! chris x reader

cw: father-daughter incest, degradation, spanking, pussy slapping, spit kink, edging, semi-public sex, oral sex (m! receiving), p in v, handcuffs, daddy kink

a/n: this is another commission for an anonymous commissioner!

wc: 5.1k

As much as it pains you to be apart from the man you love the most, your dad’s job requires him to travel quite frequently. He keeps you updated as much as he can while he’s gone, calling whenever he gets cell service – which is a rarity on certain missions. As it turns out, bioterrorists will find ways to wreak havoc in the most remote places. Objectively, he’s a hero, but he’s more than that -he’s your hero. He’s your dad, so you need him more than the BSAA does.

When he does return home, Chris makes up for his long absences in many ways. While sex is a favorite for both of you, your dad knows his daughter is a bit of a shopaholic. He’s much more frugal than you are – or he used to be until you came into his life. Children are expensive, but you, Chris’ baby girl, are spoiled rotten. You spend many of your Saturdays at the mall accompanied by daddy’s credit card, and sometimes, if you’re really lucky, you get to take daddy along on your shopping trip. Having your dad with you makes things all the more fun. Over time he learns your style and your sizes. He could put together a new wardrobe for you if he had to, though he can’t imagine he’d ever need to do so considering the amount of clothes you own. Most of them are pink, frilly, and pricy.

Despite Chris’ middle-aged man brain addled with the immense desire to go home and take a nice long nap on the couch, your adorable pouty face convinces him to let you take the maximum amount of garments the store will allow you to back to the dressing rooms to try them on before inevitably purchasing them all. You enter the dressing room alone to avoid suspicion but you bring your phone so you can snap a few cute photos to send to Chris, hoping to keep him from getting bored while he waits. Your bra is cute but your tits are cuter, so you take your bra off and bare your half-naked body for the camera. You snap a few mirror selfies and send the one you deem most attractive to Chris, but don’t receive an immediate response. Maybe he isn’t looking at his phone, you think. You’re wrong about that - he sees it, and he spends the rest of the time waiting for you trying to conceal his erection in his unfortunately tight pants while also devising a punishment for you.

When you emerge from the dressing room and meet back up with Chris, you don’t pick up on his cold demeanor as anything out of the ordinary at first because your dad can be a quiet man – plus, you’re wrapped up in taking one last look around the store to make sure you’ve bought absolutely everything on your ever-growing wishlist.

Once you’ve made your final purchases of the day, he abruptly takes you by the arm and drags you out into the parking lot.

“Daddy-”

He holds out his forefinger in front of your face, silently scolding you.

“Sorry, sir.”

You should know better than to call him ‘daddy’ in public. He doesn’t call you a good girl, though he wants to; instead, he gives you a curt nod and walks you to the car. He shoves your things into the backseat, and you open the passenger side door to get in, assuming you’re being taken home, but he stops you.

“Nope.”

“What?”

“Bad girls don’t get to ask questions.”

When he sees you standing there, looking confused, he says, “come with me,” and holds out his hand. You take it and he guides you to a relatively secluded part of the parking lot.

“Do you know what I want from you?” he asks, quietly, though no one is within earshot.

“An apology?”

“Not quite. Think harder.”

“A blowjob?”

“Excuse me? Is that an appropriate word to say in front of your daddy?” He pretends to be appalled at your choice of language but he can’t fault you for using crude terminology since there isn’t really a proper way to talk about sucking dick.

“No, sir,” you respond quickly, hoping to avoid getting into trouble with Chris. He’s the master of tough love and you know it – he’s not afraid to discipline his princess when he deems her deserving of it.

“I don’t want a daughter with a dirty mouth,” he says. Then, he grabs your jaw, tips your head back, and spits in your mouth.

“Swallow,” he says, and you comply without hesitation. “I hope you can talk to daddy with a clean mouth now.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good. Now get on your knees.”

You do as you’re told, looking up into his eyes for instructions. You know what to do, but you know he likes it when you act all innocent, so you stare up at him with a coquettish smile.

“Do you know why you’re here? Kneeling in front of your dad in a mall parking lot?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think you were being a good girl when you sent daddy those pictures of you in the dressing room?”

“I didn’t know you would get mad.” “That’s not an answer. Do you think sending photos of your bare tits makes you a good girl or a slut?” “I’m sorry, daddy. I wanna be a good girl.”

“Yeah, I know you want to be a good girl, but you’re not acting like one today, and that’s why you need to show daddy that you know how to be good for him.”

Chris briefly surveys his surroundings before quickly unzipping his pants and taking out his hard cock. It comes as a surprise to you when he slaps your cheek with it. You pout and he rubs the tip along your lips, coaxing them open. He lets you suckle on the head the way you like to, but only for a minute or so. Quickly becoming impatient, he shoves himself deeper into your mouth, feeding you his dick inch-by-inch without regard for your comfort. You gag, and unlike the first time you took him too far into your mouth, he doesn’t stop you – he knows you can take it, so he tells you to breathe through your nose. It helps enough to stop you from choking but mascara tears run down your face and saliva drips from your lips. You look like a mess, but a beautiful mess in the eyes of your daddy. Chris holds your head against his pelvis and bucks his hips into your mouth before he cums down your throat.

He wipes the excess from your lips with his thumb, subsequently sticking it in your mouth so you can lick it clean. He tucks himself back into his pants and grabs your hand, quickly shuffling you into the car like he’s shoplifted you. If anyone caught a glimpse of you, they’d know exactly what happened between the two of you, and despite how enticing the idea of risking getting caught sounds, it could land you both in jail for more than one reason.

It’s quiet on the car ride home. The radio is off and Chris’ eyes remain fixated on the road ahead. You don’t catch him sneaking glances at you at red lights and his hand never crosses the center console. Usually, he’s more physically affectionate than this – at least, since you’ve gone from being just father and daughter to something more than that – and you wonder if he’s truly angry at you for sending him that sexy mirror picture, or if his head is hazy after getting blown in the parking lot. He hasn’t touched you in hours, hasn’t even spoken to you in minutes, but the spark of arousal inside you is a fire you can’t snuff out. Feeling yourself get progressively wetter on the car ride home, you wonder if dad was right: maybe you really are a slut.

The possibility of truly being a slut in your dad’s mind is worrisome to you. “Daddy, am I a good girl?” you ask, hesitantly, making sure to use your most precious tone of voice.

“We’ll see,” he says in a tone so neutral that it’s impossible for you to discern how he feels about the topic at hand. He’s not pissed – how could he be after cumming down your pretty throat a mere half-hour ago? - but his response is not reassuring either. In truth, he’s caught up in his own thoughts, trying to decide if you’re a good girl or not. You might not be one at the current moment, but if that’s the case, he can remind you how to be one.

When you arrive at home, you can tell by the look on his face that he has something planned. Something fun.

After dropping your shopping bags – countless, all filled to the brim – by the bed, he asks you to put on a fashion show for him. “How ‘bout you show daddy what you look like in those pretty clothes he bought you?”

You smile, coy like you’ve got something up your sleeve but you don’t – you’re well-aware that Chris holds all the cards. You drag the biggest bag of clothes with you to the bathroom so that you can change into your first outfit. You decide to start your one-woman show with a simple sundress. When you exit the bathroom to show Chris, you look a bit shy despite the fact that you both know you look beautiful.

“Give daddy a spin,” he says.

You do – and much to his liking – the skirt billows as you twirl and give him a peek of your cute panties. When you face him, he pretends not to be phased, though, in reality, he can feel his cock stiffening already. Despite Chris being the dominant one in your relationship, you have him wrapped around your finger.

You cycle through outfit after outfit until you end up in something that daddy considers a bit too short for an aspiring good girl. As a concerned parent, he can’t let you go out looking like that.

“Did you really think you could get away with this?” he asks, tone getting sharper. “My daughter is not a slut, so I expect her not to dress like one.”

“I didn’t mean to, sir. I thought-”

“You thought what? You thought that boys were gonna get a peek at your pussy? Is that what you want?”

“No, sir.”

“Guess you weren’t thinking, then, huh? You were being a dumb little girl, weren’t you?”

You shake your head in dissent. “I wanna be daddy’s smart girl,” you pout.

“But you’re not, baby.” His tone is lighter but still mocking. “You need daddy to teach you a lesson. Then, maybe you’ll be a smart girl.”

You nod, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, nervous about what kind this lesson is going to be. Surely, it won’t be a simple conversation.

“Look me in the eyes,” he commands.

When you do, he says in a much softer yet more serious voice, “I expect you to do everything I say. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

He resists the urge to say ‘good girl’ – it’s on the tip of his tongue, but he decides that you don’t deserve it yet.

He remains in his current position – seated at the foot of the bed – and silently, he beckons you closer. Without any preamble, Chris bends you over his lap and hikes your skirt up to reveal your cute ass.

“Let’s see how smart my little girl is,” he says as he kneads the flesh of your ass like he’s deciding the perfect spot to strike. “Count to ten with me.”

Smack. His hand hits your ass hard enough to leave a handprint. “One,” you say.

Smack. This time his palm hits the other cheek, making sure they receive equal attention. “Two,” you say, your voice already wavering a bit.

Three, four and five go by quickly, but your knees threaten to buckle at six. Daddy has to hold his baby girl still to keep her from falling over now.

“C’mon baby girl,” Chris sighs, feigning exasperation despite actually being proud of your obedient behavior. He would’ve stopped ‘teaching you a lesson’ multiple spankings ago if it weren’t for the wet spot forming in the gusset of your panties. He can tell you’re getting off on this, and with a view like his, he’s in a similar boat. Chris probably looks like he has hearts in his eyes though you can’t see it with your face pointed towards the ground.

Seven, eight, nine, ten. You manage to count them out without much trouble despite progressively becoming less confident about your accuracy as you’re absorbed in the feeling of your dad spanking you. After your ‘lesson’ concludes, he doesn’t give you a moment to rest before he pulls you to your feet with more instructions at the ready.

“Lie down,” he says, though he pushes you onto the bed before you can comply. He would be a good drill sergeant if he had more patience. Clearly, he has the authority aspect down.

“Arms above your head,” he says, and it’s in these moments that you remember that he used to be a cop. Being a slut is akin to being a criminal in your dad’s book, so maybe you’re reminding him of his younger years, maybe that’s why he’s so enthusiastic about this whole charade.

You put your arms up and to your surprise, he walks out of the room, turning back when he reaches the doorway, only to say, “I expect you to stay like that until I get back.”

“Yes, sir.” You consider saluting him to take this bit of roleplay to the next level, but you don’t want to be spanked again. (Not because you don’t like spankings, but because he’s gotten you riled up to the point where you’re getting more and more antsy each moment that passes without his cock inside you.)

You stay put with your hands raised above your head, fearing the punishment you might receive if you don’t do what he asks. Maybe this part is the punishment. A couple minutes without daddy is no fun for you. Though, being away from his favorite girl would be a punishment for him too.

He comes back with not one, but two, pairs of handcuffs.

“You know what these are?” he asks.

You nod. “Handcuffs.”

“How do you know that? I thought you were a good girl. Have you been in trouble before?”

“No, not like that. I promise I’m a good girl.”

“Okay, good girl,” he starts, mockingly, “then you’re not going to complain when I put these on,” he says as he grabs one of your wrists and attaches one cuff to you and the other to the headboard. When you’re fully restrained, he takes a step back and looks at his handiwork.

“You look pretty like this,” he muses. Sometimes he can’t believe he made something so precious.

“Thank you, daddy,” you say, somehow still flustered by the compliment despite having heard it from him countless times.

You swear you see a hint of a smile cross his face but as soon as it appears, it vanishes. He climbs atop you – no, pounces onto you – caging in your body beneath him. He pulls your skirt up, almost ripping it. All thoughts of the money that dress cost him have left his mind.

“Daddy! Don’t do that. It’s new,” you whine.

“Shut the fuck up,” he says with a smack to your cheek. Your face is doubly red – embarrassed and aroused, and more importantly, your pussy is soaking wet.

Chris slides your panties to the side and shoves two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out at a rapid pace, too pent up to waste time trying to ease you into it when he knows how badly you want him. The pleasure inside you rises so quickly you don’t realize you’re moaning until Chris chuckles at how loud you’re being.

“You like this?” he asks – his tone isn’t sultry, it’s patronizing.

“Ye-ah,” you try to say, but you only get half the word out before it turns into a moan.

“Do you think all those other guys who’d get a view of this soaking wet cunt could make you feel this good?”

You shake your head – a vehement no. There’s no way anyone other than your daddy could have you writhing against the sheets like this. Daddy is observant, and he knows his daughter well, so he can tell you’re getting close to your peak.

“Are you gonna cum?” His tone is deceptively encouraging.

“Uh-huh.” Foolishly, you think he’ll let you finish.

He laughs when he retracts his fingers, letting the heat in your abdomen fizzle out and watching your expression drop.

“Gonna cry already?” He doesn’t even feign pity when he mocks your tears.

You don’t need to answer his question verbally because you already are crying. The tears are falling on their own.

“You look so pretty when you cry,” he says, and you can hear more than a hint of poorly-concealed arousal in his tone. You’re beginning to break his cold facade, and that thought alone stops the tears from truly streaming down your face.

Chris has been rock hard since the moment you walked into the room wearing this cute little number, but now – unbeknownst to you due to his still-clothed state – the tip of his cock is leaking precum. He’s so desperate to feel your warmth engulfing him that he doesn’t care about the fact that he’s surely staining his boxers.

“Since you got the special princess treatment earlier, it’s daddy’s turn to have fun.” He unbuckles his belt, pulls his zipper down and takes his cock out, not wanting to waste time undressing all the way; and more importantly, he’s intent on not giving you the show you so desperately want. While Chris can keep his language in check in any other situation, his ability to hold in the vulgar things he wants to say to you flies out the window when he gets this turned on. “Gonna use you like the good little whore you are,” he says as he slips inside you in a single thrust.

“I’m not a whore,” you protest through a near-pornographic moan.

“Yeah? Then why do you like your dad using you?” He grips your hips and tightly enough to leave marks and brings them up to meet his so he can fuck you deeper. “You like your dad’s fat cock stretching you out like this?” Every word is punctuated by a hard thrust forward, the head of his cock reaching your cervix each time.

You try to answer but you can’t get a word out while you’re practically sobbing for him. You’ve been entirely reduced to moans and incoherent babbles.

“It’s okay, baby. You don’t gotta say anything ‘cause I already know how much you like this based on how fucking wet you are.” Sweat barely graces his brow while he fucks you at a merciless pace. Sometimes his stamina amazes you. Maybe carrying all of your shopping bags was just a warm up and this is his real exercise routine.

“Bet you’re close to cumming again, princess. Is that what you want?”

“Yes daddy,” you whine. You know he’ll deny you again, but you have to trust that he will let you cum eventually, and that the prolonged satisfaction will be worth it in the end.

“Too fucking bad,” he says as he pulls out abruptly.

You cry harder this time, and in return he opens your thighs wider and slaps your chubby pussy lips. The sound of his flesh against your slick reverberates. You gasp – startled, though the sting of his palm against your wetness feels electrifying.

“Did you like that?” He sounds amused – maybe even excited to have discovered a possible mutual kink.

When you don’t respond, he grabs your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes, and asks again, “Did you like that?”

“Yes, sir,” you say. When you open your mouth, he spits into it.

“Knew you would,” he mutters, pretending to be irritated, though the way his cock twitches untouched gives away his insatiable need for you.

Without warning, he buries himself to the hilt inside you. Your inner walls clamp down around him tightly, as if your body is begging him to stay inside you.

“Daddy’s gonna breed you,” he says, making your cunt flutter around him. The involuntary contraction of your muscles is subtle, but daddy notices everything.

“You like that, huh? Want your dad to get you pregnant?”

You nod, trying desperately to respond but hiccuping out moans instead of words while Chris slams into you, steadily upping the pace with each thrust.

Both of you are well-aware that your father actually impregnating you would be disastrous to say the least, but the idea of Chris fucking you raw and filling you to the brim with his seed is too arousing to resist.

He pushes your knees to your chest and keeps one hand on the back of your thigh while the other grips the headboard, giving him double the leverage. Though it wouldn’t have seemed possible moments ago, he’s able to fuck you deeper in this position than he was previously.

“I can feel you squeezin’ me, baby…” He throws his head back and mutters something profane that you can’t quite make out. “You’d tell daddy if you were getting close to cumming, right?” His words come out like a threat. You’ll be in huge trouble if you cum without permission and you know that.

“Daddy, I’m gonna cum,” you cry, knowing he’ll pull out once you admit it. Being a good girl is hard.

Predictably, he does pull out, and you sigh in dissatisfaction. “Need it that bad, huh?” he taunts, but there’s a hint of sympathy behind his words. He’s been delaying his own pleasure too.

He drags his cock along your folds, barely dipping the head into your hole each time he slides his length across your slit. And each time, your pussy clenches, trying to grab onto the tip and suck him into you. The amount he teases you is almost mean – you weren’t that naughty. You want to be a good girl for him – both because you know only good girls get to cum, and for the simple fact that you love seeing the pride in your dad’s eyes when he sees your sweet obedience. He loves the pliancy of your body, the way you give yourself to him fully – the trust, the devotion, the love.

His love for you is unconditional, but making him proud takes work. So, you persevere through the countless rounds of edging so that you can bask in mutual bliss.

And, you can’t deny that although the ebb and flow of pleasure is frustrating, chasing your climax and knowing your efforts are in vain, the shock-wave of ecstasy you’re rewarded with is well-worth the toil.

Chris slaps your folds with his cock, bringing you back to reality, and when you meet his gaze you see his amusement at your irritation and if you weren’t cuffed to the headboard, you’d force him inside you to wipe the smug expression from his face. His state of arousal is equal to yours, all he has is a better poker face.

Your legs shake from the stimulation – so much and still not enough. When he stops moving momentarily to take in the view of you lying on your back with your thighs spread to reveal your cute cunt, glistening with arousal that dribbles down onto the bed sheets, you struggle against your restraints and make a noise of frustration, so fed up with his teasing that you can’t stop yourself from trying to break free.

“You know how to ask for something you want,” he says. “Or did I fuck you stupid already?”

You pay no mind to the second statement because your begging words are already falling from your lips. “Please, sir. Please, I need you inside me. Please, please, pl-” His hand covers your mouth.

“That’s enough begging. You’re gonna keep being a good girl and I’m gonna let you cum – after I stuff you full – got it?” He removes his hand so you can answer but the ‘yes, sir’ you want to say comes out as an unbridled moan when his cock hits your cervix in one swift movement.

He presses down on the bulge in your tummy, the visible imprint of his cock stretching you out, and it multiplies the pleasure. It’s like he’s testing out every trick to see what will get you to break, piling on sensation after sensation until he has you teetering on the edge. Chris’ soft grunting turns into fully groaning, but you can barely hear it over your own obscene moans and the wet sounds of your bodies colliding repeatedly.

“Gonna cum inside you, baby,” Chris says through ragged breaths. “Gonna make sure you know who this pussy belongs to.” The pace of his thrusts becomes frenzied right before he hits his peak with a low, “Jesus Fucking Christ.”

You’re on the crux of orgasm already – holding back until daddy lets you cum – but throughout his own high, Chris rolls your clit between his thumb and forefinger, sending you tumbling over the edge.

“Daddy!” you scream as pleasure courses through your veins. You can’t cling to Chris like you want to since your hands are tied, so your cunt compensates by clamping down around him so hard he can’t move. After being edged multiple times your orgasm is more intense than ever. Chris’ fingers stroke your clit slowly, leading you through the overwhelming sensation. The aftershocks toe the line between pleasure and pain, making you sob. Chris leans down and wraps both arms around you, cradling you like a baby while your body calms down.

“Daddy’s right here,” he whispers. “You did so good for me, baby.” He presses a kiss to your temple before he uncuffs you from the headboard.

With what little energy you still possess, you fling yourself into his arms. With your head against his chest you feel a low rumble of laughter. You’re still his cute little girl, and as you’ve successfully proven to him, you’re his very good girl.

You both end up a sticky mess with your bodies entangled until eventually your breathing steadies and daddy decides you ought to get cleaned up.

“I think it’s time for a bath, baby,” he says, scooping you up in his arms and carrying you bridal style to the bathroom. He sits you down on the bathroom counter and leaves you there – you want to call out for him but your voice is nearly gone from screaming while he fucked you.

Luckily, he comes back a moment later with a shopping bag of things you didn’t know he purchased. Bath bombs, body wash, exfoliating scrubs, and more.

“While you were in the dressing room being naughty, I was shopping for you,” he says with a playful grin on his face. All of his frustration with you is gone – really, love was beneath it all along, but now that he’s not pent up with arousal, it’s more obvious. Chris’ face is nuzzled into your neck, placing light kisses from your jawline to your collarbone. His facial hair tickles your skin and it makes you giggle which only makes him want to kiss you more.

He runs the bath while you chit-chat about anything and everything. Mostly, it’s you doing the talking because he’s a good listener and he was chatty enough while he was fucking you.

When the water is to your liking, he lifts you into the bathtub.

“Are you getting in?” you ask nicely, though you’re willing to beg if you have to.

“If that’s what my girl wants.” It is, in fact, what you want. Chris sits behind you and scrubs your body of all remnants of sex. You’ll still be sore and might have a mark from his hand on your ass, but all of the sweat you shed is wiped from your skin.

Your dad insists on carrying you everywhere for the rest of the night – luckily, you don’t have many more places to go besides bed. He helps you into comfortable pajamas and gently places you on the mattress. He motions for you to turn onto your stomach, and he massages all the sore spots on your backside, spending an especially long time tending to the muscles on your lower back… and then your ass… and then your inner thighs… until of course he ends up back at his favorite part of you.

“Dad,” you groan, annoyed at his inability to shift his focus from the area below the belt. “I need you to rub my shoulders too.”

“Sorry, sweetheart. Just wanted to give you some lovin’ down here first.”

You laugh lightly at his somewhat corny phrasing before protesting once again. “Seriously, I’m already sore! I’m not gonna be able to walk for a week if you don’t stop.”

“Okay, okay,” he concedes and moves his hands to your shoulders, giving your poor pussy a break. “Just so you know, I’d happily carry you everywhere for the next week.”

“Will you carry me around the mall next time we go shopping?”

“Baby, how am I gonna carry all your bags and you at the same time.”

“You’re smart, daddy. You’ll figure it out.”

You’re only half-joking. He is a smart man, and you admire him for his intelligence and wisdom among many other things such as his skills in the bedroom. You’d never make him carry you around in public, though. It would draw too much suspicion to your relationship. The relationship that remains unlabeled because he fits in too many categories – he’s your dad and your daddy. But neither of you need a term for what the two of you have. The only words you care about are the ones he whispers into your ear after he gives you a kiss on the forehead.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, dad.”

He could challenge you and insist that he loves you more, but his smile says enough – he’s happier than he’s been in quite a while. As are you. Soon, your post-sex sleepiness kicks in and you fall asleep in Chris’ arms while he tells you stories about the good old days, though in his opinion, the best days are yet to come.

#chris redfield #chris redfield smut #chris redfield x reader

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leaentries · 1 year ago

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just stay | luke hughes

summary: troubled by luke’s continued absence, you just want him to stop. but he just wants you to stay.

warnings: angsty themes, mentions of abandonment, arguing, happy-ish ending (but also sad)

wc: 1.2k

a/n: this is my first angsty fic, so please bare with me! <3

You should have known better. You did know better.

Yet for some reason, you found yourself caught up in his chaos again. Luke was always a hard worker, this is something he prided himself on. The way he could completely immerse himself in his work and focus on nothing else. It was the only time his mind was quiet.

Sometimes it occurred to you that maybe his job was his only true love because, for the third time this week, Luke found himself walking through the front door at an ungodly hour. He assumed you’d be tucked away asleep, but was proven wrong when he saw your displeased features looming at him from the couch.

He gently set his hockey bag down, clearly sensing the thick tension practically rolling off your body. Luke was scared to move or talk for that matter. Now of course, he knew why you were upset with him, as you had every right to be, but what you didn’t know was Luke would often find an escape on the ice, a way to heal scars he tried so hard to conceal. So it was easy for him to lose track of time, needing to expel all of his emotions. It was the only way he knew how to process.

And with your ongoing relationship issues, Luke began to disappear. At least, that’s what it felt like to you. One of your biggest fears was Luke leaving you, so it truly felt like you were living in your worst nightmare when the distance between you grew. The feeling of abandonment engraved in your mind was impossible to get rid of.

Letting out a deep sigh, you couldn’t find the energy to scold him again. “Why, Luke?”

The simple question hung in the air like a rope, tight and unwavering. Truth be told, Luke didn’t have an answer. He didn’t know why all he wanted to do was bury his head in the sand until morning when he could get back to the rink. He didn’t know why he couldn’t convey his feelings properly. He didn’t know why he felt so scared to be vulnerable around you.

Taking his silence as an answer, you rose from the couch. Not taking a second glance in Luke’s direction, you made your way to your shared bedroom. Luke immediately followed suit. He watched as you grabbed an overnight bag, half-hazardly throwing things in. He reached out to touch your arm.

