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twstgarden · 7 months ago

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❀ ❝ 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗶 𝗳𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗲𝗻 𝗶𝗻 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲? ❞

━ malleus draconia x gn! reader (reader can be yuu or an oc/twstsona) ━ thoughts of the possibility of falling in love with your nightly visitor continue to disturb you even during the times you were supposed to focus on your quality time together.

no spoilers for chapter 7, diasomnia’s arc!

do not steal or translate without my permission.

buy me a coffee here and ko-fi here if you want to support me, commissions are open

“modern architectures seemed to have adapted new designs for their gargoyles. why, i even came across one that resembles a human face. it is quite intriguing, really. i have grown accustomed to seeing gargoyles that usually take the form of different creatures of the night, so seeing that human-like gargoyle sparked some interest in me that i wish to show it to you,” rambled malleus before he frowned, “however, my so-called phone could no longer capture images. it breaks easily, it’s unfortunate.”

you sat as you replied with a soft hum, your chin resting on your hand as you looked up at him with a rather longing and lovestruck gaze. you were paying attention to his ramblings, truly, you were! it just so happened that you were looking at him with an infatuated gaze.

hearing only a hum from you, malleus turned his head to look at his companion. with a raised brow, he spoke, “hm? are you alright?”

his question snapped you out of your thoughts. a soft blush dusted over your cheeks as you felt embarrassed of having been caught staring, “oh, sorry. um… so, did you capture it with… maybe a regular camera?”

once more, there was a frown on his lips, “no, but i will make sure i get to capture its uniqueness and aesthetic the next time i come across that gargoyle.”

it was somewhere around midnight when you decided to accompany malleus in the backyard of the ramshackle dorm, and you spent the past 30 minutes listening to him talk about his findings during his strolls for his gargoyle research club activity.

you loved listening to him speak. his voice was deep and resonant, yet so dulcet and soothing. you would never get tired of listening to him all day. when he speaks with clear passion and excitement laced in his tone, he resembles a young kid who had just gotten some candy – so endearing and oh so innocent, but you had to remind yourself that this was no ordinary man. this was the crown prince of a nation, a man respected by many and feared by many more.

still, who gives a damn about titles when you can enjoy his presence for as long as you want? as long as the moon stays up in the sky and the sun has not risen, you can guarantee his presence in your dormitory.

were you falling in love?

what nonsense. of course not! who could afford to fall in love at a time like this? what you needed to focus on was your return to your world, not fall in love with a prince who may soon be betrothed to someone else.

oh, but that smile…

malleus smiled as he caught you staring once more, lost in your gaze. with a teasing chuckle, he spoke playfully, “am i so captivating that you can’t seem to tear your eyes away?”

what a beautiful smile.

that question alone made you look away immediately. was it too obvious? surely, he was only teasing you, but it was as if he hinted that he knew you might be falling for him. you laughed a little and replied, “i was spacing out! i wasn’t staring or anything…”

“spacing out, hm? does something trouble your mind?” asked malleus. the playful air seemed to have dissipated, replaced with an air of concern and care as soon as you told him you were spacing out.

“not at all,” you replied with a smile, “i was only imagining what that gargoyle with a human face would look like.”

are you falling in love?

again, with such questions! having the desire to spend more time with the man and looking forward to your nightly meetings does not equate to falling in love. you merely wanted his companionship. he was the only one visiting you late at night, keeping you entertained and listening to your troubles. he was more of a friend than anyone else in night raven college – ace and deuce are a category of their own.

there was never a single night he’d bail on you. not a single night had he let you be alone. it had become a tradition at this point for him to always be standing by your window once the clock struck 12. he never arrived empty-handed; there was always a thoughtful gift in tow or an engaging tale of adventures of the people he knew – mostly lilia’s adventures. other times, it would be a treasure trove of fascinating facts on random yet intriguing subjects. with him, each nightly meeting was an enchanting experience, always concluding with the bestowal of a meaningful gift, the creation of lasting memories, or the gain of fresh knowledge.

a knowledgeable and kind-hearted friend.

that’s how you’d always describe him. that’s what you’d always tell yourself. he was nothing more than a knowledgeable, kind-hearted friend. why must your admiration of his character equate to romantic feelings? even friends can find one person cool and not wish to have romantic relationships with them.

oh, but you love holding his hand…

it was another night in night raven college, another night spent with your midnight visitor. he was discussing certain gemstones that he had in his collection – his hoard, a term better suited for his kind. the discussion seemed normal at first glance until he looked at your left hand and held his right hand out for you to hold after taking off his glove.

