#high-flow cats

[ratatatastic]

there is something so special about self fulfilling prophecies

[shesbackgroundnoise]

I had a traumatic start to my week and the thing that fixed me was a trip to Joann Fabrics and making a bracelet.

[yapileon]

@TacklerCulers: The Chaotic Teen Serie pt. 1

fcb femení x chaoticteen!reader (first fic, be gentle with me pls i'm embarassed, also, i have no idea why i wrote that.)

17yo La Masia defender gets promoted to the first team. Will you be able to keep your fcb femení fan account hidden while slowly making your place in the team with your idols?

While you had the tendency to be known as a cheeky chaotic teen, you currently felt anxious and shaky. You had spent three years working you ass off to be recognized in the La Masia training academy, it had paid off, since you were on the way to your first training with the senior team.

You're walking to the stadium when you feel your phone buzzing in your back pocket. You picked it up, smiling at the Mapi León wallpaper you had chosen weeks ago. You knew the pings had something to do with the meme you posted on your fan account, @TacklerCulers this morning.

tacklerculers

liked by 2,486 others

tacklersculers: Ona and The Flash have never been witnessed at the same place at the same time, just saying.

—

Like you thought, the meme was doing well, attracting multiples thousands likes from other woso fans. You couldn't help but giggle at the fact that today, you'd get to meet all of the barça squad. No, it was more than that, today, you'd get to become their teammates.

You were so excited when you had made it on the training pitch, you were the first aside from some of the training staff that you had greeted. You picked up a ball and started juggling, trying to get yourself in the flow. Except this is when you had spotted them walking to you.

Alexia, the captain of the best team in the world, and Mapi Leon, the arm-tape icon —and arguably your favorite player of all time��smiling brightly at you. You were so focused on them that you kicked the ball straight to your shin. Smooth.

"Doing good, rookie?" The defender had asked you with an amused look. Though her smile faded away when Alexia elbowed her in the ribs, frowning.

The sound you had made to answer was something between a hurried yes and a cat screeching. So you nodded profusely, not trusting your voice to not betray you again.

"Don't listen to her cariño," the blond had said softly, her hand on your shoulder, and at that moment you swore you could die, your life was complete.

"Big day today, sí?" the capitain added, dragging you toward the group of players who had started arriving.

You hoped you'd be able to find you voice again soon, otherwise today would only be a long and embarrassing day.

You waved to some of the players, high fiving Patri who seemed very happy to see a fellow La Masia made kid. You couldn't help but be star struck, looking around you you saw Irene Paredes. Wall of the team. And Ingrid Engen? Technically midfield goddess but honorary defender in your books. Really what would have the team done last season without her? You couldn't help but chuckle a bit seeing Ona, remember your meme from this morning, though you tried (and failed) to hide your laugh as a cough.

But then training started, and you were definitely better at football than introducing yourself, so you gave your all. You had warmed up with Ingrid, not like Mapi didn't try to get to you before but the Norwegian had dragged you with her, leaving the Spaniard pouting. You were definitely glad for Ingrid right now, you were sure if you had had to play with your idol right away, you would have somehow tripped on your own feet.

After the warm up, the real work started. You had been doing well, holding your own as much as you could against them, trying to time your tackles well, finding your grooves in your passes. You were playing a five-a-side when the incident happened. At some point, you had tried to nutmeg Alexia on a spur of the moment thing, and had blushed furiously when you had inevitably failed —leaving only Gemma to defend the goal. Which in itself was embarrassing enough, but you had recovered quickly, decided on fixing things, you had ran for your life, and somehow managed to kick the ball away from the goal line when Alexia took her shot.

Problem?

It has landed straight on Ingrid's back, hitting her at full strength.

Ingrid stumbled forward, gasping, and Mapi who was right next to her burst out laughing. You ran to them, mortified, half screaming a busted apology.

"Already trying to get rid of me?" The dark haired woman said, chuckling while rubbing her back.

You screamed, trying to defend yourself while slightly panicking. "What?! No. Ingrid I'm so sorry, it's the ball, I didn't-" you stopped yoursel.

It's the ball? Seriously?

Ingrid raised an eyebrow at you while her girlfriend was practically rolling on the grass from laughing too much.

"I think the ball did exactly what you wanted, little devil." the Norwegian had said smirking, leaving you audibly gasping.

"I- What?" You stumbled on your words "I'm an angel I would never willingly hurt another defender!" you added, gesturing.

Mapi, who was still holding onto her belly from how much she was laughing interrupted, "An Angel? You just tried to murder Ingrid with a football.”

You whined your disagreement, unaware that most of the team had stopped their training to watch you three arguing on the sideline, most with a smile on their lips. You heard Pina laughing in the background, saying something along the lines of you perfectly fitting in already. Alexia had made her way to you. Her voice surprised you when she spoke teasingly, "Would that mean that you'd willingly hurt someone who's not a defender?" You could see on the blonde faces that it was meant as a joke. You watched, half amused half desperate, as the three women burst out laughing at the face you made.

Thankfully for you, the Norwegian did not seem to hold a grudge for the way you had attacked her with the football, leaving the training session to continue.

It was the end of the day and you were making your way to the locker room when Mapi had ran to you. She ruffled your hair, putting her arm around your shoulder when she was satisfied, "You did good today kid, looks like you might have a nice future ahead of you."

Your mouth fell open, before you started scrambling to say thank you. You just couldn't believe Mapi of all people was the one to compliment you. All the team had welcomed you with open arms, pulling you in conversation, praising you when you did well, giving you tips when you were struggling. You always knew they were good people, but witnessing it first hand was leaving you a bit emotional.

You guessed your starstruck eyes were obvious when Frido, who was passing you to sit at her locker said, "Well, no need to ask who your favourite player is, uh?" You felt your body shrink in your seat and went straight back to blushing as the team giggled. After the first moment of embarrassment, you laughed with them.

You had behave fairly well, until you were presented with the perfect opportunity by Irene, feeling like the team had a good vibe, you decided to show a bit of mischief.

"So," Irene asked curiously, "what made you decide to be a defender?"

You froze for a second, your filter failing you, before smirking. "Because defenders are the hottest."

You saw Mapi nearly choke on her water while the whole team burst out laughing. And suddenly you felt very proud of yourself. You laughed with them while kicking away your cleats.

The tattooed Spaniard had recovered from her cough, tears in her eyes, "You're a cheeky thing, aren't you?"

You smiled, wiggling your eyebrows, "I mean… am I wrong?"

"No lies detected," Ingrid chimed in with a wink, making everyone laugh harder.

You leaned back into your locker, not believing how well you were going along with the team. That's when you saw Aitana giggling and grabbing Ona by the sleeve. "Look! Someone edited you on a The Flash meme!"

Uh oh.

pt. 2

[tetzoro]

˖˙ ꔫ — HAPPY BIRTHDAY TETSU ˚

꒰ synopsis ꒱ : getting ready for kuroo’s birthday dinner has brought on a few unexpected surprises.

꒰ contents ꒱ : kuroo tetsuro x reader ; fluff. full of silliness and made with lots of love. reader is pregnant but kuroo doesn’t know, brief alcohol mention, dividers by adornedwithlight — WC : 1.8k

An unnaturally high-pitched, almost bone-chilling scream sounds off in the bathroom. The tube of lipstick you were holding drops onto the vanity with a small clunk before you dart to the source of the distress.

Every light in the bathroom was flicked on, the brightness overwhelming you as you attempt to focus on the scene before you. But nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight.

Your devastatingly handsome husband, dressed to the nines in one of his best suits, was rustling with his inky, unruly hair in a state of panic. His eyes were wide and filled with a crazed determination as he looked for something. He's never been one to fuss that much over his hair, so it worried you a little.

“Tetsu..?” You ask in a soft voice, taking a cautious step forward with the gentleness of a curious cat. “What’s-"

“I HAVE GRAY HAIR!” He dramatically exclaimed, turning towards you and pointing towards his head. You blink once, twice. In a few easy steps, you’re right in front of this man-child and gently caress his cheek, your eyes trailing from his to the small white hair he was gesturing to.

“Okay?” You look back at him, rubbing your thumb against his cheek soothingly. “It looks good, honey.”

“I can't believe it.” Kuroo goes to break out of your hold, looking back at the mirror in horror. “I just turned thirty, this can’t be happening.”

“It's only one tiny strand of hair, Tetsuro.” You sigh exasperated, walking up to wrap your arms around his slim waist. “Besides, I think it suits you. You’re entering your silver fox era, very sexy of you.”

His body rumbles against yours as he lets out a reluctant chuckle before his hands move down to rest over yours, giving them a gentle pat. The twin golden bands that adjourn your ring fingers shine under the fluorescent lights, the glint catches your eye as it happily reflects in the mirror. 

“If you say so.” He didn’t look convinced, still frowning at his reflection. If he didn’t look so adorably pitiful, you might’ve felt bad. “Just pluck it off me. Please.”

“Aw, I love it when you beg.” The pout on his face only deepens.

“Ha, ha. Way to kick a man while he’s down, babe.” The sarcasm flows past his lips, clearly unimpressed with your lack of sympathy in this life changing moment.

“You’re so dramatic.” Without hesitation, you go to grab the defenseless strand of hair and it comes off all too easily. It only takes a second for everything to click into place. “Tetsu.”

“Did you get it?” His eyes are squeezed shut, bracing for the impact that never comes.

“Kuroo.” The use of his surname has him straightening up, eyes flying open. The piece of hair falls into his palm and he looks at it, completely gobsmacked. “This is cat hair.”

The cackle of his laugh drowns out the silence in the cramped room, his head tossed back in absolute delight. Whether it’s over the fact that it was just cat hair or the simple fact of him not having gray hair yet, you’re not sure, but you can’t find it in you to be mad. Not when his amber eyes twinkle and shine as they brim with joyful tears. 

“You’re absolutely ridiculous.” You shake your head, a smile resting on your lips. The two of you were always coated in cat hair of some sort and Kuroo had an affinity for nuzzling his head against the kitties. It’s no wonder one had found its place nestled in his hair.

“Would you love me even if I was already graying?” He asks, but there’s a tone of insecurity that weaves itself into the cracks of his voice. Thirty was a new milestone, one that he had been looking forward to but birthdays always seem to shove the concept of time right in your face.

With a tenderness that came as easy as breathing, you press a sweet kiss against his lips. It quickly blooms into a life of its own as you pour everything you wish to say into it. 

The love that will remain eternal, the warmth of all the sunsets you will watch together, the endless laughs you have yet to share, the sweet promise of tomorrow and the rest of your lives together.

“My love, I'll be with you until you’re old and gray and screaming over the fact that you found a black hair in place of all that gray.” You giggle, carding your fingers through the soft, unruly strands in an attempt to smooth it all over. “I meant it when I said my vows. I'm with you forever.”

The words reassure him, letting your promise melt over him and ease all the tension out of his body. There was never any doubt, of course, but he always loved hearing the reminder.

“My sweet wife.” With a boyish grin, Kuroo spins you around and securely cradles you in his arms, gently swaying side to side.

“My silly husband.” Reaching up behind you, you affectionately pat the palm of your hand against his cheek.

The warmth of his smile cascades through you, a beam of affection that never fails to give you butterflies despite how long you’ve been together. Something that will forever remain unchanged.

Kuroo kisses the side of your head, pressing his cheek against yours as you lovingly gaze at each other through the bathroom mirror.

“You look so beautiful, by the way. The prettiest angel I've ever seen. That dress is almost unfair.” Kuroo kisses down your cheek and along your jaw. “And you smell delicious enough to eat.”

“We have dinner reservations mister, so reel it in.” You smirk, a trait you’ve easily adopted from spending years with the man who was currently pouting over the fact he had to go to his extravagant birthday dinner.

“I suppose you’re right, but I plan on thoroughly enjoying my dessert after.” Kuroo purrs, running his soft lips along your skin, kissing your earlobe before trailing down to your neck to murmur on. “I'll order that champagne you like too, we can pull out all the stops.”

“Too bad I can't drink it.” The words slip out of your mouth faster than you could reel them back in. Kuroo froze for a moment, looking back at you through the mirror.

“Haah?” He gives you a puzzled look, standing up straight. “Why not?”

The reasoning escapes you, replaced by the pitiful opening and closing of your mouth, tongue twisting in every direction as it tries to land on what to say or rather, how to say it. 

The longer you take to respond, the more Kuroo’s eyes widen. Abruptly, he turns to you, quickly grabbing your shoulders as hope shines brightly through his hazel irises.

“Are you..?” He trails off, the words escaping him as well, nothing more than a whisper. All you can do is nod a little before Kuroo envelopes you in a crushing embrace. “You’re pregnant?!” 

“I am.” You smile, letting Kuroo pick you up a little in celebration. He lets out a bark of laughter, squeezing you gently before lowering you back down.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner!” He gazes softly at you, fondness crinkling by the corner of his eyes and a smile so genuine that his dimple began to show. 

“I just found out!” You grin back at him, tears brimming your eyes and overjoyed with his reaction. “I wanted to tell you but i didn’t know if tonight was right and —“

“It's more than right.” He presses his forehead against yours, eyes searing into the depths of your soul. “It's perfect. The best birthday gift ever.”

It was no secret that Kuroo had been ready to expand your little family for a while now. It was something you had wanted too but when the timing was a little better. So you had promised him to have that conversation again after he turned thirty. 

At least this saves a little time.

Kuroo carefully slides down your body, falling to his knees in seemingly slow motion. his ear is pressed against your stomach, his hands tenderly gripping your waist. 

“Oh my god.” He whispers so softly you have to strain to hear him. “I'm going to be a father.”

“You’re going to be such a good dad, Tetsu.” You run your fingers through his inky black hair. Kuroo looks up at you, wide-eyed and hopeful as his chin gently presses against your abdomen.

“You really think so?” He asks, vulnerability licking at his tone. 

“I know so.” You smile. The reassurance flooded his system, reigniting the excitement of it all. He grins back at you once again and all feels right in the world. The ghost of his lips brush along the fabric that serves as a barrier to your lower abdomen, a place that he plans on showering with love as much as he can.

“Hang on!” Kuroo stands back up so abruptly it almost gives you whiplash. You shouldn’t wear those heels, it’s not good for the baby.”

“Tetsu, I-“ Your sentence is interrupted by a squeal as Kuroo picks you up bridal style and marches towards your room. He sits you on the edge of the bed. “Tetsu, I’m only 7 weeks pregnant.” 

“Still.” Kuroo lifts your foot, fiddling with the straps of your heel before sensually sliding it off, giving your ankle a kiss for good measure. He does the same with the other foot, his eyes set on you. “You better start getting used to this, sweetheart.”

The other heel hits the ground with a distant thud as Kuroo kisses up along your leg, the fabric of the dress annoyingly getting in his way until he slides his head under it.

“Tetsu, we have reservations.” You try to squirm away but his hands grip your hips before his head pops back out to look at you with a serious expression.

“We’re not going.” He decides, hands roaming along your body. “Let's get take out, I wanna take care of you tonight.”

“It's your birthday though.” You can’t help but pout a little, guilt slowly seeping through the cracks of excitement from earlier. If only you had kept the news a secret a little longer —

“Shh.” Kuroo sits back up so his face is directly in front of yours, nuzzling his nose against yours. He always knew when you’d retreat into your mind and never let you fall too deep before lulling you back. “You gave me the perfect gift and nothing would make me happier than spoiling you a bit.”

“But—“ 

“No buts. It’s my birthday after all, and I get final say.” With a dastardly smirk, he kisses you with all the love in the world, his palm happily resting on your stomach. The excitement of the coming days in your lives grows alongside the little one that will bring you so much joy in the near future. 

thank you very much for reading. happy birthday tetsu 💋

[thecoochiefairy]

━━ 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑒 .ᐟ toji + suguru.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They should’ve expected this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up,” she chuckles. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” She tilts her head, “Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you get suspended from the next game?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Look so fuckin’ pretty,” Toji groaned.

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

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

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

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

“Fuck that. You can take more.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was gonna make shit extremely complicated. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ sure?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” He replied in a cocky manner. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was gonna be a long night.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not at all.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the fuck was so funny? 

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

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

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

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

Toji clenched his jaw, “I see that.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck off, you ain’t my damn daddy!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How could you let it get this bad?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So what are you gonna do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

suguru’s emo ass:  

we need to talk. come to my room. 

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

me: 

now?

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

suguru’s emo ass: 

hurry up.

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

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

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

Both Toji and Suguru were sitting in the room. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can we…try something?” 

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

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

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

Toji nods, “Yeah. Okay.”

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

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

Sweetie says, “I’ll uh…go first.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I care about you too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This kiss was different from any kiss she and Suguru shared, always lustful and primal. This was full of passion, tongues colliding together as she dug her fingers through his hair, lightly grinding her hips along his lap.

He inhaled deeply, his hands going up to her thighs as her hips began moving against him. She was driving him absolutely insane, and they were only kissing. 

He broke the kiss, his lips still just inches away from hers as he gruffly said, “Jesus, you’re gonna fuckin’ kill me like that,” He mutters against her lips.

Her mind moved a thousand miles a second. She breathily sighed, pulling back from him. Suguru leaned forward to kiss her again—except, she swiftly crawled off of him, making her way to the other end of the bed on all fours. 

She repeated herself, hoisting along Toji’s lap as she wrapped her arms around his neck as she asked, “Still mad at me?”

Toji’s body equally tenses up as she climbs on his lap, his hands reflexively going to her waist to keep her from falling. He doesn’t reply immediately, hesitating before he responds, “Not when you’re sittin’ on me like that,” he grumbles, “But yeah, I’m still kinda pissed with you.”

She sees Suguru watching, a look on his face she couldn’t read. She brings her eyes back to Toji as she asks him, “Do you want me?”

Toji’s hands tightened around her waist when she asked that question, his gaze completely focused on her now as they spoke, “That a real question?”

His eyes darted to her lips for a moment, before going back to her eyes. “You know I do,” he mutters, “I want you, I need you.”

“Show me, then,” she flicks her eyes to Suguru, “Both of you.”

Toji’s hands slid beneath her sweater, his touch light against her bare skin as he looked at her with a hint of hunger in his eyes. “You’ sure about that?” He asks, voice low.

She nods her head, pulling him forward, brushing her lips against his as she says softly, “Yeah.”

And at that confirmation, it was like a dam had been opened. 

Toji’s tongue pushes into her mouth forcefully, not having any interest in taking things slow. He wanted her.

His hands move up her abdomen, roaming over every curve and dip of her body. He groans lowly into the kiss, wanting nothing more than to have her wrapped completely around him.

His kiss was even more distracting than Suguru’s, melting away her thoughts in seconds, almost like a trance. He was always more tender with her, but she could feel him trying to hold back, his nails digging into her hips. She hadn’t realized Suguru making his way to their side of the bed, up until she felt fingers digging into her scalp, a soft gasp coming from her lips as he tugged her head back, latching his own lips onto her mouth. Toji’s own lips are now sucking the skin of her throat. The feeling of them trying to be gentle with her made her breath heavy, unable to find somewhere to put her hands, not knowing where to touch.

Toji continues, sucking and biting as he nips his way down her throat, leaving behind multiple hickey’s in the process. She tasted so good, her skin was so soft, he can’t get enough of this. 

Suguru still had a hold on her hair, and now he used it to pull her head back further, wanting access to her throat as well. 

“You’re supposed to be paying attention to me,” he murmurs against her neck. 

She gasps at his words, his hand twisting her hair in his palms, both lips upon her neck in a way that felt overwhelming. But something in her felt…defiant. 

Her face came down as she met with Toji’s mouth, pushing her tongue past his lips as she grazed her fingers along his body, pulling at his shirt for him to remove it, giving him the attention Suguru commanded for.

He tightens his hold on her hair, keeping her in a firm grasp. He groans lowly at the sight of her making out with Toji, the sound coming out as a near growl.

His free hand begins roaming over her, slowly lifting the sweatshirt up her body. He was tempted to just rip it off, but something told him to take his time. He wanted to draw this out, he wanted to see how worked up he could get her.  

With the hold still along her hair, Suguru lightly tugged her back, mouth hovering over hers as he asked, “You’ tryna piss me off?”

She sultrily giggles along his mouth as she says, “Maybe.” 

With that, he pulls her into a rough kiss, tongue practically fucking her mouth as he then commands to her, “Open your mouth since you want him so badly.”

Her thoughts were just as filthy. She wanted to show just how badly she wanted them—the both of them. She’s already reaching for Toji’s sweatpants, releasing his length from beneath his boxers, greedily attaching her mouth along his tip, causing him to grunt at the feeling.

Sweetie wraps her mouth around him, his hands instinctively reaching for her face, caressing her jaw. His eyes close for a moment as he enjoys the sensation, his hips bucking upwards involuntarily. 

Suguru keeps his eyes down to watch her, grip of her hair still in his hold as he tells Toji, “Fuck up her throat.” 

She feels as Toji takes hold of her jaw and cheek, mouth stretching as she tries to fully take him, almost struggling as she does so. 

Suguru leaned forward, “Don’t act fuckin’ shy now, you wanna play, so show me what the fuck I’m missing.”

Sweetie moans against Toji’s tip, wrapping her free hand around the base of him, coating him with her saliva as she slaps him along her tongue, keeping her eyes against his gray one’s.

Toji’s breathing becomes heavier, his grip tightening around Sweetie’s hair as he begins thrusting into her mouth. The wet sounds of their actions fill the room, along with Sweetie’s muffled moans. 

Suguru watches intently, occasionally running his fingers through her pink hair, encouraging her to take more of Toji inside of her mouth.

“Like that?” She asks softly, bobbing her head up and down as slowly as she could, his length appearing and disappearing within her mouth, Toji’s head leaned back as he grunted, “Fuck, don’t do that,” which makes her giggle. 

“Just like that, baby,” Suguru grunts, “That’s good.”

Suguru’s hand slides along her throat as he pulls her up to look at him, a dark chuckle coming from his lips. He leans down as he kisses her, holding her jaw within his palms as he spits into her mouth as he gruffly tells her, “Keep going.”

She continues, her jaw burning from the amount of movement she does, but it makes her all the more aroused. Seeing Toji’s eyes blown with lust, holding her face and caressing her jaw, he lightly slaps her face as he grunts, “Got a fuckin’ mouth on you, baby,” which makes her moan against him in response, pulling her mouth back as she works her hand against him, running her tongue along her lips.

Toji's eyes were wide open, watching her every move as she worked his dick in and out of her mouth. "Fuck...," he muttered, gripping tighter in her hair. "God damn, you're sexy."

She climbed farther along the bed, arching her back as she leaned down to take him deeper into her mouth, pulling him out as she attached her lips to the side of his dick, coating spit all around it, praising him affectionately. 

She moans against him, “Such a pretty dick, baby. Love it, always.” 

“Yeah?” He says lowly, “Keep fuckin’ sucking it, then.” 

She complies, taking him back into her mouth, loving every second of pleasuring him. All the while, Suguru came behind her, pulling off the sweatshirt she wears, seeing the baby pink thong under the oversized material. He’s pressing kisses along her back, going to the back of her thighs, the feeling making Sweetie shudder lightly, nonetheless pushing her focus back to Toji. 

She almost halts as Suguru pulls the material to the side, running his tongue along her core, dropping his lips back down to her clit, wrapping it under his mouth as he sucks. It causes her to press her thighs together, moaning lightly.

Toji watches her, his eyes growing lower with each sound she makes, each time she moves her head. He reaches down, grabbing onto her hair again, guiding her head so that he can thrust further into her mouth. "Damn, your mouth feels so fucking good," he growls out.

Suguru’s mouth latching in between her legs distracts her for a second. Her mouth pulls back as she softly moans again, wrapping her hand around Toji’s length to keep his pleasure going, now unable to focus. Suguru’s head bobbed up and down, a sloshing sound creating as he moaned into her, dipping his tongue in and out of her opening, fucking her with his mouth. She turns back to watch him, her eyes being caught as Toji pulls her face back towards him. 

“Nah, keep sucking my dick. Nobody told you to stop.” 

The pleasure Suguru begins to give her makes another moan fall from her lips, a short whimper in response, “Toji—“ 

“I don’t wanna hear that shit,” he grunts, “Open your mouth.” 

She complies, taking him back into her mouth, trying to keep her eyes from fluttering shut as she jolts from Suguru’s palm slamming against her ass, pulling back as he moans, “Pussy tastes so fuckin’ good, baby. I could eat this shit forever.”

Toji takes control of the situation once more, his large hand cupping the back of her head as he starts thrusting into her mouth again. His other hand grips tightly onto her hair, keeping her head steady as he fucks her mouth. "Mmm," he groans, "You’re too fuckin’ perfect."

She pulls her mouth away as she feels Suguru spank her more harshly, pulling her hand back to get a hold of his hair as she whimpers, “Gonna make me cum, baby. Slow down.” 

“That’ your spot, baby?” Suguru almost mocks her, seeing as she nearly pouts, nodding her head in agreement. 

She suddenly feels Toji snatch her hands forward, gripping her wrists under his palms as he grunts, “Make her squirt on your face.” 

Suguru’s dark chuckle rumbles against her core, diving his tongue in and out as he says, “She likes to be fucked like this, just by my mouth. Don’t you, baby?” 