“No!” You yanked your arm away looking up at his guilt-ridden eyes. “You don’t get to feel bad. I told you. I told you how you being distant all the time made me feel. But you clearly don’t care enough to change anything.”

Luke roughly ran a hand through his messy curls.

“Look y/n, you know I care about you. But-” You quickly cut him off.

“See? There shouldn’t even be a but. You simply just don’t care, Luke.” Tears began to fill your eyes at this point. “I’m at a loss. I told you I wanted to work on us and I thought you did too. But apparently I was wrong.”

Luke shook his head in protest, “Of course I want to work on us! You haven’t given me a chance to try and explain!” He tried tirelessly to let you hear him out. Unfortunately, his attempts were in vain.

“I gave you plenty of chances to explain, Luke. It’s too late.” The next words that left your mouth cut through Luke’s heart like a dagger. “I-I think we should take a break.”

Luke’s breath quickened as his heart rate began to rise. Tears immediately sprung in his eyes, “Don’t say that. You don’t mean that. Please, please say you don’t mean that” He begged.

You had never seen Luke break down like that. The pain in your chest was hard to ignore as you tried your best to control the sobs that now shook your body. You didn’t trust your voice enough to speak, so you grabbed your bag and attempted to go around Luke’s frame. He gripped onto your bag, causing your body to sharply turn back.

“Y/n, don’t leave it like this,” He sobbed, “Don’t leave us like this!” You scoffed at his last remark.

“I’m the one leaving? Luke, you left this relationship a long time ago. It just sucks I didn’t notice it until now. I could have saved us both the time.” Your voice became dull. You had lost all motivation to fight for what you and Luke had lost. You were tired.

“I-I don’t understand. You told me you wanted me to try and here I am, trying. This time you are the one walking away. Not me.” Luke’s voice began to become unsteady. Overwhelmed with the severity of the situation. He was flooded with anger, confusion, and most of all: sadness. He felt completely helpless. Two hours ago all he wanted was to stay on that ice until the world stopped, but now it felt as though the world did. Except now, all he wanted was you.

“Just stop it, Luke. This is it. What’s done is done, and I need you to understand that.” The tone of absolute in your voice made his blood run cold.

“I don’t want to understand, I want you to stay.” Luke felt his ears start ringing. He was pierced by your neutral gaze. You didn’t continue towards the door, but you didn’t make a move for him either. Luke was in agony waiting for you to say something. He chose to take your silence as an opportunity.

“Just let me say something. Please.” He pleaded with you. “I know, I messed up. I wasn’t there for you, or for us. But I can’t stand the thought of waking up every day without you. Not hearing you sing in the shower when I come home from practice. Not smelling your perfume on my hoodies, or watching the way your mouth twitches when you’re reading. But most of all, I can’t fathom the thought of not having you love me. Out of everything in this world, you have been the one constant thing I can depend on. So please, please, just stay. Stay for me.” Luke’s bloodshot eyes bore into yours as his tears violently spilled from his eyes.

You felt your own drip down your face at his words, leaving hot wet trails in their wake. This is the first time Luke has ever been this vulnerable in front of you. You felt as if you were truly seeing him for the first time, the real Luke Hughes.

“Okay,” You whispered, “I’ll stay. I’ll stay with you, in this relationship. But I can’t stay here right now.” With that, you managed your way out of the bedroom to the front door. Luke desperately followed your steps.

“Baby, please. Wait.” He stopped in his place when you turned towards him. You walked up to him, cupping a gentle hand on his cheek. You placed a soft but promising kiss against his swollen lips. The love shared between you lingered as you pulled your lips from his. You stepped back, readjusting your bag on your shoulder.

“I need some time to think. But I’ll be back. I promise.” And with that, you left.

Luke knew better than to follow you. But here he stood, staring at the closed front door. Left with a reassuring promise, yet a shattered heart.

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x chubby!reader #luke hughes headcanons #luke hughes oneshot #luke hughes imagine #nhl x reader #luke hughes fic #luke hughes blurb #luke hughes angst #leawrites🍀

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blondeboyfriend · 11 months ago

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𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRING ] Hyakunosuke Ogata x reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] This fic is @dolcezzzza's summer horror event, The Cabin! The title comes a Dum Dum Girls song which got its name from A Season in Hell by shitlord poet, Arthur Rimbaud. I'm not a fan, but each section of the fic starts with a line from his poem bc some of his prose kinda slaps. [ SYNOPSIS ] The summer camp you're working at is being terrorized by a unseen force that is picking off your fellow counselors one by one. [ WORD COUNT ] 15.3k [ CONTENT ] DARK CONTENT, cliche summer camp slasher film AU, murder/character death, gore, alcohol (binge drinking), suicide, vaginal sex, size kink (his dick is girthy okay), strength kink, oral sex, rough sex, facefucking, exhibitionism, biting.

Baptism enslaved me

The past week had been a blur. You spent seven days running around in the heat, trying to make an inhospitable boy scout camp into something inspired. Breaking it in was your duty as your group was the first of the season. The trappings of a long, snowy winter and a violently wet spring lingered around the facilities. Your arms ached from clearing out fallen branches and musty piles of decayed leaves. Your clothes were constantly mottled with cobwebs and dust. Every night when you collapsed in your twin-sized cot you debated on running through the woods towards the highway seeking salvation in the form of a kind motorist.

That’s why you hoped you would spend your last child free morning in the comfort of your cabin. And yet there you sat, listening to the camp director droned on. You melted in the midday sun with your back against a tree, a pitiful attempt to shelter yourself under its leaves.

“I’m gonna die out here,” Shiraishi, your partner for the summer, moaned.

He too was slumped by the tree, his head hanging down limply. You flicked him in the shoulder with your thumb and forefinger.

“You can’t die. Mr. Tsurumi still hasn’t told us what group we have,” you whispered.

“I think you can handle them on your own.”

Sugimoto turned his attention towards the two of you. His cheeks flushed from sitting in the sun. He didn’t seem to mind bathing in its rays.

“Can you at least pretend to pay attention like me?”

His words barely registered. You couldn’t stop staring at his face. A dusting of tan freckles spread across the bridge of his nose, elevating his boyish looks. He was the only one who got cuter after a week of hard labor.

“Sure,” you said, mind still occupied with the slope of his nose.

“Unfortunately our lead counselor will not be joining us for the first couple days of camp.” The director wiped sweat away from his brow. “I’m sure all of you have heard about Yūsaku’s unfortunate… situation.”

“We heard alright,” Usami snickered.

Yūsaku had forgotten to reapply sunscreen and got scorched from head-to-toe. The golden boy’s pained groans persisted through the night as everyone attempted to sleep. Yellow blisters ballooned on his skin, marring his pristine complexion. You tried your best not to think about his affliction.

“But I know we will persevere in his absence. I have high hopes for this summer. Let’s make it a good one.” He smiled warmly. “The campers will be arriving in two hours. Your coordinators, Mr. Koito and Mr. Tsukishima, will have your rosters and itineraries for the week.”

Tsurumi said his goodbyes and strided away to his quarters. You stood up slowly, stretching your arms above your head.

“I feel… like we’re missing people,” you said, twisting your waist. “Where’s your partner?”

Sugimoto looked around and shrugged. He was paired with Ogata, easily one of the most enigmatic people you knew.

“Well there’s Tanigaki,” Shiraishi yawned. “Inkarmat’s with him too.”

Tanigaki’s burly form crested the hill. He looked ashamed, like a puppy three seconds from getting kicked down the stairs. Inkarmat followed close behind with a cooler expression. She looked refreshed and practically glowed.

“Did we miss anything important?”

Sugimoto looked at him with big, sad, wet eyes and sniffled. “Camp got canceled. We’re getting sent home with no pay.”

“And it’s all your fault, like specifically yours,” you said with a glare.

Shiraishi mirrored your expression. “Mr. Tsurumi said your name.”

Tanigaki’s eyes briefly widened before adopting a more stern state. You knew he bought it for a millisecond.

“Am I in trouble for anything?” Inkarmat asked, laughing. She was unflappable.

“No. You’re not being held accountable,” you replied.

“Just in time for Women’s History Month,” Shiraishi added cooly.

It was June and the last time you checked Women’s History Month was in March. Inkarmat snickered and grabbed Vasily by the wrist, dragging him off towards the mess hall. The idea of going inside sounded practically orgasmic. There was zero chance you could comprehend what activities were planned for the day if sweat continued to drip down your spine all the way to the crack of your ass.

“Let’s get our shit and go, like, sit down somewhere,” you said, tone somewhat urgent.

Shiraishi nodded in agreement and offered to deal with the coordinators. He could tell you were in no position to talk to upper management. You decided to wait rather than go off on your own even though your impatience was on the verge of having a body count. Luckily neither Mr. Koito or Mr. Tsukishima seemed particularly interested in speaking to him, or any of the counselors for that matter. You were so relieved

There was a collective sigh of relief once you reached the shade. You scanned your roster, familiarizing yourself with the names listed.

“Archery on Wednesday?” Sugimoto said, voice slightly concerned. “That sounds cool, but should we really be giving kids arrows?”

“What?! We don’t have archery. We have knife throwing. Well that explains all the knives…”

“That’s not all we’re doing is it?” you asked.

“One day we’re dissecting owl pellets—Oh wait, there’s archery.”

“Do you guys have judo on Tuesday?” Sugimoto asked hopefully.

“Yeah,” Shiraishi affirmed. “And then we have Russian immersion right after.”

“Russian immersion?” you asked.

“You know, the language,” Shiraishi clarified albeit for no reason as both you and Sugimoto knew Russian was in fact a language.

“We’re doing that too,” Sugimoto said, yawning. “And wagashi making.”

Other activities listed were: friendship bracelet making and various types of yarn-based projects, mushroom hunting, canoeing, swimming, hiking and giant shogi.

Peace had fallen over the three of you. All you could hear was lilting bird calls and a burbling stream. Just as you had grown accustomed to the wondrous sounds of nature, you heard the crushing of twigs and dry leaves.

“It’s a bear,” Shiraishi whispered.

“There are no bears around here,” you said.

“Even if there were bears, Mr. Tsurumi has a shotgun in his cabin,” Sugimoto chirped.

Shiraishi sighed in exasperation. “Great because that’ll definitely save us right now from getting eaten alive.”

Despite there being a lack of bears in the area every hair on your body bristled. What if you all fell victim to a vicious wild boar attack? You weren’t even sure if wild boars inhabited the area either, but logic didn’t matter. All you knew was you didn’t want to die at camp. You didn’t want to have your flesh ripped from your body by an overgrown, ugly hog or any animal to be honest. You were too young; there was so much you wanted to do in life, so much you needed to accomplish.

“Oh. It’s just Ogata,” Shiraishi said.

Sugimoto’s co-counselor emerged from the redwoods, his expression blank and unreadable. He didn’t react to Shiraishi saying his name. It was if he intended on strolling past without saying a word. Usually you found this type of behavior tiresome and obnoxious, but he made it alluring and charming in an absurd sort of way.

“Where are you going?” Sugimoto asked.

“To camp.”

Sugimoto went to speak, but you butted in.

“You should come sit with us! We got our schedules and everything! ” you blurted out.

Your face was burning. You assumed you would’ve been smoother with your approach. Your fumble didn’t seem to phase Ogata as he took a seat right next to you, leaving zero space in between. Sugimoto was left alone on the other side of the picnic table.

“Did I miss anything important?” he asked.

Sugimoto wordlessly slid their group’s information across the table. Ogata looked it over.

“Mushroom hunting,” Ogata muttered as he ran his hand over his undercut, trying to smooth down a rogue lock of hair. “Hm. We’ll have to make sure the kids don’t pick anything toxic.”

Shiraishi groaned. “I figured everything out there would be safe to eat.”

“Wh—what do you mean out there? It’s the woods. Do you think Mr. Tsurumi combed through the entirety of it to make sure every little growth out there isn’t toxic?” you asked.

You found yourself compelled to say as many words as possible to make your presence known even if it was at the expense of your partner. It was shameful, but it was an unstoppable compulsion. Ogata’s presence implored you to take up more space. You laughed louder than you normally would. You smiled when your expression would otherwise be one of indifference. You said the things you would otherwise be too lazy to. Anything to get his attention even if just for a passing moment.

Ogata chuckled and your heart sang.

“I don’t know! Now we’re gonna have to watch them like hawks.”

“Our job is to supervise them,” Sugimoto chided.

“Excuse me for not wanting to do my job,” your partner grumbled.

You wondered how feasible it would be to get assigned a new co-counselor. Shiraishi wasn’t unlikable; you got along well enough. But you had a feeling most of the heavy lifting would fall on you.

Shiraishi rested his chin on his hand. “I just hope our kids aren’t assholes.”

“They will be. That’s just how kids are,” you laughed.

“Not if you scare them into submission.”

“Nope. Not happening. Not a chance,” Sugimoto said, demolishing Ogata’s suggestion.

“As long as we all set expectations early it shouldn’t be too bad. They just need to know what to expect from us. Kids are sedated by consistency.”

“Sedated?” Ogata asked with a smirk.

His voice, rich and gruff, reverberated throughout your body. It seeped through your skin, deep into your bones, saturating your thoughts with unseemly things. Your eyes went to his hands, something you always found attractive, only to be mildly disgusted by his dirty fingernails.

You tried to shake it off. “Domesticated. Placated. Basically they won’t act like monsters.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied.

“We should start getting ready,” Sugimoto said.

“I guess,” Shiraishi yawned.

You slapped him on the back. “You can’t be tired yet.”

Your partner whined that he was within his right to be tired which didn’t matter one way or another to you. It was going to be a long day; you could feel it. But not all hope was lost. If you were able to get within close range of Ogata it would be more than worth it.

The horror of my stupidity

The first day went perfectly. Your group consisted of six rambunctious, but generally well-behaved ten-year-olds. Shiraishi managed to overcome his lackadaisical leanings and took a hands-on role, but still deferred to you. You didn’t mind leading so long as he wrangled the more unruly kids. His commitment set you at ease.

The next morning was a quiet one. The kids were usually placid at first. Their cautiousness proved useful while foraging for mushrooms. They kept their hands to themselves and none of them ate anything deadly. The only unsettling thing was Tsurumi’s gleeful reaction whenever a destroying angel popped up.

“Mr. Tsurumi, would you poop your pants if you ate one?” a camper asked thoughtfully.

His dark eyes lit up and he gave the child a toothy grin.

“Why yes! Diarrhea and excruciating cramps are the first symptoms of alpha-Amanitin poisoning.”

Another camper pointed out what they thought was a wild carrot only to be told by an ecstatic Tsurumi that it was actually hemlock. The kids were riveted as he detailed the horrific symptoms of hemlock poisoning. Their horrified gasps when he told them there was no antidote seemed to thrill him.

Upon returning to camp it became clear that all was not well. Shiraishi was the first to notice the white sheet draped over a humanoid shape. It was partially obscured by one of the cabins. Tsurumi’s jovial facade gave way to flat expression and he sprinted off towards the disturbing scene.

“Hey,” you whispered, tapping Sugimoto on the shoulder. “Can you guys take the kids? I’m, uh, gonna be nosy.”

Your partner stood erect beside you. “Me too.”

“No,” you hissed. Shiraishi didn’t budge. “Someone has to be with our group.”

“Why not you then?”

“Be—because I was… I was… okay. Listen—”

“It’s fine. I got it,” Sugimoto sighed. “I wanna know all the details though. If you skimp, I’ll never forgive either of you.”

Ogata cleared his throat. He herded the campers away from whatever was shrouded under the white sheet. They were all clamoring around him, wondering when they’d get to eat fruit snacks. One was crawling up his leg and another was attempting to tie his shoes together. It made your stomach flutter seeing him be so patient with them.

Sugimoto took the hint and headed towards his partner and the gaggle of children, but he stopped midway to reiterate that he wanted all the details much to Ogata’s annoyance.

Once they were out of sight you and Shiraishi crept closer to and saw Nurse Kano kneeling beside what you assumed was a corpse. She lifted the sheet and studied what was under it, her expression a twisted combination of enthrallment and disgust. She stood up slowly.

“He’s dead.”

“We should call the paramedics then,” Tsukishima said.

Koito looked perplexed. “But he’s already dead. Shouldn’t we call the coroner?”

“You can’t just call up the coroner,” Tsukishima sighed.

Tsurumi squatted by the body and lifted the sheet. The director’s curiosity gave you a perfect view.

It was Tanigaki. His face was pale, eyes wide and cloudy. His lips and chin were crusted over with banana yellow bile. A desperate cry got caught in your throat. You wanted to look away and go back to your kids. But you were frozen, lost in Tanigaki’s lifeless gaze.

“Tanigaki,” you croaked.

Tsurumi’s eyes darted in your direction before returning to Tanigaki’s body.

“Otonoshin, go call 9-1-1,” he said calmly.

Koito rushed off to make the call. Tsurumi lowered the sheet. You couldn’t believe that you’d never see Tanigaki again, that he was gone for good. You hadn’t known him long, but you grew very fond of him.

“He can’t… This isn’t happening…”

You struggled to find the words. Seeing the outline of his face under the sheet radiated a finality that ripped your soul from your body.

“I wonder what happened,” he mumbled as you both walked away. “He looked…”

“I—I can’t think about that right now. I don’t wanna think about that right now.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

You wiped your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine. Let’s hike to the lake or something. I don’t know.”

There was a sense of relief when you spotted the campers. You couldn’t help but smile when they broke out into a cacophony of questions regarding your whereabouts. In the midst of the excitement one camper launched a fruit snack at Shiraishi’s eye.

“You pull something like that again and I’m sending you to Mr. Tsukishima,” Ogata rumbled.

“Anyway,” Shiraishi said. “Who wants to hike up to the lake? Maybe race some canoes?”

The campers cheered and bolted in the direction of Tanigaki’s body. You and Sugimoto chased after them but they scattered like roaches. You could only stop so many of them.

“Hey! Were any of you dismissed?!”

Ogata’s voice cut through them and they immediately made their way back, heads hanging. You hadn’t expected him to be so firm with the campers. He was kind of withdrawn around the other counselors, or at the very least opaque. He mostly kept to himself though his brother was usually fluttering around him. You felt like you barely knew Ogata despite spending time with him, whereas Shiraishi and his oversharing made him feel more like an old friend or a weird cousin. As frustrating as it was, the mysterious haze that obscured Ogata drew you in. You wanted to know more about him, to pry open his soul and study its contents.

“You all owe your counselors an apology.” Ogata’s sharp gaze turned to the kid that hit Shiraishi with a fruit snack. “You especially.”

The kid looked terrified and quickly mumbled an apology. The rest of the campers groaned “we’re sorry” in unison. With the apologies out of the way the four of you prepared them for their hike.

“Look! More hemlock!” one the kids exclaimed. She knelt beside the plant, her face inches from its toxic, white flowers.

“Don’t get too close to it,” Sugimoto said, his voice like that of a concerned mother.

You could barely focus, but the camper was in your group so you felt compelled to try. “Or just don’t go around it at all. Leave it alone.”

“I’m just looking!”

“Looking that close is enough to kill,” Ogata said over his shoulder. “If you inhale the fumes, you're dead.”

This seemed to quell any remnants of curiosity. The campers spent the rest of the hike spotting mushrooms and imitating Tsurumi’s passionate infodumping. The word “creepy” was thrown around liberally. You chastised them for being disrespectful, but you agreed. His behavior made you uncomfortable, especially in the wake of Tanigaki’s mysterious death.

The lake was calm, the serenity of the scene much needed.

“Look!” a camper called out.

You thought it was cute that they were just as pleased to see the lake as you were. However something was riling them up as they made their way down to the shore. Some ran right back up the hill. Their faces paled, their eyes ripe with fear.

“Saichi, Saichi!!” one said, latching onto his arm. “Look!!”

Sugimoto crested the hill and looked down.

“Oh shit,” he said. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”

“Stop swearing around the kids,” Ogata sighed as he joined his co-counselor to survey the situation. “Shit.”

“What is it?” you and Shiraishi shouted.

“Everyone away from the lake!” Ogata called out.

The kids bounded up the hill and cowered beside you, clinging to you for comfort.

“You guys, what is it?” you repeated, patting a camper on the head. “Is it something gross?”

“You could say that,” one piped up.

Sugimoto and Ogata turned to face you, but they seemed unable to speak. You freed yourself from the kids and walked towards them. Your absence caused them to swarm Shiraishi.

“It’s a body!” one shrieked.

“Um, it’s a lady!” one replied in a bratty tone.

Each step felt heavier than the last. Your body was screaming for you to turn around, but you couldn’t. You felt sick to your stomach. Kids made up stories all the time. They played pranks. Maybe they were lying.

“Is she going to be okay?”

“Maybe she’s just sleeping.”

“What are you? Dumb? She’s dead!”

Their voices were all melding into one. Everything began to blur. You knew what was coming. You knew what you were going to see. And yet you kept walking.

It was Inkarmat.

“Shi… Shiraishi. Take the ki…”

You forced yourself to look at the water, trying to ignore her putrefied remains. You leached away its calmness like a parasite. The tranquility you attempted to foster only did so much. You still felt like garbage, like you could vomit at any second.

“What is it?!” Shiraishi shouted back. “And,” he groaned, “I can’t take them all by myself!”

He was right. Being responsible for twelve disturbed children in the woods with terrible cell reception was asking for trouble, but you were too stunned to think up a plan of action.

“Ogata and I will be in the front. You and Shiraishi take the back. I’ll tell Tsurumi when we get back to camp.”

You nodded and started walking back to the group with Sugimoto. Tears welled up in your eyes as you made eye contact with a terrified camper.

“Hey! Ogata!”

He was still on the hill, staring down into the lake

“We have to go!” Sugimoto bellowed.

Ogata didn’t budge, and Sugimoto did not have the time for such antics.

“I’ll wait for him,” you said, wiping away your tears. “I don’t want the kids to see me like this anyway.”

“It wouldn’t kill them to see that you’re human,” Sugimoto said, trapping you in his gaze.

You sniffled. “Gross.”

Sugimoto didn’t have time for whatever was going on with you either. You couldn’t blame him. The kids had to take precedence. All you needed was two minutes to collect yourself and you’d be a functioning camp counselor again.

Ogata was still frozen in time. Everything was so still you didn’t want to speak, let alone move. You felt like the sound of a twig snapping beneath your feet could send the world into chaos.

“Hyakunosuke.” Your voice was soft, any louder and it would waiver.

Your legs shook as you made your way up the hill next to him. You made a conscious effort to keep your eyes on Ogata, nowhere else. You let yourself get lost in him and studied his face. You were curious about his symmetrical scars and how he got them.

“You’re not traumatized by this?” Ogata finally asked.

You thought about Tanigaki.

“Doesn’t that bother you?” he said, pointing at Inkarmat’s bloated corpse.

“Why are you asking?”

“I dunno. Curious I guess.”

Your mind went blank, but you kept speaking. “I’m… upset obviously. But I don’t want the kids to know… so… I’m—I am gonna pretend none of this ever happened and get through the week in one piece hopefully.”

“I know you can do it.”

His support did little to soothe you.

“I saw Tanigaki earlier. I saw his face. It was… He had puked all over himself and it just was so sad, like so undignified.” Ogata snorted, but you were too frazzled to comprehend it at the time. “And now that’s how I’m going to fucking remember him?” You tried to take some measured breaths. “Like was he in pain? Was he scared? Did he call out to any of us? Did he die, like, knowing we cared about him? Or did he just fucking lie in the dirt for hours, wondering why none of us came to help him?”

“Where was he?”

“His cabin. It kinda looked like he was leaving, or maybe he was going back in. He was on his back though.”

You couldn’t say anything more. You needed as much distance from the memory as possible. If Ogata wanted to know more, he would have to badger Shiraishi.

“Let’s go,” he said suddenly. “They’ll probably have to ask us a bunch of questions.”

“They? Who—”

“Maybe Tsurumi. Or his two guard dogs. Or the police. If we’re lucky maybe it’ll be all of them.”

Your bones were turning into dust, your body buckling under its own weight. You saw far too much today and said too much about it.

“Are you going to be alright?” he asked.

“I can’t move.”

You knew that in theory you could manipulate your body in such a way that would create distance between you and what remained of Inkarmat. You were practically screaming at yourself to go back to the group and embody Shiraishi’s laid back nature. But your fear was intangible, unforeseen, and there was no escaping it.

“Get on my back.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll carry you,” he said, readying himself to give you a piggyback ride.

“Are you sure?”

“Probably.”

You felt bad for giggling, considering you weren’t far from a corpse, but the lightness of it set you free. You hopped on his back and made your way through the woods, following the shrill voices of your campers.

“I’m going to need a drink after today,” Ogata grumbled.

“What do you mean a drink? I need an entire fifth to myself with one of those sport caps they have on water bottles screwed on top.”

“I can make that happen.”

Ogata said it with such ease. He was becoming the perfect distraction, a comforting beacon in a sea of blood and vomit.