“may i?”

curiosity washed over your senses as you tilted your head but placed your left hand on top of his anyway. his gentle caress on your knuckles sent shivers down your spine, his hands felt so smooth and oh so gentle, yet you knew of the underlying strength that was concealed within his lovely hands. the same hand that finds ease in cracking a coconut open gently held your own – as if he was afraid of accidentally hurting you.

as his thumb tenderly brushed against your bare ring finger, he spoke, “a beautiful golden ring would best adorn your hand, perhaps one embedded with your birthstone, don’t you think?”

this was merely a casual conversation between friends – a topic of discussion relating to gemstones turned into rings. this is normal, is it not? you hummed in reply as he continued to hold your hand, “a golden ring embedded with my birthstone? that sounds lovely.” a soft laugh then left your lips, “i could not afford to buy one, however.”

hoping he would comprehend your attempt at making a poor joke, you looked at him with a smile. he let out a soft chuckle, leading you to believe he was amused by your jest until his response completely caught you off-guard.

“why buy one when i can have one custom-made for you?”

your smile dropped as your expression turned into shock.

“pardon?”

that night was memorable, and certainly had its surprising elements compared to your other nightly meetings. you thought he was joking about getting a custom-made ring for you, but he had given so many hints and statements that he was completely serious – he even took your ring size. you did not stop him. perhaps it was just another one of his many, many gifts that he had bestowed upon you.

your vague knowledge of fae tradition made you recall a hint of a connection between faes and the art of gift-giving – that exchanging of gifts was an intrinsic part of their nature. you were entirely unaware of the customs and traditions surrounding gifts in briar valley, but surely, gift-giving is a way to show how much one appreciates an important acquaintance, is it not?

after that meeting, you started to realise the growing number of attempts on him holding your hand – whether you’re walking side by side or sitting together on the bench – he would always attempt to interlock his hand with yours in a way that seems respectful. his hand would gently brush against your own while he was talking, giving a hint that he wishes to hold your hand but would rather have your consent first.

you did not hesitate. you smiled and continued listening to his words as you interlocked your fingers together, gently squeezing his hand as he had not worn his gloves like usual. there was a brief moment of his eyes lighting up and his smile growing wider once he felt your hand on his, but then reverted to his usual expression as he continued to share stories with you.

your nightly meetings had extended to daylight hours. you were no longer confined in the moon’s appearance in the sky to determine how long you’d spend your time with him. you did not mind being seen by everyone else in the academy hanging out with the hotshot dormitory leader of diasomnia – who cares about them?

as long as malleus continued to spend his time with you, you’d spend your time with him. your blooming connection had soon become known to everyone else, and those from his dormitory were more than happy to finally see their dorm leader making friends. well, lilia was the proudest, but sebek still has his suspicions.

it has been a long while now since you have established a connection with the lonely crown prince. his companionship was all you could find on all the times you yearned for someone to hang out with. things were going smoothly, and your relationship with malleus kept blossoming every day.

have you fallen in love?

that question now haunted you once more.

have you fallen in love?

you shook your head as you sighed, trying to think of something else as you sat on diasomnia’s comfortable couch. their lounge was spacious – able to fit more than 20 students at the same time, but you’d rather not stay in the lounge if it gets crowded. the leather couches of their lounge were certainly of high quality as once you took a seat, you felt yourself sinking into the soft depths of the sofa.

malleus was sipping on his tea while the other three kept conversing about their recent school activities. upon hearing your sigh, malleus glanced at you and placed his teacup down, “are you feeling tired?” you shook your head in response, “no, no… not at all…”

have you fallen in love?

perhaps you did. your eyes stayed on malleus for a while as you thought of all the reasons you were drawn to him. malleus had a regal and powerful aura, everyone knew that, but there was also a hint of innocence and loneliness behind that powerful mask of his. you were one of the few people who have witnessed the real side of malleus draconia, while everyone else only knew him as a powerful fae prince.

malleus had the most beautiful set of green eyes – striking and sharp, yet so ethereal and comforting. his eyes showed all the feelings his facial expressions could not, and when it twinkles at the sight or mention of things, he is particularly fond of, you feel a sense of peace within you – as if you felt happy seeing him happy.

for so long have you denied your thoughts and dismissed them as merely friendly observations. you thought he was beautiful, and it should be normal to find someone beautiful, no? you think vil is a beautiful man, but that does not mean you are in love with him, so what makes malleus any different?

but that’s the thing.

malleus draconia’s allure was a level of their own.

his beauty was not like vil’s elegant charm or neige’s endearing appeal. malleus embodies a beauty of ethereal quality – to you, he is a man of enchanting grace and elegance, shrouded in mystery and often veiled in reserve.

have you fallen in love?

after pondering on your inner thoughts, you can proudly answer this question with confidence.

yes, you were.