Her back arches, eyes nearly rolling back as he goes…extremely…slow, twisting his head side to side as he sticks his tongue out, rubbing it up and down, dragging it along her core before pushing it back into her walls. She gasps, legs trembling as she’s quick to do exactly what Toji knew she would, gushing along Suguru’s face effortlessly, shuddering heavily when another spank comes to her skin.

"Fuck..." Suguru groans, licking up the mess that Sweetie had made for him. 

It was unfortunate that he didn’t feel satisfied, grunting, “Too fuckin’ sensitive. You’re gonna cum as many times as I want you to.” 

He’s back at it, eating away at her as if he starved, like she was the last thing on earth he could consume. He’s French kissing her core, making out with her folds as he goes back down to her clit, suckling at it with a popping sound. Her eyes flutter shut as she attempts to pull away from Toji again, causing another spank to her skin. She had to be red by now. 

Toji tsks her, “Let that shit feel good. Relax.” 

“Toji,” she whimpered again, his reply being, “Stop calling me.” 

When she pulls one of her hands free, Toji clasps them both again, now slamming them behind her back, pushing her back inward to give her more of an arch. He tells her, “He’ll eat your pussy until you fuckin’ cry. That’s what you want?” 

She shakes her head, moaning out as Suguru spanks her again, drinking up her arousal as he grunts against her opening, spreading her inner thighs farther apart, practically diving his face into her.

"Fuck... I'm not stopping until she cums." Suguru grunted, the vibrations from his voice sending shockwaves through Sweetie's body. He continued to lick and suck at her pussy, using his fingers to spread her open even wider so he could feast on her without any obstructions.

Suguru's hands were planted firmly on either side of her, holding her in place while he ate her out. His tongue was relentless, exploring every nook and cranny of her wet folds.

Suguru's tongue delves deeper into her, curling up to hit that sweet spot inside of her. He hummed, the vibration shooting straight to her core and causing her to buck her hips against his face.

Meanwhile, Toji leaned down to capture one of her nipples between his teeth, giving it a gentle tug before letting go. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his hot breath ghosting over her heated skin.

Her hands trapped behind her back only allows her to pull her upper body up by strength, Toji’s free hand palming at her breast, pulling them into his mouth as he grunted at the softness of them. She digs her teeth into her lip as she groans from the sensitivity, looking down to him as she warns with a gasp, “I’m gonna cum…”

With her warning, Suguru pulled away abruptly, leaving her panting and whimpering in protest.

 He grunted, “C’mere,” pulling her backwards by the waist, lifting her up until she was standing on the edge of the bed. He then pushed her forward, so she was bent over with her ass in the air. 

Toji scooted with him, Suguru now taking both of her wrists beneath his one hand, guiding her with the other as he pulled himself from his sweatpants, tip fat and heavy as it grazed her core. It was familiar to her.

 Toji took a hold of her face as it all happened at once, Suguru slowly pushing his tip into her tight opening, stretching her in a way that felt like he hadn’t been there before. 

Her eyes were blown, mouth lightly parting as Toji caught her lips against his own, moaning mockingly with her as she sucked in a breath, whimpering deeply before dragging out another moan, the pleasure blinding the pain that itched her in a erotic way.

She whimpered against Toji’s mouth so silent, she could barely hear herself as she muffled, “Oh my…god,” her eyes fluttering shut as Toji brushed his lips against hers, holding her face as he lowly muttered back, “Yeah, you cumming?” 

She panted, almost as if she were falling into an asthma attack as she whimper back breathlessly, “I’m fuckin’ cumming, baby.” 

“Yeah, just like that? From me putting my shit inside of you?” Suguru talks to her now, gripping her hip as he rolled his hip forward, pushing deeper into her. 

She pushed him back, gushing out again, Suguru groaning as he spanked her, “Ooh, shit. That’s a good fuckin’ girl, baby.” 

Sweetie moaned out, dragging the sound messily, embarrassingly, making music against Toji’s mouth, his hands upon her throat and face as he arrogantly smirked, watching her fall apart. He then made it worse, pressing his hand against her shoulder as he pushed her back again, the suction of air releasing from her folds as she moaned louder at that.

Toji kept his grip firm on her face, forcing her to watch him as Suguru began to thrust into her, their bodies slapping together each time he buried himself deep within. The sight alone was enough to make Toji harden again, his other hand moving to stroke himself as he watched.

"Shit, she's so tight," Suguru grunted, his pace picking up as he pounded into her, "Feels so fucking good."

"You should see this view," Toji said, smirking as he moved his hand faster, "It's amazing."

She cried softly, “Suguru…”

“What? You want me now?”

His hands on her shoulder, tilting her body slightly to the side as he snaps his hips, hitting her deepest spot, exactly where he knew she’d whine from. The whine comes directly after, body trembling, turning her eyes towards him, watching her ass clap against his abdomen as she whimpers, “A—Always want you, baby.”

Suguru chuckled, "I know you do. Pussy is gripping me like she can’t let go.” 

Her eyes roll to the back of her head, senses gone as she talks, “Always been your pussy, baby.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeahhh,” she inhales deeply, almost creating a headache as her eyes stared into darkness, too busy being stuck in the back of her head. 

“He fuckin’ you that good, huh?” Her voice hears Toji’s talking to her, his hand still upon her throat, other hand stroking himself, “Losing all your senses, baby?” 

She looks down at him, shaking her head as she whimpers, “Miss you, Toji.”

“No you don’t.”

“I—I promise…” she brokenly moaned.

He leans himself back, “You promise? Come bounce on this dick and show me.”

“Nah, she’s gonna make me cum first,” Suguru says, gripping her hair again, pounding her harder, snapping his hips forward, Sweetie’s head practically spinning, no words falling from her lips.

“Wait to cum, gonna fuck her together,” Toji tells him, “She needs to come fuck me first. Prove all that shit she’s talking.”

Suguru looks down to her, seeing his dick being coated with her arousal. A dark laugh comes from him as he pulls out of her, spanking her again as she shudders. 

Her legs feel like noodles as she crawls into the bed, climbing on top of Toji, placing herself on her knees. He shakes his head as he commands, “Put your feet flat on the bed.” 

If she already wasn’t so tired, she’d roll her eyes. She listens nonetheless, placing her feet along the comforter, grabbing for his length as she leans herself on his leg, slowly sinking herself down into him. Her hips desperate quiver as the back of her thighs stick to his abdomen. His palms are on the skin of her ass, hoisting her up as he drops her down, her hand along his chest as she sucks air into her mouth, his movement hitting her cervix in a way that has her groan in pleasure.  

Toji grunted under her, his hands squeezing her ass as she bounced on his lap. "Fuck, you're so wet," he growled, his hips bucking up to meet hers with every downward motion of hers.

She was. She could hear herself, squelching each time his tip was halfway in, quelling each time her ass clapped back down against his skin. He’s holding onto her hips as she mewls, the only thing she could do. 

He talks in between each clap of her ass, “Keep…pulling my shit in like that…” he grunts, “You wanted to be fucked just like this. This is what you needed, huh baby?” 

His hand travels up to her mouth, shoving his fingers in between her lips, pulling her down by her teeth. She sucks along his fingers as she nods, giving a whimper in return. 

Suguru comes from behind, taking his middle and ring finger as he rubs in circles on her clit, Sweetie gasping as he says in her ear, “You’re too fuckin’ nice to her,” his other hand along her side, picking up her hips and dropping them down when he sees her slowing down.

Toji let out a low, guttural growl as he felt Suguru's hands helping move her hips. He looked up at her, his hands tightening as he began thrusting up into her, his movements growing faster and rougher. "Fuckin’ hell... Talk to be, baby. You’re too quiet."

Suguru kept rubbing her clit, his finger circling faster as he whispered in her ear, "Tell us how we're fucking you."

"I..." she panted, “Love bouncing on your dick, baby…” her grip tightening on his shoulders as she rode him. "It's filling me up so good..."

Suguru continued to rub her clit, his finger moving faster as he whispered in her ear, "That’s good baby, keep talking.”

She shakes her head, leaning back against Suguru as she whimpers, “Can’t. Gonna cum again…” 

“Then cum again,” Toji grunts. 

“Nah. Remember what you said,” Suguru reminds, Sweetie’s body jolting as she feels his thumb prodding at her other hole, a pleasure she hadn’t expected to rush over her, making her moan in a way she thought she wouldn’t.

 His thumb pressed harder against her hole, pushing inside until he'd buried himself up to the first knuckle. "If you cum again, it’ll be from the both of us.” 

Her body trembled as he spoke, the feeling of his thumb stretching her open making her whimper. She nodded frantically, biting her lip to keep from crying out.

"Good girl," Suguru murmured, his thumb continuing to push deeper into her. He leaned over, whispering into her ear, "You want me, don't you? You want us to fill you up?"

She nods her head, dropping herself down harder against Toji, “Need you too baby, so…fucking…horny…” she whimpers, grinding herself against his hips, unable to wait any longer.

Toji's thrusts grew even more forceful, his hands digging into her hips as he pounded up into her. "Ooh, fuck. She’s wet, she needs you," he groaned, his own climax coming close.

He could feel her becoming tighter, squeezing him in a way that he wasn’t sure he could handle. Suguru released her hands, Sweetie pulling Toji’s upper body up to be closer to hers, rotating her hips against his as she moaned against his mouth. 

They kissed as they moved together, his hands gripping onto her ass tightly. He could feel his climax building—he knew he wasn't going to last much longer.

Suguru moved his hand away from her, reaching down to align his tip with her hole. The silence between the three returned, Toji taking a hold of the side of her throat as he kept her eyes along his, lightly kissing her lips as he kept her relaxed. It was like a fire had aligned against her lower body, Sweeting wrapping her arms around Toji’s neck as she whimpered uncomfortably, Toji apologizing, “I know, baby. Give it a second.” 

Suguru grunted, feeling as she clasps around him, bringing his hand around to clasp for her throat as well, lips along the back of her ear as he grunts, “You’re doing so fuckin’ good, baby.”

Toji's grip on her throat tightened as he held her there, his thrusts slowing down as he tried to give her time to adjust to the new sensation. He could feel his climax approaching quickly, his breathing heavy and ragged as he fought to hold back.

Meanwhile, Suguru slowly pushed into her farther, his fingers digging into her hip as he forced himself inside. "Fuck, you're so tight."

She felt like she was nearly going blind, her mouth parting open as she shuddered, “Oh my…” feeling as Suguru tilted her face to kiss her, sliding his tongue into her mouth as he pushed deeper, both of them moaning into each other's throats.

Suguru released her lips, giving her a couple more pecks as she shuddered out another moan. He gently grasped her neck as he pulled her down, giving her a slow and gentle thrust. She sucked in a breath, brushing her lips along his in return. She whines, so horny, “You can fuck me, want you to cum in me, Suguru.”

"You want me to cum in you?" Suguru asked, his thrusts growing faster and more desperate. He could feel his climax approaching quicker than he assumed.

Toji watched the two of them closely, his grip on her throat loosening as he felt her relax a bit. He was also close, his stomach flipping at the sight of her falling apart. 

She nods her head, “Want you to cum in me,” she filthily says, “Wanna belong to you, and Toji.” 

Toji begins moving his hips again as he talks to her, “Yeah? Say it like you mean it.” 

“Wanna be yours,” she says to the both of them, both of them thrusting sending a shock wave to her, her body spazzing, sending her brain into a mush. Her eyes return to the back of her head as she begins grinding herself against the both of them, “Feels so…fucking good. Oh my god…”

"Say our names," Toji commanded, his thrusts getting faster and rougher as he listened to her moans. Suguru's thrusts became erratic as well, his grip on her hip tightening as he felt his climax near.

“Toji…” she kissed him, wrapping her tongue against his as she circled her hips against him, clawing her nails against his back. She then reached behind her as she pulled away from him, kissing Suguru as she arched her back, dropping her hips down against him from behind as she whimpered, “Suguru…”

Their moans escalated like a symphony, their heads kneeled along her shoulder, moans, grunts, it all broke through their lips in shock waves. Sweetie’s body trembled as a groan forced out of her throat, sobs and mixtures of weak screams enveloping her lips. They followed after her, grunting as they both released inside of her, kisses masking along her skin from two pairs of lips. 

She felt breathless, emotions heightened as she panted against them. Her face felt warm, fingers sliding along their skin as she tried to find the words to say. 

“We should probably clean up…we have practice tomorrow,” she says under her breath, her face still completely warm. 

“You’re cute when you’re shy,” Toji tells her, tickling her ear with his mouth, Suguru pulling her into a kiss as he chuckles at her embarrassment. 

“She’s right. We have a therapy session as well. Thanks to this fucking idiot for talking shit to me.”

Toji glares, “You started it.”

“Can y’all not fight, please?” Sweetie sighs.

They realize they’re quick to bicker, rubbing their hands along her skin as a form of an apology. Toji then clears the silence, unable to help himself.

“So does this mean I gotta’ date him too? Suguru’s not my type.”

“Fushiguro, shut the fuck up.”

“Oh god…” Sweetie sighed, knowing this was gonna be never ending.

[artdcnaldson]

daddy cat i have thoughts about newly divorced art and a girl who takes her time getting him hard :( and he feels so loved because he doesn’t have to focus on getting it done as fast as possible to please someone

exactlyyyy exactly mhmm

Thinking that he had a string of failed hookups out at bars where he was trying to fuck in bathrooms or in his car and it just didn't happen because he wanted it but his body wasn't cooperating. He was on the wrong side of drunk or the nerves and pressure was too high, and he ended up getting laughed off by the pretty girl beneath him.

So I think he gets away from hookups he finds in a bar or club for a while. Maybe he meets you at a wedding— one of his young cousins is finally tying the knot, and you're a friend of the bride. Sweet, friendly, gorgeous. He probably looks like a creep, the way he stares at you because he's too nervous to actually say something.

Which is stupid. He won seven slams in his career. He's a tennis superstar, a household name. He bumps into you at the dessert table after they've cut and served the wedding cake— the layer he gets is white cake with raspberry filling. You get a slice of the groom's cake— chocolate with espresso cream.

"Hey... you're Art Donaldson, right?" You ask as you take a tiny bite of the cake. When he nods, you smile. "I thought so, but Kayla— that's my friend from high school— well, she swore you were just some guy. So I googled you, and I was like, no that's definitely him. Anyways, do you want a drink?"

You both have a glass of the bride's signature cocktail (vodka cran), then another, before you're on the dance floor together. It starts off innocent enough, but then there's more drinks flowing, and guests start leaving, and the music gets weirdly better as the night goes on. You're both a little handsy and it's not long before you're stumbling back to his Jeep in the parking lot.

It was a post-divorce impulse buy. An impulse buy with a nice, roomy back seat. Plenty of space to tug you onto his lap, pull down your dress, and mouth at your tits in the backseat.

You reach down, palming him through his fancy suit pants. You pause, blinking a few times, and work the buttons of his pants so you can actually take him into your hands. You try to coax him to full hardness, but he's already flagging. He groans in frustration as his body just won't. fucking. cooperate. He wants you, he knows he wants you, he's just... fuck.

"Sorry," he pants, meeting your gaze with a look that can only be read as sheer mortification. "Shit, it's just... this is... sorry—"

"It's okay," you whisper against his mouth, so his stammered apologies are silenced. You spit into your palm and wrap your hand around his cock again, holding eye contact as you slowly stroke him. "Just relax. We have all night."

You mouth at his throat, his jaw. You trail your lips over the shell of his ear and he melts. He's like putty in your hands as you give him all of your attention— give him the chance to relax and work his way up to it. He moans against your ear and you smile. "That's it," you praise, working your hand faster. "I've got you."

[some-bunniii]

Lucifer confessing to an artist reader

・❥ Lucifer gets jealous, and has to prove his love for you

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

x: WOW this was a rollercoaster to write. Alastor being petty, a musical number, and.. 😏 you’ll have to read and see!

warnings: Mild swearing

“Mreow?” 

You stirred slightly under the covers in your bed, waking from the noise. You were so warm and cozy, in your little nest of pillows that you hugged to your chest. Stilling yourself, you strained your ears, listening for whatever had awoken you.

“Mreooow,” came that needy, animalistic cry again.

“KeeKee?” You whispered hoarsely.

A high-pitched chirp answered your question.

Grumbling in protest, you grasped the sheets and pulled them from your face. Squinting at the morning light emanating from the large windows on the other end of the room. 

You rubbed a hand down your face, in an attempt to squeeze out the exhaustion still fogging your mind. With a sigh, you pivoted, placing your feet on the cold, wood floor beneath.

Now where was that furball? 

You scanned the room, before your eyes landed on the small black and white cyclopean cat. She sat on your nightstand, her tail swishing with happiness as you answered her call. 

“You silly kitty, what do you want so early in the morning?” You questioned her, and received another chirp as a response.

You always found it fascinating that the small feline was actually the key to the hotel, created by Lucifer’s magic as a gift to Charlie when she took over the place. 

You could feel it, even now, that warm crackle of energy as it flowed off KeeKee’s fur. It was faint, but so familiar. If you buried her face in her fur far enough, you could even smell traces of his scent. 

As you and Lucifer grew closer, so did KeeKee. She had started following around the hotel, always a few steps behind as you traveled the halls. This morning routine of hers wasn’t new either. Before, you’d open your door and find her sprawled out on the ground on her back, her belly exposed as she greeted you. 

You started leaving your door cracked after that, allowing her to enter whenever she pleased. She’d make her bed on the same cushion Lucifer was so fond of while you painted, and drift into sleep. 

Sometimes, you’d use her for practice sketches. Although you could only do so while she dreamed, as she was not as good at sitting still as Lucifer was.

It was almost as if she sensed the connection between the two of you, mirroring your bond with her own loyalty. With a soft smile, you reached out to pet KeeKee, feeling the comforting vibrations of her purrs resonating through your fingertips. 

Rising from the bed, you made your way into the small bathroom. Twisting the sink handle, you let the fountain of water flow into the drain as it is heated. 

Your eyes landed on the object next to the faucet, and you smiled unconsciously as you picked up the yellow rubber ducky. 

“Your new soap dispenser,” Lucifer had stated one evening, “Easily compactible to take it on the go and.. with the scent of apple pie.” 

He demonstrated by softly squeezing the sides of the toy, and a small glob of soap left its mouth and landed into the palm of his hand. 

You had taken it from him and lifted it to your nose, inhaling a deep breath. 

“Delectable.” You teased, before placing it on the table beside you.

After his little performance at the art studio, Lucifer’s affection towards you grew bolder by the day. He often arrived at your room with a gift or two, even more than his silly little ducks. 

Once, he brought you a small violin, the color pure angelic white with golden strings. You had stared at it in awe when he set it on the table.

“It’s white for you to paint,” Lucifer had explained, “Whatever little fantastical ideas you have to cover this instrument with, I just know it’ll be amazing.”

You had blushed, before letting your fingers glide across its smooth surface. Tracing its frame, memorizing its shape. 

“I was going to get you a fiddle, like my own. But, I believe this best suits the musical pieces you are so familiar with.”

You sat across from each other at the dining table in your room, arms resting lazily on its surface as you sipped from your glass of Spiced Apple Wine. 

That was another gift he had brought you. Claiming he only enjoyed the taste of fine-aged wine from his personal cellar. You had gotten used to its slightly sour taste by now, but you were glad for that slight pinch on your tongue. It kept you from ogling Lucifer for too long.

The only light emanating from your room was the candles placed around you, their flames dancing, casting shadows across the walls. The soft ting of piano keys thrummed in the air, flowing from a small brown radio on your dresser.

Not too long ago, Alastor had given it to you for your personal use. A very rare gift from a demon like him. You had just assumed it was his way of getting you on his side, your unease of him must’ve been apparent enough. 

Your years of attempted swindling by potential buyers for your pieces created a sixth sense, the ability to smell when someone’s words didn’t echo their intentions.

Even though you had no animosity towards him, and spoke to him frequently enough that you did not feel any kind of negative intentions from him, his mysterious past and psychopathic tendencies struck you as odd. His presence was dark and cold. 

Nothing like Lucifer’s, who’s aura was so warm and energetic you could get drunk off of it. 

Alastor’s? That would sober you up in an instant.

Why didn’t you feel the same about Lucifer? After all, he had the same charm that swooped those around him off their feet. 

‘His ability to love,’ you concluded in your head, ‘that was why.’

He showed deep care for the people close to him, while Alastor always held people at arms-length. Literally and figuratively.

Your personal feelings didn’t mean you weren’t going to use the radio, so whenever you’d hear Lucifer nearing your room, you’d switch it to polka. Learning by now that was one of his favorite genres. It played in the background as you discussed the violin.

“I think it’s best if you taught me how to play, I might have some knowledge on musical history, but that doesn’t mean I know anything about the instruments themselves.” You had conceded.

He shook his head at that, “Nonsense. If there is anyone I know that could pick up skills like this quickly, it would be you.”

“What makes you think that?” You had laughed.

“Because, you’re amazing. Talented, with passion that could take on the world. You and my daughter have more in common than you think. A drive that I wish I had.”

That had stopped your train of thought, your cheeks heating once more. Most times you would try to brush off his comments, and continue on to the next subject, even if those words made it hard for you to fall asleep that same night.

But this time, you let his words linger in the air between you. The faint glow from the candles illuminating his face, his angelic features intensifying. 

It was your turn to make a move, you couldn’t let him have all the fun.

Slowly, your hand traveled across the table, until your fingers grazed his own. Lucifer never pulled back, instead, he accepted your advance. Lacing his fingers with your own.

The two of you didn’t speak, you didn’t need to. The day could be filled with laughter and quick-wits. But, the night? That belonged to your silent bouts of affection.

Just two pairs of eyes staring out through the large open bay windows, the flickering lights from the city your own little TV. 

What was he thinking about? You had wondered. You were aware of the divorce of his wife years ago, and the fracture of his family still weighed on him. Even if his relationship with Charlie was improving the day. Did he blame himself for his family splitting? 

You had never pried him on such things, there was no reason to bring him more pain. He’d open up about it when he was ready, he always did.

Was that why he was slow to actually ask for your kindness? Your care? 

Your love? 

He was a showman, with a drive to impress strangers around him, to win them over with his charm and flare. But you weren’t a stranger, not anymore. 

There was this tiny parasite that gnawed at the back of your mind, whispering such horrid things of him leaving you if you made the first move. 

‘His pride is too great to let him be swooned completely by a lower demon,’ it hissed, ‘He just wants something casual, nothing truly real,’

Was that true? Would he reject you and move on? Surely, there were much stronger, much smarter demons than you in Hell that he could choose. 

Maybe, you’d just have to grow a backbone and ask him. 

‘Soon’, you promised.

The calming scent that wafted from the candles around the room pulled you away from such thoughts. Instead, you used your free hand to lift the wine glass to your lips, downing the remaining liquor. Your body blooming with warmth as it traveled down your throat, and your head turning fuzzy with bliss. 

A gentle thump as KeeKee landed on the counter pulled you back to reality. You finished washing your face, and placed it into the cool embrace of the small towel in your hands.

Turning away from the sink, you walked back into the main room. KeeKee trailed you as you rummaged through your dresser, plucking out items of clothing as you began to change for the day. 

“Come, KeeKee,” You called, clicking your tongue at her as you strided to the doorway of your room. 

She responded with a chirp and raced past you, out into the hallway. You watched her scurry down the stairs as you headed for the lobby. You were supposed to finish the season of RuGaul’s Drag Race this morning with Angel Dust, and honestly, it was a pretty good show.

Unfortunately, the raised bump in the carpet right in front of your foot had other plans.

“Fuck!” You hissed as you fell forward, your arms instinctually raising to catch your fall.

You hit the ground with an oomph. Luckily, you caught yourself in time to not face any serious injury. Except the sting of your pride. You lay there defeated for a moment, the ache in your arms subsiding slowly.

“Well, hello down there, my friend!” Came a familiar call, static trickling from their voice.

 “Hello, Alastor.” You greeted the Radio Demon with a painful sigh. 

“It appears you’ve gotten yourself into a bit of a pickle, hm? Let me help you with that.” 

Black tendrils gathered around you, they were unnaturally cold and you squirmed against their touch. 

They tightened around you and lifted you up, up, and up until the soles of your feet were steady on the ground. They flowed off of you, disappearing like a shadow into Alastor’s form.

“Thank you, Alastor. That was very kind of you,” you spoke as you brushed dust off your clothes. You’d need to talk to Nifty about coming to your side of the building more often to clean. 

“It was no problem, my friend. I could not just sit by and allow you to take such an attitude from that silly carpet.” 

Alastor snapped his fingers, and the tiny lump in the carpet that had delivered the tripping blow vanished. Leaving behind a nice, smooth surface.

His head snapped back up to you, that large smile still plastered on his face. You were about to open your mouth again when his gaze landed on something behind you, past the railing.

“Ah, I see you have finished another one of your paintings! What a wonderful piece this is, yes, truly remarkable!” 

He walked forward, and placed one hand on the railing. On the opposite side of the room, at eye level to the second floor, was a painting depicting a very large, glittering lake. A tall forest surrounded it, with massive snowy mountains as the backdrop. 

Small winged-angels sat near the waters, feasting on grapes and wine as they enjoyed the summer sun. Some stood near white-freckled fawns as they fed them fruits and nuts, their faces lit in joyful smiles. 