I believe I am in Hell, therefore I am

You and your fellow counselors decided a night of binge drinking was needed to cope with the day’s horrifying events. Everyone traded stories. Yūsaku joined the party, finally able to walk upright without yelping in pain. He was blindsided by what happened.

“So that’s it? They’re dead?” he asked, face flushed from his sunburn and the copious amounts of watery American-style lager he was drinking.

You took a sip from a bottle of tequila. Ogata managed to screw a sports cap on top making your dream a reality.

“I don’t know. I mean, yeah. They’re dead. That’s for sure.” The alcohol had softened the blow of seeing both of their bodies. “Seeing Tanigaki fucked me up… Not that Inkarmat didn’t… It’s just, like, his was the first I saw, y’know?”

“You always remember your first,” Usami said as he wandered into the woods to relieve himself.

Yūsaku shivered and you washed away Usami’s words with an amnesia seeking gulp of tequila.

“Sucks for you though. You’re gonna have to pick up the slack.”

“I don’t mind. It’s what I signed up for,” he beamed. “The kids really liked Inkarmat though. I have some big shoes to fill.”

“I think you’ll be a hit. They might try to peel off loose pieces of your skin though.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take for the good of the camp!” he cheered.

“You’re ridiculous,” you laughed.

“In a bad way?” he said, batting his long eyelashes.

You thought he was a total dork, but his optimism was infectious. Or maybe it was just your intoxicated mind being more open to suggestion. After having such a horrendous day it was nice to indulge in someone else’s dream. You knew deep down that there was no way camp would go on as planned, but it was easier to pretend that Yūsaku’s drive would be enough to pull everyone through.

“No, no,” you said, patting him on the head. “It’s fine. You’re fine.”

Out of the corner of you watched Ogata emerge from the woods and sit on the ground right next to the campfire. He held his hands to the fire. You watched as he closed his eyes, his body relaxing, shoulders lowered.

“You’re so nice” Yūsaku said, giving you a bear hug and lifting you off the ground.

It caught Ogata’s attention and he narrowed his eyes as his half-brother spun you around.

“Yū—Yūsaku, I’m getting dizzy.”

He blushed and apologized. Once your feet were on the ground you joined Ogata by the fire.

“How’s the bottle been working out for you?”

“Amazing,” you said, taking another drink. “Are you cold?” You scooted closer to him. “Where’d your jacket go?”

“I’m not sure. Why all the questions?”

You didn’t think two questions were considered a lot. “No reason.”

You hadn’t thought this conversation through. You were stumped and floundering. You should have known better to attempt to flirt while drunk. Your chance was slipping through your fingers and it made you ill. You needed something good to happen, something exciting. You needed Ogata to figure out that you were charming and interesting and most importantly fuckable.

He closed the gap and leaned against you.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Maybe. I… I have no idea honestly. I don’t know how I feel. Sometimes it’s like,” you took a sip of tequila, “I feel freaked the fuck out. But then sometimes I feel abso-fucking-lutely nothing. Like right now. It feels like it didn’t even happen. Are you okay?”

“I am. I only knew them for a week so they didn’t matter much.” His comments were so callous. “Don’t get me wrong. They were nice people, but that’s all they were to me.”

“Nice people,” you repeated.

“Yeah. Nice people.”

“Would you be sad if I died?”

He stared into the fire. “Maybe. Our groups get paired together for activities.”

“What does that mean?!”

“I’m around you a lot. Your absence wouldn’t go unnoticed,” he said with a smirk.

Your cheeks flared up and found it increasingly harder to hold it together. You regretted all the tequila. Spit was pooling in your mouth.

“Yeah, well. Of course it would. I’m, like, fucking… yeah,” you said, eyes half-lidded.

He chuckled. “Exactly.”

“I think the kids and the—their, uh, inarticulateness is rubbing, you know, off.”

“Oh yeah, that’s it. It’s definitely not because your blood is 90 proof.”

“You want some of it?”

You gave him a sloppy wink. His dark eyes widened, his eyebrows raised. It was the first time you had ever seen him so flustered.

“I—” he stuttered.

“Hey,” Shiraishi barked. “You guys seen Vasily?”

Ogata resumed his usual hard to read demeanor. You wanted to break the bottle in your hand and gut Shiraishi with it.

“Uhhhhh… Not like recently. I thought he was with you and Sugimoto,” you replied politely through a clenched jaw.

“We thought he was with you.”

“He could’ve went to bed early,” Ogata suggested.

“Hmmm yeah. I wouldn’t blame him,” you said.

“We should do that,” Shiraishi said, pointing at you. “We have target shooting at seven in the morning.”

You groaned. He was right, a good night’s rest was necessary. It killed you to say good night to Ogata, but there was always tomorrow. You didn’t need to rush things.

I looked on the disorder of my mind as sacred

You woke up the next morning with a persistent ache near your temples. You rolled out of bed and dug around your suitcase for some ibuprofen. You grabbed four and choked them down with room temperature water. It felt thick as it made its way down your throat. The sun was just starting to rise, the sky a dreamy shade of lavender.

It was weird to wake up alone. You hoped that it would be easier the second time around, but Inkarmat’s absence weighed heavy on you. You couldn’t figure out how she made it to the lake. The last time you saw her she said that she was going to fuck Tanigaki and to cover her ass if needed. She must have gotten lost on her way back from wherever it was she met him. Maybe she took a wrong turn and fell. Or maybe Tsurumi had something to do with it.

“Good morning!!”

Shiraishi’s cheery voice cut through your thoughts. You got up and let him in.

“Tsk, tsk. Still in your pajamas. What am I gonna do with you?”

He handed you an enamel mug full of coffee.

“Tsurumi wants to talk to us in an hour. I ran into him when I was going to take a piss.”

“Did he seem worried?”

“Not really.”

“Weird… I think he has something to do with it. He killed Tanigaki for sure and he probably killed Inkarmat too.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I think Tsurumi poisoned him with hemlock. What we saw lines up with the symptoms he told us when we went mushroom foraging.” Shiraishi didn’t look convinced. “Like do you think this is all a coincidence?”

“Why would he kill him though?”

“People kill without motives all the time.”

“I don’t buy it.”

“Seriously? He’s a creep. Who else would it be?”

“I don’t think it’s a person,” he whispered suddenly. His eyes shifted from left to right. “I think this place is haunted.”

“Oh yeah? Did Inkarmat read some passages out of the Necronomicon Ex-Mortis? Did she release the Deadites? Or maybe the soul of a drowned ex-camper is wandering the woods and picking us off one by one.”

Shiraishi was an idiot. There was no way the camp was haunted. You kicked him out and got dressed. You felt like you were moving in slow motion. You didn’t want to have some group discussion about what happened the day before. You wanted to put it in the past and focus on the kids and their activities. You wanted to finally have a canoe race.

When you walked into the mess hall it was dead silent. You took a seat next to Ogata much to the disappointment of Shiraishi and Sugimoto. There was an empty seat in between them.

“Where’s everyone?” you asked.

“No one’s seen Vasily or Usami since last night. And Koito’s with the kids. We’re just waiting on Tsurumi.”

“What about Nurse Kano?”

“I dunno…”

“Sorry I’m late!” Yūsaku said breathily. His hair was wet and his clothes were haphazardly thrown on.

“We haven’t even started yet,” Ogata groaned. “Sit down.”

Five minutes later Tsurumi came in with Tsukishima following behind like a shadow. He looked tired. His normally neat hair was askew, several strands of hair grazing his face, and his clothes were wrinkled.

“There’s no easy way to begin this discussion. We’re down four counselors. Genjirō and Inkarmat are dead, and apparently some of you are missing. That means there are twelve campers without any supervision.” He pointed at Yūsaku. “Yūsaku, you’re their counselor now. We’re also down a nurse. I received a note this morning from Nurse Kano saying, ‘I’m done with this shit. You’re not paying me enough and if I see you again I’m going to skin you alive.’ Needless to say, I would appreciate it if we kept any and all injuries to a minimum.”

Shiraishi raised his hand. “What if there’s an accident?”

“There won’t be any accidents!”

It was the first time any of you heard Tsurumi raise his voice. He took a deep breath and continued speaking, his tone even.

“The police have been informed about the disappearances. They said,” he sighed, “they’ll keep in touch.”

Sugimoto’s hand shot up. “Mr. Tsurumi, I have a question.”

“Yes, Saichi.”

“Shouldn’t we cancel our activities today and go look for Vasily and Usami?”

“I see no reason to punish innocent children for our failings.”

“Aww,” Shiraishi said quietly. “That’s so sweet.”

“It’s best to leave this up to the authorities. The last thing I want is for one of you to get hurt. We’re short staffed as it is,” Tsurumi said before ending the meeting.

The campers were full of questions, but overall the day was peaceful. Target shooting went well, and the kids loved learning Russian. Whenever Tsukishima wasn’t paying attention Ogata would teach them a few swear words. They lived for it, laughing like hyenas as Tsukishima tried to figure out what was so funny. Things felt kind of normal.

Sugimoto was the one to finally suggest going on a night hike after dinner. He thought Tsurumi was stupid for not utilizing everyone in the search, and it weighed on his mind all day.

“I can’t believe the cops didn’t show up,” he said, turning on his flashlight.

“That’s illegal, right?” Shiraishi asked.

Ogata yawned. “It might be, but they don’t care.”

“Whatever,” Sugimoto said dismissively. “I’ll probably regret saying this, but I think we should split up. We’ll cover more ground.”

“I’ll go with Ogata,” you blurted out.

Sugimoto’s millisecond of confused silence opened a window for Ogata to direct the hastily thrown together operation.

“We'll go further up the mountain and check the trails. You guys stay at this elevation and search the woods. I’m sure they got lost. I’d say let’s bet on it, but I know you’re all broke.”

Shiraishi nodded, but Sugimoto looked annoyed beyond belief. You watched as they melted away into the darkness eagerly awaiting your alone time with Ogata.

“It’s better if we both have one,” he said, handing you a flashlight. “You said my name pretty fast back there.”

Your palms began to sweat. You had been too eager.

“I don’t know,” you said, pushing a low hanging branch out of your face. “Shiraishi’s been getting on my nerves.”

You cringed at your lie. Hopefully Ogata would deem it inconsequential and forget you ever said it.

“Is he really that bad?”

“Uh, well, you know… He—sometimes it’s like he’s just so obnoxious.”

“He is pretty annoying. I don’t know how you put up with him.”

“I’m, um, just really good at tolerating people. It’s hard though.”

“You’re good at hiding it.”

You were good at hiding it because you loved having Shiraishi as a partner.

“Thank you.”

“It’s too bad we weren’t paired together. Sugimoto’s an asshole,” he sighed.

The two of you walked cautiously down the trail. You grew more and more nervous as it got steeper. Every twig felt like a landmine. You kept your eyes on the ground. It proved to be a terrible idea because you ended up walking right into Ogata. He fell forward, dropping his flashlight.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry,” you said, cradling him in your arms.

He looked up at you. His forehead and his arms were covered in swaths of raw skin and blood. He tried to get up, but only managed to roll onto the ground. You pulled off your sweatshirt and put it under his head as a makeshift pillow.

You dug through your backpack for your first aid kit. It was nearly empty already because your group of campers loved skinning their knees. You found a few alcohol wipes and some gauze. You wanted to punch your past self for not refilling it, but now wasn’t the time for self-flagellation.

“It’s gonna sting.”

“I’m not a child. You don’t need to remind me.”

“Damn, okay,” you said, cleaning the wound on his head.

“Sorry…” he mumbled.

It was just a superficial scrape, but of course the urge to spiral was present. Despite your attempts to be optimistic your mind went to the worst places.

I gave him a traumatic brain injury. I cracked his beautiful skull. I killed him and Mr. Tsurumi is going to be so fucking mad at me!

“No. I’m sorry. I’m the idiot that made you fall.”

“Good point. I take back my apology.”

You slapped an alcohol wipe on one of the cuts on his arm. His pained groan was like an angel singing your name.

“What day is it?” you asked, trying to ignore the throbbing between your legs.

“June 8th.”

“What’s the time?”

He paused. “I don’t know. It was around 10 when we left.”

“Do you feel dizzy? Nauseous? Sleepy?”

“No.”

“Do you remember what ha—”

“You shoved me and I fell.”

“Shove makes it seem like it was intentional.”

“It was.”

“No it was not.”

He sat up. “Yes it was. You shoved me because you have a huge crush on me and you can’t stand it.”

“You definitely damaged your brain. Like, you’re so unwell right now. It’s sick.”

He laughed. “Don’t deny it. You can be honest with me.”

“I was looking at the ground! There were exposed roots!”

He pulled his arm away from you and grabbed you by the jaw. “If that’s all it was, why do you look nervous?”

“That’s just my face.”

“It’s a cute one.”

You panicked and tried to think of a cool, couth response, but nothing came. You just sat there, brain filled with white noise. The air was heavy; you felt like you were choking. You kept your breathing steady, but it was a herculean effort. All your energy was going into keeping yourself in one piece. The longer those four words sank in, the harder it was to retain your humanity.

It’s a cute one. It’s a cute one. It’s a cute one.

Your hesitation evaporated and you clumsily kissed him. Despite his words he seemed unimpressed with your agency, giving nothing in return. And in turn you felt nothing. It was like you were holding him hostage rather than sweeping him off his feet.

“Um, we should… go back to camp.”

The relief you felt upon finding Sugimoto and Shiraishi was immense. However your fellow counselors remained missing. You couldn’t help but feel like you were hunting for ghosts.

I found I could extinguish all human hope from my soul

Much to the chagrin of Shiraishi, Tsurumi asked you to help Yūsaku and his twelve campers. It wasn’t ideal. Managing kids you weren’t familiar with was rough. They tested you left and right. They relished in lying about their names, snickering when you’d try to chastise them. They seemed to have a modicum of respect for Yūsaku though.

“How’s it going?” Shiraishi asked during your lunch.

“It’s—”

“Well I’m having a terrible time. These kids hate me. They keep asking when you’re coming back.”

You laughed. “Did you tell them never? Because I don’t see Tsurumi letting the golden boy stuck with a bunch of kids on his own.”

“It’s not like he needs you! I’m dying out there!”

“You have Sugimoto.” You sighed. “And Ogata.”

“They’re barely any help. Sugimoto’s too busy trying to solve a murder mystery like he’s Columbo. And Ogata’s too busy being his weird self. I think he’s pissed off at Hanazawa.”

You cocked an eyebrow.

“I don’t know why. Maybe he’s jealous that Hanazawa is—”

“Working with me?” you asked, your eyes full of stars.

“Psh. No. Part of me thinks Ogata just wants to be Tsurumi’s pet.”

“Oh. No yeah, you’re right.” You stared off into space. “He totally wants to be the golden boy.”

“You’re both wrong.” Ogata silently took a seat next to Shiraishi. Your head was swimming. “I just hate being here.”

“Then why glare at your brother?” Shiraishi asked haughtily.

“Are you an only child, Shiraishi?”

“Probably.”

Ogata smirked and changed the subject. “How is working with him?”

His tone wasn’t threatening, but the flatness of his gaze made you feel like you were being interrogated.

“It’s fine!” you exclaimed a bit too hurriedly. You tried to save face by tempering your tone to match the coolness of Ogata’s. “I mean, yeah, like, it’s okay. The kids like him, which is good because they can’t stand me. I don’t mind him, you know, taking the lead. He is the lead counselor.”

“It looked like he was doing all the work.”

His words were a wasp’s sting.

“You’d be stupid not to take advantage of that dork,” Shiraishi said in an attempt to bandage your wound.

“I’m not taking advantage of him.”

“Shiraishi has a point.”

“No he does not!”

“You can admit it,” Ogata teased.

“There’s nothing to admit. What am I supposed to admit?”

He paused.

“You know you hate being here just as much as everyone else.”

You glared at Ogata. “If I hated being here, I would leave.”

“Sure you would.”

“Yeah! Exactly. I would.”

Shiraishi scurried away awkwardly, though to be honest you barely noticed.

“I don’t know,” he chuckled. “How can you be so sure of something like that?”

“Because—because I know myself? This isn’t, like, some hypothetical thing. If I didn’t want to be here, I would leave. But I’m invested in whatever the fuck is going on… And I like my kids! I care about them! Okay, not the ones I have right now. Honestly fuck those ki—oh god.”

Ogata was trying to hold back a laugh. “Child hater.”

“I don’t hate kids! Even kids that are little shits. I’m just…” You carefully chose your words. “Not fond of some.” You regained your conviction. “Regardless it’s not like I could ever leave any of them behind.”

“It’s so funny.”

You tilted your head, awaiting an elaboration.

“You all say the same thing. The way you say it is different, but—”

“What are you talking about?”

He stood up and patted you on the head. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

You thought about chasing after him, but there was only ten minutes left of your lunch and you hadn’t even touched your food. You choked it down and searched for Yūsaku. You found him sitting in the grass, telling the kids one of his numerous summer camp tales.

“And that’s how I learned you should never eat mud.”

You joined their circle. “How was the jigen-ryū class?”

“Boring,” one chirped.

“Lame,” another admitted.

“I hate Mr. Koito.” one said bluntly. “Why does he scream so much?”

Yūsaku nervously chastised the kids.

You giggled. “That’s a great question. But I have an even better one: who wants to have a canoe race?”

The kids were eager for normalcy, typical summer fun, and you couldn’t blame them. You sought it yourself. Anything to shake off your conversation with Ogata. You felt like it poked holes in your brain. You hoped in utter desperation that the laughter of children and the afternoon sunlight dancing across Yūsaku’s precious face would fill them.

And for a brief moment they did. But Ogata remained a looming presence. He was so distracting you came dead last in the race. Your eyes couldn’t focus on anything other than him watching from a distance like a hunter.

A man who wants to mutilate himself is certainly damned

You went to bed early that night though you failed to drift away. You were in a fetal position, snuggled up in your sleeping bag, looking up at the Milky Way through your window for hours. You couldn’t get Ogata out of your mind.

“Idiot,” you murmured as you flipped over onto your back, not sure if you were calling him an idiot or yourself.

You stretched out and took up every inch of your bed. Your joints popped, the satisfaction from the sound soothed your soul. There was the chance this was as worse as it would get. Yes, people were dropping like flies, disappearing mysteriously. Yes, the camp director was a blatant freak. Yes, Ogata was fucking with your head. But the canoe race was normal! It was benign and expected! Those moments were few and far between so far. Maybe this was a good omen, a sneak peak of the placidity that was going to follow.

Pretending to be optimistic successfully lulled you to sleep. But rapid, and somehow pathetic, pounding on your cabin door ripped you from your slumber. You groaned audibly, hoping whoever was in desperate need of your attention would feel a semblance of shame. You got out of bed at a sloth’s pace and sighed before opening the door.

“Are you busy?” Ogata asked.

“I was sleeping.”

He gently pushed you out of the way and entered the cabin, a stiffness and urgency embodied in the swift movement. Your grip on consciousness was tenuous at best so you didn’t protest.

“Everything, uh, good?” you asked.

“If I said I wanted to apologize, would you believe me?”

You scoffed. “Not after asking me that.”

He sat down on your bed, and you struggled to hide your disgust. You couldn’t stop thinking about the fetid remnants of the woods that lingered on his sweatpants. Having him take them off crossed your mind.

“Well I am.”

“You’re what?”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean it… All the stuff I said.”

“You sure about that?”

He attempted to smooth down a strand of his hair. A hoarse mhm resonated in his throat.

“You’re so easy to rile up. I couldn’t resist.”

“Well,” you groaned. “Thanks. I guess.”

You figured he’d get up and leave, but instead his presence lingered, growing heavier by the second. His eyes were restless, his body tense.

“Do you mind if I stay the night?” he asked, his eyes fixed on the floor.

It was such an abrupt question. All you could do was choke out an affirmation. You knew kicking him out was the smart thing to do, but his perceived permanence on your bed overwhelmed you. The rational voice in your head grew fainter, your lust forcing its way through your papery veil of self-preservation. You were nothing more than your repressed urges.

“Are you sure?”

Dumb question. You’d never been so sure of something in your life. You couldn’t recall any form of previous trepidation though you weren’t trying particularly hard to do so.

“Yeah,” you answered, sitting beside him.

You leaned in. His sweatshirt smelled like wet leaves and copper. You used his thigh to steady yourself. He turned his head, his dark eyes looking through you. It was unnerving, but not enough to trigger common sense.

“Aren’t you hot?” you asked, laughing as the question tumbled from your mouth. His answer didn’t matter. “You’re making me sweat.”

You tugged at his sweatshirt. It felt dirty, heavy with sweat and earth. He took it off without a stitch of hesitation. Your eyes trailed down his arms, longing for them to be wrapped around you. It was the only way you’d make it through the night.

“I run cold,” he practically purred.

Cliche comments ran through your head.

That’s so funny because I could totally keep you warm, big boy.

I’m burning up, why don’t you cool me off with your stupid, gorgeous body?

“That’s cool.” Your brain shut down. “I want you.”

Your bluntness seemed to please him. His lips curled into a half smile before he pulled you into a kiss. He wasted no time, pushing his tongue past your teeth. He caressed your cheek as his tongue brushed up against yours, soft and warm. He pulled you onto his lap and rubbed the inside of your thigh with his rough hands. You tugged at his shirt, the cotton damp with sweat. He lifted it up and pulled it off, letting it drop on the floor.

“You should lie down,” you said, breath hot against his neck.

“Am I easier to take advantage of that way?”

“Excuse me?”

Your question went unheeded and he reclined on your bed, beckoning you to straddle him. You looked down at his body, muscles perfectly toned like they were crafted by the gods. He looked so pleased with himself, like he’d won an award. His cock was hard against the thin fabric of his sweatpants. It ached against you.

You studied his face. There were a few faint, red scratches across his cheek. You ran your thumb down one, feeling the slightly swollen skin. He winced.

“What happened?” you asked.

He exhaled. “I fell.”

“Like recently or?”

“On my way over.”

“How?”

His right eye twitched.

“I tripped,” he said, words clipped.

“On what?”

You never knew him to be clumsy, if anything he was rather feline in his agility. His fingers dug deeper into your hips before rolling you onto your back and getting on top of you. He pressed his rough palm over your lips.

“Hush.” His tone was nauseatingly sweet.

“I’m serious, are you okay?” you asked, voice muffled by his hand.

He titled his head and stared into your eyes with a calculated gaze.

“Isn’t it a little late for you to be so talkative?”

It was astounding how easy it was for him to shut you down. Granted you weren’t steadfast when it came to Ogata. You couldn’t take a firm stance. How could you hold onto a belief when you couldn’t predict his reaction to it? You wanted to be palatable and if that meant bending like a willow to his incomprehensible will then so be it.

“You’re so cute,” he said, removing his hand. “You’re like a scared deer.”

He lifted up the oversized t-shirt you liked to sleep in and pulled off your underwear. His fingers grazed your folds, coating them in your arousal. You swallowed hard, spit catching in your throat, as he slid them into your cunt. They curled inside you, pressing against your walls. The pressure made your skin tingle.

His gaze was attentive but cold. You felt studied, examined. It bred a twinge of looming uncertainty, one that settled in your stomach. But he didn’t hesitate with a remedy. He pushed his fingers as far as they could go and began fucking you with them. Your concern disappeared as fast as it came. Your eyes glazed over, ensnared by the man looming over you. You tried in vain to hold back your pleased whimpers.

He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re falling apart so fast.” His lips grazed your lobe.

Apologizing crossed your mind, but you kept your mouth shut. You writhed underneath his weight, rutting up against his fingers as they fucked your slick cunt.

Your hands wandered down his back. His skin was soft and sticky with sweat. You let your fingers trail down his spine before settling on the crest of his ass. You yanked down his briefs and dug your fingers into the taut flesh. He flashed an impish smile and pulled them down, kicking them off. The head of his cock was leaking precum. He tugged on it and bathed in your starved gaze.

“You want me so bad,” he said haughtily. “Tell me how bad you want me.”

You sighed as he jerked himself off. “I feel like I’ll die if you don’t fuck me.”

“Oh yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I need you.”

“Then beg for it,” he growled.

“Please. Please fuck me.”

He rubbed his cock up against your folds. “Say my name.”

“Please fuck me, Hyakunosuke. Please. Please. Please.”

He nuzzled your neck and pressed his cocktip against your clit. “More.”

You continued to plead, body aching for him to fuck you. He guided his cock inside you, its girth stretching your tight cunt. He groaned as he pushed it in further. His movements were slow, and he seemed to relish in your whimpering.

“Tell me how good it feels,” he commanded as he thrust into you.

“Really good. Really fucking good,” you babbled.

He let out a pleased sigh and fully submerged his length within you. His tip pressed up against your cervix, sending a shock to your core. You yelped as he pushed against it harder.

“Such a big cock for such a precious little thing.”

His thrusts drove you into the mattress, making your cot creak. His touch wasn’t gentle. He didn’t hesitate to bend your body to his liking, to show off his strength. It was deliciously overwhelming. He laced his fingers in your hair and pulled. He manhandled your legs to get them over his shoulders. You knew his force would leave blooms of bruises on your ankles, bruises you’d have to explain away when your friends inquired about your life after hours.