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love-and-deepspace-wiki · 2 months ago

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Linkon University

Location: Linkon City

Details:

Linkon University (also called the University of Linkon) is one of many universities in the in-game world. In Rafayel's "Addictive Pain" Anecdote, we learn that he served as a visiting professor for one year while the protaganist was still a student. Though we know the protaganist studied at this university, her major has not been specified in-game.

Campus:

Linkon University's campus is open and accessible to everyone. A tour beyond the school gate would likely showcase its lush greenery, red bricks, and various tree-lined paths. In spring, a lot of people like to visit the campus to admire the peach blossoms there. Over the years, students have developed many campus legends. For example, legend says that if you reach the end of a specific campus path in exactly one hundred steps, you'll have a better relationship.

Buildings & Facilities:

Building No. 3:

When the protaganist gives Xavier a campus tour, she starts by taking him to “Building No. 3”. This building is often used for weekend classes, but is also a popular location for studying.

According to legend, if you fall asleep in the last row (the desk in the farthest corner of the classroom) of Room No. 303, you can predict certain things. For example, the protaganist says that when she had fallen asleep in that spot, she dreamed she failed her test. When she woke up, she actually did fail it.

Chemistry Building:

The chemistry building is described as white building that can be seen from a window in Building No. 3. Its equipped with a laboratory, which is featured in another campus legend. According to this legend, the laboratory is always "cold as ice" because it's haunted. But Xavier deduced that the "ghosts" were little more than a malfunctioning air conditioning system.

Art Center:

The Art Center building is crowned with a glass spire bearing the name of the university. Here, one can find the Art Center Studio and multiple auditoriums/lecture halls. When Rafayel taught there, he held his lectures in the Art Center's largest auditorium.

Campus café:

The café on campus offers various options for refreshment, some of which are coffee and cake. The protaganist mentions a specific shell-shaped cake served here called "Sea Salt Cheese".

Track Field:

Though I don't see a track portrayed, the image below is shown when the protaganist takes Xavier to see the campus track field. It is described as "old, but familiar".

Rumors say a tireless shadow always comes to this track field at midnight, and weird grunts can be heard at 6:06 AM. But the shadow is just a girl who likes to do long distance running at night, and grunts are just a guy from the track and field team practicing his shot put.

Colleges & Departments:

The following departments and colleges have been mentioned in-game:

Department of Deepspace Energy

A character named Morgan is a professor in this department, but he is never portrayed. This is the only detail the game provides about this department.

College of Fine Arts

It was the Dean of this college who invited Rafayel to his office for tea and subsequently proposed he teach as a visiting professor. When Rafayel agreed, he was given a two-page contract to sign.

Courses:

While a handful of majors have been mentioned (art and biology), few specific courses have been mentioned in-game. But the game has mentioned these two courses by name.

Art Appreciation and Criticism:

A highly sought-after elective course in which non-art majors learn to appreciate art while art majors learn criticism. Rafayel taught this class during his time at the university. Course evaluations from past students say Rafayel had a reputation for nitpicking everything. One even claimed that the best way to get out of the class was to bring a cat. But central points from its curriculum include:

Appreciation and criticism: the union of sensibility and reason

Critique is a personal journey, shaped by individual aesthetic preferences. Its an active recreation by the viewer

All appreciation is interpretation. The key to interpretation lies in trusting your gut

Notes from the class include:

Lost Sea: Lemurias's Art and Civilization:

This was Rafayel's first lecture series at the university, and it made Lemuria a popular topic on campus. Because of this, spots for these lectures filled up as soon as they opened.

Interesting Details:

Students here have a mid-morning break.

The university has a course evaluation system.

The university has its own news team.

The protaganist once participated in a promotional video for the university, in which they featured her poetry slam. The student who was supposed to compete had gotten sick, so the protaganist had filled in for her.

According to an unnamed student, students with the protagonist's major don't have a fixed classroom. But they typically take their electives on the fifth floor of one of the campus buildings.