“Yes, it took me forever. Water is a pain to get perfect. Do you.. think it fits?” 

“Of course it does, my dear!” His enthusiastic voice not missing a beat, “I think Charlie choosing you for this job was a marvelous choice! You must have taken much inspiration from some of the classic artists.. Perhaps Edgar Payne?”

A look of surprise crossed your face. He knew about the famous western landscape artist? Alastor didn’t seem like a fine arts kind of man to you.

“I used some of his techniques, yes. I didn’t know you had such knowledge, Alastor.” You responded, a hint of questioning in your tone. Prompting him to speak more about the subject. 

Alastor waved his hand in the air in a brushing motion, as if it was no big deal.

“Oh, here and there. When I was alive hosting my radio show I once toured an art gallery for an advertisement. His pieces were on display, and I suppose his work has been imprinted in my mind ever since.”

“That’s very interesting, actually. I shouldn’t be surprised though, you seem to be in favor of many classic mediums.” 

“Mm, yes. I just can’t stand the way modern society has seemed to falter from its most creative forms. I’m sure soon they’ll just start paying robots up there to make art for them.”

You doubted that, people using robots to make art? What was the point of it if not created by the human hand?

It was then you caught his eyes darting to something behind you, towards the staircase. Did his eye just twitch?

Alastor’s toothy grin widened further, which you thought couldn’t be possible. Before you could turn around and get a look at whatever had captured his attention, his gaze landed back on you.

He quickly sidled much closer to you, and placed his free hand on your shoulder. Your eyes widened at the touch, he’d never been brazen like this before. Let alone being this close to you. 

Suddenly, he let out a loud, boisterous laugh at nothing particular. His head slightly shook from side to side like he just heard the funniest story in his life, which made you lean back slightly at his very odd actions.

“Oh, my dear, you are such a charm. Truly. I always enjoy our little talks about your ideas. You are so very passionate about your work.” 

Your eyebrows raised in suspicion at his behavior. What was this man up to? 

“We should definitely continue our talks sometime, perhaps, in the comfort of your study?” He questioned, placing his other hand on your shoulder, “Maybe, you could even teach me some of that history you have trapped in your noggin, mmm what was that era called.. the Renaissance?”

Your mouth parted slightly as you contemplated his words. He wanted to learn from you? You had never graced anyone with your teachings other than Lucifer, and you kind of liked it that way.

“Well.. I don’t know if-”

“Ahem.” Came a familiar, male voice from behind the two of you. 

Your words caught in your throat. Uh oh.

You watched Alastor’s grin deepen into a knowing smirk. His eyes snapping to the figure behind you, eyebrows raised. 

You pivoted, seeing the familiar pale face staring intensely at you, practically into your soul. You tried to smile at him, your teeth clenched painfully as you stood besides Alastor. His hand still on your shoulder. 

You tried to speak through your eyes, desperately trying to tell him this was not something you had asked for. You weren’t sure whether he could read it.

Lucifer’s gaze diverted to the hand on your shoulder, and you could feel a crackle of scorching hot energy in the air around you.

“Why, hello there, your majesty.” Alastor greeted him with mock enthusiasm. 

“What a surprise to see you here,” Lucifer responded, a slight growl in his voice. He straightened his back, leaning slightly forward on his staff, as though the scene before him was not a bother. He was terrible at hiding it though. 

“Indeed. My dear friend and I were just discussing their paintings, aren’t they a wonder?”

“Of course they are.” Lucifer responded. 

“We have such good conversations, you know, about their vast knowledge on the subject. It makes me envious really.” 

He released your shoulder from his grasp, and you scooted an inch away from him. 

“Perhaps, one day, you would care to join us? But I'm sure their line of work isn’t something you are interested in, hm?” Alastor’s words left his lips, and Lucifer’s teeth bared at that.

Alastor’s smile intensified as his own energy filled the room, an invisible dual of power was beginning to emerge between the two demons. It reminded you of what happened when Lucifer had arrived at the hotel for the first time, when they had fought for the position as Charlie’s father figure. 

Alastor wasn’t an idiot though, Lucifer could eradicate him at any moment. Was just simply irritating the fallen angel his only motivation?

Was Alastor’s initial conversation with you just to pull the strings of what was happening now? Did he know Lucifer was coming to see you? That sly asshole.

Alastor turned away from Lucifer’s glare, and met your gaze.

“How is that radio doing that I gave you? I hope you’ve been putting it to good use, I was trying my hardest to

think of the perfect gift for you, and I just knew that you would be interested in it.” 

“It was.. nice, thank you.. Alastor.” You responded, afraid what would happen if you ignored his question. 

“My pleasure, dear friend. We’ve been through thick and thin, you and I. It’s only right I share with you a piece of my.. admiration towards you.”

Admiration? 

Lucifer stalked up to the two of you, staring daggers in Alastor’s back. Clearing his throat, he let out a dark chuckle.

“I’m sure your little relationship is over-exaggerated,” He said, his tone passive aggressive, “I’ve hardly seen you in the same room together, let alone have such meaningful conversations.”

“But, of course we do! I was there the first day they walked through those doors. I was the one that welcomed them to their new home, and it was I who furnished their room in the first place. Seeing as barely anything has been changed or moved around, it is safe to say our connection is much deeper than you may think.”

You heard Lucifer growl again. His eyes flickering to a shade of red.

“Well, it’s too bad your gift is useless now.” Lucifer hissed, “They have an instrument of their own, which I have provided them.”

Alastor’s ear twitched at that, and he turned to you in mock fascination. 

“Oh, an instrument? Did you know I used to play in a band?” He turned to you, his questions armed with ill intentions, “I would love nothing more than to give you a lesson or two!”

“I am going to teach them, actually.” Lucifer snapped, “I couldn’t imagine the terrible noises that would come from you plucking strings like a tone-deaf banshee.”

Alastor laughed at that before reaching out and grabbing your hand. You had the growing itch to rip it away, but his stare whispered dark things, and you relented. Allowing him to grip your wrist loosely.

“Well, this has been fun, and I would like to continue our talks,” He addressed you, “But I have important business to attend to within the hotel, as your faithful hotelier. Perhaps, later tonight?” 

Your smile faltered for a second, giving him a slight glare. You weren't going to let him think you were falling for his games.

“Such a shame you have so much attention on you from so many others, those demons on the streets really look at you with such enamoration. My word, just practically begging for your attention! If only you would share all your ideas and knowledge with just me, you’d know how fantastic of a listener I am.”

“Others?” Lucifer asked incredulously.

Alastor ignored him, instead, he did something that you never expected.

He gingerly pulled your hand closer to his face, before leaning down slightly and placing a quick peck to your knuckles. You gasped, placing a hand over your mouth to cease it quickly. 

It was meaningless, you could tell. An act to simply further spur on Lucifer’s rage. 

“Why you pompous little fucking-!” Lucifer roared, but was cut off by Alastor’s maniacal fit of giggles.

Suddenly, the red demon evaporated into a large green cloud of smoke. A gust of freezing wind rushed you as he vanished. Behind you, Lucifer’s large hat was carried with the gust of wind, and he was left practically frothing at the mouth, his hair disheveled from the wind. His eyes still a dark sickly-red. 

You strode up to him, placing a hand on his arm. Trying to get him to look at you. 

“I promise you, we were not talking genuinely just then, Lucifer.” 

“Do you have conversations with that creep when i’m not around? Have you been telling him the same things you’ve shared with me?” 

You rolled your eyes, letting out a breath of hot air. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, he’s just getting under your skin. I’ve barely spoken with him.”

“What did he mean by ‘others’? You have suitors that i’m not aware of?”

You leaned back, confusion spreading across your face. Was Lucifer.. jealous? Was the thought of other demons trying to get intimate with you.. bothering him?

“What? Well, I don’t know, maybe. It’s not like I-”

“It’s me who knows almost everything about you. I’m the King of Hell, what can anyone offer you that I can’t?”

What was this? He’s never spoken a word about courting you, which is why your feelings towards his affection were mixed. But now, he wants to? 

“And here I thought I could make it to the overlord meeting in time,” He growled. Before his gaze was renewed with fresh determination.

He grabbed your hand, pulling you closer, and snapped his fingers. 

Before you could blink, the area around you melted and transformed into a beautiful restaurant. You were sitting at an oak table, candles lit around you. A wine glass in front of you.

Lucifer materialized at the seat across from you in a very tight, clean black tuxedo with a red bow tie around his neck.

He gave you a playful smirk, before another figure strode to your table. You looked up, and saw.. Lucifer? Again? This time in a classic waiter outfit, an apron tied around his waist. He held a plate of food in one hand, before setting it down before you. 

“You’re favorite dish, catered by yours truly.” Waiter Lucifer spoke confidently.

You looked down at the foodstuff on the plate, your mouth watering. It really was your favorite dish. You reached out to grab it, before you were thrusted into darkness again.

Where were you now?! 

You were sitting on a very comfortable cushioned chair, and as you whipped your head around, noticed that there were rows and rows of the same kind of chairs. 

“What the hell is going on?!” You yelled to the scene, but received no answer. 

Placed in them were more.. Lucifers? They all whooped and cheered, clapping at whatever was in front of you. You turned your head, taking in the sight before you.

It was a lit stage. The curtain was closed, so you were unable to see what was on it. Suddenly, the curtain lifted, and there was Lucifer again, he held a Violin, similar to the one he gave you, but this time in pure gold.

He looked at you before gliding the bow across its strings, the echoes of its chords filling the room. You perked, recognizing its tune.

It was ‘Innsbruck, I must leave thee’! The same one he had asked you about when you caught him humming that one time.

Did he learn it… just for you? Your heart fluttered. Was this grandiose display just him trying to prove that he cared about you and your interests?

It continued for a moment longer, the strings on his instrument singing with raw power. It was a beautiful sound, and for a moment you were lost in it. Emotions from your past bubbling inside of you.

And then, he let go of the violin and it began playing on its own. It floated in the air gracefully as its tune continued. He leapt off the stage and landed right in front of your seat. He extended his hand, waiting for you to take it. 

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of where you would be taken next.

“Luci..” You said, giving him a questioning look.

He only smirked at you, his eyebrows raised playfully. You shook your head, a smile blooming on your face at his theatrics, and laced your fingers with his. 

Instead of being thrown into darkness like before, gold flashed around you as he teleported you somewhere distant.

This time, you were on the roof of a very tall building, you shook your head to rid yourself of the dizziness before taking in the sights around you.

You were in Pentagram city, Heaven high above you, it’s white glow helping to light the rooftop like a stage.

Your hand was still gripping his, and he did not pull away. Neither did you. 

Suddenly, a tune began once more. Unfamiliar this

time, and you twisted your head to find where it was coming from, but to no avail. It seemed to be emanating from the entire space around you.

Was there a faint musical number playing in the background, or was that just your imagination?

Lucifer pulled you closer, his classic red and white hats by vest clung to his frame. His hat and overcoat nowhere in sight.

“Lucifer, what are you…” You trailed off, right as he opened his mouth and started to.. sing.

With treasures untold and riches divine,

I offer you the world, to make you mine.

His voice was like velvet, that boisterous playful demeanor apparent as he circled you around, you turned with him, never releasing his hand. He continued, his eyes never straying from you as he sang.

I can offer you kingdoms, castles of gold,

Mountains of riches, for you to behold,

Diamonds that shimmer, like stars in the night,

With every breath, with every sigh,

I’ll lavish you with riches, until the end of time.

His singing ceased, and you were rushed back into reality. You looked at him in awe, enamored by that pretty voice of his. It was ethereal, just like God has designed him to be.

You stood there for a second, eyes fixed on Lucifer’s hand as it entwined with yours. Your gaze traveling to those big, beautiful golden eyes that practically begged for your response. 

In that moment, as the sun above illuminated his pretty face and his shining hair flowing in the gentle breeze, you realized how much you adored- no, loved this man. 

Summoning all of your willpower, you answered. Your lips parted as your tongue began to form words of your own design. You didn’t call up any lyrics from pieces of past design. These words needed to be yours. Needed to say everything you desired and more. 

I don’t want your magic,

I don’t want your gold,

I want your eyes on me,

Until we grow old, 

The words left your lips, soft and buttery, as your confession rang through the air. You desperately hoped your voice didn’t sound like nails against a chalkboard, that it held some resemblance to his own angelic vocals. 

His eyes widened for a moment, before they softened. A sparkle shining in them that wasn’t there before. 

A genuine, heart-melting smile crossed his face as he listened to your words flowing from your tongue so gracefully, like water cascading from the Fountain of Youth.

You took his other hand, pulling him backwards, as you danced across the narrow rooftop, like ballerinas, your footsteps synced and graceful. 

Suddenly, he turned you towards the edge, your heels mere inches from the ledge of the roof. For a moment, you felt like you’d slip and plunge into the depths, but those eyes of his held you steady in your mind.

Until his wings appeared behind him, beating softly, giving you air as he spun you slightly off the rooftop. A pulse of warm energy hit you, and your legs lifted out from under you. Like you were Jane with your Peter Pan, and his magic fairy dust was going to send you gliding off to Neverland.

For a moment, you felt like you had wings of your own. That feeling of absolute freedom, unchained from the ground as you floated for a moment before Lucifer pulled you back to reality.

Your feet hit the rooftop once more and you were breathlessly aware of your heart beating in your throat. Your gaze snapped back to Lucifer once more, and you felt one of his hands lowering to your hip, the other still entwined with yours.

Lucifer leaned forward, and you with him.  Your back curved into an arch as he leaned above you, your lips inches from brushing against each other. You felt like exploding, those butterflies fluttering wildly in your stomach threatening to burst.

Both your mouths opened at once, and your words entwined with his as your lips moved once more.

Your caring touch abundantly clear,

It’s all i’ve ever known,

With you my dear, 

I surely fear,

My heart will never be my own.

As your song ended, you felt your heart and mind clear instantly as your truth had finally been told. The look of pure adoration in his eyes was enough to have you trembling under his touch. 

Lucifer pulled you back onto your feet, his breathing heavy and the feathers on his wings ruffled. 

With both hands on your hips, you reached forward and cupped his face. Heat spread across your body as your fingers grazed across the small wisps of hair that curled around his ears.

“Darling, I-”

Before you could let him finish his sentence, you squeezed your eyes shut, and planted your lips against his. He froze for a moment, his breath hitching, before his hands around your waist tightened and he deepened the kiss.

You moved your hands from his face and instead wrapped your arms around his neck, grasping at his shirt collar with hungry desire.

His scent washed over you, and you drank it in with desperation. A sweet, crisp dose of apple cinnamon mixed with faint traces of roses. You thanked Heaven in that moment, for releasing them from their grasp, and right into your arms down here in Hell. 

Your knees hit the ground the same time as Lucifer’s, and you felt the soft touch of his wings as they wrapped around you. Blanketing the two of you from the prying eyes of all the realms. 

He pressed his face harder into yours as he cupped the small of your back. His teeth grazed the bottom of your lip, and you parted your mouth slightly, locking the two of you together even more intensely. 

His lips left yours, and he planted feverish pecks across your cheek all the way to your earlobe. He bit tenderly on it, and you had to squeeze your lips together to stop from whimpering. He continued, trailing down your neck with hungry kisses, before burrowing his face into your shoulder blade.

You felt his teeth graze the artery in your neck, and you gasped, grasping at his hair desperately as pleasure coursed through your veins. His breath hot against your skin, tickling it.

“Fuck,” You moaned, and his response was to push you farther into bliss as he suckled on your neck. Waves of pleasure hit you once more, and you began to sloppily kiss the top of his shoulder, slightly exposed from your roughhousing.

Lucifer tightened his grip around you, pulling you as flush to his body as he could manage. You both sat there on your knees in a mix of breathless gasps and hums of pleasure.

You did not want this moment to end. Finally, the both of you had opened yourselves up to your true feelings. You smiled at the thought, and planted a kiss on his earlobe as he lifted his head slightly from your neck.

Suddenly, the watch on Lucifer’s wrist buzzed violently, and you heard him curse under his breath.

“Is that for your meeting?” Your voice came out in a hoarse whisper.

“Unfortunately,” He grumbled, before switching off the noise. He didn’t move from his position though, and you realized he was going to try and skip out on it.

“You should go.” You spoke, almost a command.

“Why? They’ve been fine without me for this long.”

“You’re the king,” You retorted, meeting his gaze sternly, “Go do your job, i’m not going anywhere.” 

His look of distraught at having to depart sent another wave of butterflies into your body. You couldn’t help but smile before giving him another quick peck on the lips.

“Go.”

“Fine.” 

You both stood up, and his wings uncurled around your body, disappearing into his back. His fingers still with yours, as he reached down for his hat that lay on the ground beside you. You released his grip and fixed his bow tie. Pulling his overcoat back neatly onto his frame, and adjusting it slightly. 

You wiped the sweat off his forehead and smoothed down his hair. Attempting to tidy him up as quickly as you could so he wouldn’t be late. He smiled warmly as you fussed over him.

“Now, if you don’t mind,” You spoke softly, batting your eyelashes at him, “I need a way off this roof.”

He smirked, before grasping his staff and tapping it against the ground. 

A flurry of gold wafted around you, and that same energy tickled at the back of your neck just like it did at the art studio. His face blurring from the cascading waves of warm light that wrapped around you.

“See you soon, My Love,” His voice echoed as your eyes shut and you felt that pull of energy. That feeling of floating on thin air hit you again, as you were warped away. 

“There you are!” Angel dust threw his arms in the air in exasperation a few feet away from you, as the particles of gold that floated above you disintegrated. You blinked a few times, letting your eyes adjust to the lights in the lobby. 

“Where were you this morning? I had to watch the final episode all by myself!”

Shit. That’s right. You placed a hand on your forehead, berating yourself silently for forgetting. Although you weren’t too regretful about missing out on it for Lucifer.

“I’m so sorry, Angel. I just got.. busy, I guess.”

He shrugged, brushing off his slight irritation. 

“It’s alright, ain’t nobody hurt from it.”

He was going to turn away, towards the bar where Husk was readying drinks for the two of them, before his gaze narrowed in somewhere on your figure.

“Wait, what the fuck is on your neck?” He asked suddenly, his eyes giving you a questioning stare, as he motioned towards it.

You looked at him confused, before reaching up and running a few fingers down the side of your throat. Your eyes flew wide open in surprise, and your hand cupped your mouth as you felt it. Your cheeks set on fire instantly.

Apparently, as a final gift, Lucifer had left a rather large hickey in the crook of your neck. Both Husk and Angel leaned in to get a better look at it, their eyes widening in surprise. 

“That dickhead finally did it, huh?” Husk spoke up, a knowing smirk on his lips as he cleaned glasses behind the bar.

Angel’s eyes lit up in delight, and he squeezed his own cheeks as realization dawned on him.

“Fucking finally! Does that mean you two are a thing now?”

You contemplated for a moment, before meeting Angel’s gaze once more. A smirk growing on your lips. 

KeeKee appeared at your feet, rubbing at your ankles in greeting. You gingerly reached down and picked her up. She was so soft to the touch, and you caught the faint scent of Lucifer once more as she nestled into your chest.

“I guess so,” You finally replied once you situated the cat into your arms, “Now if you excuse me, gentleman, I need a breather.” 

Angel whistled flirtatiously behind you as you walked away, and you couldn’t help the growing heat that hit your cheeks once more.

——

a/n: let me know your thoughts!! i almost didn’t added the little singing bit but i cracked my knuckles and summoned the lyricist in me to have some fun. I mean, it can’t be Hazbin Hotel without a song right?

tag list: @ohnoivefallen @doodlebob2726 @coleisyn @loslox

[catiuskaa]

i would LOVE to read your vision of boyfriend by dove cameron....... but w minsung x reader 😏

OH MARSYYYY marsyyyy ajdbkskfla youuu how dare youu take my sleep away from me like thisssss kabfoqbfoskj i barely got to 300 words and i was like “yup. there’s no fucking way i’m not writing this.” so @lyramundana @stayconnecteed, pasarla muy bien mis amores bskdbakd id a la iglesia después

𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄-𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐒.

sum. gentlemen like them make for a better boyfriend, and minho and han will let you know as soon as you come over… they know first times pave the way for more.

yes, the cursive makes a cute lil sentence, kill me

wc. 5.6k (me cago en todo mars)

cw. suggestive, smut! cursive: a lifestyle, the restaurant scene came out really high-class? fem!reader x dom!simp!minho x sub!needy!jisung, the reader is cheating on her boyfriend, so many things happen (praise, degradation, hair pulling, thigh riding, dry humping, oral fixation, marking, mild choking, corruption kink, use of pet names, accidental orgasm denial, oral (f rec.), begging, fingering (f&m rec.) dirty talk, overstim, mild bondage, unprotected piv sex [don't!<3], creampie, breeding kink, dacryphilia). holy shit this is nasty man, aftercare (mandatory) and just have fun lovelies <3<3<3

[🎀 ☆ 🍽️ ☆ 🎀]

Minho has to breathe in, slowly as he smiles, a cat-like grin that has already threatened many people’s hearts, grabbing Jisung’s wrist and pulling him a bit closer.

His company that night —his company forever, if anyone bothered to ask or wanted to know— doesn’t ask why, merely tilts his head, watching, waiting.

“Twelve o’clock. Red and white dress.”

It’s a mumble that the older man makes with his eyes half closed, yet he opens them again after a beat of silence. He grunts, a low, whispered voice, not daring to interrupt the shy flow of music in the fine restaurant, but still takes Han’s chin in his hand, gripping it softly and tilting it a bit further to his left.

“That’s more like one o’clock— oh.” Minho doesn’t dare voice nor even question the way blood rushes to the deepest parts of his body when Jisung licks his lips and stares back at him, lowering his hand with a gentle touch that sets his skin ablaze.

He can’t help but let his eyes trail towards your figure again. The dress you’re wearing, a mix of colours that gingerly combines with that of their own suits, that clings to your shape in a way that threatens his own sanity and the stability of their plan, the impulse of running to you head first wondering what the crash would feel like. He stops himself, and breathes in again, deeper this time in an attempt to stop wondering how the dress would look just a few floors over them, in their hotel room, preferably on the floor, and he finally does, catching the faint scent of Jisung’s new cologne.

Alone. It’s funny to him. Ridiculous, yes, because only a fool would leave such a beauty like you in a situation like that —on your own, waiting in boredom close to death, or even worse, resignation—, and he’s sure that if he were in your place, he would’ve left a while ago. Hell, if he ever pulled something like that, he’d allow for Jisung to choke him —in a non-sexual sense, at least for once—, but he can’t help feeling giddy at the empty sight of the chair in front of you. Almost as if you were waiting for them to get close, to take a seat. And then, maybe you’d smile. Like a little treat.

A cute gift.

The image makes him smirk as he licks his lips. Minho knows he’d wrap you up in a heartbeat.

“What do you think?” He ponders the question lowly, still waiting for the waiter as the restaurant prepares their table. The one next to you, of course.

Jisung’s eyes widen for a moment. “What do I think?”

He gulps, and Minho reels in the way his boyfriend is already blushing, the red dust on his cheeks making him think twice and wonder if he could afford having a little snack before properly taking you both as a dessert, and he can’t help but snicker, tonguing his cheek.

“What are the chances?”

Minho’s fingers stroke Jisung’s palm.

“Well, I did as we agreed. And now the plan follows, jagi. I’m sure you can play your part now, mmh?” His voice is sultry, low, and a whisper, one that deepens Han’s blush and darkens his eyes even further, making his breath hitch to Minho’s amusement. “As if you can’t do whatever you want with that pretty little mouth of yours.”

“Min—”

“Welcome.” The whispered whine that Jisung had been just about to say dies on his lips, as tragically —yet not quite as brutally— as the unfortunate and inopportune waiter in Minho’s head.

“Your party for two is ready. Come with me.”

Shrugging away the comment ‘with you here, no one’s coming’, Minho follows behind Han and nods his head after being pointed to his table.

White-collar thieves could have plenty of money and exotic pairs of jewelry. Take any gemstone, for example. In unknown eyes, it may seem flawlessly perfect, but that’s merely a refracted illusion. Its core, deep in there, remains a secret, and it’d take a good crack for it to be seen.

No, this couple had it clear. A thief could steal anything but achieve nothing. And as Minho sends his partner in crime a wink, and the plan finally starts, its gears already set in place, he knows that whatever the outcome of it might end up being, nothing would give a better reward than trying to steal you tonight.

And it all starts with a silly trip of his boyfriend’s foot.

Jisung’s hand saves him from ending head first against your thighs —did he really save himself, Minho wonders, because the thought sounded like heaven—, and he watches as the younger one rushes back up, an apologetic grin on his face that he had seen so many times before and still made him want to kneel in front of Jisung and worship him to death and beyond.

“Sorry,” Ji smiles, bashful, his little dimples showing. He pretends to cringe, an action only Minho can see through.

“Oh, no, don’t worry. Are you alright?” The genuine worry that slips through your tone softens the men.

“Of course. Yes.” Jisung chimes right back. “Such a kind lady.” He grins, pulling his hand in front of him.

Minho is just watching, and the feeling of witnessing such a moment nearly has him bulging in his tailored pants as shy little Jisung kisses the back of your hand.