Being at his will was exciting.

“Do you like getting fucked like a whore?”

“Uh-huh,” you moaned.

He grinned. You wanted to lick his teeth, but settled for hugging his cock with your cunt.

“Fuck,” he hissed, jaw clenched. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

His pace quickened and his breathing grew labored. He seemed weakened by his impending climax. His eyes were softer, his words lacked their previous domineering weight. He looked like he was in agony. Seeing him fall apart made your clit throb. It was almost too much. Your body was immersed in euphoria, drowning in an obscene amount of debauched delight. To finally experience something you craved for so long was almost maddening. So many times you dreamt about him lording over your body under the serene light of the moon. And now you were living it out.

You wanted him to come first, to feel his cum flood your cunt, but your body wasn’t on the same page. Your impending climax was bubbling up inside you. Resisting it was a futile feat. What good was it to deny yourself such ecstasy?

“Harder,” you moaned.

He repositioned himself so he could drive his cock deeper in. You felt like you were going to burst. You dug your fingers into your mattress, gripping the tangled up sheets. The feeblest attempt to keep yourself tethered to this world lest you ascend to an Icarus end. Your back arched as a numinous groan crept up from the depths of your being, a simple carnal prayer. A cluster of whimpers followed in its wake.

Every inch of tension melted away as you let your orgasm consume you. You nearly forgot where you were until you heard Ogata’s pained voice.

“Where do you want it?” he asked urgently.

“Inside, inside,” you babbled.

He grimaced and pulled his cock out of your dripping cunt. He straddled your chest and held your head, forcing you to crane your neck. He pushed his cock past your lips and rutted against your face. His touch became gentle, hands almost cradling the base of your skull. He held you like you were fragile, like he could rip you to pieces if he lacked restraint.

“Look up at me,” he groaned as his cum splattered against the back of your throat.

You looked up at him, as he continued to thrust. Spurts of his piquant cum filled your mouth. You thought it would never end. Tears welled up in your eyes as his cum trickled from the corners of your mouth. Once his cock stopped twitching he placed his hand on your forehead and pushed you off. He then rolled over onto his back and stared blankly at the ceiling.

“Um,” you said, crashing back into reality.

You hoped no one heard what happened. Your cabin was the one closest to the outskirts of everything, but still. Your cot’s incessant squeaking plagued you. Your breathy moans haunted you. Ogata’s audible grunting was a dark cloud swirling above your head. You missed your fucked out state of mind. You debated on chasing it. You thought about grabbing his semi-erect cock, but the feeling faded from your grasp. It didn’t help that he looked completely dissociated from the situation.

“Hyaku,” you paused, his first name felt too intimate, ”Ogata?”

You rolled over onto your side and placed your hand on his shoulder.

“Are you alright?”

“Sure,” he said before turning his back to you.

“Okay,” you replied, molding your body beside his.

You expected him to scoot away from you, or retire to the unforgiving floor. But instead he pressed himself up against you. You draped an arm over him and nuzzled your face against his undercut as you drifted away.

Life is the farce we are all forced to endure

Waking up alone wasn’t a surprise though it was still disappointing.

The sun roused you, making you painfully aware of your lack of clothes and the dried cum in the corners of your mouth. Visions of a relaxing shower danced through your mind. You could practically feel the steam surrounding you. However, leaving your cabin was precarious. No one could see you like this, skittering around and clutching your toiletries like they were gold. You’d wither away if perceived.

“I got this,” you whispered to no one in particular.

You stepped out into the morning light. It felt early. You didn’t hear any kids or any sort of chatter which was a relief. The outside world was safe; it was secure. You took a deep breath and took in the fresh air.

“Good morning.”

Your exhale lodged itself in your throat, forcing out a pathetic cough.

“Fuck. I mean good morning, Mr. Tsurumi.”

He looked tired, less triumphant, and part of you wondered if he was going to kill you.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be up this early.”

“I wasn’t expecting to be either,” you said, trying to mask your discomfort. “Anyway—”

He interrupted your attempt at a polite getaway. “How well do you know Yūsaku?”

“Uh. I guess about as well as you can know anyone given the amount of ti—”

“Did he seem unhappy? Dissatisfied?”

“That sunburn made him pretty miserable.”

He studied you. “Anything beyond that?”

“I—yeah no, I think that’s, uh, the only thing.”

“I see. Well I won’t keep you any longer.”

You simply smiled and nodded. Once he was out of sight you sprinted to the showers, eager for the cleanly embrace of its solitude. It was exactly what you wanted, what you needed. You needed to wash away whatever that conversation had been. You couldn’t figure out why he was so curious about Yūsaku. Your relationship with him was friendly but superficial. You wouldn’t know how to describe him in any meaningful way if prompted to, but made an attempt anyway.

He’s Ogata’s half-brother. He can tell two different stories about eating mud as a little kid. He sucks at putting on sunscreen. His eyelashes are pretty. He has a general golden boy vibe that is almost insufferably charming.

You knew essentially nothing. Whereas you could write an entire thesis regarding the random facts about Shiraishi you learned against your will.

You spent the entirety of your shower, wracking your brain over the camp director’s questioning. Unfortunately your brain wasn’t operating at full capacity. The night before lingered around you like a ghostly shroud. Your legs were peppered with bruises and your hips were sore. There were so many random aches echoing throughout your body.

By the time you were done the shrill voices of children flooded the camp. You hurriedly made your way back to your cabin, careful to avoid running into anyone. But despite the painstaking care you took, there was Shiraishi pawing at your door anxiously like a dog.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

He didn’t bother answering your question. “They’re sending all the kids home.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yup. A few parents have already come by. Tsurumi wants to sit us all down and talk about what we’re gonna do.”

“We’re all going to leave, right?”

“Well we got all this shit here. The canoes. The food. The giant shogi pieces. All of that needs to get packed up probably. Do you think we’ll still get paid even if there’s no kids to watch?”

“I’d like to think so.”

“I heard something kinda messed up though.” You stepped closer to him and he continued, his voice low. “I overheard Koito saying some shit to Tsukishima about another body being found.”

“No,” you gasped.

“Yeah. They left maybe an hour ago. I doubt they’re coming back. I saw them pack—”

“Okay whatever. Whose body?”

Shiraishi shushed you. “Yūsaku’s.”

“Shut up.”

“Tsurumi found him hanging in the forest.”

“Like hanging out, right? With his brother maybe?” you asked desperately.

“Nope.”

“ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?”

“Relax! Maybe I heard wrong.”

You took a measured breath and distanced yourself from this loss. “It makes sense. Tsurumi was asking me about Yūsaku this morning. He wanted to know if Yūsaku was sad or, I don’t know, depressed I guess.”

“Did he seem—”

“No, but not all suicidal people act like outwardly suicidal.”

“So you think he killed himself?”

“Fuck no,” you sneered. “I bet Tsurumi did. That’s why he was asking me about him. He wanted to come up with an alibi, or a reason for Yūsaku to have done something like that.”

Shiraishi looked a little nervous. “Whoa, whoa. Let’s not jump the gun.”

You pushed him away from the door and dropped your stuff off. On the walk to the mess hall you watched as kids crawled into massive minivans and sleek electric cars. They were a resilient bunch. You admired their ability to withstand the trauma murder reaped. It sucked to see them go, but this camp was no place for their kind.

You felt oddly numb in the wake of Yūsaku’s apparent demise, especially as you sat amongst the camp’s dwindling numbers. It was just you, Shiraishi, Sugimoto, Ogata, and that freak Tsurumi. You all sat in a circle around an ashen fire pit, sipping coffee. It was bitter, the acidic taste boring holes through your tongue.

“It pains me to say this,” Tsurumi began.

“We all know about Yūsaku,” Shiraishi yawned.

His lack of tact made you want to crawl into your mug and drown.

“Oh, I wasn’t going to start off with that but…” He sighed. “As you all apparently know Yūsaku is no longer with us.”

“Did he go home?” Ogata asked.

“Shut up,” Sugimoto hissed.

Tsurumi ignored the chatter and continued. You struggled to focus. Your mind drifted off into fantasies of catching the camp director in the act and getting the hero treatment for saving the day. They were fun scenarios to entertain, but deep down you didn’t crave glory or even recognition. You just wanted to be right.

To no one’s surprise Tsurumi managed to convince everyone to stay one more night in order to return the camp to its previous barren state. It was depressing to snuff out the last remnants of the camp’s life, but necessary so Tsurumi could get back his security deposit. It was impressive to see how impermanent everything was. What took a week to create was dismantled within a day, a notion that haunted you to no end. You hated to think everything was so transient. It beckoned you to hold on tighter to your memories, to the bonds you fostered. If they were going to be ripped away, they would be marred with ghostly reminders of your feral grip.

Throughout the day you orbited around Ogata, searching for tasks that required you to be near him. Despite your attempts to be discreet, anyone with a brain could see your passive clinginess. You couldn’t help yourself. You wanted to ask if he was okay, but you didn’t want to risk an awkward conversation. When you finally built up the confidence to speak to him he was swept away by a bored sheriff wearing mirrored sunglasses.

“Wonder what they’re talking about,” Shiraishi said, startling you.

“Yūsaku obviously,” you scoffed as you swept the porch of a cabin. “Whatever. It’s not like I care.”

He laughed loud enough to grab the attention of the sheriff. Ogata was undisturbed.

“I feel bad for him.”

“Yeah?”

Shiraishi frowned. “Yeah, like his brother’s dead. He’s a total weirdo with no friends. And he’s short.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re shorter than him.”

“I am, but I’m sexy and have friends.”

Ogata was sexy, but you opted to keep that to yourself.

“Okay, and?” you said bristling with annoyance. “Go bother someone else.”

“I actually had a reason for bugging you. Sugimoto wants to make s’mores tonight because we have a bunch of marshmallows. I was thinking we could turn it into a mini party.”

“A final hurrah.”

“Exactly!” he said as he walked away.

S’mores and cold beer sounded nice, but not nearly as nice as another night with Ogata. You watched as he stared lazily at the sheriff, his posture loose and mildly defiant. He wasn’t naive enough to believe Yūsaku hung himself. He must have caught onto how strange Tsurumi was. There was no way he hadn’t. He was perceptive. You couldn’t help but feel as though you were kindred spirits.

When the sheriff finally left you decided to approach him.

“Hey,” you said gently. “I just wanted to, you know…uh. I’m really sorry about your brother.”

“Why? Did you make him kill himself?” he said, his gaze friendly yet cold.

You laughed and shifted uncomfortably.

“I just wanted to see if you were okay. Is there anything I can do?”

“Hmm. I don’t know.” He closed the distance you kept. “How far are you willing to go to comfort me?”

“A normal amount. If you need to talk or anything, I don’t mind listening.”

“Would you mind choking on my cock again? I found that to be very soothing.”

Ogata’s words were grotesque rather than alluring. You couldn’t help but feel like he was just trying to scare you off. His vulgarity lacked any sort of intensity. The threat was hollow. You swallowed hard and tried to look less timid.

“Don’t be an asshole. If you need to talk, you know where to find me.”

He looked thoroughly amused. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You patted his shoulder with a platonic, heavy hand and headed off in a random direction. You were too frazzled to think that far ahead, but you walked into the woods with faux confidence.

All filthy memories fade out

You sighed in relief as the sun sunk into the horizon. Making s’mores and getting drunk by a fire sounded like the only suitable end for such a horrific venture. Shiraishi and Sugimoto met you by your cabin and aided you in crafting a fire pit.

“It’s so fucked up we never made these with the kids,” Sugimoto sighed, puncturing three marshmallows with a two-pronged skewer specially made for the act.

You sipped your beer. “We failed them.”

Shiraishi nodded. “We may be the dream team, but we weren’t perfect.”

“The what?!” Sugimoto struggled not to laugh as he crafted a picturesque s’more.

“Wh—who? Who’s the dream team?” you asked.

“Us! Me, you, and Sugimoto… obviously.”

“I had no idea.”

“I never said it out loud until now,” Shiraishi said solemnly.

It was hard to deny. The chaos that was camp proved to be a great conduit for bonding despite the horrors. You never would have made it through without Shiraishi’s humor and Sugimoto’s kindness.

“Dream team, huh?” Sugimoto said with a smile blooming across his face.

You punched Shiraishi in the arm. “Cute. I like it.”

Shiraishi blushed and shifted his gaze to the case of beer.

“How does the dream team feel about shotgunning some beers?”

Shotgunning some beers turned into shotgunning several. Stabbing the cans and chugging like your life depended on it was addicting. By the end of it you were all in a hazy trance. You collapsed down into your chair with too much vigor, sending yourself backwards into the dirt. You cackled like a witch.

“Holy shit! Are you okay?” Sugimoto asked. He was unable to hide his amused smile.

He held out his hand and hoisted you up. Shiraishi watched on, tears in his eyes, and stabbed another beer with his pocket knife. Beer spurted out of the hole and it sprayed all over. A dramatic “noooooooooo!" erupted from him as he tried in vain to suckle the rest of the beer out of the can. Sugimoto could barely hold himself together and lost his balance, sending you back into the unforgiving dirt and landing directly on you. His body was so heavy you thought you were going to suffocate. Luckily he rolled off of you within a second, wheezing with laughter.

The comedy of errors was too much. Not a single one of you went unscathed.

“I’m so sorry,” Sugimoto choked out.

You stood up and brushed the dust off of your body. “It’s okay. I’m alive. I made it. I survived.”

“You know,” Sugimoto said, still sitting in the dirt. “I’m really gonna miss you guys.”

“We’ll have to meet up again before summer ends.”

Shiraishi wiped the beer from his lips. “That’s assuming we live.”

“Dude! Not funny.” Sugimoto threw an empty can at Shiraishi. It missed.

“I’ll probably die next,” you replied thoughtfully. “Tsurumi’s gonna catch on and have to silence me.”

“Stop!”

Shiraishi corrected you. “No, no. It’ll be me.”

“Yeah, you know what. It’ll be Shiraishi, and then you. And then me.”

Shiraishi pouted. “What makes you so sure you’ll live the longest?”

“I’m immortal, dumb ass.”

“If you’re immortal, why not protect us?” you suggested.

“Yeah!”

“I’ll obviously do that! That goes without saying!”

You looked at him, doe-eyed. “Promise?”

He stood up, his balance shakier than ever. It didn’t inspire much confidence in his ability to protect you, but you chose to believe in his conviction.

“As long as I am here, neither of you will die. I… I love you guys s—so much.”

“Don’t cry. If you cry, I’ll cry. And I hate crying in the woods.”

You heard rustling in the distance. Sugimoto and Shiraishi didn’t seem to notice so you chalked it up to your intoxication. You focused your attention on the delightful little bars of artisan chocolate Yūsaku bought for the kids. Your stomach had been growling, begging for something other than beer.

“Gimme the stick thingy,” you barked at Sugimoto.

“Is that any way to ask me for something?”

“You’re talking like a caveman.”

You groaned. “Please give me a, uh,” you gestured towards the skewer resting at Sugimoto’s feet, “that item. Please, good sir.”

Shiraishi applauded your efforts like a real friend and spoke words of affirmation as you struggled to make a s’more. Neither of them stepped in to help you. They appeared to find your tribulation much too entertaining, and you were much too drunk to ask for assistance. However you managed to make four. The sloppiness didn’t detract from the flavor which was all that mattered.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” Shiraishi said. “I don’t know about you guys but I’m tired.”

Sugimoto stretched his arms above his head and yawned. “Yeah, I have a long drive tomorrow. I’m not trying to fall asleep at the wheel.”

It was almost painful to part ways. A little sliver of you was afraid to enter your cabin on your own. You knew there was no reason to be scared. It wasn’t as if Tsurumi was hiding inside, waiting for the perfect opportunity to stab you. There was no way he could have snuck past you, Shiraishi, and Sugimoto. One of you would have seen him, or at the very least heard him.

Your heart began to pound. You had heard something lurking about in the woods. It very well could’ve been him. Maybe you were too drunk to be vigilant and maybe Tsurumi took advantage of that. Your hand trembled as you reached for the doorknob. Your fear was heavy and looming. It was like you were slowly being crushed. Every inhale felt like it was catching in your throat. You slowly twisted the knob and pressed your weight up against the door.

“Hello?” you asked as if an assailant would actually respond.

You flipped the switch and your room was filled with soft, incandescent light. There was no one in sight, not a soul. The relief you felt was almost overwhelming. Your terror was replaced by a pleasant drowsiness. Sleeping through the night with no interruptions wouldn’t be a pipe dream.

And it seemed to be going along quite well…

Until you had to pee of course. The urge hit you like a truck. You sprung up out of bed and ran all the way to the bathroom, hoping you’d make it in time. You regretted drinking so much. If it hadn’t been for the beer you might have gotten an uninterrupted six hours.

Luckily you made it to the bathroom in time, but on your walk back you became keenly aware of the fact you were still quite drunk.

“Ughhhhhhhhhhh,” you moaned as you trudged back.

You passed Tsurumi’s cabin and it triggered a deep desire to indulge in some snooping. Moonlighting as a drunk detective seemed like an incredible idea.

There were no lights on in his cabin, which wasn’t odd considering it was the middle of the night. But everything seemed vaguely ominous given your state of mind and your desire to prove he was the murderer. You peeked in his window and saw him sleeping. He was face down, body spread out like a starfish.

“What a freak.”

“You’re the one watching him sleep.”

You spun around and saw Ogata. You opened your mouth to scream but he covered it. His hand was damp and smelled like soap. He looked unkempt, and seemed a little frazzled.

“I can explain,” you whispered.

“Are you drunk?”

“Maybe. Listen!”

He shushed you and grabbed you by the wrist. He dragged you away from Tsurumi’s window.

“Can I talk now?” You didn’t wait for an answer. “I think Tsurumi is killing everyone.”

He looked thoroughly amused. “What makes you so sure—”

“He’s a total fucking weirdo, Ogata! He, you know, like… Okay, I don’t have solid proof. But he did ask me about your brother. He was like ‘Ohhh, do you think Yūsaku was suicidal? Did he seem like a little sad boy with little sad boy problems?’ And I was like, ‘No.’ And he was like all… whatever.” You hiccuped. “Why would he ask me that if he wasn’t trying to find a way to cover up his crime?”

“You did work with Yūsaku. I don’t think it’s weird that Tsurumi would ask you about him. If I were him, you would be one of the first people I’d talk to.”

“Ogataaaaaaaaaa,” you whined. “Don’t be a shit.”

“All I’m saying is the two of you seemed close.”

“I don’t know if I’d go that far.”

“I think he had a crush on you,” he teased.

“He didn’t.”

“I wouldn’t blame him for having one.”

You gave up on protesting. It wasn’t like he was actually listening to you. You turned your gaze towards the ground. It was then you noticed what looked like rusty stains on his shoes.

“You really shouldn’t wear white shoes.”

He looked confused.

“Yours are always s—so dirty.”

He stared down at his shoes and smiled. “I like them this way.”

You shrugged. “Anyway. I think Tsurumi poisoned Tanigaki with mushrooms.”

“What about Inkarmat? Usami? Vasi—”

“When did they find Usami and Vasily?!”

He paused. “They didn’t. I thought maybe you had an explanation for them going missing.”

“Oh. No. I haven’t really thought about them. Is that fucked up?”

“A little, but I like it when you’re fucked up.”

He leaned in and slipped his tongue into your mouth. You tried to let yourself fall into the moment, to let yourself be enraptured by him once more. But you felt uneasy. A part of you was screaming at you to stop. Your entire body tensed up and you pushed him away.

“Not here,” you sighed.

“Why not?” he said, rubbing the small of your back.

“What if someone sees?”

“There’s no one to see us.”

With your luck Shiraishi and Sugimoto would see you wrapped up in Ogata’s arms and never let you live it down. A greater horror would be Tsurumi catching you. He would have no issue disposing you.

Ogata didn’t share this concern. He simply shoved his fingers down your shorts and rubbed your clit through your underwear.

“You don’t need to be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid. I don’t want to get caught.”

“Hmm,” he purred as he nuzzled his face in your neck. “Getting caught could be fun. We could finally reveal our true nature.”

His wording puzzled you.

“Wait, what true nature? That we’re fucking?” you asked.

“Don’t play dumb.”

He let his fingers graze your cunt. His touch was hypnotic. You felt like you were melting in his arms. The world around you faded away, your concerns were nonexistent. Everything was a distraction queued for destruction. He kissed your neck, his stubble tickling you. You felt his teeth graze your skin. A smile crept across your face as he bit into it. Your knees buckled as he bit down a little harder. Your head was spinning.

“I need to taste you,” he said against your neck, pulling down your clothes.

The night air was brisk against the skin of your ass. He kissed the nape of your neck as he hands traveled down your waist, stopping at the dip of your hips. He got on his knees and stared up at you, eyes dark with ardor, before giving your clit a languid lick.

He lapped at your cunt like a starved animal. It was like he was trying to consume you. You felt so desired, so adored. His tongue was dizzying. You nearly lost your balance as he buried his face in between your thighs. He grunted and gripped your ass to steady you.

You gasped as he dug his fingers deeper into your skin. His sweetness was always tinged with a little cruelty. You felt like you were falling in love with him whenever he was rough with you. Your pleasure seemed endless. It was something to get lost in. He shielded you from the tragedy that had overtaken your life.

You ran your fingers through his hair. “You’re so good at this.”

“I know,” he groaned.

His haughtiness was unfortunately warranted. He could work wonders with his mouth. He rolled his tongue against your throbbing clit. Your knees trembled as your orgasm began to bloom. You tried to speak but all you could do was whimper his name. You felt like you were floating away.

Moaning soon became the only thing you were capable of doing. Your body was limp and swollen with lust. The only reason you were upright was because of Ogata’s steadying grip.

“Are you really going to come already?” he teased.

“Yes!” you choked out.

He held your clit between his lips and sucked. Your head rolled back and you murmured a string of obscenities. Euphoria wasn’t a strong enough word to describe the heights you were ascending to. You drenched his face with your arousal as your orgasm echoed through you.

“Sor—”

Your demure apology was interrupted by a pained moan coming from the distance. You crashed back down to earth.

“Did you hear that?” you asked.

Ogata didn’t respond. He simply stood up and wiped his chin.

“Let me walk you back to your cabin.”

“Uh, yeah sure. But did you hear that? It sounded like a person.”

“I didn’t hear anything. Your paranoia is getting the best of you.” He grabbed you by the hand. “Come on.”

He didn’t say a single word on the walk back. He didn’t even look at you. You felt like a ghost.

“Thanks… for escorting me.”

“It’s no problem,” he said with a smile.

You were convinced you would never fully understand him, that he would always keep you on your toes. And maybe that was the appeal. It was a danger you didn’t mind dancing with, something low stakes in comparison to people getting fucking murdered.

With my eyes closed I offered myself to the sun

It was your final day and you jumped at the opportunity to interrogate Tsurumi. It didn’t matter if you were the only one that thought he was the cause of all the camp’s calamity. The lack of faith from your friends didn’t deter you in the least. You knew you were right and soon everyone else would know as well.

“What the?”

You saw a heap in the distance, something keeled over just beyond the trees. The sun sliced through them, drowning whatever it was in unforgiving light. You heard the faint buzzing of flies and your stomach dropped. The familiar sensation of spit pooling in your mouth triggered a lethal anxiety within you.

Every step you took made you more and more nauseous. A horrid smell swarmed your nostrils. You couldn’t help but gag.

“No,” you said quietly, looking down at the heap.

It was Sugimoto, face down. His arms were stretched in front of him, fingers caked with dirt.

“Saichi, get up.” You squatted beside him. A prayer circle of jet black ants surrounded his body. “Get up. You’re supposed to keep me and Shiraishi safe, remember?”

There was no hope and yet you tried to hold onto it. You wanted to roll him over, thinking maybe you could rouse him. You saw it in movies all the time, the classic fake-out death trope. You’d slap him around, maybe yell and cry a bit, and his eyes would flutter open. He would apologize for worrying you and you’d tease him for how rank he smelled.

“Oh fuck!” you screamed as you rolled him onto his back.

His chin was coated with dried blood. His stomach had been cut open, entrails butchered and hanging out. You looked just beyond his body and saw a trail of blood and intestines. You started to sob. Sugimoto didn’t deserve to suffer such a heinous demise. Why couldn’t Tsurumi have just killed him outright? Why did he have to exercise his will with such cruelty? You hated him and his flagrant barbarity. Your rage washed over you. The desire to throw yourself over his mauled body and wail was extinguished.

“I’m so sorry,” you cooed, stroking his hair. “Tsurumi’s not getting away with this.”

In order to properly avenge Sugimoto you needed Shiraishi, but you didn’t even know if Shiraishi was alive. You grabbed Sugimoto’s pocket knife and bolted to Shiraishi’s cabin. You kicked the door in and all you saw was an unmade bed, empty bags of marshmallows, and all of his belongings scattered around an empty duffle bag.

You kept running out of sheer desperation, searching Shiraishi’s usual haunts to no avail. He must have been killed too, another counselor disappeared by that freak Tsurumi.