One of the buildings on campus has the Ever Group logo on the outside (below)

#love and deepspace #lads #lads linkon city #linkon city #lads linkon university #love and deepspace linkon university #love and deepspace university of linkon #lads university of linkon

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leafington · 3 months ago

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𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙙𝙞𝙙 𝙞 𝙛𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙞𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚? 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙡𝙮, 𝙞 𝙘𝙖𝙣'𝙩 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙫𝙚 𝙞 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚. - kiyoko s.

content warning !! - blackfem!reader, GAYGAYGAY, fluffy, lowercase intended just for the aesthetic, sneaking thru window trope, mentions of homophobia (nobody is, its just a reference)

young love. something to be treasured for those who experience it to the fullest, not everyone got to take part in the privelege of having someone truly care for you before adulthood. earlier in life, it didn't occur to you that you'd get to be one of the rare exceptions who got that opportunity. if you met your younger self, asking if you'd ended up with some mascot from your favorite cartoon then, you would laugh and tell yourself no, but you got an amazing girlfriend who's not only gorgeous but smart.

shimizu looks out for you like no one else does, conveniently bringing extra food for you when you forget your lunch, a spare pen when you've lost yours, and all that she asks in return is your affection? this relationship thing couldn't be any easier! of course, you don't hesitate to communicate with her because sometimes hugging her under the stairwell isn't enough.

it's around midnight, maybe a quarter past, sleep is far from you now as you toss and roll in your sheets. this leaves you no choice but to text the only other night owl you know.

'hi baby r u awake?' you, 12:26am

'no im sleeping really hard actually. snoring even.' kiyoko ❤️, 12:26am

'ofc i am darling, what did you need?' kiyoko ❤️, 12:26am

'can i come over pls? cant sleep' you, 12:27am

'mhm. windows unlocked.' kiyoko ❤️, 12:27am

in the dark of the night, you tread through the streets lit by only dim streetlights to your girlfriend. you go around the side of her home and climb the lofty tree to sit on the windowsill and let yourself inside, there she was, waiting for you with open arms. any normal person would simply let themselves in through the front, though only when their parents weren't as strict as shimizu's.

without sharing any other words besides 'hi', you crawl into her bed and make yourself comfortable. the both of you lie there for a bit before you decide to speak. "you smell nice, pretty." this makes her smile. "thank you. 's everything okay with you?" she checks in, playing with your hair a bit. "yeah. i just couldn't go back to sleep, guess it was a sign that i needed to see you." you grin lovingly, never getting enough of being around her. "don't get too comfortable, you can't stay the night." she warns, scooting over to nuzzle herself into your chest.

"says the one actively trying to cuddle me." you chuckle. "i don't get why your parents hate me so much, i'm literally the kindest girl in the whole wide world. not to mention the best girlfriend in the universe." she snickers at this, a small smile forming. "if that'll get you to sleep, keep thinking that way." shimizu thinks quietly, why do her parents not approve of you?

it isn't like they don't like her choice of partner, far from it. they've always been protective of her, wanting nothing short of the best for their baby girl, both you and them have that in common. when first meeting them, they did seem to have some sort of stick up their ass. hounding you with the basic questions of, "what do you plan on doing with our daughter?" "how'd you two meet?" "how can we be so sure you won't hurt her?" but your intentions with her are just as good as the next person, although she's convinced herself there'll never be a next one.

you're always in her head. "don't think too much about it, they'll warm up to me sooner or later." you kiss the crown of her head, nesting yourself there happily. "i hope so."

your relationship isn't widely shared around the school but it isn't private either, if people ask then you'll tell them, if they don't, then that's none of their business. when you see her out in the halls, you don't immediately attack her with kisses, a small wave is enough. but when the two of you are finally alone, it's different.

it's quiet now. the fan in her room being the only thing keeping it from being dead silent. the only problem with that is the thoughts that keep her conscious and overly aware. "y/n? you like me right?" she whispers. why? you don't know, though you never question her ways. "sometimes." you joke, following up with a short, "of course." shimizu hums at this.

silence again. you're halfway tempted to ask her what that was all about, but before you could even consider it, she flips you over—now straddling your lap while you're cozied up against her pillows. "woah, warning next time." you watch her practically stare into your soul, maybe there's something on your face? did she take your joke too seriously? hopefully it wasn't that. whatever she has to say, she's choked up about it. her lips twitch and tighten out of anticipation for whatever she was going to say.

she's in her own head a lot too.