He can’t believe how obsessed they both are with you, enthralled at the mere thought of having you closer, and he doesn’t care, needing more, more of your confused smile as you stare at his boyfriend, more of the gentle blush that creeps up to your cheeks, more of the way your hair is neatly tied up and away from your face, feeling the impulse to ruin you on the tip of his fingers.

“What’s a place like this doing, surrounding a beauty such as yours?” Minho smiles, taking a seat at his table. Calm. Mindful. With the plan in his head.

You chuckle so politely that it makes Minho fidget with his rings, a laugh so melodic that tickles his heart and warms his insides.

“I stay in this hotel.” Minho knows. He’s seen you before.

“Alone?” Jisung smiles, a bit cheeky, sitting and moving his chair at an angle, making it easier to keep the conversation going.

The way you sigh makes them both angry and giddy. They had seen your partner before, and they almost couldn’t believe their eyes, genuinely wondering what had the ugly man done to deserve such an angel. If it were for them, not for too long.

“Up until twenty minutes ago, I wasn’t, but…”

Crystal clear. They both can see the resignation in your eyes, and Minho can’t help but feel it trail up his skin, needing to do something about it immediately.

“I know it may seem too straightforward,” his mouth is dry and he can feel his ears turning red. “But I wouldn’t mind the extra company tonight. Right, jagi?”

The smile he shoots at Jisung is soft and sweet, feelings conveyed between layers and layers worth of things he hasn’t said yet. A comforting grin that Ji matches, holding his hand from below the table and giving it a light squeeze, catching it.

“Yes. It’d be a pity, using that wonderful dress on such a dull night.” His boyfriend turns to you, smiling widely. “Join us?”

God, yes. The squirm of satisfaction that threatens to leave past his lips has him fidgeting with his fingers, cracking his knuckles in an oh-so-giddy attempt to hide just how excited he is when he sees you stand up and grin sheepishly, moving your chair and settling on their table.

If one tried and overthinked it too much, it wouldn’t work. People tend to feel those kinds of things, the rush, the nervousness, the desperation. Not attractive on a stranger in the slightest. And Minho knows he’s one lucky bastard just getting to sit with you at the same table, sharing sentences with Jisung across the rounded table with just a blink and a cheeky stare through his lashes.

And as the night goes on, sneaky glances, touches, soft hands over yours, their eyes deep in colour, on you as you wine and dine, the white-collar thieves swiftly steal your heart for the night.

A fever dream. You find no other way to word it, how they get under your skin and into your head, how their cheeky antics keep getting you closer and closer in a way that almost baffles you. You can’t even think about that sad excuse of a boyfriend you have when Jisung’s hand brushes your arm again or when Minho’s eyes lock on yours, almost undressing you under his gaze.

You couldn’t call it a red flag. After all, their collars are pure white.

[🎀 ☆ 🍽️ ☆ 🎀]

Jisung can’t hold back any longer.

He opens the door to their hotel room for you, and in an unrestrained need, grabs your wrist and finally pulls you to him.

Minho smirks, closing the door with a thud by leaning on it, watching as his boyfriend ruins and smears your lipstick, giving it just a bit before he pulls him from the back of his shirt, tutting at him.

“Such a needy little slut, mmh? Couldn’t even wait for me?”

His hands thread on Jisung’s hair, pulling in a way that has him already on edge. Minho takes his blazer off under the eager eyes of his company, and also takes Ji’s red one, leaving both on the couch that sits in the corner of the room as he licks his lips and takes his hands to his boyfriend’s neck, kissing him deeply, hungrily, humming a snicker when he feels his cheeky little hands tugging and pulling on his white shirt.

“Brat.” He whispers on his lips. “We have to treat our guest first, don’t we, jagi?”

Heat pools on your lower belly, disarmed as the two gorgeous, disheveled men stare at you with a glow in their eyes so deep it could fuck you alone. Both stare at the other with a sly grin on their faces, the phrases they want to say hidden behind the opacity of their eyes, clouded in lust.

Cheekily, Minho grabs Jisung by his belt, speaking at mere inches away from his lips.

“Be a good boy and hang on the door the do not disturb sign, mmh?” His eyes trail from Han’s neck, reeling on his heavy breathing and how his big brown eyes flutter when his hand teases him, tickling his skin with a brush of his fingers, doing tender and slow motions, opening the lower buttons on his shirt and going down his happy trail.

Jisung only nods weakly, in a daze as Minho lets go of him, blinking slowly and letting out a playful chuckle when he teasingly smacks his ass as he makes his way to the door.

“Now, what do we have here?”

Your throat feels dry and you yearn for the moment in which you’ll finally drown in Minho’s lips. He can tell, approaching you slowly, his steps barely making a sound on the carpet below.

His hands brush away the few hairs that Ji got loose, his hand traveling from the shell of your ear to just a bit after your pulse point. “Such a beauty.” Your heart swoons as he whispers, something that sounds more for him than for you, which does nothing but worsen the situation below your dress.

Licking your lips, you watch as he leisurely sits on the edge of the bed, two fingers teasingly making a ‘come hither’ motion as he spreads his legs, making space for you between them, his tailored clothing hugging his lush thighs in a way that nearly makes you salivate.

“I won’t bite, gorgeous. Not unless you want me to,” he teases, his hands stroking your knees while he sits just a short step or two away from you.

The sentence not only makes you shiver in anticipation, but also makes a small part of you wonder if there could be anything you wouldn’t let these men do to you. Dare I say non-existent, the list seems to be pretty short, as you nibble on your lip and answer to how he pats his thigh, taking a seat.

“There we go.” He grins with a low hum, his hands traveling far past the fabric that covers your thighs, grabbing and kneading the skin under his grasp. “Wonder how long it has passed since you’ve been treated right.” He clicks his tongue. “We have to do something about it, don’t we, jagi?”

He’s talking to Jisung as if you weren’t there. As if they’re taking you, a pretty diamond gingerly falling into their white-gloved hands, and —make no mistake—, you’re letting them, and it’s the end of the story, because you’d be a fool not to.

Besides, it’s already too late to back down. You want this. You couldn’t care less of what happens to your boyfriend after he left and scurried back wherever, attempting to leave you with the burden of paying for everything again without having to deal with the consequences nor the guts to face you. He was going to have a fun time, arriving at your previously shared room and finding that your things had been already packed and you were no longer anywhere to be seen, leaving behind you not only the bill of the restaurant —both his and yours, and then the one you had with Minho and Jisung, of course, an autograph on the receipt and all— but of the entire week you had been abroad, for all the times he had been tricking you and pulling your leg.

Tonight, you weren’t just being stolen. You were being freed.

“What makes you tick? Mmh, gorgeous?” Minho gets you back from your mind, naughty hands traveling underneath your dress and playing with the back ends of your underwear.

He’s dying to kiss you, and he will —he will die trying and he’d be happy to do so—, and he can see it in your eyes that you want just as much, the dark of his reading yours with an ease that does nothing but aggravate the situation, knowing that if he were to kiss you as he had been thinking —ever since he and Jisung had seen you and your boyfriend— would cause you more things than neither you nor him could process, leaving both of your minds blank, wet, legs tangled with one another.

Minho cherishes the way you tremble in his grasp, feeling Jisung’s hands surprise you from behind, playing with the zipper of your white and red dress.

“Baby, you’re already grinding on my thigh.” It’s teasing, it’s a menace, and he fucking loves it, seeing how said sentence darkens both your and Han’s eyes. “What are you thinking, mmh? Want us to figure you out as we go?” He licks his timidly swollen lips, his hands traveling down your legs to take your heels off, discarding the red sole shoes by the end of the bed.

He kisses Jisung over your shoulder, and a moan leaves your lips when said motion —him moving forward, that is— makes him tense his thigh underneath you.

“Jagi, do me a favour.” He whispers on his boyfriend’s lips, next to your ear, as if he’s telling Han a secret you shouldn’t know —but you don’t care whether you should or shouldn’t. You’re already going to hell for cheating on that low-life you call a boyfriend. Could be the wine speaking, or how your pussy is already leaking, but if you’re going to hell, you’ll make it so that these fine gentlemen help you reach heaven first.

“Ladies first, okay? Let’s treat her how a princess deserves.”

Jisung’s eyes smile as he bites Minho’s lip, finally taking your dress off of you, lowering the zipper in a way that his hand strokes your skin as the dress goes further down, and doesn’t stop kissing him, even when his greedy hands take the dress off your shoulders, and travel forward, tickling you menacingly, from your belly to your chest, teasingly playing with the little bow that decorates your white bra before letting his fingers go further up your cleavage.

Minho’s hands move your hips against his thigh, starting to feel the wetness and warmth not only on the fabric between his leg and your sweet sweet core, but on his skin.

He chuckles, panting on your ear as Jisung’s lips hungrily travel to your back, kissing and scratching with his teeth. A man blinded crazy by lust, his hand finally reaching your neck.

The way the action makes you moan is almost obscene, your cheeks as red as Jisung’s forgotten blazer and trousers. His grasp, gingerly cold, as if the rest of his warmth was traveling to other parts of his body —parts you weren’t complaining to be feeling against your lower back—, was a little bit over your collarbone, and it drove you wild.

“Hyung��” It’s a whine so desperate that nearly has him crumbling apart. Jisung’s eyes are teary when Minho’s lock into the dark brown full of lust that they have turned to. Merely pecking his lips, Minho smiles.

“I’m going to eat you alive.” It’s a desperate groan, and his partner’s eyes only glow in a darker shimmer, as if he yearned for just that. “Go on, jagi. Have fun.”

Before you can expect it, Jisung lets out a moan, grabbing your waist and pulling you from Minho onto the bed. Your impending release gets ruined, and you whine, your hand unconsciously traveling to your face.

As the younger one hurriedly finishes taking your dress off of you, discarding it somewhere on the floor —a view that, later on, would make Minho grin cheekily— said gentleman moves and lays down next to you while his partner leaves hickeys all over your inner thighs.

Only pants, whines, and moans leave your lips, low and dimmed, overwhelmed by all that you’re feeling, hiding behind your hand. But they’re gentlemen, after all. Ever-so-observant, Minho’s smile is sweet when he takes your hand and interlinks your fingers.

“Beauty,” he calls, his voice sultry. “Are you familiar with the traffic light system?”

It takes a shy, confused shake from you for him to tut at his boyfriend, and Han stops his antics, licking his lips, his eyes glowing as he strokes your thighs, gingerly comforting you out of your daze.

“Like a traffic light, yeah? Green for when you want to keep going, yellow when you want to slow down, and red if you want to stop.” His hand softly moves, trailing soft motions on your cheek. “Don’t wait for us to ask. If we’re playing the figure-it-out game, I want to hear you moaning ‘green’ every single minute. Good?” You blush, nodding. “So. Colour?”

You give it a thought. You’ve brought up things like this before to your boyfriend. Things he shamed you for. Things you had been wanting to do for a while. And as you stare back at Minho, his eyes widen for a moment when he sees you smirking lightly.

To hell and heaven with it. It had been a close call before, back at the hotel’s restaurant. It’s stupid now, and you can’t believe you almost ran away back to your room and wasted such a divinely given chance like this one.

“Green.” You smile. “Figure me out better than I know myself.”

Jisung’s mind is completely foggy and hazy, his hands kneading your thighs, waiting, panting at your sudden forwardness. He can barely form a coherent thought, his mind consumed by the need to keep going until your taste is all that he knows.

You lift yourself, sitting on the bed, as the focus of the two men’s attention while your hand reaches for Jisung’s chin, and he’s dead. He’s gotta be, because as he moves to keep feeling your soft grasp on him, he swears he stops breathing.

“I’m going to kiss you.” It’s an announcement. Not quite a question but a warning, a narration of sorts. It keeps Minho waiting for a movement, something, whatever, anything to be able to follow what they had started, surprised by the newfound shimmer in your eyes.

And you can only confirm the whole chain of unbridled thoughts that haunt you —that you want to devour them with kisses, that you would let them eat you whole, unashamed, unrestrained, and overly needy— when, after closing your eyes, you erase any space that was between your lips and Jisung’s.

It’s not the butterflies in your stomach, but your own pulse rumbling in your ears, so loud that you think that either of the two men to whom you knew crystal clear that you were going to give yourself to tonight could hear it without making any sort of effort.

Nasty, desperate, wild. Jisung is gone, set on making any trace of red lush lipstick disappear from your lips. He starts kissing you more passionately, taking both of his hands to your nape, pulling on your hair in an attempt to get you even closer to him, the need for oxygen merely a necessity far less important than to keep kissing you and lick away your strawberry lipstick.

“This is crazy,” you pant, gasping for air.

“You make me crazy.”

He’s breathless, and he just can’t stop kissing you. Not when you’re giving yourself back to him with almost the same intensity, the raw need for more overperforming any sort of kissing skills that Jisung thought he had before. Matter of fact, he can’t think. Not when his hands travel from your waist, your skin like a canvas he’d die to keep marking, trailing a teasing path up your back, making you shiver until he finally undoes the barrier that keeps him from touching, and finally tasting —licking, spitting, marking, fondling, kissing, biting, better if it’s all at the same time— your breasts. He swiftly takes your bra off of you, as if it burns. It would’ve made you laugh, but as he cages you against the mattress the only thing you can do is moan.

Yes. Yes. Yes, More. Please. Don’t stop.

There’s a light bounce of the mattress when Minho takes a seat behind you, and Han whines when you leave his lips.

You’re a mess. There’s no other way to describe it, and Minho loves it. He loves how you’re in between Jisung and him. How you’re drooling and moaning, your head leaning against his shoulder as greedy little Hannie goes back to where he was heading before. He loves how you’re not holding back anymore, your right hand pulling on his boyfriend’s hair and your right one on his nape, gingerly playing with it as you squirm under the pleasure that Ji’s mouth brings you.

“Beauty,” Minho’s voice is impossibly low when he calls for you, pressing soft, tender kisses on your pulse point. You whine, a strained ‘yeah?’ that kills him. “How do we feel about this?”

You open your eyes, not really aware when you had closed them, and you look at Minho’s soft hands, his rings shimering under the room’s indirect light. It’s a lace, your fuzzy brain tells you. It has the words Dior written several times on it.

“G-green…” it’s a whine, it’s slurry, and it turns to a hitched breath when Han’s fingers slide inside you with ease, curling and thrusting until you can’t do anything else but moan and whine, trembling as you come, pleasure hitting you in waves.

You cling onto Minho like a rock, as much as you can, his body behind you stroking you in a way that makes you shiver while Ji helps you ride out your high.

“Look at him, princess.”

His tone is slightly mean, and you sigh, feeling his arms surround you.

“He came just from tasting you.”

You’re still a bit out, panting, but your eyes turn to him, whose head is leaning on your thigh. One of your hands moves to stroke his hair, and you grow hotter watching how he shudders for a second.

“He was grinding against the mattress. Like a little horny slut.”

It’s shameful. Minho’s tone is one for mocking. He’s… torturing him. And yet he looks like he might just come one more time from that alone.

“M-min…” Hannie whimpers, a slurred sound of pleasure.

“Oh, beauty. He even wants more.” Jisung’s eyes open, staring at you two from below, and he moans.

You blink, but slowly, you seem to get it. Or, if you asked Jisung, you were a godess sent straight-out from heaven.

“But can he… beg like a… a pretty slut?”

Minho nearly comes untouched at your tone. The way they’re already corrupting you, how you’re degrading Jisung already, watching how he’s unconciously grinding against the mattress again, overstimulating himself.

“Ngh, fuck… p-princess…” his hands travel to your thighs, clinging to them like a lifeline.

You’re unsure of what to do, because you know what to say, holding back for a second.

“Beauty,” Minho kisses your neck. “What’s that brain of you thinking, mmh?”

Your blush covers your whole face, and you smile, as if you’ve been caught on a white lie.

“I… want to, um. Want you to do to him what you did to me.”

Jisung freezes in his place. Minho’s eyes darken. “Keep talking, beauty. Spare no detail.”

Your shyness fades as you look at Ji’s face, reeling at how he moans softly, his body just a tiny bit spent, yet he’s paying close attention to you and your words, not wanting to stop even for a second. The intensity of his stare makes heat hit you, unexpected yet welcomed. 

And with hooded eyes and weak legs, you turn to face both Minho and Jisung, letting go of what you’re thinking without giving yourself the chance to second guess it. 

“I want you to finger him. While you fuck me. And then I want him to fuck me.” 

Perplexed. There are little to no words Minho can manage to say, if any. He knows that he’s a sentence away from losing himself completely to the sensation, your mind and body now completely under the control of the aphrodisiac that is their company and undivided attention, and the intense pleasure it induces. 

“Hyung.” Han’s eyes are teary, and he looks so pretty. 

Why would Minho resist?

He takes you by your wrists and pulls you towards him, kissing you in a way that makes your mind and body completely submissive and compliant. There it is. Minho is finally kissing you, claiming you with each stroke of his tongue. And now he holds no restraint, his hands exploring your body, his touch becoming more urgent and passionate with each moan that goes past your swollen, kissable lips. 

His body presses even harder against yours, pinning you against the mattress as he kisses you deeply, his lips and tongue tracing a path down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. Minho bites down gently on the sensitive skin of your collarbone, his hands gripping your hips, holding you in place as he continues his assault on your senses, his desire for you growing more and more intense.

He moans softly into the kiss, his hands wandering along your body, his touch hungry, as if he couldn't get enough of you —and he can’t, he’s well aware that you might be his last meal, and he’d be happy about it— grabbing and marking and touching all he can reach. He breaks the kiss briefly, his lips trailing down your jaw and neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against your sensitive skin as he pants heavily, his voice low and hoarse with desire.

"You're driving me crazy, beauty," he murmurs, his voice gravelly with lust. "Can't get enough."

“Minho, please,” you whine and beg, shivering when he stands on his knees, looking at you from above, a dark, nasty shimmer in his eyes. 

He pushes Jisung next to you, face down ass up, which only makes the latter moan, desperate to be touched again. 

“You know what, beauty?” Minho grins, mad, crazy, horny, and all of the above, as he takes back the Dior lace and softly moves your hands over your head, making a pretty bow on your wrists, almost as pretty as his needy princess. He’s thankful Jisung wanted to buy that perfume. 

“I’m going to fuck you. Because you want to, don’t you, beauty?” His snicker brings heat to your whole body, and it hits you where you’re restrained, Minho’s hands pinching and teasing all over your torso, watching you crumble and whimper underneath him. “And I’m going to make him come too. You two want to be used like little toys, and it’s just what I’m about to do.” 

He bends down to reach for the lube in the bedside table, but uses that opportunity to meanily bite your cheek. It feels warm under his tongue, the skin red, not only from the teasing bite but from how deep you’re blushing. 

Minho keeps talking while he slowly removes your ruined panties and Jisung’s soiled underwear. 

“I’ll fuck you so good, beauty. So good you won’t ever feel the same, if you fuck that scum you call a boyfriend. I’ll make you come so hard you won’t even remember his name.” 

You don’t know what happens first, but surely, Jisung and you start whining and moaning, panting as Minho fails to keep a steady pace on both of you, his thrusts irregular as pleasure takes hold of him. 

He’s reeling in pleasure, whispering into your ear in between moans and grunts how good you feel, how tight your pretty little pussy clenches around him, how you’re going to milk him dry as he keeps pouncing on you. “If y-you, ever, ever, ever doubt who you belong to…” he moans, watching you cry in pleasure, listening to Hannie’s slurred babbling, failing to get a good grip on the bed sheets. “Remember… that you can always come back… princess…”

After all, his duty as a thief wasn’t only stealing. He wasn’t going to complain when he’d kill for you to sit on his face. Just for starters. 

It doesn’t take long for Jisung to come on his own palm, shivering in pleasure, panting, but smiling at you, and —with his other hand— grabbing yours while you moan and whine and whimper, so close once again. 

T-too much— Don’t stop. Yes, yes, please!

Moaning so beautifully, Minho crumbles. His words are slurred as he whines, something about filling you up that makes you see stars as he somehow thrusts even deeper.

“There, there, ah… f-fuck, I can’t…” 

Dazed, fucked-out, drunk and lost in pleasure, you’re only able to let out louder sounds, tugging at your restraint as the Dior bow keeps you grounded, and Jisung’s now clean hand —you missed when that happened, yet you’re not bothered enough to question it— presses figure eights on your clit. And not even a minute later, you’re both gasping and moaning, and you throw your head back as he comes inside of you. 

It takes a moment for the three of you to move. For a minute, the world stops spinning, and you relish the warmth of his bodies, next and over you, your head still fuzzy with pleasure. 

You and Minho whine when he pulls out, and you shiver at the loss of heat over you and the emptiness inside you. Jisung is quick to fix the first one, softly moving your head over to his shoulder, and he leans his chin over yours. 

“Hey, princess.” He still has a red hue on his cheeks, but you’re pretty sure you’re matching, if not worse. 

You hum, weak, and he can’t help but giggle. His soft hands cradle your face, and he sighs, stroking your nose with his tenderly. 

“I’m really happy you joined us tonight.” 

And with the strength you have left, you merely move to kiss his palm, your eyes closed. They remain closed when Minho comes back, even when he softly moves your arms and links them behind his nape. 

Han heads into the bathroom first, making sure the water of the bathtub is warm enough before sliding inside, helping Minho put you down, leaning your head against Ji’s shoulder and in between his legs. 

You’re half asleep, but you smile when Minho’s hands stroke your legs. Your legs feel sore and you’re a blink away from the best sleep of your life, but first, the best night of your life makes sure to take care of you after all the fun. 

Two pairs of hands clean up the mess they turned you to, and you’re so happy to be taken care of as sweetly and as gently as they are doing, that you weakly peck Minho and Jisung’s lips. 

No words are needed, and Jisung hugs you from behind, pressing soft kisses on your shoulder blades. Minho links his hand with yours, fondly staring at the two of you before him. 

Thieves like Han and Minho are masters in their craft. With professional care, they dry your body, tender touches fully lulling you to sleep when Jisung grabs one of the discarded white-collared shirts and gingerly closes its buttons. Bathed, spent, and tired, they settle you in between them, with your back to Minho, and Jisung kisses his boyfriend’s hand, covering all of you with the bed’s blanket. 

Sure, maybe you didn’t do all that you wanted that night. But you don’t mind it. Warm, clean, and thoroughly satisfied, you’re fine with the need that hits you even after you wake up. You want to be theirs so much, and despite the estrangement, it’s a fact that doesn’t change —not even after it dawns on you that neither you nor them introduced themselves, and you don’t know their names.

[🎀 ☆ 🍽️ ☆ 🎀]

kats, who needs a high —infinite, even— dose of grass, stat.

catiuskaa, august 2024 ©

[rockstvrdotcom]

“mi vida”

!! // js imagine miguel being the sweetest during sex.. like ik yall love lil rough dom miguel but broooo miguel whispering sweet nothings in spanish into your ear while he fucks u silly nd u can barely understand him... HELLOOO?? rhis ones kinda short sry guys

tw/cw: miguel being a sweetie pie, nsfw, fem reader

“nunca habia sentido algo asi.. sin ti no puedo vivir, mi corazon.” he murmured into your ear, his hands groping ever part of your body as he pounded in and out of you; leaving no part of your body untouched. you could barely understand the words leaving his mouth, your mind in a haze of pleasure as he fucked you dumb.

you had just had your- god knows what number, orgasm of the night, and he still hadn’t came yet. your pussy was puffy and swollen, your hole aching and your slick leaking out of it. “mm, ‘love you s’much, miguel..” you said inbetween silent moans and pants, clenching around him.

“i love you too.” he replied, and although your back was facing him you could hear the smile in his voice. you felt him twitch inside of you, you were almost relieved. you didn’t know if you could take anymore.

“eres perfecta, mi reina. eres una estrella que se cayo de cielo.” he spoke softly, as if his voice could break you. you were so fragile to him, like you would break and disappear under his touch. 

you felt him throb and twitch inside of you for the second time. you moaned loudly as his pace picked up, his fat cock stretching out your gummy walls. you muttered a string of curses as you felt miguel come inside of you. the feeling of his warm load was enough to push you over the edge, your vision going blurry with tears of pleasure flowing out of your eyes.

he rode out his high, thrusting in and out of you a few more times and painting your insides with his spend. you whimpered, taking miguels hand and holding it tightly.

he moved carefully, laying down beside you on the bed. his cock was still inside of you, and his hand was still intertwined with yours. his other hand patted your head, then stroking your head. you snuggled up into him under his touch. “sin ti mi vida no tiene sentido, tu y yo contra el mundo, mi querida.” he muttered against your neck, eyes half lidded.

-

a/n: to the person who literally j made me realize that i was not rlly inclusive of all skin colors tysm for telling me </33 IM SO SORRY YALL IDEK WHY I WROTE THAT IM NOTEVEN WHITE 🙁🙁 im so sorry guys what the f 🥹

my cat was literally ontop of my arms as i wrote this and he would not get off. 

i need to gts

[v3laryons]

Prettiest Thing

- brian quinn (Q) x afab!reader

summary: after a romantic date at your favorite restaurant in nyc, brian wants to show how much he really adores you

warnings: p in v, choking, fingering, dom!brian x sub!reader, age gap, m and f oral, overstimulation, biting, body praise, use of pet names, mentions of alcohol

a/n: guys im LIVINGG for this Q renaissance era.

the heels that you wore all night flew off your feet the second you stepped into your shared apartment. feeling the air conditioning hit your body as the door opened, your muscles immediately started to relax. the couple of drinks you ordered at dinner started to wear off, and your senses were coming back to you. you turned around, instantly clinging onto brian as he locked the door.