Your bravado began to melt away. The more you thought about it the more you realized you likely couldn’t hold your own against Tsurumi. You were nothing without the dream team.

There was always Ogata, but if Sugimoto was slain by Tsurumi with such ease then Ogata didn’t stand a chance. You were enshrouded in a sinking loneliness. It made every step an ordeal but you continued your march to Tsurumi’s cabin.

Your head was swimming by the time you got there. You didn’t even notice the door was already open. As you stepped inside you heard a series of loud, wet thwacks.

“Wh—what are you doing?”

Ogata stood over Tsurumi’s twitching body, bashing in his skull with the butt of his own shotgun. Pale foam seeped from his parted lips. You watched in horror as his face gradually became unrecognizable carnage with each of Ogata’s blows.

“Why?” you squeaked.

“What do you mean why? I did this for you.”

“This is not what I wanted.”

“Yes it is. You thought he was killing all your friends and it bothered you enough that you whined to me about it.”

“I didn’t tell you those things because I wanted you to kill him! Fuck! Now the cops are going to think you killed everyone!”

He cocked his head to the side and stared at you. You froze in place like a deer in front of a speeding truck. He looked gutted.

“I did kill everyone.”

You bursted into laughter. “No you fucking didn’t.”

“Yes I did.”

“Stop it! No you didn’t!”

He stepped over Tsurumi’s corpse, gun still in his hand. You backed out the door, trying to keep distance.

“Yes I did,” he said. In the sunlight you saw how much of Tsurumi’s blood ended up on him. He was dappled with crimson splotches. “That’s why you told me about Tsurumi. You wanted him gone and you knew I’d take care of it.”

Your mouth was agape. You refused to believe him.

“You—you’re not serious. Please tell me you’re not serious. Please.”

“I’m se—”

“No! Shut up! You didn’t do it. You didn’t do any of it. You… You couldn’t. Right? Right?!”

His disappointment was palpable.

“Why are you acting like this? You knew what you were doing when you talked to me about him.”

“I never said I wanted you to kill him! I never fucking said that!”

“Stop screaming. I’m right here.”

Your eyes were becoming glassy. Tears were imminent.

“I never said that,” you said quietly.

“You didn’t have to. I knew what you wanted. We see things the same way. You hated all of them as much as I did.”

“What? I didn’t hate any of them.”

“Oh so you liked Usami?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean I wanted him dead.”

He sighed heavily. “You don’t need to pretend anymore. They’re all gone.”

“Pretend? I’m not pretending.”

“Drop the act. I didn’t mind it before, but now there’s no reason for you to hide yourself from me.”

Everything was spinning around you. You couldn’t believe what he was saying. It was absurd for him to think you harbored as much hatred as he did. Sure, some of your fellow counselors got on your nerves, but being annoying wasn’t a death sentence.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not hiding anything.”

He tried to pat down his unruly lock of hair. “So you’re saying I’m wrong? You’re nothing like me?”

“Yes! I could never dream of being as monstrous as you! How fucked up do you have to be to decide you can just kill people for, I don’t know, being annoying or stupid or whatever?”

“It’s not like I intended on killing everyone. I just wanted Yūsaku gone, but then I caught Tanigaki and Inkarmat 69ing by the lake and it spiraled from there.”

“Th—that’s why you killed them?”

“It was disgusting, okay.”

“Was it more disgusting than what we did?”

He glared at you. “What we did wasn’t disgusting. Tanigaki and Inkarmat didn’t actually care about each other.”

“You don’t know that.”

“They barely knew each other. You can’t like someone that much after, what, a week?”

“Does that mean we don’t like each other?”

“No!” He took a measured breath and regained composure. “It’s different with us. You know me. You understand me.”

“I don’t understand you at all.”

“But you were… so nice to me.”

Neither of you spoke. The only sound was the wind cutting through the trees. You thought back to old conversations you had with him and tried to see where your ignorance blinded you. There were plenty of times you should have known it was Ogata, but you were so caught up in blaming Tsurumi for everything.

It was hard to reconcile the man you had your heart set on was a cold blooded killer. You wanted your feelings to subside, but they remained despite his horrendous crimes. Part of you needed to fix him, to save him from himself. Maybe if you had caught on sooner you could have stopped him. There were so many what-ifs running through your mind you almost forgot where you were.

“Did it not mean anything to you?” he asked.

“What?”

“Being nice to me. Was it an obligation?”

“No. I think… most people deserve kindness.”

“Even someone like me?”

You tried to ignore the shotgun in his hand. “Yes… especially you, Hyakunosuke.”

“After everything I’ve done?”

“Ye—yes.”

“Liar.”

He aimed the gun under his chin and pulled the trigger. You tried to catch him in your arms, but you weren’t strong enough to carry that weight. You fell to your knees and cradled him. His face was nothing but an open wound. You wept as his blood seeped into your clothes.

“You were never an obligation.”

You wiped away your tears and got his blood in your eye. It burned, but it was nothing compared to the sinking feeling in your heart.

“Holy shit!!”

Shiraishi came barrelling out of the woods. His lip was busted and he had dried blood under his nose.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you? Did he touch you?”

Shiraishi kneeled in front of you. You looked down and noticed his hand was resting in what used to be Ogata’s face.

“Shiraishi, your hand.”

He fell backwards and kicked himself away from Ogata’s corpse. He wiped his hand in the dirt.

“He, uh, didn’t hurt me. I’m fine… I thought you were dead.”

“Nah. I just let him beat the shit out of me and pretended to be dead. I didn’t think he’d fall for it. Have you seen Sugimoto?”

“He… he didn’t make it.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Shiraishi helped move Ogata off of you. He looked horrified once he saw how much of Ogata’s blood had ended up on you. The coppery scent was impossible to ignore.

You were thankful Shiraishi was still alive. He took charge for a change, deciding your best course of action was to go to the mess hall and contact the authorities. It wasn’t until you got there that he realized his phone was dead. You both sat in silence as it charged.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked after checking his battery life.

You nodded.

“Did you like Ogata?”

You didn’t want to admit it. You couldn’t imagine a world where Shiraishi would understand the complexity of your feelings. He never liked Ogata in the first place.

You tried to slaughter the sentimental romantic inside you. You thought about how mean Ogata could be, the awful things he’d say to you. You thought about Sugimoto and how he tried to drag himself to your cabin despite being gutted like a fish.

“No,” you scoffed.

Ogata was right. You were a liar.

#ogata hyakunosuke x reader #ogata x reader #golden kamuy x reader #golden kamuy smut #ogata smut #reader insert #x reader #.fics #.gk #.ogata

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goblinontour · 4 months ago

Text

A Mistake

he’s gonna fuck it up again

part 9 | series masterlist

warnings: prof!al, age gap (not specified), fluff (a bit), angst, feelings, crying, smut, oral (m/f receiving), fingering (f receiving), piv, footjob

word count: 14.8k

First day back. You weren’t sure if you were ready to go back to ignoring him basically all day. You didn’t know if you could keep your hands off him. You dreaded having to force yourself to not go up to him each time you’d pass by each other in the hallways. Or to just stop yourself from searching for him subconsciously.

Great thing you at least had a few more hours to prepare yourself. He had to leave before you, and you only had one class later in the evening. So no ride together.

“I don’t want to go.” he said, putting on his suit jacket and coming back to you, where you were still laying in bed. Still naked from last night. Only the comforter to cover yourself.

It was colder now. The summer heat was fortunately, but unfortunately at the same time, over.

“I don’t want you to go either.” you said, extending your arm to catch his fingers between yours.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’ll miss you.” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. The weight of his absence already felt heavy, a dull ache settling in your chest, even if it would just be for a few hours.

“You’ll call me during lunch?” you asked, trying to keep the neediness out of your voice but failing miserably.

“Of course.” he replied, a soft smile playing on his lips. “I’ll think about you all day.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his gaze intense and filled with longing already. The air between you crackled. He couldn’t stop himself any longer. He pulled you close and kissed you, kissed you like it was the first and last time he’d get to do it.

You would never get tired of his kisses and the way you could feel everything pouring out and seeping into you. He kissed you hard and he didn’t want to stop kissing you. Not now, not ever.

He started trailing the kisses down your neck, and lower, making you drop the material you were holding to cover yourself. Not that you needed it anymore. He got you hotter than any blanket could ever. There was no point to a competition.

“You’re gonna be late.” you murmured, trying to play the reasonable one in this situation. But deep down you knew you didn’t want him to stop.

“I haven’t had breakfast yet.” he whispered against the skin of your breasts as he was kissing his way down your body, his hands following the lead of his lips.

“Oh…right.” you said, stopped by a gasp escaping your lips as his hands ran down your legs, making goosebumps appear in their wake.

“You’re not gonna let me faint during a lecture just cause I didn’t have my breakfast, right?” he asked, lowering himself on the floor by the side of the bed, pulling your feet together to cradle them in his hands.

“Yeah…Can’t let my man get so neglected.” you said, looking down at him as he left a chaste kiss on one of your ankles before spreading your legs apart, positioning them over his shoulders and pulling you down on the bed until your hips were right at the edge.

The anticipation buzzed through you like an electric current, every nerve ending alive with the never ending desire for him as he moved closer, his breath warm against your skin.

“Good. Because I’m starving.” He looked up at you, his eyes dark with intent, and you felt another shiver of excitement.

His hands slid up the back of your thighs, steadying you as his lips began their journey, leaving a trail of fire on your inner thighs. The room seemed to close in around you as you became lost in the sensation of his touch.

“I’ll make it quick.” he murmured, but the smirk on his lips told you he had no intention of rushing.

He left wet kisses, little bites, tiny scratches from his facial hair growing in since he forgot to shave last night. Or better said, since you got him too busy to have any energy left to shave.

And then he touched you, right there, right where you were waiting for him to.

He licked at you so slowly, his tongue incredibly soft against your cunt as he swirled it around your folds. It was so wet against you, each movement sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

After that short moment when he just tasted you for the sake of wanting to feel your sweetness on his tongue, he roughly pulled your hips flush to his face, his nose pushing into your clit as his tongue found its way into your hole. It was no longer soft. Or delicate. Or careful. He wanted to devour you and see you crumble.

You tightened your legs around his head, trapping him in your hold even though you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

You didn’t speak, too busy trying to breathe as he worked on you. He didn’t speak, not wanting to pull apart from your pussy for one second. He could feel you getting wetter, how everything flowed right into his mouth. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

When he noticed you were almost there, but needed just that one more push, he slipped two fingers inside you. They slipped in so easily from the way he opened you up so well with his tongue. You were so wet he had no trouble sliding them all the way deep inside you and curling them to hit that spot as his tongue flicked over your clit over, and over, and over.

You gasped as the pleasure built up, each flick of his tongue sending shivers down your spine. His fingers moved expertly inside you, curling just right to hit that sweet spot that made you see stars. Your back arched off the bed, your hands gripping the sheets as you felt the tension coil tighter and tighter.

He didn’t let up, his mouth and fingers working in perfect harmony to push you closer to the edge. Your moans filled the room, growing louder as you felt your orgasm approaching. He growled against your skin, the vibrations adding to the overwhelming sensation.

Time lost all meaning as he worshipped your body, each touch, each kiss a testament to his desire. You could feel the tension building inside you, a coil of heat and need that threatened to snap at any moment.

And just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, he increased the pace, his fingers moving faster, his tongue flicking over your clit with a relentless rhythm as he pushed you over the edge, sending you spiralling into a blissful oblivion.

He didn’t stop, prolonging your pleasure, milking every last drop from you until you were a shaking, panting mess beneath him. Only then did he slow down, his movements returning to a more gentle state as he helped you come down from your high.

You lay there, utterly spent, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. He held you in place as you calmed down, his touch gentle and reassuring as he caressed your legs and stopped them from shaking.

He climbed back up the bed, gathering you into his arms, holding you close.

“Now that’s what I call breakfast.” he murmured, his voice laced with satisfaction.

You laughed softly, nestling into his embrace. “I hate you.”

“You love me.” he teased, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I do.” you admitted, your heart swelling with all the love it held for him. “I really do.”

He kissed you once more before getting up. Soft, lingering just that little bit longer than it should’ve to make sure you tasted yourself on his lips. “I’ll see you tonight.” he said, reluctantly pulling away.

“Can’t wait.” you replied, watching as he adjusted his suit jacket, smoothing out the wrinkles. Then, he wiped his chin and mouth with the back of his hand, cleaning off the remnants of you on his face. His eyes met yours, a satisfied glint in them as he finished straightening his tie. The casual intimacy of the moment sent another wave of warmth through you.

As he turned to gather his things, you couldn’t help but notice the bulge in his trousers. Not too obvious, but noticeable if you really looked. You bit your lip, a smile creeping across your face. “Looks like someone’s still excited.” you teased, nodding toward his crotch.

He glanced down, chuckling. “Wanna help me out then?” he joked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

You laughed, the sound light and teasing. “You wish. You’re already running late now, remember?”

He sighed dramatically, giving you a mock-pout. “I can deal with it, I’ll save it for tonight.” he smirked.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Trust me, I’m counting on it.”

You pulled the comforter tighter around yourself again, “Go!” you urged, even though it was the last thing you wanted. “Before I convince you to stay.”

“You make it very hard to leave, you know that?” he chuckled.

“Good, because I don’t want it to ever get easy.”

With one last quick kiss, he left, the door clicking softly behind him. You lay back against the pillows, the silence of the room amplifying your thoughts. The day started stretching ahead, each minute, each second a reminder of how much you missed him. It wasn’t normal. To miss him this much after not even an hour apart, but it was more so the thought of having to hide yourselves again. It wasn’t easy, but it was worth it. When you closed your eyes, you could still feel his presence, a ghost of warmth against your skin.

You took a deep breath, rolling over to his side of the bed. His scent still lingered on the sheets. The minutes ticked by. Eventually, you forced yourself to get up, wrapping the comforter around you as you padded to the kitchen. The sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow on the countertops. You busied yourself with making coffee, trying to shake off the melancholy that threatened to settle over you.

You heard the soft padding of paws on the floor. Sock came to keep you company. He was getting so big. You smiled as he approached, his tail held high in greeting.

“Hey, there.” you murmured, bending down to scoop him up. He purred loudly, his body warm and comforting against your chest. You settled into a chair with him in your lap. He kneaded your thighs with his paws, his purring vibrating through you.

As the coffee machine beeped to signal your cup had finished brewing, you glanced at your phone, the screen lighting up with a new message from him.

“Miss you already. Can’t wait to see you.”

Quickly after that, another text came through, a little brown heart. It was the only one he ever used, because he said it reminded him of Sock’s fur. You smiled like an idiot at your phone as you finally rose to fetch your coffee.

After finishing your only lecture of the day, you wandered the hallways, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. You hadn’t seen him at all, even though you knew he should still be around. You wondered if he was avoiding you on purpose. As you headed towards the exit, you noticed one of the faculty members staring at you. You weren’t sure what he taught, or if he was even a professor, but his gaze lingered longer than it should have. You brushed it off, thinking you were imagining things.

Deciding to walk home since Alex hadn’t given any sign, a car’s horn startled you on your way. Relief washed over you when you saw it was him.

“Missed me?” he said, rolling the window down. “Jump in.”

You quickly got in the car, barely having time to kiss him before he started driving off as soon as you closed the door.

“Woah, there.” you said, bracing yourself.

“Sorry, I just didn’t want people to see.”

“They don’t know your car now, Mr. Turner.” you reminded him.

“Oh fuck, you’re right,” he said, “I keep forgetting.”

“‘Cause you’re so old.” you joked.

“So old, should put me in a geriatric home.” he added.

“I can take good care of you on my own.”

“Oh please, young lady, don’t let me burden you.” he mocked, glancing at you with his eyes scrunched up from the amusement clear on his face.

You settled back into your seat. The city streets blurred past as he drove, the familiar route home bringing a sense of normalcy amidst all the secrecy that you had to settle back into.

“So, how was your lecture?” he asked, his tone casual but genuinely interested.

“Boring.” you admitted, rolling your eyes. “Yours are so much better.”

“Are they?” he asked, looking back at you and raising his eyebrows.

“They’re the best.”

“I wonder why?” he said, a smile playing on his lips as he looked at the road ahead.

“Because you’re my favourite.” you replied, humouring him and what he was hinting at.

“Mhm, yeah keep going and you might get special treatment.” he joked, leading to you both starting to laugh.

“You didn’t call me like you promised.” you said eventually. Not that it was that big of a deal, but you were looking forward to hearing his voice.

“I had to attend a meeting with the dean, start of the year stuff.” he explained, his expression softening. “Sorry I couldn’t sneak away.”

“Yeah, I get it. I just missed you.” you admitted, your tone softening.

He reached over, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “I missed you too. Trust me, the highlight of my day was thinking about seeing you again.”

“Me too.” you sighed contentedly, letting the warmth of his presence envelop you.

As he pulled into the driveway, he turned off the engine and looked at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Now, where were we?”

You grinned, unbuckling your seatbelt. “I think we were about to make up for lost time.”

He leaned over to kiss you, but his phone beeped, interrupting the moment. He sighed, taking it out of his pocket and slumping back in his seat, sighing again.

“What happened?” you asked, catching his hand in yours.

“Just reminding us that we have some event this Friday, for the professors to ‘hang out’” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, come on, you should go, you never go out.” you encouraged.

“I’d rather stay with you.”

“I’ll wait for you at home.”

“Okay.” he said, smiling again.

You both headed up into the flat, and Alex shrugged off his blazer and went to sit down in the living room. Almost immediately, you were greeted by a very excited Sock. Or rather, Alex was greeted. Sock loved him much more than he did you, even though Alex would never say that out loud.

As Sock curled around Alex’s legs, you asked, “Hey, there was this guy in the hallway today, kept looking at me. Tall, glasses, short brown hair. Do you know him?”

Alex’s eyes opened wide as he realised who you were talking about. “Yeah, uhh…He heard us in the bathroom that day.”

“Does he know it’s me?” you asked, your heartbeat quickening.

“I have no idea.” Alex replied, his expression turning serious, but he quickly composed himself. “Don’t worry too much.” he said, waving you over to him. Despite the anxiety that crept up on both of you, his reassuring smile eased your nerves.

“Now, where were we?” he asked again, pulling you down so you were sitting right on top of him.

His hands found their way around your waist, steadying you as you adjusted on his lap. He pulled you tight, your back pressing against his chest, his breath warm on the back of your neck. Slowly, he unbuttoned your shirt, pulling it out from where it was tucked into your skirt. Once it was off, his mouth travelled down your back, only stopping when your bra got in the way.

Quickly, he discarded it, throwing it to the side. Maybe landing on the couch, maybe on the floor. He didn’t notice, and neither did you.

“Is this my special treatment?” you asked as you felt his hands creep back to your front, cupping your breasts in each of his palms and rubbing them back and forth over your nipples.

“Mine now.” he said, starting to grind his hips into you. “I have the upper hand here.” he whispered, his voice thick with desire.

The sensation of his touch sent shivers down your spine. His fingers kneaded your breasts, each movement eliciting a soft gasp from you. His hips pressed into you with increasing urgency, and you could feel his arousal growing beneath you.

You arched your back, pressing yourself closer to him, feeling the heat of his body through your skin. His lips continued their journey, trailing kisses down your neck and across your shoulders.

“Alex.” you breathed out, your voice a mix of need and affection.

“Yes, love?” he responded, his hands never ceasing their teasing movements.

“Keep the clothes on.”

He smiled against your skin, his breath hot and heavy. “Okay.” he murmured, his hands sliding lower, teasing the edge of your skirt. “You should take yours off.” he said, his voice husky with anticipation.

You nodded, raising yourself from his lap to push down your skirt and underwear, too eager to delay. As you did, he used the time to unbuckle his belt and work his pants open, pulling his cock out and giving it a quick tug before letting it rest against his stomach. His hand reached for you, pulling you to sit back down on him.

“Can I open the shirt?” he asked as his hands played with your hair.

“Yes, but…Keep it on.” you replied.

The sensation of being utterly exposed before him while he remained fully dressed, not even his shoes off, was intoxicating. His fingers deftly unbuttoned his shirt, but true to your request, he left it draped over his shoulders. The contrast of your bare skin against the cool fabric heightened your awareness of every touch, every breath. You could practically feel his eyes on you, even though you couldn’t see them, drinking in the sight of your vulnerability, and it sent a thrill through you.

His hands roamed over your body, exploring the revealed skin. The way his clothes rubbed against you, the texture of his shirt, the roughness of his trousers, added an unexpected layer of sensation. It was an exquisite blend of anticipation and fulfilment, each movement drawing you closer together while keeping a tantalising barrier between you.

His lips found your neck again, and you tilted your head to give him better access. The warmth of his breath, the gentle scrape of his teeth, everything felt heightened.

“Perfect.” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your skin. He adjusted you slightly, positioning you just right before pushing his hips up, meeting you with a slow, deliberate thrust, the mix of his careful control and the roughness of your urgency harmonising with the other.

He allowed you to slowly sink down fully, his hands guiding your hips until you were resting on his thighs. The sensation of him being buried inside you was still overwhelming every time. Every inch of him filled you, stretching you in the most satisfying way. You felt every ridge, every pulse, the connection between you both growing deeper with each passing second.

You could feel his heartbeat in sync with yours, the intimacy of the moment intensifying as you settled onto him. His hands gripped your hips firmly, grounding you while his lips continued to explore your neck and shoulders. The friction of his clothes against your skin added to the sensory overload, a delicious contrast to the heat and softness where your bodies met.

Alex’s breath hitched as he held you there, savouring the feeling of being so intimately joined. The slow movements allowed you to feel him fully, a dance of control and surrender. Each subtle shift of your hips, each slight adjustment you tried to make was met with an increasing tightening of his fingers on you.

“Don’t move…Just- Just stay like that.” he whispered, his voice strained.

You settled fully back against his chest, his hands moving from your hips to wrap around your waist, where you held them in yours. You turned your head to look at him, and saw his eyes were almost closed, trying to hold back and not come inside you before you even started.

“Are you tired?” you asked him, your mouths so close that your breaths got sucked by his.

“No…Maybe a bit…Can I just hold you like this for a while?”

You nodded, and his mouth closed in on the corner of your lips in a gentle kiss. His arms tightened around you. You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling his steady heartbeat against your back. His hands traced idle patterns on your skin. Every now and then, his fingers would dip lower, teasing the sensitive skin just above your mound, only to retreat and continue their gentle path.

His breathing grew more even, and you could feel his tension easing slightly. He shifted beneath you, and you could feel him shifting inside you as well.

“Can you feel how much I want you?” he murmured into your ear.

“Yes.” you whispered back, your own desire mirrored in your voice.

His lips brushed against your neck, placing feather-light kisses along the curve of your shoulder. The sensation was maddening, each touch igniting a fire within you that was hard to contain. You clenched around him involuntarily, drawing a groan from deep within his chest.

“You’re making it very difficult for me to last over here.” he chuckled softly, his breath hot against your skin.

“Good.” you teased, squeezing his hands that were still entwined with yours.

Alex’s hands finally moved with purpose, sliding up to cup your breasts again, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. The sharp jolt of pleasure made you arch your back, pressing yourself harder against him. His hips bucked in response, a low curse escaping his lips.

“God, I love you.” he murmured, his voice filled with a raw intensity that took your breath away.

He nudged you gently, signalling for you to pull your legs up. You complied, bringing your knees close to your chest and holding them with your hands. The angle change brought a new stretch as his hands locked onto your hips. He lifted you slightly, allowing himself to move within you.

The slow rhythm he set was agonisingly perfect, each thrust so minor yet so intense, it felt like he was grinding into you, every inch of him nestled deep inside you. His movements were almost imperceptible, the only sounds being your shared breaths and the racing of your heartbeats. Each time he pushed into you, it felt like he was reaching deeper, touching parts of you that made your toes curl and breath hitch. You could feel the tension building within you, a sweet ache that promised release.

“Alex.” you breathed, your voice trembling.

He responded with a soft kiss to your shoulder, his lips a tender counterpoint. “I’m right here.” he whispered, his voice steady despite the evident strain of his own restraint.

You couldn’t help it, your body responding involuntarily as you clenched around him again. The reaction was immediate, his control breaking.

“Don’t- Fuck-” he swore, his voice strained, a mix of desperation and pleasure.

The sensation of you tightening around him was too much. He’d been on edge all day, the tension building, the simple thought of this happening making him teeter on the brink ever since he got you in the car.

It was all too much. The added pressure from the sheer tightness of you around him caused by the position, making him feel every inch of you gripping him, pushed him over. His legs trembled, thighs tensing as he spilled inside you, unable to hold back any longer.

His orgasm felt like a hot, overwhelming flood taking him over. The intensity of it made him shudder, his breath ragged in your ear, each time his cock pulsed inside you making him shudder underneath.

As his high subsided, he held you close, his forehead resting against your shoulder for a moment, the aftershocks of his orgasm making him shiver.

But you still wanted him, so bad. You began moving your hips, a slow grind. Despite his overstimulation, he didn’t stop you.