your eyes soften, a hand gently guiding its way to her face. shimizu's worried look falters when feeling the warmth, her hand then coming up to cradle yours. "i love you. an ungodly amount at that. i'm not all that good at showing that but i do and i'm glad that we're together." she's still whispering, you still don't know why. it doesn't matter, you heard the l-word from her loud and clear.

it's... weird. not in a bad way though. she sounds so precious saying it too, as if it were something on her mind for the longest. there's this unsettling feeling about hearing it for the first time from someone who isn't your family.

maybe that's what it is.

she's your first, your only, and hopefully your last. shimizu's seen parts of you nobody else has even attempted to try to see, she's picked up your broken pieces, helped you when you needed it most. you're scared. scared of losing her, never getting a second chance at this again because it sounds too good to be true as harsh of a reality as it is.

you see it now. this is what people treasure so much, what they long to experience, how lucky you are to get to know what it's like so early in life.

"i love you too."

#anime #anime and manga #animanga #haikyuu #hq #haikyuu x reader #kiyoko shimizu #kiyoko x reader #gayness #lesbians bc i can #self indulgent #lgbtq #lesbian kiyoko for the win!#shimizu kiyoko #x reader #black fem reader #laufey inspired

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multi-fan-dom-madness · 1 year ago

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Midnight Masquerade - Wolffe

Chapter Summary: The bottle chooses Wolffe, and you get more than you bargained for. Not that you're complaining.

Chapter Warnings: wraith!Wolffe x gn!reader; kinks: exhibitionism + humiliation; reader is called some derogatory names (mostly 'whore'), please do heed the 'humiliation' warning, slight praise kink, Dom/sub dynamics, consent implied but not explicitly discussed beyond establishing safewords, begging, orgasm denial, temperature play sort of, masturbation (m & gn), reader is called derogatory names (mostly 'whore') but is not outright insulted, light slapping (once and it's not hard), ghost? sex?, gaping (if you squint), unprotected penetrative sex (can be read PiV or PiA), aftercare with some soft!Wolffe

Word Count: 3.0k

A/N: idk where this was going to go when I planned it in September, but here we are. enjoy, you heathens (affectionate).

...Wolffe.

As the rest of the table cheers, Cody and Fox banging on the table and making glasses rattle, you draw a steadying breath. Turning to the commander in question to your left, you fight to suppress a shudder at the sight of him.

Atop his head rests a black iron crown, glistening in the strobing lights. His face—his entire body—has discorporated into roiling gray vapors; his facial features, shoulders and chest seem nearly solid, but the rest of him is partially translucent, ephemeral. When he meets your gaze, his eyes are pinpricks of light, one milky white, the other near-black obsidian. A shiver breaks through your self-composure. Wolffe’s eyes drift to peruse your seated form, one gaseous eyebrow lifting to convey interest.

Whatever he sees, it seems to amuse him, as his lips quirk up in a knowing smirk. Leaning into your personal space, he tilts his head so his lips rest next to your ear. You shiver again, but this time it’s from the immediate way the temperature drops when he crowds against you. His new form is frigid; you realize that the vapors drifting off of him aren’t just part of the aesthetic. He’s practically sublimating.

“Don’t think I forgot your little stunt with the olive, cyar’ika,” he husks into your ear. His voice has an echoic quality, like it’s coming from the end of a long metallic tunnel. “It was quite the show you put on. Because it was a show, wasn’t it. You like being watched.”

Despite his coldness, your body flushes with intense heat at his words. You draw back enough to meet his eyes, those cold flints of steel, and bite your lip almost without conscious thought. A single nod dips your head.

Wolffe withdraws with a knowing smirk, then rises to—well, not his feet exactly, but rises to his full height. You trip over the legs of your chair in your haste to follow suit. Wolffe reaches out to steady you; his hands, to your surprise, are solid enough to catch you, though you feel like you’ve been doused in ice.

“Thanks,” you mumble.

He merely grunts in acknowledgement, then gestures for you to lead the way. You acquiesce, winding through the packed dance floor, muttering sorrys and excuse mes that get lost amidst the chest-rattling bass of the music. Anticipation, anxiety, and arousal all bubble in your body, aware of Wolffe’s burning gaze on your back as you walk. Anticipation because you’re curious: is he going to be able to touch you? Really touch you? Anxiety because it’s Wolffe, for kriff’s sake; he’s one of the most intense, focused men you’ve ever met. And arousal because, well, it’s Wolffe. Even before tonight, he could set your blood alight with just a hardened glance.

After what feels like an eternity struggling to get through the crowd, you emerge, breathless, on the other side. Stepping through the door that leads to the rest of the building, you glance over your shoulder to make sure Wolffe is still there.