“hi sweetheart,” he said as you immediately pushed all your body weight onto him. he clung to you, embracing your scent. you took a step back admiring him. the way his hair fell over his sleepy eyes, and how his shirt revealed his tattoos. a familiar feelings started to flow through you, and an importance to do something about it.

“bedroom..?” you looked up at him with a gleam in your eyes. he chuckled, picking you up with ease and throwing you around his shoulder. you squealed in excitement as he made way to his your bedroom.

he placed you on the bed gently, then picking up one of the cats that was in the bedroom and setting her outside the room. he shut the door and made his way over to you. he stood in-front of you, removing his shirt. you got up on your elbows admiring the view. he moved over and softly laid you flat on the bed while deeply kissing your neck. he smelled of beer and cologne. you inhaled severely, collecting every scent from him.

he felt so wam, equivalent to a giant teddy bear. brian left rough kisses alongside your neck. the skin started turning purple, and soon you were left with many visible love bites. “bri…” you whimpered out. he worked his way from your neck to your lips. he soothingly kissed you as you sat up to remove your slip-on dress. he helped your remove it, pulling it over your head.

as you were still sitting up, he admired your body for a second before crashing his lips back onto yours. before you could lay back down, he shifted his hand to your bra clasp, unbuckling it. your bra slipped off, and brian threw it on the floor next to the bed. you moved yourself back against the headboard. he crawled his way up to you, stopping over your clothed pussy. he positioned his hands on your thighs.

“can i remove this?” he hinted at your black fishnets. you nodded eagerly, needing him to fuck you. he sat up, harshly tugging down your tights. he threw them to corner of the room along with your panties. “so fucking gorgeous” he muttered under his breath as he stroked your hip.

brian lowered his head between your thighs while maintaining eye contact. he began slowly kissing your thighs, making his way towards your heat. you whined, having enough of the teasing.

he was taking his time with you, kissing sweet pecks around your exposed pussy. you begged him, “please bri, i need it.”

he couldn’t hesitate any longer. his mouth found it’s way to your clit, bringing you intense pleasure. you grabbed a fistful of his hair as he ate you out. he softly kissed your pulsating heat before sticking his tongue inside of you. his name was being quietly muttered under your breath as he ate you out like a starving man. “you taste so good peach,” he groaned into your pussy.

suddenly, he started to work his fingers inside of you, stretching you out. he kept his mouth locked on your pussy as he fingered you.

“i’m close bri..” you quietly whined out. the tight feeling below your stomach started to follow, needing a release. “cum for me sweetie,” he said as he continued to suck on your clit. without needing another word, you climaxed onto his face. you gripped the sheets as you rode down from your high.

brian watched in complete awe. your skin glistened as you started to relax again. after he could tell you were alright, he fell back on top of you and started to kiss you once again. you could taste the wetness from your pussy on his lips, turning you on.

you snuck your arms around him and flipped him over. he gasped at your sudden enthusiasm, waiting for your next move.

you lowered yourself to the center of his crotch while maintaining eye contact. you tugged at his belt trying to remove it — brian saw your struggle and removed his belt along with his pants himself.

soon he was only left in his superman boxers, but that wasn’t enough. you eagerly tore off his last remaining piece of clothing until you were both bare.

soon, you were positioned over his lengthy cock. slowly - you inched in. you licked a long strip from the base of his cock to the tip. he watched with his mouth agape, moaning from the simple touch. his hands found their way to your jaw, gently holding it as you sucked his cock.

“you’re so good — so good to me..” he whimpered under his breath. you smiled, with his cock deep in your mouth. over time you slowly lowered yourself more and more taking his entire shaft into your throat. he groaned loudly as he watched his cock sink down your mouth.

salvia started pooling at the bottom of his cock, along with a couple of your tears. the feeling was overbearing, but it felt so good.

“fuck, i’m gonna cum.” he said as he started forcefully pushing your head up and down. you took his cock out of your mouth, and started sucking on his balls.

knowing that he was going to cum, you slid his cock back in your mouth waiting for his release. his breathing became loud as he came in your throat.

you kept eye-contact with him until he was done. removing yourself, you swallowed his cum before going back to kissing him. after regaining stamina, he wanted you on the bottom so he flipped you over, laying you on your back for the second time.

he lined himself up with your core, not breaking the long kiss. then, he slowly slid himself into you. the sudden stretch made you gasp and you tucked your head into his shoulder.

brian groaned at the feeling of your walls tightening around him. when he could tell you were adjusted enough, he slowly slid out and then right back into your core. you gasped in pleasure, feeling overwhelmed by it all.

you moaned as he started to move, picking up the pace over time. he kissed your neck soothingly, bringing more pleasure. as his thrusts began to quicken, he wrapped his hand around your neck. he applied a little bit of pressure, not so much that it would hurt you. to his surprise - you moaned out as he started to slightly choke you.

“feels good?” he groaned in between thrusts. already being lost in the moment, you nodded your head instead of audibly speaking.

tucking your head back into his shoulder, you gently bit on his flesh to contain yourself from screaming out his name. he whimpered for you, not ashamed to show his current emotions.

brian removed his hand from your neck, placing it on your clit. the sudden erotic touch made your stomach clench. he could tell your climax was approaching, and sped up his movements. feeling you clench around him, brian unloaded his seed deep into your cunt. quickly after, you followed him.

he continued to thrust into you as you came. once his stamina ran out, he pulled out and laid next to you. your breathing slowed, and your eyesight became visible again.

he carefully grabbed you, pulling your bodies together. “you okay?” he questioned, checking in on you. “do you need me to do anything - ?”

you smiled, tilting your head to look up at him. “just hold me for a second,” you cuddled into his chest. he grinned, commanding your wish.

the silence was oddly comforting. you felt protected, and he felt loved. brian broke the silence, needing to get something off his chest. he tilted his head down to admire your face.

“you’re the prettiest thing i’ve ever seen.” he grinned, feeling a whirlwind of emotions. suddenly you sat up against the headboard next to him. “you think so?” you smiled, a small giggle exiting your lips.

“yeah, i know so.” he pecked your lips, wrapping his arm around you, pulling you in as close as possible. “goodnight..” you yawned into his chest while your eyes became heavy.

“goodnight my love.”

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

pairing: past wanda maximoff x fem!reader / present natasha romanoff x fem!reader

summary: When you see Wanda again after the secret relationship you shared during your college years, you realize the lasting impact she had on you. Haunted by flashbacks of your time together, you struggle to reconcile the memory of the Wanda you once knew with the woman she has become a decade later.

content warnings: angst, homophobia, a few homophobic slurs, internalized homophobia, heartbreak and grief, some smut, tragedy

word count: 7.1k+

Masterlist

A/N: This is heavily inspired by the song Us. By Gracie Abrams ft. Taylor Swift. I would recommend listening to it simply because it is a masterpiece and the foundation of this fic.

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

The Secret of Us

“Babe, are you ready?” 

Green eyes peek around the doorframe, delicate fingers working a dangling diamond studded earring through a slightly reddened ear. There’s a gentle smile on Natasha’s face, a strand escaping her perfectly curled hair and falling somewhat in front of her face. It brushes softly against her cheek, a sharp exhale moving it as a wince appears on her face. 

“Here, let me,” you say, curling a single finger in her direction. You place your makeup brushes onto the vanity in front of you, your fingers gentle as you pluck the earring from Natasha’s hand. 

It’s a beautiful piece. The golden metal is dainty, yet solid, woven into complex swirls that catch the dying rays of sunshine streaming in from your window. Your hands are careful, threading the earring through her skin like a seamstress, with confidence that comes from years of practice and love woven into each measured touch. 

“Perfect,” you mutter. You both know you’re not just talking about the earring. 

Natasha smirks at you, full of confidence that is only slightly contrasted by the pink flush rising to her cheeks. You laugh slightly, the sound low and full of warmth as you turn back towards the mirror. 

Strong hands rest lightly on your shoulders as Natasha’s fingers firmly rub circles into your skin. You can feel the tight knots give away beneath her ministrations and sigh in relief as you brush highlighter onto the highest point of your cheekbones. Green eyes track your movements lazily, taking you in like it's the first time she’s seeing you. You find it quite romantic and tell her just as much.

“Well,” the bright smile on Natasha’s face shines through the word, “That was my goal, detka.”

A soft shove from you has Natasha’s hands wrapping around your own as she pulls you to your feet. You sway slightly, blinking against the headrush that comes from changing positions too quickly. Arms wrap around your waist as strong as the pull of gravity, unwavering and inevitable. 

“You look beautiful,” Natasha murmurs, her lips brushing yours. 

“Compared to you, I am nothing.” The words flow from your lips easily, the truth of them lying comfortably under your skin, feeling like the steady weight of a cat curled up on your chest. You kiss away any protests, your tongue swiping against hers when she tries to speak. 

“We should go,” Natasha manages to say, the words separated with the firm kisses she places against your lips. “We’re about to run late, and I know you hate it when people are inconsiderate with their timing.”

You nod against her, your hands squeezing her waist gently as you breathe deeply through your nose, unwilling to part your lips from hers. 

“Sweetheart.”

Natasha’s tone is firm, her hand pressed against your sternum as she pushes you away. It's gentle, almost hesitant. You know that if you pressed back against it, she would crumble like a sandcastle at high tide. It's for that very reason that you don’t, not wanting to disrupt her carefully planned evening. 

“Lead the way, my love.”

—

You find yourself hanging from Natasha’s arm, feeling every bit like a trophy. Shining, and put on the highest shelf, gazes sliding appreciatively over you before moving on to the next impressive thing. You wonder how long it will be before the dust begins to collect. 

A man, standing close to your wife. His fingers twitch, his eyes glancing dismissively at you. He’s talking just a bit too loud for the short distance between him and Natasha, and you feel a white-hot rage rising before you take in the fake smile plastered across her face. 

It's too wide, showing too many teeth and yet not enough at the same time. Her eyes are sharp, the soft crow’s feet that normally appear at the edges nowhere to be found. The pressure of her fingers against your waist grounds you, leaving you feeling every bit like a rock standing solidly against the crashing waves. 

The man moves on, loses interest. You don’t mind. The memory of him is already floating away, being replaced by the soft look Natasha is sending your way. You feel shiny again, not a speck of dust in sight. 

Dragging your eyes around the room, you let yourself get lost in the sea of bodies. 

Natasha had brought you to some important work event. It was essentially a party, disguised under layers of professionalism in celebration of a multi-million dollar partnership with their rival company. 

There was an undercurrent of tension, being slowly filtered into a sort of understanding and grudging respect. The alcohol probably helped. 

A woman’s laughter rang around the room. The tension in the air shuddered and released its hold slightly. 

You amend your statement. The alcohol definitely helped. 

Lazily, you return your gaze to the room. Natasha is slowly walking you towards the center of the room, leading you with gentle touches at your waist. You feel every bit like a lamb, awkward with growing limbs as it is shepherded into a crowd. 

Bouncing around the room, your eyes take in the multitude of people. Features start to blur together. A pointed nose, blue eyes almost hidden under thick eyeliner, shimmering dresses that catch the light and make your head spin.

Your eyes catch on brunette hair. Soft, flowing like a calm river on a warm summer's day. 

Startling slightly, you blink, a memory dredging its way to the front of your brain like molten lava, slow and inevitable. 

Brunette hair, falling effortlessly over strong shoulders. The scent of vanilla washing over you and enveloping you like a well-known embrace. Green eyes sparkling down at you as soft lips move. You focus, dragging your eyes away from the perfectly manicured nails softly brushing against your desk. 

“Mind if I sit here?” 

A feeble shake of your head, and rapid blinking as you attempt to return the moisture lost to wide-eyed staring back into your eyes. 

She’s beautiful. 

Her words are kind, a small smile seemingly locked into place on her lips as she regards you. Green eyes roam your face, lingering around your lips for just a second too long.

“I’m Wanda.”

The memory slams into your skull, reverberating painfully around as you feel an age-old, nearly forgotten crack in your heart reopen. It takes your breath away, the weight in your chest feeling like a paperweight, settling down on the last few pages of a story full of loss and anguish. 

Natasha’s speaking to someone, her raspy voice filtering through your ears. It’s nothing like the cadence of melted butter you still sometimes hear in your dreams. It's different, better. You wonder when the lies will morph into a semblance of truth. 

You take a deep breath, letting those thoughts slide back to where they belong. In the back of your mind, locked away and left to be forgotten. It wouldn’t do you any good to dwell on the past, with its looming, crumbling chess pieces that dance around you in a game that you don’t quite understand the rules of. 

“Ah, fuck.” Comes Natasha’s voice, the words mumbled directly in your ear. 

You twist your head, shaking it free of cobwebs sticky with memory as you take in your wife. Her eyes are locked on something across the room, the faint furrow of her brows the only sign of displeasure etched on her face. Her lips are moving, mumbling something about an important blah blah man blah blah, rich and influential at her rival company blah blah…

Smiling slightly, you hide your amusement with practiced ease as you turn your gaze towards the man, no, a couple heading your way. Your eyes barely register the neatly parted blonde hair of a tall man, his eyes locked on Natasha with a calculating sort of look in them before your eyes slide over to the woman on his arm.

Fuck, indeed. 

Your heartbeat rushes through your ears, a dull ringing cascading through them as you feel your breath catch. Everything has gone numb, or cold, or tingly. You’re not really sure. Everything is too much and the room is too hot even as goosebumps rise on the surface of your exposed flesh. You suddenly see yourself in a third-person view, your mind projecting outside your body as you go rigid at the sight of her.

Wanda Maximoff. 

Green eyes, brighter and lighter than the ones you stared lovingly into at the altar. Her gaze flickers over to you, not fully meeting your eyes, a forced sort of dissonance playing out briefly on those perfect features before she focuses on Natasha.  

Another memory slams into you, rising unbidden from the depths of your mind before you can stop it. 

Soft laughter, echoing around the room before it's absorbed by the four walls surrounding you. Green eyes, smiling at you before returning their focus to the pen and paper in front of her. 

Wanda writes something down, your eyes tracing the elegant script that flowed easily from her fingertips. Something scratches at the back of your mind, a tendril of something fond, warm. It feels like coming home, future impressions of familiarity beginning to take root. 

“Let me see,” you’re saying, moving closer. Your hands reach for the book. No, it's a leather-bound journal. You’d picked them out earlier, after walking to the store with Wanda from your English literature class. 

“No, oh my god,” Wanda was saying, giggles erupting from her as she half-heartedly wrestled the journal away from you. Her hand lands on your knee, her cheeks a little too flushed. It reminds you of the cherry she’d eaten earlier, licking the whipped cream from her milkshake off before smiling and sucking the fruit into her mouth. 

Her hand stills, awkward and stiff for a moment. You don’t comment on it, shifting your body weight to be slightly closer to her. The warmth from her palm spreads through your body like a slow creek, new and small and promising bigger currents down the road. 

“Let me read yours out loud and I’ll let you read mine,” you offer, taking her journal gently and placing yours in her lap.

“It’s just poetry,” the words flow from your lips, but you know it’s more than that. It’s the very contents of your soul, laid bare for her to see, wrapped under layers of grammar and careful wording. It’s a confession, it’s a sin, it’s something twisting and beautiful and as graceless as a newborn foal. Her eyes meet yours, your thoughts reflected back at you as her fingers twitch slightly on your knee. 

Wanda’s hand takes your journal, those green eyes skimming the words as her lips move silently.

You don’t look away, you can’t look away. Her hair is falling over her shoulder, as delicate and soft as the words written before you. There’s a palpable tension in the air, low and thumping like a familiar heartbeat. 

Green eyes, flickering back to you. Something behind them that you can’t interpret. You feel like she can see your every thought, the very contents of your being laid out before her as she analyzes each individual piece. It’s frightening and it’s intoxicating, and you look away. 

You’re reading her words now, the sentences flowing and mashing together in your mind as you pluck the strings of her mind with your careful hands. It’s beautiful and well-written, layered with so many truths and lies that you can’t begin to interpret the true meaning of her sentences. 

Something tingles at the base of your skull, warm and light as it blossoms through your head. Understanding. Or, the semblance of it. 

You look up. Light green eyes stare back into yours. They’re captivating, and you wonder if they ever left. If she watched you the same way you did her, attempting to unravel her very being through carefully constructed lines and flowing script and words layered with meaning. 

Those green eyes have the power to shatter you. You pick up your pen. 

“So what is it that you do?” The man is speaking. 

Your mind crashes back into the present, another hairline fracture appearing on the surface of your heart. You can practically feel it, the torment running deeper than the illusion the thin crack offers. It’s bone-aching, and you suddenly feel exhausted. 

“I’m a copywriter,” Natasha answers, sounding casual. You can sense the clipped tone and undercurrent of frustration, and your hand gently traces circles against her wrist. “I graduated with a degree in English Literature.”

“Ah,” the man says, sounding every bit as pretentious as he looks. “My wife got a degree in that as well.”

Another crack, splintering into you. Your eyes flick down, catching the ring on Wanda’s finger. It’s shining and big, the diamonds glittering back at you, the mockery of it seeping into your soul. The meaning of it is every bit as surface level as what you assume Wanda’s feelings for this man are. You know better, she had told you just as much. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever love a man in the way I’m meant to.” 

You don’t have to ask what she means. You don’t respond, a gentle sigh escaping you as the weight of her head rests solidly on your shoulder. The clock on your nightstand blinks back at you, the numbers twinkling in the early morning. Pens and paper and journals are strewn around you, a poetry book facedown in your lap. Your voice had grown too tired from reading, but neither of you seemed to mind the comfortable silence stretching around the room.

Until now.

“I know,” you say. There are not many words you can speak.

It's simple. That’s a lie. It’s not, it’s complicated and it's painful and there’s nothing you can do to take that away from her. You wish you could. You would do anything to let Wanda’s soul have respite in your presence, to be unburdened from thoughts of sin and duty, to be able to finally breathe properly. 

Soft fingers find your hand, tangling with your fingers almost hesitantly. Your palm slides easily against hers, and you swallow the lump in your throat. Your hands fit like a jigsaw puzzle, feeling like the final piece as it clicks into place. Confusion and frustration sliding away as the picture finally makes sense. 

“Poetry feels like prayer.” Wanda’s voice is quiet, and you know what she means. It feels holy, even with the words only spoken in the sublunary space of your dorm room. Her head twists on your shoulder, and you feel your gaze drawn to her like the inevitable magnetic pull of the earth. Her green eyes peer up at you. “Will you pray with me?” 

Picking up the poetry book in your lap, you begin reading. Your thumb runs over the pages. Staring at the words in front of you, you wonder why they’re blurry. You realize later, after Wanda had fallen asleep from being lulled into comfort by your voice, that it had been unshed tears. 

You let them fall.

“Yes,” Wanda is saying, and her voice is exactly the same as you’d remembered. She’s speaking, saying something about the university she’d attended and how she got her degree. The only thing you can focus on is the familiar lilt of her words, the smooth cadence you’ve memorized and seared into your brain. 

It’s painful, but you can’t take your eyes off of her. Natasha’s hand moves slightly against your waist, and you blink. The man next to Wanda has his arms almost possessively around her shoulders, his hawkish eyes watching you. 

You look away. 

“Oh, you and my wife went to the same University,” Natasha says, trying to be helpful. You don’t appreciate it. Her words are genuine, but the statement falls short, a beat of awkward silence stretching into an eternity as you try to respond. What could you even say?

Yes. We did. I fell in love with the confident, full-of-life brunette who looked at me like I hung the moon, and I looked at her like she painted the stars just to give the moon some company. I loved her as easy as breathing, and now my lungs never feel full enough, my breaths labored and weighted with the words of love I breathed into her ear that I can’t take back, won’t take back. 

Refuse to take back. 

“We must have missed each other,” Wanda says, her eyes flashing in your direction, but not fully meeting yours. “It’s a big school.”

A polite smile plasters itself onto your face, too small and stiff to be sincere. Your heart clenches painfully, a small part of your mind begging Wanda to meet your eyes. God, it feels just like when you were at University. 

Her husband’s fingers tighten slightly around her shoulder, pulling her further into his side. You wonder if Wanda feels like she’s suffocating yet. You hope not, you want her to breathe. To fill her lungs with light and hope and passion and… not whatever this is.

Another memory, sludging through your mind like a heavy foot through quicksand. 

You don’t talk to Wanda much outside of class and the late-night poetry readings in your dorm. She blames it on her busy social life, being in a sorority is apparently no joke. You’ve learned to keep your head down when you see her in public, her eyes always lingering near you, but never fully meeting yours, too focused on the sorority sisters that always seem to surround her. Appearances are everything to her, you know that. 

But god, it hurts. 

It still doesn’t cut quite as deep as the weekend her parents came to visit. 

Wanda had grown up the daughter of a pastor, a well-spoken man with a quiet, hidden-in-the-shadows wife. You’d watched from afar, noticing the small glances her mother would send her way, and the nervous twitching of her fingers as she adjusted Wanda's collar, or brushed a piece of invisible lint from her daughter's skirt. 

Per usual, Wanda was nothing short of perfect. Her hair was perfectly curled, laying gently over her shoulders as the brunette strands glowed in the sunlight. She’d done her makeup just subtle enough to perfect her already dainty features, but not enough to rouse suspicion that she was promiscuous. 

You’d watched her do her makeup many times, her hands perfecting the art. You wondered how much of her father’s influence and mother’s worry controlled the easy flick of her brush as it spread a light blush across her cheeks. 

Tracing your gaze down her form, you glance back to the book in front of you. A poem glared up at you, the words swimming off the page as you remember the subtle curve of Wanda’s spine, her head bowed slightly as her father spoke into her ear. 

Wanda was full of life, shining brightly and standing out amongst the rest of the population at this university. Or perhaps that was simply your own observation, after all, your entire waking moments were consumed by thoughts of her. 

The point is, she wasn’t… docile. Or submissive, or meek like her posture suggests when her father lays a hand on her shoulder. You can’t tell if he’s gripping his fingers tightly or gently around her, but either way, Wanda doesn’t make a move to remove his hand. 

She’s nodding, her head turning towards him. You can see her smiling easily at him, saying something back. 

His hand returns to his side, and you hope that you imagine the slope of her mother’s shoulders relaxing. The way her fingers twitch towards her daughter, wanting to replace the feeling of his hand against her skin, but choosing to brush a strand of her hair behind her ear instead. Always deflecting her true intentions.

Wanda’s face turns towards her mother. You see the momentary look that passes between them, but you’re unable to interpret it from across the quad. The moment passes, and her mother returns her attention back to her husband. Always a faithful, obedient wife. 

When Wanda and her parents pass by the table you’re seated at, she doesn’t spare you a second glance. Her green eyes are focused on some unimportant thing in the distance, her father’s lips moving near her ear again. You silently plead with her to look your way, to take solace in the silent comfort you can provide. 

Her green eyes don’t meet yours. You feel a crack appear on your heart, and you swallow harshly as you stare blankly at the poetry in front of you. Shoving the crack down where you’ve displaced all the other ones, you begin to read. 

The poem is a romantic one. Full of yearning and hope and unbridled passion. The only thing you can think about is how incredibly tragic it seems. 

Natasha’s thumb is slowly moving, caressing your hip as she holds you loosely by her side. Not possessive, but not without care either. You’re grateful for the touch, and focus on it as Wanda’s husband continues to talk about… what is he talking about?

You don’t really care. 

The version of Wanda that you knew and the woman you see in front of you clash in your mind, splintering your thoughts. You’re also aware of your wife beside you, and guilt creeps into your heart. 

You chose Natasha. You’re happy with her, you stood across from her and declared your love and promised her that you would love her until the end of time. You intend to stand by that, to uphold your promise. Imagining a future without her seems impossible. 

But you’d also imagined a future with Wanda once. It didn’t seem right to just ignore that. And it was impossible to keep the memories at bay. Not when she was standing before you for the first time in ten fucking years, with her perfect hair and her natural looking makeup and her light green eyes and the scent of vanilla washing over you and and and-

Breathing in, feeling the comforting scent of vanilla enveloping you in the strong embrace of a familiar lover. Wanda’s hair just beneath your nose, the silky strands brushing against your cheek and chin as you place a gentle kiss on her head. 

Her arms are wrapped around you, her breaths even. You aren’t asleep, but you let her think that you are. It's easier for her to be herself when she thinks nobody is watching. Her fingers slowly dance along the exposed skin of your stomach, softly tracing nonsensical patterns against you as you feel your heart pound steadily. 

A poetry book rests at your side, forgotten in the favor of holding her in your arms. You understand what all the poets mean, with their suffering and their longing written painstakingly on pages of crinkled paper beneath their ink-stained hands, as you hold Wanda gently against you. This moment feels too precious, too raw to ever be put into words, to write down for the world to see. 

No, you’d much rather keep this moment pure and untouched, resting in your heart alongside the inevitability of Wanda Maximoff. 