His breath hitched, and he moaned softly, the mix of pleasure and pain and sensitivity making every movement feel electric. His hands found their way back to your hips, holding you steady as you set the pace, each roll of your hips drawing out pleasure for both of you.

His hand slid between your legs, rubbing messily over your clit in lazy circles to help get you there. The friction was perfect, and you could feel the heat continuing to build rapidly.

“Don’t stop, please.” you managed to gasp, your voice breaking with the intensity of your need.

“I won’t.” he promised, his voice a husky whisper against your ear. “I’m right here, love.”

He almost felt dizzy from how good you could make him feel just by being there. He started moving his fingers more precisely, pushing harder onto the sensitive spot until you shook, your legs dropping back down and your body trembling with pleasure. He had to steady you so he could finish you properly, but as you squeezed around him again, he came, again.

It took him by surprise how quickly his second load started spurting inside you, and it only heightened your own feelings, being so full of him.

The intensity of his release sent another wave of pleasure crashing over you, and you let out a moan, your body convulsing as the orgasm tore through you. He held you tight, his grip almost bruising as he rode out the pleasure with you, until you were both lost in the exquisite agony of wanting, the sweet torment of being so deeply intertwined.

He gently lifted you up, reluctantly pulling out despite loving the feeling of being inside you. He simply couldn’t take it anymore, afraid his brain would shut off from overstimulation. Maybe he was being dramatic, or maybe the tiredness from going back to work got to him more than he thought.

You could feel his cum dripping out of you, landing on his clothed thigh. “Maybe you should have taken off your clothes.” you said, watching the dark material stain.

“You told me not to.” he replied, his chest rising and falling behind you as he slowly came back to earth.

“They’re full of your spunk now.” you said, your voice just as breathy as his, both of you equally exhausted.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” he muttered.

You couldn’t think of anything else to say, but your body acted on impulse. Your fingers dragged along the wetness gathering on his trousers, picking it up and without thinking twice, you brought them straight to his mouth, resting on his bottom lip. He didn’t say anything, almost lifeless as you brushed them, wetting his lips further, feeling the cracks in his skin. His lips were always dry, but somehow they felt soft whenever he kissed you.

His kisses. You already missed his kisses. You turned awkwardly to kiss him, your tongue darting out instantly to lick his lips. He melted into it, his mouth opening to deepen it almost subconsciously. Mindless. Lazy. The taste of both of you mingling on your tongues.

It became a silent exchange of the overwhelming emotions you both felt. They never subsided, or lessened. It felt just as raw and desperate as the very first time.

His hands, now free, roamed over your back, pulling you closer as if trying to meld you into himself. Your fingers tangled in his hair, keeping him anchored to you, always desperate for more of his touch.

He pulled back just enough to whisper, “You’re going to be the death of me.”

You smiled, your forehead resting against his.

You kissed him again, slower this time. Time seemed to stretch. Eventually, he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours once more, both of you breathing heavily.

“Let’s get cleaned up.” he suggested, his voice gentle. “Old man needs to sleep.” he joked.

You nodded, feeling a rush of affection for him. “Okay.”

As you moved to get up, his arms tightened around you, holding you close for just a moment longer. “I love you.” he whispered, “A lot.”

“I love you too, a lot.” you replied.

Friday rolled around, and Alex found himself at the bar with his colleagues after a dinner at an overly fancy restaurant. The choice of such a place seemed almost a way to compensate for something, perhaps to give themselves more importance than they felt they had. The elaborate decor and pricey menu felt like an attempt to elevate their status, to project an image of success and sophistication.

The evening was pleasant enough. It wasn’t that he disliked his colleagues. They were fine company. Yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that he would have rather spent the time with you, or even had you by his side there. But that wasn’t an option.

As the night wore on and the drinks kept coming, he started to feel more relaxed. The alcohol smoothed out the edges of his initial reluctance. It wasn’t so bad after all. He laughed more freely, engaged in conversations, and found himself genuinely enjoying the night. But you were always in the back of his mind, a constant reminder of where he truly wanted to be.

There was a moment of clarity amidst the haze of alcohol where he realised how much he’d missed just being around more people. The camaraderie felt good, almost revitalising. He almost felt guilty for enjoying himself so much, but the simple truth was that it felt nice to let loose and be part of a group. Still, the thought of you lingered, a bittersweet undercurrent to his enjoyment.

Alex sipped his drink, the familiar burn of whiskey a comforting presence as he glanced around the room. His colleagues were in high spirits, laughing and sharing stories from their week. It was a scene of normalcy, something he’d been missing without even realising it. The isolation of your secret relationship had its costs, and tonight highlighted one of them starkly.

Despite the enjoyment, there was an underlying melancholy. The evening’s laughter felt a bit hollow without you to share it with. He wondered how you were spending your night, hoping you weren’t feeling as lonely as he did at times. The guilt of having fun without you gnawed at him, even as he forced himself to smile and participate in the revelry.

By the third drink, the guilt began to fade, replaced by a warm buzz that made everything seem a bit brighter. It felt good, almost too good. The night had taken on a surreal quality. The high ceilings and ambient lighting seemed to pulse with a life of their own, the sounds of clinking glasses and muted conversations creating a symphony of distraction.

Eventually, he went up to the bar to leave his now empty glass and perhaps order another if he was patient enough to wait in the queue. The place somehow got packed in the time between their arrival and now. Fuck it, I’ll get another, he thought. So he waited, elbow propped up on the counter, legs crossed and tapping the floor, waiting for the time to pass.

As he stood there, someone came up to him. Is she the secretary? No, no…Another professor? He knew her, definitely, but in his slightly inebriated state, he couldn’t quite place her. Maybe it was more than just slightly now. She had a warm smile and didn’t greet him, meaning they probably talked before during this little outing. But he couldn’t recall. Somehow she made him feel at ease.

“Enjoying the night?” she said, leaning against the bar beside him.

“Yeah, it’s been good.” he replied, his usual reserved demeanour softened by the alcohol. “Nice to get out with everyone.”

She laughed. “You always seem so busy. It’s good to see you relaxing for a change.”

They got talking, and despite being more reserved usually, Alex let himself go when he felt comfortable or got a little liquid encouragement. And he felt both right now. He found himself opening up about work, sharing stories and frustrations that he typically kept to himself. She listened attentively, nodding and laughing at the right moments, making him feel heard and appreciated.

The bartender finally approached, and Alex ordered another drink, offering to get one for his newfound companion as well. She accepted, and they clinked glasses before taking a sip, each from their respective one.

For a while, he allowed himself to forget the complexity of his personal life. The conversation flowed easily, and he even caught himself genuinely laughing at a joke she made.

Slowly, Alex felt his body go numb, just a bit. His posture slumped slightly, and though there were no empty seats, standing was fine. At first. Without noticing, his head, once perched upright on his hand, started sliding lower, his eyes fighting to stay open at times.

She touched his arm lightly, teasing him, “Getting tired already?” He smiled but didn’t bother to straighten up or flinch from her touch. He felt warm. A contented haze enveloping him.

“You caught me.” he said, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “It’s been a long week.”

“I can tell.” she replied, her tone playful.

The softness of her touch, combined with the comfort of their conversation, made him feel quite relaxed. It was a stark contrast to the usual tension he carried, a tension that only you seemed to melt away. Only in your presence. Now, amidst the laughter and the dim bar lights, he found a momentary escape, a brief respite from the secrets.

As the evening wore on, he found himself leaning more into the bar for support, his movements slow and thoughtless. He could feel the warmth of her presence beside him. Even as his thoughts occasionally drifted back to you, he allowed himself to enjoy it.

Alex could feel her grasp his shoulder, the touch more accentuated now, even through the thick leather of his jacket. He downed the last few sips left in his glass, eyes closing as the liquid hit his throat. He couldn’t taste it anymore.

Before he even got the chance to put his glass down, he felt her lean in closer, her hand messing with the collar of his jacket, or maybe the polo underneath. He couldn’t tell and was afraid to open his eyes. Then he felt her lips on his, pressing against his bottom lip where his mouth hung open slightly. He didn’t really feel it, just the pressure.

Is she kissing me?

He couldn’t seem to pull away, and he didn’t. He didn’t think. He didn’t pull away. He let her kiss him, and maybe he even kissed her back. He couldn’t feel what he was doing exactly, but he tried to move with her. He probably seemed like a really bad kisser. The alcohol numbed his senses, leaving him disconnected from his actions, but the pressure of her lips brought a strange muddling over his body.

The feel of her hand on his collar intensified, her fingers playing with the fabric, and he realised she was tugging him closer. He didn’t resist. Her lips were insistent, moving against his with a determination that contrasted sharply with his passive response. The kiss deepened, her tongue brushing against his lips, seeking entry.

He parted his lips slightly, allowing her to explore, but there was no real engagement on his part. It was as if he were an observer in his own body, noting the sensations without fully experiencing them. Her kiss was fervent, almost desperate, and he could sense the urgency in her touch, but it felt distant, as though it were happening to someone else.

He tried to kiss her back, mimicking her movements, but it was clumsy, lacking the coordination and passion that typically characterised his kisses. His mind was a fog, clouded by the alcohol and the guilt that gnawed at the edges of his consciousness.

Through the haze, a thought pierced through: What am I doing? But the thought was fleeting, buried under the weight of the moment. He couldn’t pull away, didn’t want to break the spell, even though he knew he should.

Her hand slid from his collar to the back of his neck, pulling him even closer, deepening the kiss further. The intensity of her touch sent a shiver down his spine, momentarily cutting through the numbness. His hands, previously idle at his sides, found their way to her waist, a reflexive gesture that felt foreign and detached.

The kiss felt like it lasted an eternity, each passing second a struggle between giving in and restraint. He could feel her breath mingling with his, her heartbeat quickening against his chest.

Gradually, he started to taste her on his tongue. A faint, unfamiliar flavour that became more noticeable with each passing moment. It wasn’t you. Fuck, he thought, the realisation hitting him hard. Yet, he didn’t pull back. He was stuck, unable to move, trapped in the moment. He had allowed this to happen, and now he was caught, paralyzed by a mix of guilt and inertia.

As the seconds ticked by, the taste grew more pronounced, a constant reminder that he was kissing someone who wasn’t you. His mind screamed at him to stop, to pull away, but his body wouldn’t comply. It was as if he were a spectator in his own life, watching helplessly as the scene unfolded.

The taste was wrong. It felt alien. He couldn’t shake the thought of you, the memory of your kisses, and how different they were from this.

Her hands roamed over his shoulders and back, seeking more contact, while his own hands stayed awkwardly at her waist. He could feel her trying to beg for more from him, her eagerness a stark contrast to his own hesitation. The more she pushed, the more he felt himself retreating inwardly, even as his body remained pressed against hers.

In that moment, Alex was overwhelmed by a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The taste of her, the guilt of betraying you, and the frustration of his own paralysis all swirled together, leaving him disoriented and lost. He knew he had to stop, to pull away and regain control, but the numbness from the alcohol and the weight of his own actions kept him frozen in place.

Finally, she pulled back, her breath heavy, eyes searching his face for a reaction. Alex opened his eyes slowly, the reality of the situation crashing down on him. His heart pounded in his chest. He didn’t know what to say, his mind scrambling for words that wouldn’t come.

“I...I can’t.” he stammered, his voice barely audible above the noise of the bar. “I’m sorry.”

She looked at him, but he didn’t catch the expression on her face. He did feel her step back to give him space. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart and clear his muddled thoughts. The taste of her lingered on his lips, mingling with the bitterness of the whiskey.

Turning away, he made his way through the crowd, his mind in turmoil. The warmth of the alcohol still buzzed in his veins, but the clarity of his guilt cut through the haze. He needed to get out.

Alex stepped outside, the night air cool against his flushed skin. He thought about calling you but changed his mind, feeling too ashamed and disoriented. He paced mindlessly by the door, until someone bumped into him as they exited the bar. He murmured a ‘sorry’ and shifted aside.

Patting his jacket, he checked his outer pockets, then his inner ones, searching for his cigarettes. Finally, he found the pack. He hadn’t quit, despite his attempts. Strawberry-flavoured air just didn't work on him. He struggled to light one, swearing quietly as the door opened again.

This time, someone approached him intentionally. Alex looked up and saw it was the guy you’d asked him about a few days ago. The one from the bathroom incident. Great.

“Was she the one who you got busy with in the bathroom, Turner?” the man asked, without any ill intent necessarily, just a crude attempt at starting a conversation.

Alex wasn’t in the right frame of mind. “No.” He replied, stern and harsh, the words coming out meaner than he intended. He took a deep drag from his cigarette, the smoke filling his lungs and momentarily calming his nerves. The guy raised an eyebrow, taken aback by the curt response.

“Hey, no need to bite my head off. Just making conversation.” He held up his hands in a mock defensive gesture.

Alex exhaled slowly, the smoke swirling around him. “Sorry.” he muttered, not really meaning it but wanting to defuse the situation. His head was spinning.

The guy frowned, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “So who was it then?”

Alex pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to quell his irritation. “Would you fuck off, please?” he snapped, his patience wearing thin. He instantly regretted his outburst, sighing heavily. “Sorry.” he repeated, his voice softer, wearier.

The guy studied him for a moment, then nodded, stepping back. “Alright, man. Take it easy. Rough night?”

“You could say that.” Alex replied, taking another drag. He thought of you, waiting at home, and the shame washed over him anew.

The guy leaned against the wall, taking a swig from his beer. “I get it. These events can be a bit much sometimes. Need to blow off some steam.”

Alex just nodded, not trusting himself to say more. He was tired, emotionally drained, and the alcohol wasn’t helping to numb the feelings as much as he hoped. He felt raw, exposed, like the night had peeled back layers he wasn’t ready to deal with.

After a moment, the guy spoke again, more cautiously this time. “Look, if you ever need to talk or anything…I’m around. No judgement.”

Alex glanced at him, surprised by the offer. He nodded again, a bit more sincerely this time. “Thanks.” he said quietly.

The guy gave a small smile and pushed off the wall. “Take care, Turner. And maybe get some rest.”

Alex watched him go, feeling a strange mix of relief and discomfort. He took one last drag from his cigarette before flicking it away. He needed to go home, to see you, to try and make sense of the mess in his head. Pushing through the haze, he started walking, hoping that maybe, just maybe, you could help him find some clarity.

Alex stumbled into the apartment, the door slamming shut behind him. “Fuck.” he murmured under his breath, the echo of the sound and the evening still reverberating in his mind.

You were waiting for him, just as you’d promised.

He saw the bedroom door ajar, dim light from the nightstand lamps seeping through the crack. Shrugging off his jacket, he tried to hang it up but gave up after a few tries, letting it fall wherever. He kicked off his shoes and headed to the bedroom, pushing the door open with his hip as he pulled his shirt over his head. He was too hot. He didn’t want to feel it on his skin anymore.

Then he saw you. Waiting on your knees on the bed, hands on your thighs, clad in the lingerie he bought you once but that you never got to wear because neither of you could be bothered or had enough time to play around.

He blinked, his jaw dropping slightly as he took in the sight, as if making sure he wasn’t seeing things. He was seeing things, but hopefully he wasn’t just imagining them.

“Fuck…me.” he said, dumbfounded, not moving from his place.

“Come and kiss me if you’re not afraid.” you replied.

He hesitated for a moment. The alcohol still buzzed in his veins, making everything feel a bit surreal. Slowly, he stepped forward, his eyes never leaving yours. Each step felt like a mile, his body heavy.

When he reached the bed, he knelt down, his hands trembling slightly as he cupped your face. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours tentatively, as if afraid you might disappear if he pressed too hard. The kiss was soft at first, a gentle touch, but as the seconds ticked by, it deepened, the pent-up desire spilling over.

You responded eagerly, your hands sliding up to grip his shoulders, pulling him closer. The feel of your body against his was intoxicating. His fingers trailed down your sides, feeling the delicate lace of the lingerie, the contrast between the soft fabric and the warmth of your skin.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I didn’t…I didn’t mean to…”

“What?” you asked, pulling him up the bed over you, your fingers quickly fiddling with the zipper on his jeans, finding your way inside his boxers and palming him. He moaned, not saying anything else, his face rubbing into your neck as your hand worked on him, getting him hard.

“How drunk are you?” you asked, noticing it took longer than usual to even get a sign of life from his cock.

“Verrry.” he said, rolling the ‘r’ unnecessarily and giggling afterward. The sound was a mix of amusement and embarrassment, making you smile despite the situation.

His laughter was short-lived, replaced by a low moan as your touch became more insistent. You could feel him hardening in your hand, his body responding to your familiar touch even through the haze of alcohol. He pressed closer, his lips brushing your ear, his breath warm and uneven.

“Feels so good…” he murmured, his voice slurred. His hands, though shaky, found their way to your hips, pulling you against him as he sought more of the connection he craved.

Your free hand tangled in his hair, pulling him closer for another kiss. This one was hungrier, driven by the need to just feel him. He kissed back with fervour, his body finally catching up to the urgency of his need for you.

As his erection grew in your hand, so did his control, his hands becoming slightly steadier, more purposeful. He pushed his jeans and underwear down with a grunt of frustration, his movements clumsy but determined. You helped him, your own hands eager to feel the heat of his skin against yours.

When he was finally free, he pressed against you, his cock hard and demanding against your thigh. You could feel the dampness of your own arousal on the lace.

He murmured something, his voice muffled by the way he had his face buried into your skin. You couldn’t make out the words, his quiet voice lost in the moment.

“What did you say?” you asked, your own voice breathless.

“I asked…” he paused, biting gently near your collarbone, the sensation sending shivers through you, “If you’ll ride me.”

His request hung in the air, raw and needy. You nodded, pushing him gently on the bed onto his back. He lay there, looking up at you as you straddled him, feeling the heat of his skin against yours, the hard length of him pressing against you.

“The other way.” he said sheepishly.

His hair was tousled, cheeks flushed. His lips, slightly parted, were still wet from your earlier kisses, and his chest rose and fell with each ragged breath. The dim light from the bedside lamp cast shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and the softness of his eyes.

“Gonna boss me around tonight?” you teased, leaning down and touching the tip of his nose with your finger. His eyes crossed slightly as he tried to follow your finger, and he chuckled when he realised it.

He made a small circular motion with his finger, signalling you to turn around. You smiled, leaning in to give him a quick peck on the lips. “You can be the boss.” you said.

You turned around, shifting your position to face away from him. The new angle allowed him to guide you more easily, and he couldn’t help but admire the view. His hands roamed over your curves, lingering on your hips before sliding down to your ass. It was clear he just wanted to see it while you rode him, evident in the way his fingers gripped you possessively as you slid the fabric covering you to the side and lowered yourself onto him.

He tried to steady you, his hands staying loosely on your waist as you began to move. The rhythm was slow at first, a tantalising build-up that had you both on edge. He guided your movements with gentle pressure, his fingers digging harder into your flesh as you picked up the pace.

“Just like that.” he murmured, his voice a husky whisper. His hands slid up your back, tracing the curve of your spine and the details of the skimpy bodysuit.

You leaned forward, your hands gripping his legs for support, giving him better leverage to control the depth and angle of his thrusts. His grip tightened, and he increased the pace, more or less taking over for you, each movement more forceful.

He tried to sit up slightly, to raise his back from the mattress, but halfway through he couldn’t seem to do it fully. Instead, he brought you down onto him with his grip on your waist. He laughed at his own failed attempt, making you laugh in turn. His laugh was infectious, especially this drunken one.

His cock was still inside you. Right. He quickly remembered that, guiding you both to the left, laying on his side and lifting your right leg into the air. He tried to hold it but then he also wanted to rub your pussy. And he found he couldn’t do both.

“You hold it.” he asked, guiding your hand to your thigh before moving his own to your front to rub your clit as he pumped his cock into you.

It wasn’t as intense, the angle more difficult to go as deep. But god, it was hot. Incredibly hot. The position allowed for a different kind of intimacy, his fingers working your clit in tandem with his thrusts. Your breath hitched, and your muscles tensed as the pleasure coiled tightly within you.

“Oh god...” you gasped, your voice trembling. He kissed your neck, his lips warm and encouraging against your skin.

“You let go now.” he whispered.

With his words and the relentless stimulation, you couldn’t hold back any longer. Your hand tightened on your thigh, holding it higher as you rode out the climax. He continued to kiss your neck, murmuring soothing words as you trembled in his arms. The feeling of release was overwhelming, your mind blanking out everything except the sensation of him inside you, his touch guiding you through it.

You let go of your leg, feeling the tension release as he slipped out of you and lay on his back. Turning around, you saw him jerking his cock, his eyes half-lidded.

“I wanna come too.” he said, fumbling with his feet, trying to push down his socks. They stubbornly stuck at his heels, and he eventually gave up with a frustrated huff.

You placed your hand over his, guiding it away as you took over. Your thumb rubbed over the tip of his cock, and he let out a half-gasp, half-moan, his body shuddering at your touch.

“Your mouth…” he murmured, eyes fluttering from the pleasure, trying to focus.

“The boss wants my mouth?” you teased, leaning in closer.

He opened his eyes, a determined glint shining through his haze, fighting to keep them locked onto yours. “Yeah…Boss wants to fuck your mouth.” he chuckled at his own words, his fingers trailing through your hair, guiding you gently but firmly.

You leaned down, your hand still working his shaft, and took him into your mouth. His moan was immediate. He reached down, tangling his fingers in your hair better, guiding you as you moved up and down.

You took him deeper, feeling the pulsing heat of his erection against your tongue. His grip tightened, and he thrust up into your mouth, the rhythm urgent and demanding.

“Fuck, just like that.” he breathed, his voice a strained whisper.

You hollowed your cheeks, increasing the suction. His hips bucked, and you could taste the salty precum on your tongue, a prelude to what was coming. You increased the pace, your hand moving in tandem with your mouth, stroking the base of his cock while your lips and tongue focused on the head.

He was close, you could feel it in the way his body trembled, the way his grip on your hair became almost painfully tight.

He pulled you off with a ragged groan, his grip on your hair still insistent as he guided you to lie on your back instead. He moved swiftly, straddling your chest and inching up your body until his cock was resting on your chin, still slick with your saliva.

He pushed his cock back into your mouth, the head sliding past your lips. The angle was different, more demanding, and you had less control. He began to thrust. You tried to open your mouth wider, but your teeth still grazed him occasionally. He didn’t seem to mind, his eyes half-closed, lost in the sensation.

His expression was a mixture of raw need and pleasure, a look that made every bit of discomfort worth it. He was in another dimension, utterly consumed by the moment. You let him use you, relaxing your throat as much as possible, accepting his pace.

Leaning down, he braced himself with his arms on either side of your head, his body looming over you. His thrusts grew more forceful, his breathing harsh and uneven. The bed creaked beneath you, the rhythm of his movements relentless. You felt every inch of him as he drove deeper, his hips snapping forward again and again.

You took it. Took it all, pushing him to the edge, and then he was coming, hot and fast, spilling into your mouth with a broken cry.

You swallowed, the taste of him filling your senses, and kept going, milking every last drop until he was spent, collapsing back onto the bed with a shuddering sigh. You got up, sitting back on your heels and wiping your mouth, watching as he struggled to catch his breath.

“Fuck…” he murmured, eyes closed, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. “If only you could see how pretty you are for me.”

“Stop it.” you said, adjusting the bodysuit back into place, though you knew it was no use and you’d be taking it off soon. It gave you something to do with your hands, a way to distract yourself from how deeply he affected you.

“Why would I stop?” he asked, rolling over onto his stomach, reaching out to touch you. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your thigh.

“I’m gonna take a shower.” you said, moving his hand away and shuffling slightly on the bed.

“Do I have to take a shower too?” he asked, his voice muffled as he buried his face deeper into the sheets. His body sprawled out, looking utterly spent.

“You probably should. You smell.” you replied, smiling slightly as you glanced back at him. His dishevelled hair and the lazy way he laid across the bed made him look adorably helpless.

He groaned loudly, refusing to move. “But I’m so tired.” His words were a mix of genuine exhaustion and playful whining, as if he was testing just how far he could push his luck with you.

“You can do it in the morning. I’ll put up with it for the night.” you said, adjusting the straps of your bodysuit to straighten them as you prepared to leave the room.

Just as you were about to step out, he lifted his feet slightly, his voice coming out in a sleepy mumble. “Can you take my socks off, please?” He stretched his legs out, feet dangling in the air.

You chuckled, walking back to the bed. “Seriously?”

“Please.” he repeated, his tone playful but clearly exhausted. His feet wiggled slightly, as if encouraging you to hurry up.

You laughed. “Lazy.”

He grinned, eyes closed again. “Spoiled.”

You bent down, grabbing the edge of his socks and pulling them off one at a time. His feet were warm and a bit sweaty as you gave him a quick rub. He let out a contented sigh, his entire body visibly relaxing.

“There. Happy now?”

“Very.” he murmured, already half-asleep as he settled deeper into the mattress, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

You shook your head, amused, as you finally made your way to the bathroom. The sound of the water running was a welcome distraction, the warmth enveloping you and giving you a moment to yourself. You stepped under the spray, letting it wash over you, cleansing your skin.