And damn near trip over your own feet as shock jolts through you.

Wolffe is, indeed, still behind you—and behind him float three more figures. The Wolfpack. Comet, Sinker, and Boost, all in similar states of incorporeality, but only Wolffe bears a crown on his head. The Wraith King, your brain whispers. For some reason, that idea only intensifies the arousal pulsing through you.

Your knees threaten to give out. “W-Wolffe?”

“Problem?” he says with a dangerous smirk.

“I- I—” You swallow around the sudden dryness in your throat. Gaze darting between the other three men, you shake your head. “No.”

“Good,” he says. “Open the next door on the left.”

Doing as you’re told, you reach for the doorknob, a plain thing made of brass, and twist. The door swings open silently. Inside, your eyebrows raise in surprise at the plain, cozy bedchamber furnishings. It doesn’t escape your notice that there are multiple places to sit in this room. Electricity buzzes beneath your skin as you hold the door open for the Wolfpack, only allowing it to swing shut once the last of them has crossed the threshold.

Comet, Sinker, and Boost drift toward the bed, leaving you to have a semi-private moment with Wolffe. Every inch the commander, even in this form, Wolffe dominates the space, his cumulous figure drawing your attention as he hovers before you. He reaches one hand up to cup your face. Goosebumps prickle across your skin as you again feel like you’ve been plunged into ice. But the sensation of his smoky form against your skin is nevertheless soothing. Intoxicating. Alluring. Kriff, what have you gotten yourself into?

Wolffe ducks his head to catch your gaze. “Safeword, cyar'ika?”

“Meiloorun,” you supply without hesitation. “Yours?”

He chuckles. “Ours will be ‘Republic’.”

You nod in understanding. Ignoring the spectral forms of the other three in your peripheral, you reach with tentative hands towards Wolffe. One of your hands connects with something semi-solid where his shoulder is, and you smooth your thumb over the muscled swell of the joint. Your other hand cradles his face, the most solid part of him. He leans into your touch for just a moment, eyes sliding shut. His lips press into your palm where he turns his head. You shudder in delight.

“Surprised you’re willing to share,” you say.

A short laugh rises from one of the others. Comet, you think, shakes his head. “We aren’t here to share.”

“Oh.” A frown creases your forehead. Wolffe’s mismatched eyes are faintly amused when you glance back at him. “Then why—”

“They’re here to watch,” Wolffe says, voice low and rumbly. “Since that is what you like, isn’t it, you filthy little thing?”

Wolffe’s words pulse heat directly to your core. Breath hitching, you blink at him. “Y-Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes—” You swallow thickly, body nearly singing with anticipation. “—Commander.”

With a rakish smile, he yanks you towards him and crashes his freezing lips against yours. You groan against his mouth, hands flying to find purchase, to stabilize yourself. One hand bracing against his chest, the fingers of your other hand curl around one of the points of his iron crown. The metal is colder than cold—but you don’t pull away, don’t dare move an inch. Wolffe’s arms, half-corporeal, encircle you in a tight embrace.

You’re surrounded by cold, yet all you feel is the blazing inferno of desire raging within you. Core throbbing with need, it’s all you can do to stand there and let Wolffe kiss you. His lips are insistent against yours, demanding and needy at the same time. When he pulls away, you gasp for breath, head spinning.

“Get on the bed,” he orders.

Walking on wobbly knees, you manage to make it to the soft, plush surface of the bed in one piece. Four sets of eyes burrow into your back as you move. You wonder if you shouldn’t feel more embarrassed by the three additional clones watching you fall to pieces for their commander. But when you turn, Comet, Sinker, and Boost each have intense expressions on their faces, their eyes burning with a dark fire. They’ve apparently shed whatever clothing they’d had, because you can see the faint, shifting outlines of their toned bodies and, at the apex of their thighs, the shadowy lengths of their cocks.

A moan drags from deep in your chest.

“Hear that, boys?” Wolffe says, stepping close to you once again. “I think our little whore likes having an audience.”

A chorus of chuckles echoes in the room. Your attention, so focused on the way that Boost grips the base of his cock, is brought rudely back to Wolffe. His hand clamps around your jaw, forcibly turning your face to look at him.

“Eyes on me, cyar’ika,” he commands, voice stern and gruff. “They’re here to watch you, not the other way around.”