You can feel her in your soul. Or rather, maybe it’s your soul that’s bleeding and filling the space between you two. You hope that it is mixing with Wanda’s, filling the painful parts of her that she pushes down and cushioning them with warmth. Is it too much to hope that she’ll carry a part of you with her forever? Is it selfish to take the willing parts of her soul that bleed into yours and keep them there until they’re so ingrained in the fiber of your being that you would lose yourself if she took it back?

Maybe that's the true definition of love. 

Natasha's hand grips you tightly, her fingers tense around your hip. Her eyes are locked on Wanda’s husband, his drawling voice grating your nerves. You risk a glance at Wanda, recognizing her blank look at the ground for what it is. Escape. 

She used to tell you about the places she’d go inside her mind when life got to be too much for her. It sounded peaceful. She could be whoever she wanted inside her own head, without the pressure of her father or the quiet concern of her mother and the encompassing guilt that she was never making the right choices. You hope she's there right now, and return your gaze towards her husband. 

“I mean,” Her husband's eyes are sharp, glinting dangerously at your wife. “It’s so nice that they allow so many… diverse individuals to work with your company.” 

His eyes travel down her body before flicking over to you briefly. 

“Is it hard to keep your lifestyle and work life separate?” he asks, and your blood boils. You see Wanda’s head lower further. “I imagine it's quite difficult to relate to your peers, with a secret like that.”

Natasha is seconds away from exploding, tearing him down with sharp words and securing her own termination in the same breath. 

You find your voice, the quiet strength of your words surprising you. “I’ve been out and proud since I was in high school. I’ve never been ashamed of who I am. And neither is my wife.”

Wanda’s eyes cut sharply over to you, that specific shade of light green filling your vision. 

“Why the fuck would you give this to me if you didn’t want me to interpret it that way?” You’re not yelling, you never would. Not at her. Never at Wanda. But you can feel the frustration leaking into each syllable, and you hate the way that Wanda’s shoulders seem to hunch in on themselves. 

“I never meant for you to…” Wanda can’t continue, her eyes locked on the poetry book you’re clutching between your fingers. 

“You never meant for me to fall in love with you?” 

A flinch, green eyes staring at the carpet and gentle fingers clenched uselessly over the back of a chair. The words bounce around your dorm room, settling in with a tentative weariness. 

“Why would you give me this poetry book about romance and passion and fighting for love if that’s not what you wanted me to think about you?” you set the book down on your desk, the pages flipping open. You can see the smudged ink of your annotations. That was a flaw of yours, always writing too fast as you try to keep up with the thoughts in your head. 

“That’s not what I mean I-” Wanda’s eyes are locked on the book and you watch her swallow harshly. Her voice is shaky, her head bowed. You hate it, and there’s nothing you can do to make it better. “I can’t love you.”

“You don’t love me?”

“That’s not what I said.” Wanda’s voice is quiet. 

Oh. 

“You don’t understand,” Wanda has unshed tears in her eyes. You want to wipe them away, your fingers twitching, unsure if you’re allowed to anymore. “My family means everything to me.”

Oh.

The weight of tragedy settles in, burying itself deep within your bones and wrapping around your heart and squeezing. All of the cracks you’d smothered appear at once, splintering and creating new fractures with each labored pump of poisonous blood coursing through your body. 

You finally understand what the poets mean. The metaphors and desperation, the weight of grief and longing and the way it sticks to your very soul like a parasite that you keep feeding and nurturing because the pain of forgetting is worse than the crushing travesty of remembering. 

Wanda is talking, and for the first time, you’re not paying attention to her words. She’s saying something about her parents and financial dependence and them cutting her off and all you can hear is that she’s stuck and scared and trying to protect herself and you can’t choose her path for her. 

It’s agony, it’s grief and it’s nothing like what you imagined as you innocently read the words scattered across the pages of your poetry book. It’s so much fucking worse. Wanda’s hand is on the doorknob of your dorm, her vanilla scent already fading from your walls as she looks at you with longing and grief and something devastating hidden and suppressed deep within her soul. You wonder if this will be the last time her green eyes ever look at you with genuine emotion shining through them. 

You wonder if you’ll ever escape the numbing chill of loneliness that settles beneath your skin like an old friend. 

Vision, you’d learned his name at some point during the conversation, seems at a loss for words for the first time since you’ve met him. His face is steadily reddening, the tips of his ears practically scarlet as you watch the hand on Wanda’s shoulder tighten.

“I’ve seen your name credited a lot, you must be very good at what you do.” Wanda’s voice is melodic, her words placating yet genuine. She’s mending the rift, her words an unspoken apology for her husband’s behavior as he stands sullen beside her. 

Natasha smiles and begins speaking.

It’s strange, to see the woman you’re in love with talking with Wanda. There was a time when you thought you’d never find someone who made you feel the way Wanda did. You were convinced that your love would live and die with her. 

Then, you met your wife. 

Natasha was everything you could have ever hoped for. She loved you openly and proudly from the moment she met you. Her commitment to you had never waned, her gestures true and meanings genuine. You’d never trusted somebody more, never felt as comfortable with another person. 

She stood by your side when others did not. She held you when you were sick, and stayed by your side when you were at your lowest. The day that you had married her was the best day of your life, and your vows were nothing short of pure truth. The green eyes that had looked at you from across the altar were vibrant and dark, your love for that shade of green far surpassing the one you’d loved all those years ago. 

So why did it still hurt to think about Wanda?

If you had to choose. Right now, Natasha or Wanda, you knew you’d choose your wife in every lifetime. But that didn’t explain the splintering cracks reappearing on your heart the longer you stayed in Wanda’s presence. 

Music rattles the floor, a plethora of swirling hues surrounding you. Your senses are dulled by the fiery liquor burning within your veins, your brain finally relaxing. 

“Dude, come on don’t just stand there like a weirdo,” Kate pulls you away from the wall, spilling your cup in the process. 

You both look down at it for a moment, before bursting into peals of laughter that leave you clutching her shoulder for support as she bends at the waist. Her dark hair falls neatly over her shoulders, her backward cap holding it in place. 

The music drowns out most of your laughter, but you’re aware of the eyes on both you and Kate as you wipe tears from your eyes. She’s pulling you closer to the DJ, dancing sloppily with you. You can’t bring yourself to care about the people around you. There was one goal tonight, get absolutely sloshed at the local college bars and then pass out on Kate’s couch to forget about the whole thing. 

“Who the fuck let the sloppy, drunk dykes in?”

Kate doesn’t hear the words, but you do. You turn to face the group near you, the liquor making you bold. It’s a bunch of sorority girls, with their skin-tight dresses and judging eyes watching you with caked-on mascara. Your heart drops when you see Wanda standing in the middle of them. 

Your blood runs cold, a surge of sadness and fury sweeping through you. It’s confusing, but most of all, it’s fucking infuriating. 

Behind you, Kate stumbles, her elbow knocking into your side. Your arms wrap around her, keeping her upright as she mumbles an apology in your ear. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Wanda whisper something to one of the girls, their eyes on you and filled with mirthful laughter. 

“You’re right, Wanda,” the girl says, loud enough for the whole group to hear. “These dyke sluts would probably jump on the nearest dick they could find, since nobody else wants to fuck them.”

The blood rushes to your ears, and Kate’s gasp reverberates around your skull. The bar seems quieter than before, and a multitude of eyes are on you and the blonde bitch in front of you is smirking like she just stole your favorite candy and Wanda is laughing and pointedly avoiding eye contact with you but her smile wavers slightly as her eyes grow sad for a split second before she remembers where she is and you’re so fucking mad and it all just seems so goddamn tragic and-

Your fist connects solidly with that stupid, smug smirk that the blonde girl proudly plasters on her face. There are gasps and Kate whooping loudly in your ear and arms wrapped around you and pulling you towards the door and alcohol making your head spin and fuck you’ve never felt more alive. 

Wanda’s eyes finally meet yours. They’re filled with shock, but just before she turns away, you see a sliver of gratitude and the hint of an apology glimmering in their depths. 

Needless to say, both you and Kate are banned from that bar. 

Your wife is laughing. The echoes of mean laughter from Wanda and her sorority sisters fade into the background noise of your brain as you refocus on the conversation. Natasha’s soft chuckles bring a smile to your face before you can stop it, your lips turning up as you look at her. 

She’s effortlessly pretty, her eyes crinkled slightly at the edges even as her gaze flickers warily over to Vision. Her arm is wrapped around your waist, solid yet unrestrictive. 

Wanda’s eyes linger around the fingers that lightly draw circles against your hip. She seems to shake herself, eyes quickly moving back towards safer territory as she focuses on Natasha’s face. You don’t miss the fleeting expression of longing that flits across her face, her appearance seeming soul-crushingly tired for a mere moment before it smooths over in a way that speaks to years of practice. 

You wonder if she’s remembering the same night that rises to the front of your mind. You try to combat it, to stay in the moment. Natasha's fingers squeeze your hips lovingly, and you descend into the memory with bone-deep guilt. 

The concrete is cold beneath you, the wind picking up slightly and threading its way through your hair. You shiver, feeling Wanda adjust her body closer to yours. You’re aware of her heat spreading through you. Her hand fits seamlessly in yours, and you wonder when loving Wanda became as easy and inevitable as breathing. 

“Do you think the poets compared their words to the stars?” Wanda asks.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” you say, breathing in her vanilla scent. It’s hard to focus on her words when her body is pressed fully against yours, your left side burning with warmth and something else that you’re almost scared to identify. 

Wanda chuckles, the sound heating your cheeks further. 

“Well,” she pauses. That’s one of the things you love about her, how careful she is with her words. “Do you think they viewed their words, their poems, as unattainable yet beautiful and pure?”

You’re quiet. You can think of something that is also unattainable, pure and completely inevitable. It’s not poetry, and it’s not the glittering stars that take up your vision. She’s lying right beside you, her nose bright red from the wind and a future stretching out ahead of her that she is able to mold into something beautiful and something that is completely her own. If only she had the courage to do so. You hope she does. 

“Of course they did. They’re poets,” you respond, and Wanda hums. “Do you feel that way?”

Wanda doesn’t respond, and that’s enough of an answer for you. 

The silence stretches on, but it's comfortable. Wanda is shifting silently, more of her body pressing against you, the wind having died down a while ago, leaving no easy excuses for her leg pressed fully against yours. 

“You wanna know what I think?” Wanda’s voice is quiet, yet firm. 

Turning your head, you look at her. She looks back, her lips mere inches away from yours. You can feel the soft, warm breath escaping her lips and hitting your face as she speaks. 

“I think that you’re like the stars,” Wanda begins, her green eyes sparkling at you. They glance down imperceptibly, almost too quickly for you to catch. You notice, of course you do. “You're incomparable, chemical almost.” 

Wanda trails off, her eyes firmly focused on your lips. You understand, you always do. 

“I can’t tell if you’re a curse or a miracle,” you whisper, feeling Wanda lean in. The tension vibrates palpably between your lips and hers. “But I don’t really care.”

Soft lips collide with yours, a seismic shift that causes your head to spin for a moment. It’s perfect and pure and something bordering on holiness and you find yourself never wanting to leave this moment. Then, Wanda’s lips are moving against yours and the heat inside you is rising and her hands are everywhere and you can’t get enough of her and-

Her moans feel almost reverent, stretching out into the minimal space between you as she arches herself closer to you. Her skin is pressed against yours, warm and alive and feeling every last bit like an all-consuming force that you gladly pull closer. Your fingers slip inside her easily, the feeling of her bringing tears to your eyes. You want to live in this moment forever, with the taste of her on your lips and her thighs impossibly soft around you, her head thrown back as she chants your name like a prayer. 

You’ve never believed in God. But in this moment, you finally know what it truly means to worship. 

A man’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. 

“Well, as lovely as it’s been to meet you…” Vision trails off, and Natasha simply raises an eyebrow. 

“Thank you for the wonderful conversation,” Wanda’s smooth words cut in, another unspoken apology and excuse for her husband's behavior. “We should probably be leaving, it’s getting late.”

Green eyes glance at her husband, whether for permission or in reprimand, you can’t tell. Either way, it gets Vision to move, a firm head nod directed towards your wife before he’s striding towards the door, pulling Wanda with him. 

She’s leaving. Again. 

A final memory claws its way to the surface. You know this one. It's a memory that you’ve kept hidden in the deepest part of your brain, in a place full of sticky cobwebs and scarce lighting, meant to be forgotten. 

It’s inevitable.

Wanda is almost at the exit, her husband's hand possessive against the small of her back. It speaks of ownership, of pride. You despise it. It’s nothing like the soft, loving touch of your wife’s hand against your waist.

The turn of a head and soft brunette waves falling gently around delicate, hunched shoulders. Soft skin, glowing slightly in the dim, red lighting of an exit sign. Green eyes, piercing yours in the same manner that they had all those years ago. 

Your breath catches, lodging itself painfully in your throat. Or maybe it's just your chest, and what lies beneath the surface. A heart, with cracks all along the surface, squeezing painfully, the tension, the agony almost too much to bear. 

A single tear slides down your cheek. You hear Natasha murmuring something in your ear, a gentle hand wiping your face dry. 

There’s a mask sliding into place over those perfect features that you’d memorized a decade ago. Green eyes, light in shade, sliding past you as if you’re an insignificant, forgotten trophy on the highest shelf. And then she’s gone, out the door with only the faint scent of vanilla and a permanent memory etched into your mind. 

The cracks splinter, and without warning, shatter completely.

“Pick up, pick up… please just… fucking. Ah, just, goddamnit pick up the fucking phone Wanda.”

You’re drunk, the phone feeling awkward and heavy in your hands. The sound of a dial tone beeping ricochets through your mind, and you clumsily jerk the phone away from your ear.  Blearily, you take in the four previous calls you’ve made to Wanda. 

One more try can’t hurt. Right?

You firmly press your finger against her name, the sound of your phone dialing her number washing over you. The tiny numbers in the corner of your screen read somewhere between one or two in the morning, but you don’t care. All you need is for Wanda to pick up. 

A sound, different from before. You hear quiet breathing on the other side of the line. 

God, you’ve missed that sound. The feeling of her head resting against your shoulder or chest as slow measured breaths fill the four walls of your dorm room. The small puffs of air hitting your skin when she shifted, burying her face in your neck. 

You say as much, the words spilling out of you. You’re not sure if Wanda is listening, but you hope she is. 

“Fuck, I- I just miss you so much. It feels like I’m dying every time I see you, and I can’t take your eyes avoiding mine anymore. I mean,” you hiccup, the sound pathetic even to your own ears. It doesn’t matter. 

“Don’t you miss us?” you say, your voice quiet. The soft breaths on the other end of the line hitch, and you grasp at it. “I miss the flame of what we were, I don’t even really know what we were, but… I miss the small reign we had. Even if it was just in the space of my dorm room. I would go through the pain of you every day if it meant I could be close to you. I-”

You lose the words, the regret pouring through you as quickly as a flooding river. The words can’t escape fast enough. 

“Do you regret us? I know we were a secret, and I was okay with that. I would have done anything, kept anything private, secret even, just to keep you in my life. You know that Wanda.” You draw a shaky breath. You hope that you don’t imagine the same type of breath on the other end of the line. 

“Do you miss it?” You ask, hating the way your voice cracks gently. You hear Wanda’s sharp, soft inhale. “Do you regret the secret of us?”

Click.

---

Taglist: @alexawynters @msvenablesbitch @marilynthornhilllover @lifespectator @milkeeteaa @imnotawitch @marvels--slut @justabrokensunshine @dorabledewdroop @wandsmxmff @esposadejoyhuerta @captivepotato

Dm or comment to be added!

[bloodibambiidoll]

love love love the rafe cameron x weirdgirl!reader au!! imagine reader at the country club overhearing some mean boys making fun of her and how rafe is crazy to date someone like her :(( she stays in her room after hearing this and rafe catches her biting herself and crying (she normally bites him but after hearing this she feels like she can’t) oh my heart-

No bc this is like sooo perfect. This is literally so her. I’ve been having a lot of fun coming up with lore for her so I’m so glad you’re liking her so far!! Warnings: (I’d like to note that weird girl is autistic coded bc I am autistic), Reader gets her feelings hurt, protective Rafe, biting 18+MNDI!! Part of this AU

“Yeah dude, she’s like so hot until she opens her mouth.” Your footsteps come to a sudden halt, your shiny black Mary Jane’s squeaking against the polished wooden floors of the country club. There’s a group of guys about your age standing around the corner in a circle all snickering to each other.

“No, yeah, like she says the fucking weirdest shit in that creepy little monotone voice. I have no idea how Rafe puts up with it.”

“The pussy must be out of this world or some shit because I would never be able to handle that. I saw her last week on the beach collecting animal bones or some shit bro. Bet she went back to check on her kill.” The entire group starts busting up laughing just as you feel hot tears start to stream down your cheeks. You just want to leave but they are blocking the only path to the door so you suck it up and high tail it as fast as you past them.

You were waiting for Rafe to be done with his game of golf but after that? You really didn’t want to bother him with wanting to leave early so you decided to just walk the mile and a half home. If you were lucky maybe you’d run into the neighborhood cat you befriended and he would walk part of the way with you.

When you get home you rush up the stairs and into your room, slamming the door behind you. Your head is swimming with negative thoughts. You were always scared you were too weird for Rafe, too much, too different from him. So when you hear guys he hangs around saying things like that about you? It’s hard to not let it get to your head.

You kick off your shoes and practically tear off the cute outfit you spent over an hour putting together. You grab your pink fuzzy robe, and walk over to your bunny’s cage, smiling down at her with watery eyes.

“I think you’re the only one that really understands me, Lydia.” Your bottom lip wobbles as you pick her up and walk over to your bed. You rock back and forth slightly as you caress her fur, trying to self soothe. You’re realizing in this moment that maybe you really are too much for Rafe because you hardly remember how to calm yourself down without him.

You wish so badly that he was here. You know he would hold you tight and let you sink your teeth into him until your tears stopped flowing. It seems to be one of the only things that truly calms you down so you decide to bring your own hand up to your mouth and bite down on it. It soothes you a little, but it isn’t Rafe. He’s called you a few times but you just let it ring, he’s probably worried, but you’re too embarrassed to pick up.

“Baby? Are you here?” The minute you hear Rafe’s voice you want to run to him, but the words of the boys at the country club playing in your head on repeat in your head cements you in place. “Bats?”

When he opens your bedroom door and takes in the sight of you his heart sinks.

“Baby girl, what’s going on? What happened? Where did you go? You scared the shit outta me.” He rushes over to you, coming to sit next to you on your bed. He rests his large hands on your calves and rubs soothing circles on your skin with the pads of his thumbs. You whimper and shake your head, your mouth still latched onto your hand. “Batty, you’ve gotta talk to me, okay? Tell me what’s going on.”

“I was…” You pull your hand away from your face, resting it on Lydia’s back as you pet her softly, the feeling of her fur grounding you. “I was coming back from the bathroom and I heard Jake and those guys… talking about me.”

“What about you?” Rafe’s voice takes on a protective tone, especially when another fit of sobs erupts through you. He hooks his arms under you so he can pull you and your bunny softly into his lap. “Princess. Tell me what they said.”

“They said - they said that they don’t know how you put up with me because I’m so weird and that you’re probably only with me because the pussy is good.” You sniffle as your tears continue to fall and if Rafe didn’t know you needed him right now he would be on his way back to the club to beat all of their asses until they couldn’t walk.

“Hey, hey, nah, none of that.” He cups your face in his hand, wiping away your tears. “You know I love you, all your weird shit and all. I’m not ‘putting up’ with you, I fuckin’ love your weird little ass.”

“They also… they also said that - that I probably kill animals…” You start sobbing again and Rafe’s entire body tenses. He knows how much you love animals, how important they are to you. He wants to fucking rip their throats out.

“Princess… I’m so sorry they said that. They just don’t know you, aight? You’d never harm a fly. Don’t let that shit get to you. I know it’s hard, but fuck em, they don’t know fuckin’ shit about my baby.” He gives you a reassuring smile as he wipes away some of your remaining tears. His hand swipes past your lips and you turn your head slightly to sink your teeth into it. He chuckles, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “There’s my weird girl.”

[nayaesworld]

Rugged Whiskey

Warnings: Alcohol use, Smut, Toxic behavior and situations

—

Terry Richmond X OC!Khia

A/N: Chile Terry is on thee worst demon time in here…

__

Friday couldn’t come fast enough for Terry. The work week was hard and he was at his wits end with an attitude to show for it. His dark brows scrunched in annoyance and a slight mug on his face as he raced home to wash away the impurities of his workplace. What he needed was a release, and a happy welcome into the weekend. He had settled on checking out a new bar about 15 minutes from his apartment, the reviews were great and the food and drinks looked yummy. Why not check it out?

Fresh out of the shower with a large towel wrapped around his waist he applied a light leave in cream to his short waves and brushed it throughout his head. Outfit laid out like his first day of school uniform, he began getting dressed. A silver wristwatch accentuating his bulky arm, he misted himself down with his Jo Malone cologne,snatched up his truck keys, and headed down to his truck.

He ate the 15 minute drive up…mostly because he drove awfully fast most days, and he spent another few minutes finding a decent parking spot. The bar was jumping and he watched as hotties of all shades of brown sashayed into Sapphire, some accompanied by a man. He read from the digital sign on the front doors that tonight was R&B night and hurriedly paid his fee at the door thanking god he had arrived on time and didn’t have to stand in line.

Terry liked the atmosphere so far. The loud music thumped through the walls and bodies gyrated to the beat of the good music. The music was good and all, but Terry needed hot liquor running through his veins. He found the bar quickly and that’s when he laid eyes on an angel. Had the heavens opened up above and dropped one…just for him?

Low rise jeans with a tight black baby tee with the establishment name on the front and low rise jeans that showed off the arch in her back right above that fat ass. As he got closer to the elegant looking bar with plentiful seating her deep mahogany skin glowed under the warm lighting and her perfect plump lips were lined a dark brown and covered in a shimmery clear gloss.

He subconsciously checked his fit and ran a hand over his smooth waves before walking up yet he was smacked in the face by her beauty and a cute little country accent. He was never prepared for her to fuck his head up like she would.

“Hi, welcome to Sapphire. I’m Khia and I’ll be your bartender. What can I getcha’ to sip on tonight?” With a warm smile and high cheekbones she welcomed him to the bar and Terry’s skin felt feverish when she laid eyes on him.

“Hello pretty… I’ll take any of your top shelf whiskey on the rocks…I’m not picky.” Except Terry was picky, yet he was gobsmacked and grinning like the Cheshire Cat in front of this brown beauty.

He watched her Eeny Meeny, Miny Moe his whiskey before grabbing him a glass to fill with ice and her whiskey of choosing. She topped it with a small black straw and placed a napkin underneath before gracefully strutting back and placing it in front of him.

Terry thanked her and complimented the gold crescent moon necklace that hung from her neck, and next he was complimenting her short square French tip nails and watched as she cracked a cute smile at him. The two fell into a comfortable conversation about a basketball game that played on one of the large TVs and Terry sucked down his whiskey becoming more entranced by little miss Khia.

__

The layered jet black buss down framed the angel's face, seemingly flowing as they conversed.Her upbeat and cheerful attitude had earned her a five star rating and review on the small tablet in front of him as well as a $80 tip. He didn’t care if she was like this with all her customers and just played her part for a tip. Terry wasn’t opposed to spending money on women, and he didn’t care if the tip was more than gratuity, because he’d already planned on tipping her yet again in cash before the night ended.

She was a sight for sore eyes, her slanted eyes the color of the top shelf whiskey he’d just ordered with a view of top shelf ass to go right along with it. His eyes never left her, and when the bar got busy he moved away to let her do her job.

Women eyed him on the dance floor like hawks. Watching and waiting to snatch him up before the next one did. But Terry knew better, and he was laser focused on the bartender across the room from him. He watched her dismiss the drunk men at the bar with the blow of a kiss, a wave of her hand, and a smirk on her face,simultaneously cutting off their liquor when they got a little too rowdy with her. Flirty and mouthy with cocoa skin, just how he liked em’.

He was on his second glass of whiskey and wasn’t done with the amber colored alcohol. Terry was a dog off that whiskey; it went down hot and rugged and coaxed forward his nastiest thoughts yet it was his favorite drink to consume.

And Khia was a bad bitch, what he wouldn’t give to see her oiled up in his bedroom pop-Terry hurried to turn his head with his glass to his lips when she’d caught him staring again from across the dance floor. He acted busy and stared at the time on his phone screen…12:30 am. Not noticing the bartender baddie sliding from around the bartop to head his way.

A small warm hand pressed onto his lower arm causing him to whip around quickly. “Oh..I’m sorry for scaring you. Do you mind if I join you.. I’m off the clock?” She giggled softly at his startled expression.

“Nah sweetheart not at all…I was actually gonna ask you eventually but you had your hands full back there.” His thumb pointed back at the bar and he led her to a corner table secluded from all the nosey eyes. Up close she smelled of warm peaches and vanilla, a mouth watering sweet scent that filled his nostrils.

She had walked over with her own drink in hand; a lemon drop. When they had talked earlier she’d told him they were her favorite, sweet and easy to make but packed a punch. The two sat at the table rather close to each other and conversation flowed.

“So you don’t like large groups of people or clubs for that matter, yet you work in one?” Terrys raised glass to his lips as he chuckled at her.