After a while, you turned off the water, wrapping yourself in a towel. As you walked back to the bedroom, you found him exactly where you left him, sprawled out on the bed, his breathing slow and steady.

I can hear her begging me to fuck her, her voice hoarse and desperate. I can almost hear her pleading with me, her body trembling with need. I wonder if she’s thinking the same thing. If she’s imagining the feel of my cock inside her, filling her up and taking her to new heights of pleasure.

You woke up and saw him still in the same position he fell back asleep in after momentarily waking when you came into bed. His breathing was deep and steady, his face relaxed in slumber. You watched him for a moment, the way his eyelashes fluttered slightly with each exhale, and felt a pang of affection. His hair was tousled, and the sheet barely covered his hips, revealing the curve of his back.

She’s beneath me, her eyes locked onto mine, her lips parted as she gasps for breath. Bringing her pleasure is one of the best things, a pure, unadulterated joy that courses through me. I would do anything she wanted, anything to hear that sweet sound of her moans, to feel the way her body responds to my touch. Every inch of her is a paradise I want to explore endlessly.

You came back in to check on him at some point, but he was still sleeping. You let him be. He was pretty drunk last night, and it was a Saturday. He could rest a little longer. The room was filled with the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. You adjusted the covers slightly, making sure he was comfortable, and smiled to yourself at how peaceful he looked, contrasting sharply with the rawness he showed last night.

Her hands grasp at me, her nails digging into my skin as she pulls me closer. The urgency in her movements, the way she arches her back, pushing herself against me. It drives me wild. I can almost feel her warmth, the way her body clenches around me. It’s a need, a deep, primal urge to give her everything.

As you two were playing in the living room, Sock somehow made his way into the bedroom and jumped on Alex, right on his ass that was contoured by the sheets from the way he slept on his front with one leg bent up slightly. You took him away and hoped it didn’t wake Alex up. His leg twitched slightly but nothing more. You gently stroked the cat’s fur, whispering soothing words to keep him calm and prevent him from disturbing Al again, like he was some baby you didn’t want to start crying.

I shift slightly, trying to get closer, to deepen the connection. Her breathy whimpers turn into cries of pleasure, and I can feel the building tension, the climax approaching. I am wholly consumed by her. The need to bring her that pleasure, to be the one who makes her lose control, it's overwhelming. I’d move heaven and earth for her, give up anything just to see her smile, to hear her whisper my name in that tone that sends shivers down my spine. I hold onto that thought, the pure bliss of being everything she needs, of losing myself in her.

You made your way back in bed, sitting at the other end, bored of waiting for him to wake up. You observed him for a while, then tried your chances by gently poking him with your feet, nudging him in the face until he eventually stirred and opened his eyes. His eyelids fluttered, a slow, reluctant motion as if he was trying to hold onto the remnants of his dream. You smiled as he groaned softly, his hand instinctively reaching up to push your foot away, but not with much force.

“Hey.” you said.

He groaned again and buried his face back in his pillow for a moment. “My head is killing me.”

“You were pretty drunk last night.”

“What?”

“You don't remember?” you asked, a slight disappointment in your voice. It would hurt a little if he forgot what happened.

“No. Yes- No, I remember, I remember.” he said, turning over onto his back and grabbing your feet into his hands, placing them on his chest. The warmth of his skin against yours brought a sense of reassurance, and his eyes, though still heavy with sleep, locked onto yours. His thumbs gently stroked the tops of your feet, a silent apology for his initial confusion.

He sighed deeply, rubbing his temple with one hand while keeping the other on your feet. “I remember everything.” he said, a small smile playing on his lips. “How could I forget? You were...Incredible.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, the disappointment melting away. “Good.” you replied softly, shifting closer to him. “I was worried you might have been too out of it.”

He shook his head, a playful glint in his eyes despite the lingering hangover. “No way. I’d have to be dead to forget a night like that.”

He continued to play with your feet, kissing the soles tenderly, rubbing his thumbs deeper into the arches as if massaging away the remnants of your worry.

“Seems you haven’t.” you teased, glancing pointedly at the obvious tent in the sheets. His dick was very much awake compared to the rest of him, standing so upright that it was almost comical.

He followed your gaze and then groaned, hiding his face behind your feet. “Oh god.” he mumbled, clearly embarrassed. He knew he’d been horny from the dream. Those kinds of dreams were a regular occurrence. But with the headache and the general grogginess, he hadn’t expected his body to respond quite so enthusiastically.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound mingling with his own sheepish chuckle. “That bad, huh?”

He peeked out from behind your feet, giving you a lopsided grin. “Guess I’m more of a morning person than I thought…I was dreaming of you again.” His hand traced small circles on your ankle as he spoke.

You asked him what the dream was about, curiosity sparking in your voice. He hesitated for a moment, the lopsided grin softening as he tried to brush it off. “It’s…I don’t want to bore you with it.”

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips as you slid one leg down his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin. “You could never bore me.” you said, your foot continuing its path until it reached his crotch. You pressed gently, feeling the hardness that had been teasing you both, and his breath hitched slightly at the contact.

His eyes fluttered shut before they flicked back to yours, the playful glint returning as he caught his bottom lip between his teeth, clearly debating whether to keep it to himself or share. “I was dreaming about…Well, let’s just say you were pretty persuasive.” he finally admitted, his voice low, tinged with that mix of embarrassment and arousal that was so undeniably him.

You could feel him twitching further beneath your touch as you continued to press against him. “Tell me more.” you urged, your voice laced with a teasing edge, but beneath that, a genuine interest.

His breath came out in a shaky exhale as your words settled between you, the tension palpable. Without breaking eye contact, he gently reached for your other leg, guiding it down with a deliberate slowness. His hand was firm as he placed your foot beside the first, creating a pressure that made his entire body tense.

“Persuasive how?” you murmured, your curiosity spiking as you rubbed him through the thin fabric, feeling the pulse of his length under your touch. His breath hitched again, and he let out a quiet groan, eyes fluttering shut as if he were trying to relive the dream he was about to share.

“You had this way of…convincing me.” he began, his voice rough and unsteady, “Making me want things. Crave them.” His hands moved to your ankles, guiding your feet so they pressed more firmly against him, the heat between your bodies growing, his arousal palpable through the sheet.

His words faltered as you slid your feet with a slow, teasing rhythm, feeling the hardness beneath the fabric shift under your touch. His grip on your ankles tightened slightly, and with a frustrated sigh, he pushed the sheet down, exposing himself fully to you. The air between you seemed to crackle as he guided your feet directly over his cock, the head slick with precum, making the slide smoother.

You couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles twitched under your touch, his hips subtly bucking up as you stroked him with both feet. It was messy, the coordination awkward, your feet sometimes brushing against the coarse hair at the base of his cock, sending a tickling sensation up your legs that made you both chuckle softly in the midst of it.

But despite the lack of finesse, the sensation was pleasurable, and he was clearly losing himself in it, the words of his dream now coming out in fragmented whispers. “You…you just wouldn’t stop,” he breathed, his voice trembling, “Kept…touching me, like this, making me lose my mind.”

His confession only spurred you on, and you could feel him twitching more urgently under your feet, his precum spilling out over your skin, making the slide even slicker, more desperate. You couldn’t help but feel a rush of satisfaction at how utterly undone he was becoming. You were addicted to making his body break.

He groaned, low and deep, his grip on your ankles almost bruising as he tried to control himself, but the tension in his body betrayed how close he was to the edge. The dream he tried to recount was slipping away from him now, replaced by the reality of what was happening between you, his voice lost in the desperate sounds of his breathing, the soft gasps and groans that filled the space around you.

His eyes were half-lidded, the dark pupils blown wide with lust as he looked down at the mess you were making of him. His cock twitched under your feet, leaking more and more as you continued to slide against him. You pressed your toes against the throbbing head of his cock, feeling the way it pulsed beneath you, hot and desperate. His reaction was immediate. His hips jerked up and a strangled moan escaped his lips.

You kept the pressure steady, your toes teasing the sensitive tip, and that was all it took. The first spurt of hot cum splashed against your skin before coating his belly in thick, white streams. You watched, entranced, as the liquid pooled in the dip of his belly button, the sight oddly intimate, almost mesmerising.

His hands tightened on your ankles as his body continued to jerk with the aftershocks of his orgasm, each spasm sending another small wave of cum spilling over his stomach. His eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back as he tried to catch his breath.

You eased up the pressure with your toes, letting him come down from the high, your eyes trailing over the mess you’d made of him, the contrast of his flushed skin against the creamy white fluid stark and undeniably arousing. He finally opened his eyes, his gaze locking with yours, and there was that vulnerability again in the way he completely surrendered to you.

His chest heaved as he tried to steady his breathing, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he looked down at the mess between you. “You really are persuasive.” he murmured, voice rough and full of a satisfied warmth that made your heart flutter.

You couldn’t help but smile back, the sight of him so thoroughly undone by your touch sending a thrill through you. You shifted slightly so that your toes brushed against the last traces of his release, smearing it across his skin as you did. He groaned at the sensation, his hands sliding up to gently pull your legs away from his oversensitive cock.

You watched him for a moment. The sight of him like this, vulnerable, satisfied, a bit of a mess, stirred something warm in you. But you knew that warmth wouldn’t last long if you let him lie there much longer.

“Get in the shower.” you said gently, your tone leaving no room for argument.

His grin widened, and he raised an eyebrow at you, clearly recalling the night before when he’d stubbornly refused to shower, claiming he was too tired. “Alright, alright.” he said, his voice still a bit husky as he finally sat up, the movement slow and languid.

You couldn’t help but admire the way his muscles shifted under his skin, the faint sheen of sweat making his body glisten. He reached for a napkin lying forgotten on the bedside table, wiping away the mess on his stomach with a nonchalant swipe before crumpling the napkin and tossing it aside.

As he stood up, you noticed how the stretch of his body made him wince slightly, the hangover clearly taking its toll on him, though he didn't seem to mind. His movements were unhurried, almost lazy, and you could tell he was enjoying the afterglow of what had just transpired. He raked a hand through his hair, trying to tame the wild strands, but it did little to help.

“I’m gonna run to the store.” you said, your voice soft as you began to take off your pyjamas in exchange for a loose dress that had been draped over the chair by the bed, not before cleaning yourself up as well. “Sock’s food is running low.”

He nodded, distractedly running his fingers through his hair again, his eyes momentarily distant as if lost in thought. Then, as you slipped the dress over your head and smoothed it down, he looked at you. “Can you grab me something to eat?” he asked, his tone hopeful. “Maybe from that bakery down the street from the flower market? The one with the croissants I like?”

You smiled as you made sure the dress was sitting just right, the soft fabric brushing against your skin. “Of course.” you said, stepping up to him. He was still standing by the side of the bed, watching you with that sleepy, satisfied expression.

You reached up to cup his face, pulling him down for a quick kiss. His lips were warm and soft against yours, lingering just long enough to make you wish you didn’t have to leave. But you knew Sock would be giving you the cold shoulder if you didn’t come back with food soon, and you couldn’t let that happen.

“Don’t take too long in the shower.” you teased as you pulled back, your fingers brushing lightly against the stubble on his jaw. “I’ll be back soon.”

He grinned down at you, his hands sliding around your waist for a brief moment, holding you close. “I won’t.” he promised. “But you should take your time. It looks nice out today.”

Your smile faltered slightly as his words hung in the air, the warmth of the moment tinged with a familiar sadness. You looked up into his eyes, your fingers still resting gently against his jaw, feeling the roughness of the hair beneath your touch. “I wish we could go out together.” you admitted softly.

His expression shifted, a shadow passing over his face as he held you a little tighter, his hands warm and steady on your waist. The easy grin from before faded, replaced by something more serious, more bittersweet. He nodded, his eyes searching yours, as if he wished he could change the reality you both had to navigate.

“I know.” he murmured, his voice low, laced with that quiet frustration that came whenever you talked about this. “I wish we could too.”

You sighed, leaning into him, letting yourself enjoy the feeling of his arms around you for just a moment longer. “Maybe one day.”

He nodded again, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as if he could transfer all the unspoken promises through that single touch. “One day.” he echoed, though his voice held the same mix of hope and resignation that yours did.

You pulled back, your hand sliding from his jaw to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your palm. “In the meantime,” you said, forcing a small smile as you tried to lighten the mood, “I’ll get your croissants, and we can pretend we’re having breakfast together. Since it’s already noon, sleepyhead.”

He chuckled softly. “I’d like that.” he said, his thumb brushing over your waist before he reluctantly let go.

“I’ll be back soon.” you promised again.

As you left, you heard the shower start up again behind you, the sound mingling with the quiet that settled over you both.

He sat down at his desk, the chair creaking softly as he settled in. The sunlight filtering through the blinds did little to warm the chill that had settled over him since the moment you kissed him goodbye. He stared at the pages in front of him, fingers hovering over the pen rest right beside them.

The moment your lips touched his, the memory of last night came crashing back. The bar. The other woman. The way he’d let her, let himself get too close, too careless. He’d pushed it out of his mind, forgotten it entirely in the warmth of waking up with you. But now, in the solitude of his office, it returned with brutal clarity.

He could still taste the remnants of the alcohol and the way her lips had brushed against his even though he’d brushed it all away. It felt foreign, wrong, now that he was sober. The guilt gnawed at him, a sharp contrast to the tenderness you had shown him just moments before. How could I let it happen? How could I forget?

His fingers finally moved, but not to grab the pen. Instead, they rubbed at his temples, trying to ease the tension building there. He needed to write it down, to purge it from his mind somehow before you came back. Maybe if he got it out, he could move past it, find a way to forget it again. Or at least a way to keep it from you, to prevent it from tarnishing the delicate balance you both maintained.

But the memory of her lips, so different from yours, lingered. And with it, the fear that he had crossed a line he could never uncross.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, and began writing. Over time, putting pen to paper had become his way of dealing with the mess of emotions inside him, a way to avoid letting them fester until they became too much to bear.

“I’m only as sick as the secrets within

Maybe it’s not so evil as much as it’s hungry

I’m broken down and hungry for your love

You’re sewn into my soul

I’ll keep sleeping and you’ll make me dream of you

Sometimes a man gets carried away

When he feels he should be having his fun

Much too blind to see the damage he’s done.”

He read over what he’d just written, feeling the sting of shame and self-loathing rise up. Half of it was an attempt to excuse his own stupidity, a way of justifying what he’d done. Disgusted, he scribbled over most of the lines, tearing into the paper with his pen.

It was then that he noticed the wet patches, the ink beginning to run as tears dripped onto the page. He wiped his eyes, feeling the moisture spreading beneath his fingertips, and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying desperately to stop the flood. But it was no use. The tears kept coming, a physical manifestation of the guilt he couldn’t shake, no matter how much he tried to rationalise it.

He kept crying, the tears falling faster now as the reality of his actions sank in. The weight of it was unbearable. How did it come to this? If only he had pushed her away. If only he hadn’t let it happen. If only he had remembered who he was, who he belonged to. The thoughts looped endlessly in his mind, taunting him.

If she didn’t think of him as single, she wouldn’t have approached him like that in the first place. He cursed himself for not setting boundaries, for not making it clear that he was unavailable, that he was committed to you. But how could he?

He wished the truth could just come out, but the thought of the consequences ate him up. He wished he could just confess and end the torment. But there was a cowardice in him, a deep-seated fear of the unknown, of losing you, of causing you any more unnecessary pain.

He always did what he thought he should, always acted according to some unwritten script that told him how to behave, what to say, how to keep the peace. But why? Why did it have to be like this? Why couldn’t he just be honest, be himself, without worrying about the fallout? He hated the person he had become. The person who let things happen, who didn’t take control, who let his life be dictated by others’ expectations and his own misguided sense of obligation.

The tears continued to flow as he sat there, hunched over the desk, his hands shaking as he gripped the pen. The words on the page blurred together, the ink smudged by his tears, a perfect metaphor for the mess he had made of things. He couldn’t take it back. He couldn’t undo what had happened. All he could do was sit there and let the guilt eat away at him, piece by piece.

His vision blurred as well as he thought of your face, the trust in your eyes, and the love you had always given him so freely. Why did he have to complicate things when all he wanted was to be with you, to be honest and open, without all the secrets and lies? The weight of it all pressed down on him, making his chest ache with the need to let it out, to unburden himself of this shame that was eating him alive.

You arrived home and the moment you stepped inside something felt off. You were startled by the muffled sounds coming from Alex’s office. Low, anguished cries, punctuated by the occasional thud. Just as confused, Sock was pawing anxiously at the closed door, clearly distressed by the noise. You knocked gently, but no answer came.

You hesitated for a moment, then quietly pushed the door open. The sight that greeted you made your heart sink. Alex sat with his back to you, dressed in one of his usual striped shirts, his shoulders hunched as if the weight of the world had settled there. The sound of his crying was even louder now, raw and unfiltered. His head kept rhythmically hitting against the desk, each thud a painful counterpoint to the sobs that racked his body.

This wasn’t like him. He never resorted to violence, especially not towards you, or anyone else really. He’d never been the type to lash out or break things, but seeing him like this, hurting himself instead, was something you hadn’t expected. You could feel the panic rising in your chest as you stepped closer.

“Al?” you called out, your voice trembling slightly. He didn’t acknowledge you, his body locked in a cycle. You gently placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to offer comfort.

But he flinched away, his voice choked with tears as he pleaded. “No, don’t touch me…Please.” he sobbed, his words barely intelligible through the pain. “I’ll be fine…I- I’ll explain.”

Your heart broke hearing the desperation in his voice, the struggle to hold onto some semblance of control even as he unravelled in front of you again. You wanted nothing more than to hold him, to tell him it was okay, whatever it was. But his plea for space held you back, leaving you torn between staying by his side and respecting his need to process whatever was tearing him apart.

You sat down on the loveseat across the room, trying to give him the space he asked for but unable to take your eyes off him. You watched as he struggled to settle down, his breathing ragged as he wiped at his eyes with trembling hands. He blew his nose, the sound harsh in the quiet room, before tossing the tissue into the trash along with the crumpled-up papers scattered across his desk.

Finally, he stood, brushing his hands down his striped shirt, wiping away the last remnants of his tears. When he caught you looking at him, he chuckled, a strained, uncomfortable sound that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Sorry.” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’ll go wash my face and then…Yeah.” He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the floor. He seemed almost embarrassed, as if apologising for letting you see him like this after he’d promised to himself that he wouldn’t let it happen again. And you realised how much he was still trying to protect you, even from his own pain.

You nodded, offering him a small, tentative smile, though your heart ached to see him like this. You didn’t know what was going on, but you could feel the storm brewing just beneath the surface. All you could do was wait for him to be ready to share it with you.

He came back into the room, settling beside you on the loveseat, his hands resting in his lap. He started to tug at the skin around his nails, an anxious habit you recognised. There was a tension in the air as if he was trying to gather the courage to say what was weighing on his mind.

“Remember when I asked you to hate me? On the first night we spent together?” His voice was soft, still shaky.

“Yeah.” you replied, your voice gentle, trying to meet his gaze.

He muttered, “I need you to promise me you won’t hate me now.” as he moved one of his hands over yours, his touch light but desperate for reassurance. “Please don’t hate me.” he said, finally looking at you, his eyes red and puffy from crying, the pain clear in them.

You looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the exhaustion etched into his face, the way his eyes were rimmed with redness, the way they glistened as if he were holding back another wave of tears.

“I don’t think I could ever hate you…Even if you asked me to.” you said softly, your thumb brushing over his knuckles in a small attempt to comfort him.

He took a deep breath, hand still gripping yours tightly. “I kissed someone else last night.” he confessed, his voice barely audible. The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating, and you felt the world tilt, your mind scrambling to process what he’d just said. You didn’t know how to react. Whether you wanted to cry, to slap him, or to just...do nothing. It felt surreal, like you were detached from your own emotions, hovering somewhere outside of yourself.

He continued, his words tumbling out, desperate to explain. “One of the women in the group came up to me, and we were talking, I don’t even know what we talked about, and then she…she kissed me. And I…I kissed her back.” His voice cracked on that last word, and you could see the regret etched into every line on his face. “I wish I didn’t, because it wasn’t you, and it didn’t feel right. I don’t even know why I did it, or why I even got that drunk, and-” His voice cracked again, and he paused, his breath hitching as he tried to keep from breaking down, on the verge of tears again.

“It wasn’t intentional,” he finally said, “I know that sounds so stupid and disgusting, but it just…happened.” his voice wavered, thick with shame. “And I’m tired. I’m so tired of keeping you hidden. It shouldn’t feel foreign when I go out with other people, just because I haven’t in months. I don’t want to feel this way anymore. I want to be with you.” He was teetering on the edge of falling apart again, and you could see the strain in his eyes, the way his entire body seemed to tremble. “I want us to be out in the open, to be real. I hate that it feels like we’re living in different worlds sometimes.”

His words tumbled out in a rush, desperate and not knowing what he was going to say next, and you could see him struggling to hold himself together.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” His voice was laced with confusion, almost disbelieving, his eyes searching yours for some clarity.

“Yeah...it’s...it’s gonna be okay. I’m okay.” you said, but you could feel the sting of tears welling up in your eyes as you tried to hold them back. You didn’t want to cry, not now, not in front of him, but the emotion was too overwhelming.

“I never wanted to make you cry.” he whispered, his fingers brushing lightly against yours now, the touch so gentle it almost broke you.

You pulled your legs up onto the leather seat, curling up close to his chest, seeking comfort in the warmth of his body. His arm instinctively wrapped around you, holding you tightly.

“I don’t want to hide either.” you murmured into his chest, your voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt, but you knew he heard you. The words were heavy with the weight of everything unsaid, everything you both had been holding back for too long while trying to pretend everything was going to be fine the way it was.

“Okay.” he replied softly, his voice full of quiet resolve as he rested his head gently against yours.

There was a sense of finality in the word even though this wasn’t the moment to make the change, and he knew it. The air between you was too fragile, the rawness of his confession still too fresh. He didn’t want to push it now, not when the wound was still open and bleeding. And you weren’t ready to make sense of it all either, not yet.

For now, the silence was enough, the quiet understanding that something had shifted, but not yet settled. The comfort of his arms around you, his head resting gently against yours, was all either of you could manage for the moment. And for now, it would have to be enough.

a/n: And it's almost over...I hope you like it, where I went with the story. I had the idea in mind for quite a while and I finally finished it. I didn't really know at which point to end this part but I feel like it's a good one leading up to the last one.

The bit he "wrote" are lyrics from 'As Sick As The Secrets Within' by Marilyn Manson and 'Lover, You Should've Come Over' by Jeff Buckley (thanks to the anon who brought that song to my attention in an ask)

tags: @st7rnioioss @theonlyoneswhoknowsblog @rentsturner @yourstartreatment @avxoxo1 @jqsvi @turnersfav @youresodarkbabe @psychedelicrocker @aacheinthejaw @zayndrider @humbuginmybones @tedioepica

#alex turner #alex turner x reader #alex turner x you #alex turner fluff #alex turner smut #alex turner fic #alex turner fanfic #smut #mr turner #goblinontour

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oakenshieldbaggins · 5 months ago

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xedgin fic rec list

so because i binge read a ton of fics these last two months, i thought why not make a rec list if it can help people find out great fics.

i just wanted to say i came across so many good fics, like comparing to other fandoms i find the overall quality to be quite high. so what i'm trying to say is you guys are really talented and we're lucky to have you in this fandom. and thank you for sharing your work.

now the recs:

Post-Movie:

Three words everybody knows by violet_pencil

Speaking the words of an oath isn't what makes you a good paladin, and knowing how to tell lies is only part of what makes a great con man. Where do they find common ground? Well, turns out they both know how to commit to the bit.

Sunlight is a Kind of Burning by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

Ed's excited to get his life back on track in the wake of saving Neverwinter. He's less excited at how a certain paladin keeps popping up everywhere he goes. Except for how he's starting to miss the guy when he's not around. Yeah, let's not think about that too hard.

a ballad from a reverie by forsworn

On a cold evening, the party stop to drink at a crowded tavern. Xenk tries to ignore the way his chest tightens when Edgin squeezes close to him. But that gets much harder when the tavern's bard starts singing a love song. About a paladin. And Edgin seems to recognise it…

tys hard to be a seinte in the cytie by indigostohelit

“The Material Planes are not realms of punishment,” said Xenk. “The gods no more deny us the warmth of physical pleasure than they would the warmth of the sun. They only warn us, through each, of the dangers that lie in excess.” “…Huh,” said Ed again, and, lacking further retort, grabbed up the new tankard and swigged deeply. Then he spat it across the bar. “This is water, though,” said Xenk peacefully. “You are going to have a hangover in the morning.”

Universal Glue by Korwwa

Edgin and Xenk get stuck in a glue trap. The close-quarters situation forces Edgin to decide if succumbing to the charms of certain overpowered paladin is more likely to ruin, or elevate, the plan of his life.

Polyphonic by Geese_In_Flight

Ed can’t stand Xenk. Xenk keeps showing up anyway. It’s not entirely clear how that became everyone else’s problem.