“Yes, Commander,” you whimper. His grip on your face, squishing your cheeks, muffles your words a little. Judging by the way his lips twitch into a sultry smirk, he likes it. So you continue, “Sorry, Commander.”

“Such a polite little whore,” he purrs.

Kissing your puffed lips once, he releases you with a small, harmless shove. You plop heavily onto the bed, bouncing on the mattress. Wolffe hooks his hands into the waistband of your pants and tugs them down around your legs. The fabric pools at your ankles, trapped by your shoes, but he doesn’t seem to care as he taps the underside of your thigh so you shift higher on the bed.

Knees falling open, you rearrange yourself to lay half-supported by the nest of pillows on the bed. Your chest heaves, though Wolffe has barely touched you. In the corner of your vision, you’re aware of the rest of the Wolfpack taking a step closer, each of them lazily stroking their hard lengths.

But you keep your eyes on Wolffe, as instructed. He quickly sheds whatever ghostly clothing he’d had on, yet remains standing at the edge of the bed, just out of reach. Even as a wraith, his body sets your mouth watering. Toned abs, a prominent Adonis belt, and flexing, powerful thighs, you wish you could have it all under your tongue. And maybe you will, when this is all said and done.

For right now, though, you draw deep breaths to keep yourself grounded. Your eyes lock on where Wolffe’s large, scarred hand cups his balls, a moan chafing from your throat.

“Wolffe,” you gasp.

“Touch yourself,” he orders. “Show us how filthy you really are. How fucking dirty your mind is.”

Whimpering pathetically, you trail your fingertips over your exposed skin toward the juncture of your thighs. Your core, aching and ignored, throbs in anticipation of receiving stimulation. A gasp tears from you as your fingers dance over the heated skin of your core. You set a lazy pace, easing into the pleasure the same way you’d lower into a hot bath, inch by inch, bit by bit. Sweat already begins to dew along your body.

“Fuck, look at that,” Boost mutters from somewhere near your feet.

“So kriffin’ hot,” Sinker agrees. His voice sounds strained—blissed out. “Such a good little pet, following directions so well for the Commander.”

You whine through your teeth, the praise shooting straight to your core. Brow furrowed in concentration, you force yourself to keep your eyes on Wolffe. He smirks like he knows how much you’re struggling, how desperately you want to look at the others and watch them come apart at the sight of you. Kriff, Wolffe had read you for filth with such ease, and here you are, whimpering and whining and writhing before him when all he’s done is kiss you.

“Wolffe,” you plead again.

He ignores what you’re silently asking for. Instead, he cocks one eyebrow. “Faster.”

Your body obeys before your mind fully registers what he demanded of you. Hand playing against your skin faster, you tense, pleasure surging within you. Your toes curl in your shoes as your back arches off the bed, hips jerking up against your hand to meet your ministrations at the source. Moaning loudly, you screw your eyes shut to stave off the impending orgasm that builds in your lower belly.

A light, freezing slap to your face has your eyes snapping open.

“Eyes. On. Me,” Wolffe grits out. “I won’t say it again.”

“Yes, Command-errrrr.” You whine as you continue working your body up to the cliff’s edge. Pleasure presses against you from the inside, building steadily in temperature and volume until it pushes against your brain in the most shattering way. You’re hanging on by a thread, body ready to hurtle over the edge—but Wolffe hasn’t given the go-ahead yet.

“Please!” you keen. “Please, can I cum? Please, please, please!”

“What d’you think, boys?” Wolffe says. “Think that’s allowed yet?”

Three matching voices answer: “Not yet.”

“Not yet,” Wolffe repeats, voice thick with the smirk on his face. When you whine, frustrated tears blurring your vision, Wolffe tuts. “Oh, poor thing. Don’t be silly now, cyar’ika. The only place you’re cumming tonight is on my cock.”

His words nearly shove you over the edge. You rip your hand away from your center, chest heaving with gasping, ragged breaths. Forcing your body to relax, you grit your teeth against the near-blinding pleasure that threatens to shove you into orgasm. After a few long moments, your heart begins to beat slower, your legs cease their quivering, and you sigh, slumping against the bed.

“Sit up,” Wolffe orders.

With shaking limbs, you manage to push yourself into a sitting position, legs still awkwardly stuck in your pants and splayed at odd angles. Wolffe settles into the bed behind you, but the only way you can tell is the cold, biting air that brushes over your heated skin as he moves. The bed doesn’t dip under his weight like you would normally expect.