“Heyy it pays the bills…and it’s really good money if you know what you’re doing and how to act with different people and personalities.”

“Hmm I hear you…so what kind of personality am I?” Curious and tipsy Terry rubbed and pulled at his goatee, he was eager to hear what she thought.

He watched her ponder over her words for a bit, her pretty face all scrunched up in thought. “Well at first you looked out of place and you kinda had this brooding expression, but then when you spoke it was different. You’re very nice and handsome and you hold a conversation very well…the last two hours of my shift literally flew by.”

“You think I'm handsome?….well I think you sexy asf. Best looking woman in this whole state if you ask me…. pretty girl.” He turned his head toward her, eating up the blush that flashed against her skin.

She nibbled on her plump lined lips and for a few seconds they locked eyes with each other before she scooted closer in her chair. “Are you flirting with me Mr.Terry?…because I assure you I’ll knock your socks off first.”

“And fuck handsome I think you’re fine asf.” She continued. “One of the finest I’ve seen in here.”

Terrys lower lip was tickled by his tongue. It lapped at the whiskey around his mouth and slithered back into his mouth; though he’d rather it be exploring Khia’s body and willing mouth.

“Mmm is that right Miss Khia…you got something you wanna do about that though?” He leaned back into his chair and let his long legs spread open, if it was something she wanted from him he was gonna make her come out and say it and stand on it.

She stood from her seat and offered her hand to him. “Dance with me….this is one of my faves.” Grabbing her hand he let her pull him to the dance floor and he heard the intro to Drunk In Love pour into his ears from the loud speakers.

I’ve been drinkin’, I’ve been drinkin’…I get filthy when that liquor get into me…

She turned to him and sang word for word, because in this moment the lyrics were reality for both of them, tipsy and filled to the brim with attraction and need for each. She turned her back to him and whined her waist against him, tossing her sleek hair from her neck and letting the bass of the song control her hips.

Why can’t I keep my fingers off it? Baby I want you, na-na…

He’d pay her bills and put a house in her name for her if it meant he got to feel her like this whenever he wanted to. His hands slid across her exposed stomach and down to her hips positioning her dead on his crotch. She could let Beyoncé get her in trouble if she wanted to, he would eat her alive.

….You got me faded-faded-faded Baby I want you na-na…can’t keep your eyes off my fatty Daddy I want you na-na..

Under the pulsing strobe lights Terry and Khia grinded against one another. Turning to face Terry Khia let her body drop into a slow squat, using his thick toned thighs for support as she held one hand over her head to pop her ass.

Last thing I remember is our Beautiful bodies grindin’ up in that club… Drunk in love..

And when she slowly rose back up she let her hand graze the bulge that had formed from her little performance. “How’s that for doing something about it?” She giggled into his ear at his dazed expression.

“You know you fine ass fuck don’t you?… I like a confident bad bitch.” Terry pulled a crisp hundred dollar bill from his wallet and slid it into the back pocket of her jeans, palming her thick ass.

__

One hand pressed against the brick wall and the other on her chin Terry and Khia were lip locked outside the bar. The loud smacking noises were fueled by a deep hunger and lust. Khia’s fingers slid up under Terry’s shirt from the front and she sighed into his mouth at the hard ridges of his abs. She loved a built man and Terry had her damn near melting.

“You coming home with me lil mama?….hmm you want some dick?” Terry pressed his plump lips into her neck and sucked roughly, he was so horny he was sure his erection could break through bricks right now.

“Mm yess I want this dick…I’m so wet Terry, can we go?” Her eagerness to let him slut her out had his pants feeling two sizes too small.

“Where’s your car, I’ll walk you to it…then I want you to follow me to my apartment. Imma give you what you want.”

He watched her dainty finger point toward the sleek aegean blue metallic Honda Civic and they began walking to her car. His hand sliding into the back pocket of her jeans pulling a laugh out of her.

“You just can’t keep your hands off of me…let me find out.”

Head cocked to the side he raised his bushy brows “Find out what?”

“That you feigning for this good punani…don’t be shame now Terry I’d be feigning too.”

“Oh so you doubling down…that pussy must be good good then?.., that’s cool because I got good thick dick to go right along with it…that good enough for you Miss goodpuss?”

“Show it to me…I wanna see that dick before I take it from you.” Terry smacked her ass after that. She had a nasty mouth, he had to make her eat her words before the night was over.

They finally made it to her car and she popped the locks and opened her driver side door and sat down facing Terry, watching and waiting. Making sure they didn’t have any prying eyes, Terry loosened his belt and unbuttoned his jeans. The gray boxer briefs were moist in the front where the head of his dick sat and it strained to get loose.

He slid them down just enough for his heavy length to slip out and leaned against the roof of her car. Khia’s warm hand sliding up and down and lightly squeezing had him throwing his head back and cursing.

“What the fuck…it’s so big and heavy. You just walk around all day with this big dick?…I’ve never seen one so big, I wanna kiss it. Can I ?” All her nasty talking had his heart rate picking up and his knuckles rapping against the hood of her car impatiently.

“You kiss this dick and imma make you suck it too…don’t play with me.” She ignored him and bent down to press her lips onto the leaking tip, juicy lips pecking over the length of his dick in a sick pattern.

“I do what I want Terry, this is my dick for the night.” Terry reached down and pulled her into a kiss. Their heads swiveled left and right as they took turns sucking each other's tongue. Khia’s hand between their heated bodies slowly gripping and pulling at his shaft.

“Fuck we gotta go…imma pull my truck up next to you and you can follow me.” He stuffed himself back into his boxers and made sure she was situated before closing her door.

He wasn’t scared to admit that he damn near ran to get in his truck, he was beyond horny and his skin felt electric. Pulling up on the side of Khia he rolled down his passenger side window and her pretty eyes looked up at him.

“Big man with a big truck…hmm not surprised that everything is big.” She bit at her lip and Terry directed her to follow him.

__

They made short time of their trip, and the highway was clear of traffic as they pushed their vehicles to get to Terry's apartment. Hands on each other immediately as they stepped onto the elevator leading to his apartment. Terry's hand underneath Khia’s shirt maneuvering around her bra to grab at a titty and pluck her hardened nipples.

The ding of the elevator caused them to jump and they quickly fixed themselves before strolling out towards Terrys front door. He pushed his key in and unlocked the door pushing it open. He showed her where to take her shoes off and walked towards his kitchen to grab a bottle of liquor. His finger motioned for her to come to him.

“Open your mouth…mhm put your head back.” He poured the liquor into her mouth with a hand at the back of her head. Once she swallowed he took a swig and put the cap back on.

“Take off this shirt…let me see these big titties ... .mm so big.” Terry grunted and Khia quickly removed her shirt and went to unfasten the clasp on her bra but Terry moved her hands and stepped behind her to do it himself.

His hands gripped and groped the hot flesh that sat in her cherry red bra. He unfastened the bra and sat it on his kitchen island juggling the soft globes of flesh in his large rough hands. Khia craned her neck backwards pulling him into a needy kiss while he rolled her nipples between his pointer and middle finger.

It was pure erotica. All the shit talking had to be backed up. The floor to ceiling windows in Terrys apartment had been his favorite thing about it when he toured it and now nasty thoughts filled his mind involving them. His hot mouth pressed onto her neck and sucked, he wanted her marked from head to toe.

Reaching his hands around to undo the button in her jeans, he let his hands reach down into her soaked panties. Letting his fingers play around in her drenched pussy, middle finger and ring finger sliding slowly in and out of her. Sliding his wet hand from her pants he lifted the dripping fingers to his nose. Pure euphoria. The pheromones wafted into his nose and he was ready to kick this shit up a notch.

“Undress yourself, then I want you to undress me.” He watched her closely as she shimmied out of her jeans, but made a show of pulling off her panties and that earned her a hard snack to the ass.

“Don’t tempt me right now Khia…all that shit you talked imma need you to back it up mama.” With a cute little smirk to her face she slid the panties off and tossed them into the pile with her jeans.

“Oh I can do that and more, now your turn big daddy.” Terry removed his wristwatch and placed it on the island.

Khia grabbed the bottom of his shirt and started lifting it up from his body allowing him to finish the rest of the way. She let her hands roam over the defined planes of his abdomen and sighed at the small trail of hair that started at his lower stomach and disappeared into his pants. Her hands rushed to undo the buckle of his belt and yank the pants down his long legs. When she finally got to his briefs she giggled in excitement, she had real plans for that dick tonight.

“Don't stop, pull 'em’ down and get your dick…that’s what you called it right?” And she didn’t have to be told twice. When his dick touched her tongue she got greedy, her hands hungrily twisting up and down his hot shaft before feeding it into her mouth. She sucked on his leaking tip further amping him up and feeding her ego.

“You like how I suck this dick?” Her tongue slid further down to his balls slurping and sucking away as his hands began to tangle into her hair. He let her suck him off a few more minutes before he pulled his dick from her mouth and tapped it against her lips.

“Mhm you suck a mean dick I’ll give you that..get up and go stand by the windows I’m just getting started with you.” He pointed her to the large windows.

“I wanna give them a show…let the whole city know I’m fucking on the baddest tonight.”

Terry took his place behind Khia in front the large grand windows, groping and kneading the plentiful flesh of her ass. Pussy hot and ready for the taking he let his fingers slither between her thick thighs again, strumming his thick fingers against her clit. His bold green eyes locked onto her amber colored ones through the reflection in the glass, hands moving a mile a minute inside her and Khia knew she wouldn’t last long.

The clenching and unclenching of her abdominal muscles told her so as she leaned her head back and let him take her away, hands and breast pressed against the window for the whole world to see she felt herself cumming and her body instinctively began to curl away from the pleasure.

Pulling at her hair he forced her upright “Don’t fucking play with me right now…stand up now!” He growled into her ear and popped her ass hard, making her straighten her posture before continuing the assault on her sensitive pussy.

“Ohhh Terry wait wai-“ she began to squirt and it splashed onto the window soaking it right along with the both of them.

Terry removed his hand from between her plush thighs and licked his fingers one by one like they had been dipped in the sweetest icing. Khia turned on her feet and pressed her lips to his, hurrying to suck his tongue and taste herself.

Terry lifted her up and carried her to his bedroom. Mouth full of coochie juice and a handful of fat ass.

__

She was fucking HIM… it was supposed to be the other way around and yet here she was squatted over him dropping all that weight on his dick head thrown back and titties jumping in his face, she was slowly creeping her hand up to his neck squeezing lightly and sending pulses from his head to his toes. She was backing up all that talk and then some.

“Fuck fuck fuck…Terry this dick..oh I can’t.” She let her bounces slow down and that was her first mistake. He had been waiting for a sign of weakness.

Terry had them flipped over in the blink of an eye, pressing her face into the cool charcoal sheets of his bed. He lined his dick up and slid it in hell bent on fucking her silly and to the brink of exhaustion.He didn’t get tired and had the stamina of a damn thoroughbred. He had her on her stomach flat against the bed, one hand securing her neck and the other on her hip. Khias slippery skin was misty with a sheen of sweat and her wig was hanging on for dear life.

“Didn’t I tell you daddy was gonna fuck you up?…hmm. But no you kept throwing that ass on me, now I gotta knock this good pussy out the frame.”

His thrust were deep and rough, and she was barely hanging on to reality at that point. Each time she’d suck in a breath to soothe herself it would get knocked right back out of her lungs on an endless cycle.

An endless cycle of cumming and squirting had drenched the bed sheets below them and the handsome man with the extra large dick that was tapping at her cervix had her with a stuck look on her face;drool slowly leaving her mouth. But she was going out like a sucker…Mr.Big Dick was winning and mama didn’t raise no quitter.

“That’s all you got?…I know a nigga right now that fucks better than this. Your strokes are weak babe.” His grip on her wig tightened and his strokes sped up, his hips connecting with her ass and a loud smacking noise. Changing positions on her ass, he pulled and positioned her body into an arch placing a bulky bicep around her neck anchoring her underneath his large form. He grunted loudly into her ear hand curling underneath her to flick her slippery clit between his fingers.

“Say that shit again I dare you…I’m fucking this pussy up and you lying about it, I feel that squeezing let it out!” Khia realized quickly this was a losing battle, and holding off her nut in hopes he’d cave first was a failure because he hadn’t cum yet and it looked like he wouldn’t for some time.

“Ahh wait…Terry uhn..daddy please!” Khia was throwing in the invisible towel, he did indeed fuck better than them niggas but she loved to talk shit.

“Now I’m daddy…mm mm stand on that shit mama…throw this ass back!”

With the last bit of strength in her system she began to rock back on him slowly. Her pussy was beyond sensitive and she was extremely dehydrated and overstimulated, all the liquids she’d consumed that day drained from her body like she’d been dealing with a vampire.

“Mhmh and when you want some dick who you gonna call?… say daddy TJ..say it or I’ll stop!”

Terry slowed his stroking to an almost complete stop waiting and listening for her to say what he wanted to hear. “Okay okay…fuck. I’ll call daddy TJ when I want dick shi-shit, now fuck me please.”

Terry sped back up face in her neck sucking and nipping at the sweaty flesh. He was close and was prepared to empty his nut right into her, she deserved it for taking his slaying. The wet queefs from her pussy were music to his ears and he found it hard to hold on as it got louder, resolve slipping and balls tightening.

“Fuckkk I’m about to nut in you… good pussy shit…GODDAMN!” Terry was being drained and he wasn't ashamed of whimpering and moaning in this woman’s ear… this woman with the vice grip for a pussy.

They laid out on the bed, muscles sore and bodies spent. Moving eventually to shower off the nights events and crashed into his bed tangled together not shortly after.

__

Terry awoke that Saturday to an empty bed and no text on his phone from Khia. His face scrunched up with a mug as he got up to relieve himself and start his morning routine. He explicitly remembered telling her to text him when she left his apartment and yet no damn text.

Taking it upon himself to contact her he shot her a text making sure she had made it home safe and was shocked when his message didn’t go through, and neither did the one he’d sent after that one. Was he fucking blocked? This was not a game Khia wanted to play with him, you give him pussy that good there was no ignoring or blocking him. Did she think all that shit he said last night was a joke…shit she had to and for that Terry had to be on some shit about it.

Khia had just made it in from the Walgreens up the road from her apartment, and was eager to rush and take the Plan B pill she’d just purchased. She chugged down a glass of water and popped the pill into her mouth. She was sloppy last night and though she was grown and only had herself to blame she partly blamed that extra fine 6 '3 demon with green eyes for not using a condom .No man that fine would be denied pussy when he called for it, so to even the playing fields she had blocked him.

The dick was good, hell even spectacular but it also held just a little too much power for her, she didn’t trust herself around that man or his monster penis. She didn’t make good decisions while it was inside her.

The weekend came and went and by that Wednesday Terry was an afterthought. She had even expected him to pop back up at the bar like her other past suitors, but she hadn’t seen or heard from him since last weekend. Maybe he had gotten the memo after being blocked.

But it was always something so funny about speaking too soon… it always came back to bite.

__

Thursday was one of Khia’s off days, she used it to stock her house with groceries, workout, and tidy around her apartment. Today was no different as she placed her produce and frozen items into their respectable compartments in her refrigerator.

She was due for a run and couldn’t wait to stretch her legs and hit the ground running. Her violet two piece workout set on, tennis shoes tied, and her black beats around her neck she headed to the nearby park she liked to run at, it was less than a block away from her complex so she’d always opted for walking there to get in the extra steps on her Apple Watch.

Eyebrows scrunched with determination she could see the park right up ahead and picked up her pace and finally stepped onto the running trail. Music blaring loud and a steady jog to keep her heart pumping she was proud of her endurance. She was in her zone and utterly and completely locked in, oblivious to the watchful eyes across the street from her.

__

Was she fucking serious? Terry had been losing his mind with a hot case of being pussy whipped and here she was just..jogging? He realized what he was doing days ago when he had initially followed her home to her apartment after her shift at the bar.Some called it stalking. He called it keeping tabs, how else was he supposed to find out what she was up to?

He watched her go lap after lap and snapped a few pictures for his own needs. She wanted to ignore him cool, he’d make her speak to him one way or another. His truck sat just out of her view across the street from the park, a Birds Eye view on the beauty that was insistent on staying out of his hair.

But something caught her eye and she slowed to a stop and slid her headphones from around her neck, she was looking dead at him.

Like a deer in headlights she stood frozen in his direction seemingly trying to confirm his identity. And it seemed she had confirmed correctly as she moved quickly to put space between the two of them. Fuck.

Though this did little to deter him from her he felt he’d made his presence well known, and that’s all he wanted, for her to know that getting rid of him was not some small feat. She had to know how enticing she was, and Terry would lose sleep letting her know just how she had racked his brain.

__

The coming days for Khia had left her in a weird headspace. Was Terry stalking her? She’d known for sure that it was his truck she had seen that day at the park and she had made out his bulky figure from the distance. How long though? Had this been going on since the morning she slipped from his bed, was she actually this unaware of her surroundings?

She stared down at her phone annoyed as another unknown number called her. Terry had resorted to text now numbers and this would be the tenth one she’d had to block this week. She would get a text from a new number each time she blocked the last one. Each number sending a picture of her out and about in public completely oblivious to being watched and followed.

There were pictures of her loading her groceries into the trunk of her car and leaving work late at night, the newest one containing her smiling down at the new set of nails that adorned her hands as she left her nail techs suite.

|Unknown: You always fuck men that good and leave?

|Unknown: I love this smile on your face after you left your nail appointment, I’ll pay for the next set Khia.

|Unknown: When can I nut in that good pussy again? Terrence junior sound good to you?

The texts were constant and nonstop,and Khia was realizing a harsh reality about herself. She hated to admit it but she liked it. The cat and mouse game was turning her on and his constant begging for her pussy made her wet at night. She was sick of the games and wanting to be slutted out again, after all she knew the real power was between her legs. One wrong doing and he would be weaned off her cooch again.

|Khia: If you can find out where I’m at in the next hour this pussy is yours again daddy 😉

|Unknown:BET😈

________________________________________________

A/N: 🫣All in favor of crazy Terry say aye…anywho I hope y'all enjoy this bc he only get worse after this!! And I’m obsessed with these two so there will be another part, love ya bye 🫶🏾

@avoidthings @pocketsizedpanther @writingsbytee @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @simplyzeeka @zillasvilla @blowmymbackout @kimuzostar @playgurlxoxo @kumkaniudaku @megamindsecretlair @theereina @keyaho @brattyfics @hotgrlcece @henneseyhoe @uzumaki-rebellion @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

[badaxefamily]

Reasons to play Palia:

Cozy, gentle farming/village sim a bit like a combination of Harvest Moon and Animal Crossing, but online.

Most of the villagers are romanceable if you're into that. Either way they all have backstories that you learn by befriending them.

One time I went fishing and pulled up a charcuterie.

There's robots. One of them is romanceable because the fanbase demanded it in alpha.

You can't pet the dog but you can talk to him:

The fishing and bug catching systems are unique and fun.

When people find a rare/special resource like a Flow tree or palium ore, they'll call over zone chat to tell people where it is because everyone that hits a resource node will get the same reward no matter how many people are on it.

Crabs count as bugs so you can catch them!

Sifuu sent me a brick in the mail.

Cat people come from the moon, allegedly. Which moon? Probably the one that isn't on fire.

Concerned about too many people stripping the resources? The game is instanced and each instance only has a handful of players at a time. Even if they're all mining, or chopping trees, the nodes respawn fast enough to compensate. Plants and other things on the ground are not shared, so grab all those you want.

You can hunt for meat and leather, and there are a variety of animals that require different methods. Some of them teleport or clone themselves.

Speaking of hunting, you do so with a bow, and there's no blood or dead body. Bagged animals literally disappear and leave behind a bag which you loot.

You can climb and glide kind of like Breath of the Wild/Tears of the Kingdom.

The housing system is pretty robust, almost like WildStar. You start with a tent and then get a house which you can add rooms to. You can find, buy, and craft furnishing and sometimes villagers will gift them to you.

There's no HP and no penalty for falling, so feel free to yeet yourself from high places in order to explore!

[crimsoncandy04]

OH MY GOD YOU WRITE SO FUCKING GREAT!!!! Can I ask for a mouse/hamster hybrid reader and Kitty/Scaramouche. He's trying to catch us and eat us 😏 👅

Can I stick to canon a little? I might not be very imaginative so I usually work with lore and stuff to make my ideas flow a little easier for me.

And I think I know how to do this.

It was no secret that the harbinger known as The Doctor often tampered with human DNA in order to succeed in certain projects regarding his segments. However as one of his subordinates, you became increasingly concerned when he started involving animal DNA too.

And terrified when he picked YOU out of everyone else to undergo a sort of surgical transformation to see if weaker humans could be physically "improved" with animal genetics.

You went to sleep on the operating table, a woman.

You woke up in a similar body, however your eyes widened in shock as you noticed the rounded ears and long tail you had. You were in a small box sized room full of reflective walls. And in them you could see that you were now in fact a mouse and human hybrid.

You tried to yell but only squeaked.

However the experiment was far from over.

One of the tall reflective walls suddenly retracted into the ground. Revealing a long dark corridor made entirely of stone. The narrow walls Rose high into the shadows and as you stepped out the the tiny place you had woke up in, the opening slammed shut behind you too. Leaving you in the darkness of the weird maze/labyrinth all alone.

Or so you thought.

Suddenly a sharp tone cut through the cool air.

"Oh so you DID survive. Congratulations I suppose. But don't think this makes you any more of a useless pawn dear."

A figure leapt down from the top of one of the higher walls behind you.

His indigo eyes glowed. Marked by beautiful long lashes and striking red eyeliner. He looked so...catty and you'd definitely be right about that.

The young man's big fluffy tail suddenly began to swish behind him as he stalked closer to you slowly.

"now don't move, mouse. This is only going to be uncomfortable if you make it that way." His big fluffy ears twitched a little with excitement as he suddenly tried to reach out and grab you.

However you were faster than you remembered now.

And you ran.

Sprinting through the dim maze of nothing but more long stretches of hallways and sharp turns, you could hear the man in pursuit of you.

Every time you thought you put some distance between you both, you'd see a flash or indigo hair out of the corner of your eye and force yourself to keep going as he seemed to be able to scale walls and leap from high places just like a cat effortlessly could.

Finally you felt fear overwhelm you. And you panicked.

And you tripped.

Hands descended upon your shivering body before you could even muster up a scream. Lips silencing you as the man gently rolled you over onto your back and pinned you beneath him.

"you're fast my little mouse. But not faster than me~" he mumbled in a strangely seductive tone as he moved his lips down your body and stopped just above your pubic mound.

"please don't hurt me!" You wail. Your body shaking as you watched a devious grin appear on his rather lovely face.

"keep begging, mouse. You look even more delectable when you do~" you noticed something strange about his hands then as he ripped your panties off. His fingers resembled those of a doll. He wasn't human or cat...

Was this the sixth harbinger that was rumored to occasionally help out The Doctor?

You didn't have time to ponder this as you feel him dig his nails into your knees and force your legs apart as he leaned in closer to your sex and gave your clit a small kiss before roughly shoving his long tongue deep into your aching cunt.

"ah~ please stop! Please this feels so...good~" your body continued to shiver but not out of fear as you felt him moan and purr against your pussy. You felt a tiny squeak leave your lips then. Making his eyes take on a predatory gleam as he pulled you against his face even more and began to alternate between lapping at your heat and teasing your clit with his sharp teeth and cool tongue.

He kept you on edge for the longest time. Seemingly enjoying your taste as you felt his purring get louder while you rocked your hips a little and felt your lower body tighten.

"don't fight it. Just let go little mouse ~" he hummed. You felt so good at that moment that all sense of shame seemed to have been lost as your body erupted and you squirt into the eager mouth of the man before you. He greedily slurps up every last drop and hungrily swallows your lewd juices as you lay panting and completely drained before him.

You struggle to sit up as you feel him pull away finally. Only to see him give you another sadistic and horny grin as he looks you directly in the eyes and starts counting.

You immediately feel nervous again.

Quickly getting to your feet and running away as he neared the final number.

You didn't know how long he planned to draw this out or why he was so hungry for you like this, but one thing was for certain. He would continue to hunt you.

And you would be devoured.

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Infernal Shadows 04.

Synopsis: Being one of the most powerful overlords in Hell, you like to keep up with colonies and overlord plans. Recently with the new extermination date out, you hold your annual gala sooner than usual. You hadn’t expected to get in the middle of the already heated feud between the Radio Demon and the head of Vox Tech.

Warnings: She/Her pronouns used for the reader, mentions of blood, voodoo?, Angel Dust being a horn-bag, Reader is referred too as Madame to the public. Vox and Alastor feud because I live for it, last part was a cliffhanger but here we are surviving :) Some background on Madame and I pray you guys get the reference with the name of the exorcist

A/N: I AM BACK FROM THE DEAD!!!! I finally got this out and I added to it so this is a longer chapter than anticipated. I’m so horribly sorry for taking forever to get this out, I had like so many reports to do for my job and this was just calling to me. I hope you guys didn’t forget this and if you did I totally don’t blame you. Not to fret though, I have big plans coming soon, and I’m pushing for longer chapters to keep you people fed. I love you all so so so much! Happy reading and thank you for being so patient and for all the kind messages I got! As for the taglist, I’m afraid it’s closed as of right now, just because I physically cannot tag anymore people on these posts, so I’ll try to figure something out with that!