Muses lost and found anew by Mikhail

Edgin Darvis never considered himself to be a hero. Of course, he was full of dreams and ideals back when he was still young. He wanted to save the world. But the world, as it turned out, didn’t really want to be saved. Instead, it barged into Edgin’s life uninvited and made him a widower, a thief, and an escaped convict. As he was looking back at his life and naivete, he couldn’t feel but contempt and bitterness. That is until he crossed paths with Xenk Yendar, a paladin whose sword was only nearly as strong as his righteousness. Confronted with Xenk’s tragic past, the bard realized they were both touched by the same evil. Before he could dwell on some uncomfortable truths, however, Xenk disappeared from his life just as suddenly as he first appeared. When they meet for the second time, it’s clear the two of them have much more in common than they first thought. Well, it’s clear to everyone except for them. The question is, are they going to realize this before it’s too late?

in the absence of truth by floralprintshark

Five times Ed says that he hates Xenk and one time he doesn't.

Perception Check (Roll for Romance) by kaydeefalls

"I bet Xenk fucks like a metronome, too. You know." Holga makes a highly suggestive, repetitive gesture. "In, out. In, out. No variation. Same exact rhythm every time. Boring." Edgin stares at her, torn between horror and fascination. "You've really thought about this, huh?" (So has he. Unfortunately.)

give me two damn minutes (and I'll be fine) by PH03N1X_360

Xenk Yendar is a hero. It’s his job, his identity, his [life]. It comes as easily as breathing. Saving children, fighting hordes of undead, it’s always come naturally to him. As each new challenge arises, people look to him to protect them. The warmth of their gazes never fail to fill him with pride. No matter how many scars he acquires, how many nights the horrors of his past rouse him from sleep, or how many people he fails to save in the process, it is always worth the price. Yet sometimes, when the darkness around him feels too oppressive and tight bandages make his bones ache, he wonders how much more he can take before he cracks under the pressure. Or: Xenk sees the Beckoning Death spell from afar. Even upon realizing the party took care of it, it still fucks him over severely... not that he would show it. Edgin knows a mask when he sees one.

Falling For The First Time by Powderpuff

In retrospect, falling in love with Edgin was inevitable. There was no recourse for Xenk; no guild nor court to appeal to, and even Ilmater could not return his property to him, nor Ed himself; for you cannot return something you do not know you have.

O happy dagger! This is thy sheath by Kabbal (Aledane)

"Ed wants to bash his face in with his lute, just to shatter that perfect, flawless skin, see if there’s flesh and blood running under that pristine marble. He wants to flee to the end of the world, to never be reminded of the existence of a being who seems to never have failed at anything, ever. He also wants to crush his lips against his, cling to that steady neck and feel the weight of all that perfection over him, spearing him like it could make him holy‒ Hm. Strange thought to have. Let’s forget it ever existed."

Affection and Love by AkataLily

Edgin is affectionate towards Xenk. Not love, affectionate, because those are two very different things! Xenk is oblivious and uninterested, that is, until Edgin fucks up and the cat is suddenly out of the bag. Things get akward, then they get complicated, but eventually, we all have to admit what goes on in our hearts.

Winning Prizes for Rotten Judgment by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

In which Ed admits he's in love with Xenk, woos Xenk, and sleeps with Xenk, all in completely the wrong order. To be fair, it's only half his fault.

keystone by weatheredlaw

key·stone noun | a central stone at the summit of an arch, locking the pieces together. or: edgin dies, but there's magic for that. holga and xenk make good on a thirty-five year old favor to bring him back from the other side.

So Deep As the Love I'm In by Geese_In_Flight

Holga takes a step forward and claps Ed on the shoulder sympathetically, which is a terrible sign. “Swept you right off your feet, did he?” she asks, with a grin. Five times Xenk courted Ed, and one time Ed decided to take matters into his own hands.

the weight of fingers pressing deep by forsworn

When Xenk slips his fingers into Edgin's mouth during sex, they're both surprised by how good it feels.

you'll find us in the meadowland by audenrain

He was standing at Xenk’s desk, tucked into the corner and lined by shelves stacked with holy texts. Not his most valuable, of course - he wouldn’t be so careless as to keep the most precious of his collection here - but any one of them would feed a hungry man for a few days, at least. And yet this man wasn’t hungry, and he was no ordinary thief. Xenk judged this not only by the strong slope of his shoulders and broad back and the fine weave of his coat but also by the fact that he had recently been awarded the highest honours the Lord of Neverwinter could bestow. No, Edgin could want for nothing; even he could not have spent his rewards so quickly. There was only one explanation. This was an affliction of the soul.

To Touch The Divine by New1Romantic

Xenk asks for Edgin's help to retrieve an evil artefact from a cult. The fact that the cult is definitely just a front for the elite of Waterdeep to have kinky sex is, presumably, just happenstance.

Freely given (Wanted) by sb_essebi

Ed can’t. He can’t anymore. Can’t take the fervour in Xenk’s words, the shine in his eyes, the way the light of the sunset plays across his skin. He’s just so beautiful at sunset, Xenk. He is. To the point of unfairness, to the point it makes Ed almost angry, makes him want to cry, to scream. Ed kisses him. Or: Ed steals a kiss. Xenk shows him why he needn't have.

Edgin Needs to Get Laid and Edgin Gets Laid by Isoltan

There was a pause. "And that's when you started the one night stands," Holga said, only a hint of a question in her voice. Xenk raised his tankard in her direction and took a long swig. "You have sexual desire?" Simon asked. Doric turned to him and exploded, "Jesus, do you ever think before you speak?" "Tell the truth, you thought he was celibate too. Edgin sure did!" Simon said, gesturing to Edgin. "Hey, leave me out of this," Edgin said. "Exactly!" Simon continued. "Tell me, out of the two of them, you'd have pegged Edgin as the celibate and XENK as the whore!" -----------‐ Very loose f*ck-or-die fic. Basically, Edgin's magic needs to improve and the group decides he needs to get laid. But he reveals he's demi and can only be intimate with people he trusts. This was meant to be a one-off but I got caught up with the group's banter.

this distance between us by forsworn

Xenk and Edgin have to share a bed. It’s not even a big bed. The perfect time for Xenk to have a nightmare…

Origin Point series by Neyiea

“It wasn’t a risk. I knew that if I jumped you would catch me.” Xenk’s pinched expression becomes thoughtful, then turns serious. “I see,” he intones solemnly. “I am honored to have earned your trust.”

close to the skin by forsworn

Edgin's going undercover; Xenk's determined to make him look respectable. But Edgin finds submitting to a flat-razor shaving at those steady hands to be far more intense than he expected.

Solitary Burdens by cupiscent

Edgin's wife died years ago, but he's only just now letting go. He can't talk about it with any of the others, but Xenk - aggravatingly - understands. Perhaps neither of them need to carry these burdens alone.

in for a silver by weatheredlaw

Edgin was, at the very least, two things: a great kisser, and a phenomenal liar. or: xenk gets hit by something weird in the jungle. edgin lends a hand.

Canon Divergence (happens during the movie):

We Are So (Not) Breaking Up by murdertrashbabyrat

Edgin isn’t mad because of the idea of a kind Thayan, he’s mad because it’s Xenk Yendar his lightly insufferable not-ex. They didn’t break up because they were never together thank you very much Holga, so Xenk is his…his something that isn’t his anymore. It’s fine he’s not dwelling on it he has to get his wife back and stop thinking about the man he’s been sharing a bed with for years. Denial is a hell of a drug OR they are exes when they meet up again in the movie

AUs:

A Cherry When It's Blooming by Geese_In_Flight

Lord Yendar, once a paladin of Ilmater, has been called back to Waterdeep in the aftermath of his father’s death. Upon his arrival, he discovers he must reckon with an untrustworthy executor, an estate in shambles, and a wholly unexpected stipulation in his father’s will. Edgin Darvis is trying to find the one big score that will let him build back a life that went off the rails years ago. When he hears the rumors that a young and inexperienced Lord Yendar has come back to town, he knows just what he has to do.

Romance in the time of LoveChat by cicia3

What's worse than being a loser writer reduced to releasing third-rate romance novels for Forge Publishing? Being an uninspired writer with three months' back rent to pay. Driven by desperation, Edgin, a single father who's also perhaps juuust a tad too much anchored in the past, signs up on the nation's largest dating site. The goal? To find a character unique enough to inspire him for his new novel. And then Xenk Yendar shows up.

#fic recs #xedgin #edgin/xenk #xedgin fic recs #my txt

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wonder-kid-pugh · 2 years ago

Text

In the Eye of the Beholder - Alexia Putellas x reader

Hey guys! So I was recently inspired by my trip to Spain. I spent the day in Barcelona and I even went to Camp Nou so I was really excited and inspired to write for Alexia. But yeah I have an idea to turn this into a small series if you want. But this was kinda rushed so I'm sorry if it wasn't the best. Anyways hope you enjoy!

Alexia was exhausted.

Which is understandable. Ever since her return from injury it seemed like she didn't get a moment to herself. Everyone wanting to talk to her about her return from one of the most grueling injuries in women's football, especially at such a crucial point in her career. (Her absence from the Euros was still tough for her to talk about but unfortunately it came with the territory).

With all her media obligations and then her also captaining the team while also working tirelessly with the Barca medics and physios to make sure she doesn't do anything to possibly injury her knee or anything else.

It was just a bit much in that moment.

She was so overwhelmed in that moment that for a second she couldn't catch her breath. So she did the only thing she could think of. She left for a walk. To where it didn't matter she just needed to not feel trapped or weighted down right now.

She wanted to feel the air on her face and to just walk about the place she loved.

Alexia left so quickly that she didn't even think to bring Nala. Alexia wincedly lightly knowing that Nala would have loved to go for a walk right now. Deciding that she would have to apologize with a few extra treats, Alexia kept going knowing there was no point going back now.

Alexia didn't know how long she had been walking for before she realised where she was. She signed tiredly as she ran a hand through her hair as she could see the stadium a short distance in front of her.

Even when she tried not to, her mind always wondering back to work.

She turned to start heading back to her apartment but was stopped when she smacked right into someone.

She eyes widened as you let out a small shriek and dropped your things.

"Ah damn it!" You mumble under your breath as you bend down to collect your things.

Alexia shakes her head as she bends down to help you with your things which earns her a smile from you. Which if it wasn't for the fact that her brain was still trying to play catch up, would have stopped her in her place.

You swiftly and messily gather all your belongings up again, gratefully taking the notebook from Alexia when she held it out to you. "Thank you" you answer in surprising perfect Spanish for someone who was just speaking English just a moment ago.

The two of you straightened up as you make sure you have everything before giving Alexia your full attention. "I'm so sorry!" You apologized sincerely. "I wasn't really paying attention and I really didn't mean to walk into you". You rubbed your neck sheepishly as you realise your rambling to this poor stranger. "I'm looking for Camp Nou?" Your blush worsens, "I'm kinda lost"

Alexia couldn't help but chuckle. Finding your shy nature and darkening blush adorable. "Not completely" Alexia reassured as she nodded her head in the direction of the stadium. "You're close. It's just down that way".

You let out a sigh of relief as your shoulder relax the tiniest bit. One being for finally finding the stadium and two being thankful that the pretty stranger you crashed into wasn't angry with you.

"Thank god" you answered smiling at the stranger. "Honestly I didn't think it would be this hard to find a massive stadium".

Alexia laughs sharing a smile with you. Not quite ready for the conversation to end, Alexia once again nods her head towards the stadium. "Would you like me to walk with you? Just to make sure you get there?"

Your eyes light up with something Alexia couldn't quite recognise. But she liked how your eyes shone at the simple offer of kindness. It was only then she realised how blue your eyes were. For a second she swore she could have been looking into the sparkling crystal clear water with how bright they were.

"Really? You wouldn't mind? I'm sure you have better places to be…"

Alexia cleared her throat silently wishing you hadn't catch her staring at your eyes. Alexia nodded her head with a smile, "No it's okay. Honestly I have nowhere to be. I was just wondering around to be honest".

"Well if you're sure…yeah that would be great. Thank you" you thanked her with a smile. And for Alexia that was enough for her.

Alexia gestured the way for you to begin walking. "So why are you looking for Camp Nou? Are you a fan?"

You bit your lip timidly as you looked around almost as if to check to see if anyone else was listening. "Not exactly…can I tell you a secret?"

Alexia quirked an eyebrow. She didn't know whether it was because she herself was quite secretive about her own personal life or whether it was the fact that they didn't even know each others names that she was surprised at that.

"Sure" Alexia chuckled at the simple idea of her sharing a secret with her. But she also couldn't help but feel giddy that she was willing to do so.

You bite the inside of your cheek before signing, seeing one of the many shops selling Barcelona merchandise. "I'm not a fan. Of football in general really. I just never took an interest in it" you answered honestly, your eyes not meeting Alexia's.

Alexia's eyebrows furrowed a bit. "Then why are you going to the stadium?"

You held up the book that Alexia had helped pick up for you. "Well I'm an artist. I got asked to do a mural for the team but I have no clue when it comes to football. So I thought I would take a tour of the stadium and hopefully get some inspiration for it as well as maybe learn something".

Alexia was in awe of the commitment. She imagined that most artists would just look them up and just start away. The fact that you wanted to take time to go learn more about the club. Her club in fact warmed her heart.

It showed how passionate you were as well. The fact that you didn't even know much about Football but you still wanted to make sure you did it justice.

"That's a good idea" Alexia smiled. "I can tell you love what you do".

You blush lightly as you duck your head in modesty. Wanting to get the attention off you, you turn it back to her. "What about you? Do you like football?"

Alexia pursues her lips at the question. It was obvious that you didn't know who she was. You didn't know she was Alexia Putellas. La Reina. Captain of Barcelona and Spain. She was just…a person.

Maybe it was better like that.

"Oh. I love Football" Alexia answered honestly while grinning sheepishly. "Maybe a little too much sometimes".

But you just chuckle, raising an eyebrow, "Barcelona?"

"Till I die" Alexia answered honestly. Which was the truth she couldn't ever imagine not playing for her club.

You hum as the two of you stop in front of the stadium entrance. "Have you ever taken the tour before?"

Alexia gives you a small smile. The last time she had probably taken the tour was years ago. Back when she barely understood the rules of the game. Back when her father was still trying to explain the game to her.

"A long time ago yes"

Your eyes flicker up to the massive stadium before grinning at the stranger in front of you.

Alexia couldn't stop the laugh escaping her. "What are you planning?"

Your eyes gleam playful with a hint of mischief in them. "What?" You play innocent faking hurt. "I don't know what you're talking about…"

Alexia rolled her eyes looking at her knowingly. "I know that look. My best friend always gets that look when she's up to something".

You just grin. "She sounds like fun".

Alexia rolled her eyes but she couldn't deny it as she nodded. "She is. Now what is it?"

You pursued your lips before sighing. You guess it couldn't hurt to ask. "It's just…" you start but continue when Alexia nods on encouragingly. "Just you seem to know a lot about Football and you support Barcelona and I know practically nothing so I was wondering…would you like to do the tour…with me?"

You couldn't even look Alexia in the eye. This poor random stranger which you first of all crashed into, and probably ruined her perfectly enjoyable walk, and who knows nothing about you and you just asked her to give up her day to explain Football of all things to you.

You face flows red and starts to darken but can't seem to stop yourself. "I mean! I would pay for you of course! That's if you want to. Which you probably don't. Which it perfectly fine! I'm sure you have way better things to do than just talk to me about football of all things…"

You so desperately wish you could cramp all the words back into your mouth. So much so you didn't realise how widely Alexia was smiling at you.

You only stopped when you felt soft hands grab yours.

"It's okay. I would love to" Alexia smiled reassuringly. She gave you a quick squeeze of the hand just to make sure. "And you don't need to pay for me it's okay. But I have one condition to being your Football Coach/Teacher".

You raise an eyebrow amused. You held your sketch book close to your chest with a smile. "Oh yeah and what's that?"

Alexia smirks and you swear you nearly dropped all your stuff again. It was by far the sexiest thing you've ever seen. "You have to promise to be a life long supporter of Barcelona and you can never ever become a Real Madrid fan".

"Who?"

Alexia smirked as she pointed at you, "Exactly". She offered her arm with a smile, "Shall we?"

The two headed inside, Alexia being conscious enough to steer you away from any direction of posters with her face on them. It was a lot easier when the two of you had gotten inside. However, when she had gone to pay, the staff had nearly blown her cover before she quickly shushed them. Thankfully you didn't notice the interaction as you had already paid and was off looking at some pictures.

Alexia had just came over and joined you when you turned to her with a bit of a sheepish smile, "I just realized that I didn't even introduce myself before asking you to spend the day with a total stranger".

Realising how bad that sounded you physically grimaced before offering a hand. "Well I'm Y/n just so you know".

Alexia instinctively shook your hand but paused briefly. "Ale" she said simply. Honestly she didn't know why she didn't tell you her name. Technically it wasn't a lie. Her friends and loved ones called her Ale. But she found herself hesitant to tell you her actual name.

It wasn't because she didn't feel comfortable with you. Cause in actual fact she had felt more comfortable with you in the 10 minutes you knew each other than with some of the people she's met for work.

But Alexia had a small feeling it was because of how normal she felt with you. As selfish as it was she didn't want to ruin it.

For one evening she didn't want the stress that came with her life. For one evening she didn't want to be the Barcelona Superstar. She didn't want to be Alexia Putellas.

So for the evening she was just Ale.

When you said you knew nothing about football, you really knew nothing about Football. Which Alexia only really realised when she had to explain basic rules of the game. L

But she really enjoyed it.

She enjoyed getting back to the basics of the game. Remembering how her father use to explain it to her.

She also loved how cute your face looked all scrunched up when you didn't understand something. Or how you lit up when you finally understood it.

But Alexia gave you an indepth insight into the club. Talking about key players they had throughout the years. The playing style they were known for. Different coaches and captains the team had and their impact on the club.

Alexia found that you found Johan Cruyff extremely interesting and his dedication to the club. "Huh I guess he bled pure blue and red then".

Alexia did her best to steer you away from anything talking about the women's team as much as it pained her not to show the teams successes. Which was surprisingly easy as you were so busy looking around while also doing quick sketches in your book and writing stuff down.

"I didn't know that one club could have so much history behind it" you said in awe as you started to leave the museum part.

Alexia just chuckles. Thankfully it was quiet enough that there were only a few people doing the tour as well so she hadn't been recognised. She was also thankful that she at least grabbed a cap before she abruptly left her apartment which she used to screen her face a bit from fans.

"Yeah I suppose" Alexia hums but freezes when she is faced with an Alexia jersey in front of her. Alexia bites her lip as she keeps her head down and moves towards the exit.

"Ale? Is everything okay?" You asked concerned carefully putting your hand tentatively on her shoulder in case the action wasn't wanted. But thankfully it had the desired effect when you see how Alexia untenses the tiniest bit.

Alexia nods a little stiffly but forces a smile. "Yeah. Yeah I'm okay just I really want to show you something".

You just nodded and if Alexia wasn't so focused on getting past the fans without noticing, she would have noticed how she took your hand unconsciously to try and move quickly and quietly past everyone.

And if she had looked back she would have noticed how your face had taken a red flue to it.

Alexia quickly moved through the stands and the away team dressing room which you were perfectly fine with not having much interest in them.

Then you felt the air knocked out of you.

"Wow…" you mumble as you and Alexia step out on to the pitchside. Alexia had to pursue her lips when she saw how you did a full 360 spin to take in the full stadium. But she ultimately failed as a smile slipped through along with a giggle.

You plopped right down on one of the sub bench seats right beside Alexia leaning back against the comfy seat.

"Could you imagine playing here? Having a sold out stadium with everyone's eyes on you? Thousands of people paying just to come watch their favourite player?" You ask hypothetically. But it just makes Alexia laugh as she smiled.

"Yeah…" Alexia smiled at you as you continued to look out at the field.

"What do you think it feels like?" You ask curiously not knowing that Alexia has already experienced playing on this very field. "To be out there on the field for a game?"

Alexia looks at you for a second thinking maybe you did actually know who she was. But shakes off the thought as she thinks for a second. "I think it's nerve racking" Alexia answers honestly.

Alexia now had your full attention. You look at her tilting your head slightly. "What do you mean?"

Alexia hums thinking back to when she played in Camp Nou. "Well I think it's nerve racking really. Having to worry about playing well. Not wanting to disappoint anyone. Your teammates, your fans, your club. Not wanting to mess up". "Having all those eyes on you from the moment you step on the field not wanting to mess up" Alexia answers honestly but then concedes. "But I do also think its amazing. Having a sold out stadium full of people who came to watch and support you. To see all these players who want to grow up and be like you".

You hum before smiling and nodding. "Yeah. I guess when you put it like that yeah it sounds stressful". You hum thoughtfully, "I kinda get it though. To a certain extent".

You sigh when you see Alexia motion for you to explain. "Well when I paint I guess. I mean don't get me wrong it's what I love to do. But when you're showing someone your work you're kinda putting a bit of themselves in front of you".

You let out a little smile but Alexia can see the hurt in your eyes. "And then you have to be ready for them to tear it apart in front of you".

Alexia bites her lip wondering if she would be overstepping. "Sounds like you're speaking from experience…"

You let out a little humorless laugh. "Well let's just say that my parents are too happy about my career choices". You had said it with a light tone but Alexia noticed how hard it was to talk about, not even able to look at her. "We would have much preferred if I got a more 'stable' job".

Knowing that this was obviously something that wasn't easy for you to talk about, Alexia knows she should tread lightly and maybe just move on.

But she couldn't leave it at that.

"I'm sorry about that" Alexia said gently before she gave her hand a small squeeze. "But as long as you're happy and you're doing what you love. Isn't that what matters?"

You didn't say anything and for a second Alexia feared that she had majorly overstepped. She was about to pull away her hand but was stopped when you held it firmly, "You're right". You flashed her a wide smile, "Thanks Ale".

Alexia felt herself shiver at the way her nickname fell from your lips. But she pushed through it and smiled back. Not trusting herself to answer back steadily.

After they left the field they went to the top of the stadium. Albeit with a few groans and moans from you asking how many more stairs there were. Alexia watched silently how you were amazed by the view. Imagining how cool it would be to see everything that was happening from the top stands.

Sadly for the both of you the tour was over soon after that despite both of you trying to stall. Alexia walked you back out to where you had first met. More like crashed into each other. Careful to avoid any of her jerseys or pictures in the stadium store and the posters on the stadium.

You rocked on your heels as you looked at Alexia. "To be honest I wasn't really looking forward to the tour" you gave her a bright smile. "But I actually had a lot of fun today. And I'd say I have you to thank for that".

Alexia grinned as she spotted the small blush tinting your face. "Well I'm glad I could teach you about the greatest football team in the world".

The two of you share a look before you fall into giggles. You bite your lip wanting to stay longer but you can see how late it's getting and you've already taken up Alexia's day enough.

"I better getting going" you sigh, looking at your watch. "I've taken up enough of your day".

Alexia smiled, "Actually I think I needed it. I had fun today".

You smiled brightly, "Well I'm glad I could help then". Neither of you know what to say.

Your just about to turn to start walking away when you stop yourself. As much as you didn't want to part with it, you rip out a page from your sketchbook and quickly scribble down something on the back of it and hold it out shyly to Alexia.

"I…I wouldn't normally do this but…" your face darkened red. "But I had a lot of fun today so uh here".

Alexia takes the paper and looks at it with a small smile when she realizes it's your number.

"For if you ever want to waste the day away with someone again" you shrug trying to act nonchalant about it but you both knew you were well past it. "Or not. It's completely up to you if you use it. Absolutely no obligations". You started walking backwards clutching your sketchbook to your chest biting your lip. "But I really hope you do".

You really tried not to look back but you couldn't help yourself. You waited until you were just about to turn the corner only to smile when you saw Alexia still watching you. You shot her a wink before disappearing out of her eyeline.

Alexia pursued her lips trying to stop herself from smiling like an idiot. But when she looked at the piece of paper with your messy scrawl on it, it was very hard.

She goes to fold the piece of paper to put in her pocket but stops when she sees something on the other side of the page. She flips it over and is surprised to see a small sketch of her.

It seems that the tour wasn't all you were focused on.

The sketch was of her standing on front of a Barca crest. When you had seen her looking at the frame you couldn't help yourself. The light shining down on the design was reflecting onto her giving her this glow. You captured her side profile extremely well. She swore if it wasn't for the fact she knew it was drawn in pencil, she would have thought it was a picture straight off a professional camera.

It was something she was definitely going to cherish.

She reached for her phone to save the number but groaned remembering that she forgot that she had left it at home to get away from all the stress of work. So she quickly made her way home not wanting to lose the number.

But as she's walking home she realizes how much lighter she feels. Before she had felt like this weight had been on her chest making it hard for her to breathe. But now it was gone. All that stress had seemingly disappeared.

You had done that.

Alexia smiled the whole way home. Thinking about what she would text you when you got home.

#alexia putellas x reader #Alexia Putellas imagines #Alexia Putellas imagine #Barcelona femini #alexia putellas segura #alexia putellas #maybe a part 2.....

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