“Here,” he says, gripping your hips with frigid fingers. You hiss at the contact, his spectral form an unwanted balm to the blazing fire of desire coursing through you. But he ignores the sound you make and instead helps hoist you up and back, into his lap. Bracing yourself on the bed—your hands go right through his thighs—you hesitate before reaching down.

“Are you—” Your voice cracks. “Do you want me to— Can I—?”

Wolffe chuckle rumbles against your back pleasantly. “Aw, poor baby, can’t even talk right. Take your time, cyar’ika.”

Embarrassment flushes through you, the stinging heat of self-consciousness clashing with the cozy warmth of arousal and mixing with it until your chest feels tight with need. Licking your lips, you take a deep breath and try again.

“Can I ride you?” you finally say, enunciating every syllable.

Instead of answering, Wolffe releases one of your hips and reaches between your bodies to line his thick length up with your entrance. Dimly, you wonder how this is going to work. But then he’s pushing into you, and your mind is wiped.

It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. He doesn’t prep you at all—doesn’t need to, because his cock is only sort of there. Even so, you’re being stretched open by something, something simultaneously glacial and volcanic, but when you look down there’s just barely the outline of his cock pressing into you. Your mind swirls with dizzying lust.

When Wolffe returns both hands to your hips, his fingers dig into your skin, likely to leave bruises. But you don’t care. Eyes screwed shut from pleasure, you roll your hips experimentally. Five separate moans bounce around the chamber; you can only imagine the view that the Wolfpack has right now as you seemingly fuck yourself on nothing. Wolffe grunts behind you, his hips rocking up to meet your movements halfway.

“F-Fuck, Commander,” you moan.

“Such a good fucktoy,” Wolffe grits out. “Take my cock so well.”

Your core clenches at the way he simultaneously praises and demeans you. In response, he punches his hips up, stealing your breath as the phantom tip of his cock presses right against the spot deep inside you that has you seeing stars.

“Need you to cum, cyar’ika,” he mutters. He sounds absolutely wrecked, voice hard but cracking, starting to show just how much this is affecting him.

You reach down to play with yourself once again, sighing as your fingers find purchase at your heated core. With rough, jerky movements, you bring yourself right back to the edge of shattered bliss as Wolffe continues to fuck into you. Pleasure pulses through you, hot and slick and desperate, and you barely have enough time to moan, “I’m cumming!” before your core clenches impossibly tight around his length. Every nerve in your body screams with ecstasy, your orgasm ripping through you so violently that you’re only held up by Wolffe’s strong embrace.

“Oh fuck,” one of the others groans. Your eyes flutter open in time to watch as Sinker’s face contorts in pleasure and a white, gossamer substance spurts out of his cock, shining like ectoplasm. In the next instant, his body resolidifies into his human form, and he stumbles back into a chair, chest heaving.

Wolffe snaps his hips up against yours once more and goes absolutely still, his grip on your hips painful, as his phantom dick swells and pulsates inside you. A choked moan claws out of your chest as you feel the cold ectoplasm convert mid-way into hot ropes of cum. Wolffe’s body reverts, coalescing into something solid, warm, and human. You slump back against his sweaty body, his cock still buried in you, filling you to the brim.

Dimly, you’re aware of Comet and Boost both cumming with strangled shouts before they, too, return to normal. Your entire attention is devoted to Wolffe, whose breath heaves below you. His hands wrap around your middle to squeeze you to him. Lolling your head back, you press your nose against the crook of his neck and inhale his warm scent, pine and blaster residue.

“You okay?” you murmur.

His embrace tightens minutely. “Yeah. Yeah, just need a minute.”

“Take your time,” you reassure, mouthing gently at his skin. “You did so good.”

He snorts. “Pretty sure I’m supposed to say that to you.”

You hum noncommittally. “Scenes can be rough on all parties.” Raising your head, you glance at the other three where they sprawl over various plush chairs, their own bodies slick with sweat. “Boys? You good?”

Boost merely raises a thumb in your direction, his eyes closed. Comet calls, “All good,” while Sinker lets out a breathless laugh in response.

Dropping your head back, you nestle into Wolffe’s warmth. “Commander?”

“You don’t have to call me that now,” he says, thumbs stroking over your skin. “Just Wolffe is okay.”

“Wolffe,” you say with a smile. “This was perfect.”

He hums, tucking his chin down to press a chaste kiss to your shoulder. “I’m glad. Now, be quiet and let me hold you.”

With a small chuckle, you readjust yourself so your spine isn’t bent at an awkward angle, then burrow down within his embrace. “Sir, yes, sir.”

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