Tags: @dollops-of-delusion @nebusokuxp @scrunchss @rosedasy @valluvz @chesstras @pishybowl @iaaeav @forgotten-blues @22carolina08 @roboticsuccubus83 @doflamingadonquixote @froggyferrets @frompeach @absurd-ash @sillysillyxinnabun @urdariingdoll @delectableworm @immahuman @justaproudslytherpuff @local-mr-frog @angeli-fucking-cat @coldsweetsenthusiast @jadekomaeda @coffeethoughtsandanxiety @lunalixya @lemonrolls @asimplikeallyall @only-cherry-blossom @sockgoblin @nxrdamp @1-800-no-users-left @l0ca1ax010t1 @inutheangel @reader-of-worlds @writing-fanics @random-person07 @ghostdoodlen @elaemae @fantasy-angelo @tanjirosworld @patchesofdreams @sunnyslug @reineurynome @scoliobean @arrozyfrijoles23 @kimmikreates @lqmons @amarokofficial @mangobango69

Word count: 5694

Navigation!! // Masterlist!! // Serendipity writes (event)!! // Part three // part five

Charlie had almost jumped out of her seat upon seeing the excorsist by your side. The water spout collapsing quickly, water violently splashing all around. A crowd of ‘ooh’s and ah’s could be heard from the crowd as you finally revealed the exorcist to everyone, allowing the sinners around to get a better look at the pet with you. The exorcist next to you was a woman, who looked fairly young. Her wings were large, white feathers with a sheer hint of gold. Her skin was ghostly white, and her eyes were equally as pale, almost a ghost. she looked around quickly, turning in her spot on the ground next to you, where she was kneeling. Her wrists were bound by chains and she stood quickly, wings flaring out. Yet, amid the spectacle, Charlotte couldn't help but notice a flicker of sorrow in the exorcist's pale eyes.

You stood next to her calmly, playing the violin as she stood, flying off the ground and up the middle of the coliseum, flying as quickly as she good. Her long hair, white with golden streaks, flowing as she flew up. Before she could get out however, a long black chain appeared around her neck, pulling her backward quickly, choking her. Her eyes went wide, hand reaching out to the sky above, a silent reach for heaven, before her angelic body was pulled back into the floor of the coliseum, body hitting the hard ground with a loud thud, the floor cracking beneath her upon the impact. Black chains began to hold onto her legs, her chest and neck as she fought against it, the chains lifting her high enough in the air for the crowd to see, making a mockery out of her, out of the exorcists above.

Charlotte's eyes widened, mirroring the shock and disbelief etched across her face as she witnessed the angelic exorcist's dramatic entrance. Alastor, usually composed, betrayed a subtle flicker of concern, his stoic demeanor momentarily shaken.

As the exorcist's wings unfurled, the sheer beauty of her appearance contrasted sharply with the ominous chains that bound her. The crowd's collective gasp echoed, drowning out the earlier applause.

Alastor's grip on his opera glasses tightened, a silent acknowledgment of the unforeseen depth this performance had taken. The music continued, but now there was an undertone of tension, each note echoing the internal struggle of the exorcist. Just the way you had intended.

The audience's gasps turned into uneasy whispers. Charlotte glanced at Alastor, finding a mix of fascination and unease in his expression. His smile looked almost painful, like a touch to him would have him shatter on the spot. She was not used to seeing him this way. Something was oddly unsettling about having him next to her in this way.

“Should we be watching this?” Velvet leans over to ask Vox, sketch book long discarded. He says nothing, eyes blown wide as he takes in the sight before him. It wasn’t like he hadn’t ever seen an exorcist, but this sight was different in itself. You were basically manhandling an exorcist right in front of everyone. This was holy power you were messing with. Tauntingly, making a fool out of this poor innocent girl. Vox wasn’t sure if he was supposed to run away, tail between his legs, or sit and watch the way you had wanted. To obey or disobey, like a dog.

The song was finally at its peak, the angels wings spread to its full length as she fought to get away, thrashing about as she fought again the chains. Charlotte feels her own throat tighten, her heart feeling heavy.

“I can’t watch.” Charlotte said, standing and moving to take her leave, but a large shadow blocked her path.

“Madame requests that you stay here.” The shadow spoke. Charlotte was silent and though she wanted to argue, decided against it.

Amidst the tension, the atmosphere in the coliseum grew heavier, the ethereal music now echoing a dissonant melody. As the angelic exorcist continued her struggle, a figure emerged from the shadows – a mysterious character, their presence felt more than seen.

This enigmatic figure, shrouded in darkness, approached Charlotte with a whispered urgency. "You hold the key to her liberation," the voice murmured, barely audible over the haunting notes of the violin. "Will you break the chains or become a spectator to her demise?"

Charlotte, conflicted and sensing a greater responsibility, looked at the shadowy figure, determination flickering in her eyes. With a newfound resolve, she turned towards the restrained exorcist, seeking a way to intervene and unravel the unsettling performance that had taken a dark turn. The coliseum, once a mere stage for entertainment, now stood witness to a moral crossroads where choices weighed heavily on the hearts of those present, and it was definitely making Charlotte contemplate her whole reason for being here.

Alastor's sharp warning reverberates through the air, his stern tone emphasizing the gravity of the situation. "Interruption during Madame's performance is ill-advised, my dear. It is best not to meddle in affairs beyond your understanding." he cautions, a hint of a threat underlying his words.

Rosie, with a more nurturing but firm approach, guides Charlotte back to her seat. "It's not the time, hon. Madame's got her ways, and we don't want trouble. Just watch and let it play out," Rosie advises, her gaze mirroring a subtle concern for Charlotte's safety.

As Charlotte reluctantly takes her seat, the tension in the coliseum persists, the haunting music and the struggling exorcist creating an eerie symphony that held everyone in a state of suspense. The shadowy figure lingers, observing the unfolding drama with a watchful gaze, leaving an air of mystery and uncertainty in its wake.

The resounding crash echoes through the coliseum as the angelic exorcist succumbs to the relentless chains, her divine form colliding with the unforgiving ground. The spectators, now silent witnesses to the spectacle's unsettling conclusion, feel the vibrations of the impact reverberate through the arena.

The once-beautiful performance has transformed into a scene of somber defeat, the ethereal music now hauntingly melancholic. The shadows that enshrouded the coliseum seem to deepen, casting an eerie gloom over the aftermath.

The mysterious figure in the shadows maintains a watchful presence, its intentions still unclear as the audience processes the unsettling turn of events. The coliseum, leaving an indelible mark on the collective psyche of those who bore witness. As the ethereal music slowly fades to silence, the chains metamorphose into spectral figures, gracefully carrying the defeated angel away. The abrupt stillness in the coliseum feels eerie, the aftermath of the performance leaving the guests, including Charlotte, in a state of uneasy reflection.

The band, once vivid and lively, dissipates like wisps of smoke, leaving an empty stage behind. Madame, now standing alone in the center of the coliseum, is joined by the largest shadow, a looming presence beside her. The shadowy figure addresses the hushed audience, explaining that they will be escorted back to Madame's home for dinner. "Ladies and gentlemen, the next act awaits within the walls of Madame's mansion. Your journey through her realm has only just begun.”

The guests, still processing the unsettling performance, are ushered towards their tables with a sense of quiet trepidation. The coliseum, now devoid of the vibrant spectacle, transforms into a place of anticipation as the guests prepare for the next act in Madame's enigmatic domain. Charlotte, visibly shaken, moves among the disquieted crowd. Zestial stands out, his calm demeanor contrasting with the collective unease. His eyes reveal a depth of understanding, leaving Charlotte to wonder what he really thought of the performance. As they return to Madame's home, the charged atmosphere persists, leaving everyone to ponder what awaits them in the next act of this mysterious and haunting night.

The shadows lead those seated privately with Madame through a mysterious portal, transporting them to a large, black room. The windows, tinted black from floor to ceiling, create an otherworldly aura. Bowls of floating fire cast dancing shadows around the room, adding an element of mystique. In the center stands an impressive dining table, crafted from black wood with matching black chairs adorned with white cushions.

White plates with a gold lining are meticulously arranged, each bearing a name card. The order mirrors the sequence in which the guests were initially invited: Alastor, Vox, Charlie, Velvet, Zestial, Carmilla, and Rosie. Three empty seats capture attention, the most prominent being the grand and ornate chair at the head of the table – undoubtedly Madame's seat.

However, two other unoccupied chairs add a layer of intrigue. One is positioned across from Madame, and the other is to her right. Vox, leaning casually against the black dining table, raises an eyebrow as he scans the unoccupied chairs. "So, did Madame forget to send out a couple more invites, or did she just not bother finding anyone else worth inviting?" His tone, dripping with casual disdain, prompts an involuntary eye twitch from Alastor and a scoff from Carmilla. The room is momentarily tense as the guests settle into their seats, the air thick with unspoken tension and the promise of an unconventional dining.

The large shadow materializes behind Madame's chair the moment everyone takes their seats. It speaks with a commanding presence,

"Madame will be joining you shortly, ensuring the guests are properly situated in the main dining hall. For now, you may all start with the drink of your choice."

As the shadow's words linger, the room is filled with the appearance of various drinks, each guest's preference seemingly anticipated. The other shadows swiftly deliver the beverages before seamlessly vanishing from view. In their place, a small orchestra emerges from the darkest corners of the room, ready to weave a musical tapestry that will accompany the unfolding feast.

The atmosphere in the black room remains charged with a sense of anticipation, the guests left to wonder about the mysteries that await in Madame's unconventional and enigmatic domain.

The anticipation peaks as the celestial display unfolds outside the tinted windows. Stars twinkle in the vast darkness, and constellations take shape, transforming the black room into a cosmic spectacle. The guests, mesmerized by the celestial scene, exchange awed glances.

”Oh this is so beautiful.” Charlotte says, glancing around at the stars.

In the midst of this ethereal backdrop, Madame makes her grand entrance. A sweeping gust of shadow accompanies her, like a cloak billowing in an unseen breeze. She moves gracefully, her silhouette weaving through the darkness, and steps into the room with an air of an almost royal confidence.

Madame wears an elaborate gown that seems to absorb and reflect the celestial light. Its deep, dark hues shimmer with a glow, adorned with intricate patterns that evoke the mysteries of the night sky, certainly fitting her specticle. Her presence commands attention, and a hushed silence falls over the room as the guests turn their gaze towards her.

A soft, melodic hum emanates from Madame, resonating with the orchestral tunes. The shadows, now at her command, align to form a fleeting silhouette of wings that unfurl and then disappear into the darkness. She takes her seat at the grand table, her eyes gleaming with a haunting form of excitement.

As Madame takes her seat, the celestial display beyond the windows intensifies, casting a glow over the dining room. The shadows, now intricately woven into ethereal patterns, dance along the walls, adding to the surreal atmosphere. With a graceful gesture, Madame signals the waitstaff shadows to present the first course. Exquisite dishes are unveiled, each a culinary masterpiece designed to tantalize the senses. Alastor’s eyes light up as his favorite dish is revealed — Jambalaya. Rich and spicy, it perfectly captures his love for bold and vibrant flavors.

Vox, always one for extravagance, is presented with Sushi. Delicate sushi rolls arranged like musical notes create a visual and auditory delight, harmonizing with each flavorful bite. Meanwhile, Velvet savors the spicy noodles on her plate, a cosmic array of ingredients adorning handmade noodles, reflecting her love for adventurous flavors.

Charlotte’s palate is delighted with the Harmony of Garden Greens, a vibrant salad showcasing fresh and wholesome ingredients. Zestial’s preference for refined flavors is indulged with a nice tender steak. Carmilla indulges in an enchanting dark Chocolate Fondue, a decadent dessert that mirrors her taste for the luxurious. Rosie, captivated by sweetness and charm, enjoys a stellar Strawberry Shortcake, a heavenly creation adorned with edible flowers. Rosie was grateful Madame hadn’t served her limbs this evening, though the craving was very much there.

As the guests savor their feast, Vox, unable to resist his penchant for stirring conversation, attempts to broach the topic of the enigmatic exorcist from Madame's previous performance. "Madame, that exorcist bit was quite the show, don't you think? Who was she, and why the dramatics?" Vox inquires with his signature flair, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Though Alastor would never admit it, he was silently appreciative Vox was the one to voice the question. He knew Madame would have his head if he dared to ask. A large grin is displayed as he awaits Madame’s response. Knowing she is intolerant of being questioned on her decisions.

Madame, however, responds with a stern and unwavering gaze. "Vox, some matters are not for idle chatter. Rest assured, when the time is right, I will provide the explanation that is due." Her tone, though firm, carries a sense of ancient wisdom that tempers Vox's usual audacity. Alastor just grins to himself, happy she did not disappoint.

Carmilla, sensitive to the undercurrents of unease, feels a shiver down her spine. The cryptic response leaves her uneasy, but she keeps her feelings to herself. Madame's words hang in the air, a subtle reminder that there are depths to this realm that remain veiled. She is in control.

The aura intensifies as the orchestra weaves a haunting melody, adding an ethereal backdrop to the exchange. The guests, now caught in the delicate dance of shadows, flavors, and unspoken mysteries, await the unfolding of Madame's narrative. However, to their dismay, she leaves them empty handed.

The small orchestra adapts it’s tunes, complementing the dining room with melodies that resonate with the mysteries of Madame. The music sways between haunting and enchanting, guiding the guests through an experience that transcends the ordinary.

"I hope the food is to everyone's enjoyment," Madame remarks, her plate being set in front of her last. The guests, captivated by the transcendent feast, eagerly dig into their respective dishes. As the flavors unfold on their palates, a chorus of satisfaction fills the room.

“These are quite excellent.” Carmilla comments as she enjoys her meal. Madame only nods in response. Compliments flow freely from the guests to Madame and the shadows, expressions of delight escaping between bites. Alastor, savoring his Jambalaya, commends the bold and vibrant flavors.

The room resonates with the sounds of enjoyment, and Rosie, with the Strawberry Shortcake, receives nods of approval for the delightful sweetness. Madame, her strong composure unwavering, listens to the compliments with a hint of satisfaction. Everyone enjoys being praised.

As the melodies of the cosmos continue to weave through the air, the dining room becomes a mix of flavor and enchantment. The guests, immersed in the extraordinary experience, savor each moment, aware that this transcendent feast is not just a meal but the start to something haunting.

Things could not be peaceful forever though. Madame pushed back a bit and stood, immediately drawing everyone’s attention.

“I would like to thank you all for being such pleasant guests tonight. I do believe a lot has happened since the last extermination. I am aware you overlords, or the ones that had the decency to show up, are aware that we must do something to protect our souls. Which begs the question.” Madame stops, taking her time to look at everyone. “What do you plan to do when the exorcists come down here to kill you all?” She asks bluntly. Carmilla inhales sharply not saying much, which Zestial just sips a cup of tea, his usual. Alastor and Rosie exchange a glance, but before anyone can say anything, Vox interjects.

“Well Madame I think you’ll be pleased to know Vox-tech has been working on protection for the people and-“

“Do you really think a piece of technology will stop this?” Madame asks. Her eyes narrow at him, and Vox silently sinks into his seat. Madame sighs, her shadow pulling her chair farther back so she can walk around the table, to the empty seat across from her. “Since you all clearly have no clue what to do, I presume I’ll share my idea.” Madame says, before she snaps her fingers. In an instant, a large shadow, almost in the shape of a sphere, forms next to her. It’s whispy and hyperactive, almost alive, before it sinks to the ground. Slowly it’s fades away. The guests stand, wanting to get a closer look, before the shadow turns to fog, and falls away. There in it’s place is the exorcist from the coliseum.

“Madame-!” Carmilla says, but is met with a stern look from Madame.

“Something wrong?” She asked. A chain formed around the exorcists neck, one that wrapped around Madame’s hand. She holds it tight, like she’s holding a wild animal back. Velvet wonders if this is because she’s afraid, or excited.

“Go on. Speak.” Madame says to the girl next to her. She looks down at the ground, a bit bruised but shining brightly nevertheless.

“I do not wish-to fight.” The girl says, and Madame just smiles.

“Let her go.” Charlotte says. The overlords look at Charlotte with a surprised expression. Madame says nothing, and instead tilts her head to look at Charlotte.

“Let her go?” Madame repeats, and Charlotte nods.

“Yes. Let her go.” Charlotte says, suddenly feeling nervous. Madame doesn’t appear to be upset, which only confuses and makes Charlotte even more anxious.

“Very well then. Have it your way.” Madame says, dropping the chained leash. Suddenly, the exorcist flies up and lunges at Zestial, attacking him. The overlords all disperse, watching as he throws her off of him.

“No! Wait stop!” Charlotte says, trying to get the situation under control. Alastor’s eyes widen, and he grins, tentacles appearing from the ground quickly, attempting to scare her by attacking her wings. The moment his tentacle touches the feathers on her back, it burns, and Alastor pulls back immediately, seemingly confused. The room erupts in screams and chaos, Rosie attempting to get the exorcist away from her as she tries to kill her.

“My dear, you do realize the mess you’ve made, yes?” Alastor asks as he summons himself next to Madame. She stands by the windows, the starts casting an almost colorful display over her, making her seem ethereal. Madame nods.

“Well then maybe you should get Lilith’s pet under control.” Madame inquires. Alastor just grins, nodding before lifting her hand to kiss the back of it.

“Of course Madame.” He says, before fading into his shadow. Carmilla stands next to a tired Zestial, while Velvet and Vox stand on the dining table, holding onto each other for dear life, while Rosie takes to poking fun at the exorcist, who seems to only want to harm Charlotte at this point.

“You filthy girl-!” The exorcist cries, before she chokes, a black chain wrapping around her neck quickly, and pulling her back.

“Enough Evangeline.” Madame says sharply. At this, the exorcist grows quiet almost immediately. Charlotte is in tears and on the floor, Alastor picking her up by her underarms, setting her straight.

“This is why you be quiet.” Alastor whispered to Charlotte.

“Oh~ that was fun! Let’s do this again.” Rosie says delightfully. Madame just nods to her, an unreadable expression adorning her features.

“Yes, let’s.” Madame says, tugging Evangeline’s chain sharply. Evangeline stands, now looking a bit shorter than Madame, while Madame’s shadows remove Vox and Velvet from the dining table. Quickly, everything is back in order, as Madame ushers the guests to take their seats. Now, Evangeline sits at the head of the table, across from Madame.

“Everyone, this is Evangeline, my sister.”

“Sister?” Vox asks, shying away from the exorcist.

“Didn’t you hear her?” Velvet asks, nudging him with her elbow. He just nods, but says nothing.

“Yes. Sister. I’ve obtained her for one reason and that reason only.” Madame said, before Zestial interjected.

“What reason doth that be?” Zestial asks. Madame just smiles, with a snap of her fingers, Evangeline is turned around, wings sprawled out.

“To send a message of course.” Madame says. Before a paper is presented to all the guests.

“During the extermination I had the pleasure of speaking to Adam.”

”Wait Adam like, first man Adam?” Velvet asked, and Madame nods.

“Yes, him. He believes he can wipe us out fairly quickly. He said he’d be back for me specifically.” Madame said, looking out to the windows, before continuing. “So, I decided it would be best if we sent him a lovely letter. Charlotte,” Madame said, “I know you spoke to him recently. If he wants to come to your hotel, I believe it’s only right we make other areas just as much of a target.” Madame said, before Carmilla frowned.

”Why should we? Won’t that make us all targets?” Carmilla asked. Madame nodded.

“Yes, but with too many locations they’ll spread themselves thin.” Madame said.

“Why are we talking about this in front of her?” Rosie asked, pointing to Evangeline. “Won’t she just tell them what we’re planning?” Rosie asked. Madame shrugged.

”Possibly. I never said she was going back alive.” Madame said. “But this topic can wait. I’m ready for dessert.” She said, and suddenly shadows were back with all kinds of desserts in the middle of the table. Evangeline was now facing the rest of the guests, all who stared at her with a predatory gaze.

Y/n L/n was born in the year 1885, with her sister, Evangeline, arriving in 1887, just two years apart. Y/n was the eldest among her siblings, having two younger sisters and a younger brother. Sadly, the youngest sister passed away at the tender age of twelve, a victim to scarlet fever. Despite this tragedy, Evangeline remained the darling of the town, known for her innocence and beloved by all. Meanwhile, their brother Arthur matured at a quicker pace than Evangeline.

The family's prosperity stemmed from being victims of the Salem witch trials back in the 1600s. This dark history actually served as a catalyst, enabling their ancestors to establish a business that had been passed down through generations, making Y/n the rightful heir. Initially, the business catered to workers and provided scrubs, but Y/n had grander visions.

Under Y/n's leadership, the business transformed from producing simple workwear to crafting exquisite dresses, corsets, feathered hats, and other fashionable garments. These creations were designed to empower young women and elevate their sense of self-esteem, departing from the mundane work attire of the past.

As word spread of the boutique's exceptional offerings, affluent families began flocking to Y/n's establishment, seeking custom dresses and elegant accessories. Evangeline, always cheerful and accommodating, played a pivotal role in welcoming and attending to the guests while Y/n conducted business.

Despite the initial success and harmony, ominous clouds loomed on the horizon, signaling that peace and tranquility might not last forever.

Evangeline's heart fluttered whenever she was around Alexander, a charming and charismatic gentleman who frequented the boutique who was also from a wealthy family. Their budding romance seemed like a fairy tale at first, but little did Evangeline know, Alexander harbored hidden agendas. But Y/n could see it from a mile away. But alas, she let her younger sister be. She did not feel threatened by Alexander. To her, he was simply another walking wallet right into her arms.

As their relationship deepened, Alexander subtly planted seeds of doubt about Y/n in Evangeline's mind. He would gently question Y/n's decisions, pointing out areas where he believed Evangeline could excel if given more freedom.

"My darling Evangeline," Alexander would whisper, his voice dripping with honeyed words, "you're a diamond in the rough, waiting to shine. But Y/n's cautious approach is holding you back. Imagine what you could achieve with your own vision."

Evangeline, enamored and impressionable, began to see Y/n's protective actions as barriers to her dreams rather than safeguards for their family's legacy. Alexander's persuasive arguments fueled Evangeline's desire for independence and recognition.

"You deserve more than being just Y/n's shadow," Alexander would say, his eyes filled with feigned concern. "Don't let fear of failure hold you back. Take risks, Evangeline. Follow your heart."

Unaware of Alexander's ulterior motives, Evangeline started to view Y/n's guidance and decisions with skepticism. She began to prioritize her relationship with Alexander over the family's business, inadvertently straining her bond with Y/n.

As Alexander's influence grew, Evangeline's perception of Y/n shifted, painting Y/n as overly controlling and unsupportive of her aspirations. The once-close sisters found themselves on opposite ends, with Alexander's manipulative tactics driving a wedge between them.

Behind the facade of love and affection, Alexander manipulated Evangeline's emotions and perceptions, using her vulnerability to further his own agenda. The tangled web of romance and manipulation threatened to unravel the familial harmony Y/n had worked so hard to maintain.

One evening, as Evangeline sat in her room at the family estate, Alexander approached her with a concerned expression. "Evangeline, my love," he began, "I've noticed something troubling about Y/n's management of the business. It seems she's keeping you in the dark about important decisions."

Evangeline furrowed her brow, surprised by Alexander's revelation. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Alexander leaned in, his voice lowering conspiratorially. "I've heard whispers among the staff," he confided, "about Y/n making decisions behind your back, as if she doesn't trust you with the business's future. You deserve to have a voice, Evangeline. You shouldn't be kept in the dark."

Doubt crept into Evangeline's mind as she pondered Alexander's words. She had always trusted Y/n implicitly, but Alexander's claims sowed seeds of suspicion and resentment. "But Y/n has always had our family's best interests at heart," Evangeline countered weakly.

"Of course, my dear," Alexander reassured her, his tone soothing. "But perhaps Y/n fears that your ideas and vision might outshine hers. You're more than capable, Evangeline. Don't let anyone keep you from realizing your full potential."

In the following days, Alexander's subtle manipulation and peer pressure intensified. He highlighted instances where Y/n had made decisions without consulting Evangeline, portraying Y/n as controlling and domineering. "You're the future of this business, Evangeline," he would say, planting seeds of ambition and discord.

Fueled by Alexander's influence, Evangeline confronted Y/n during a heated family meeting about the business's direction. "Why are you keeping me in the dark, Y/n?" Evangeline demanded, her voice trembling with emotion. "I deserve to be involved in every decision!"

Y/n, taken aback by Evangeline's sudden hostility, tried to explain. "Evangeline, I've always valued your input, but some decisions require swift action. I never intended to keep you in the dark." Y/n would say sternly, trying to keep her composure.

But Alexander's words echoed in Evangeline's mind, clouding her judgment and fueling her resolve to assert herself in the business. The once-unbreakable bond between the sisters fractured under the weight of manipulation and misunderstandings, orchestrated by Alexander's cunning tactics.

Evangline’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she and Alexander stood before Y/n, their announcement hanging in the air like a storm about to break.

“We’re engaged, Y/n,” Evangeline exclaimed, her voice filled with joy. “And we believe it’s time for me to take over the business. After all, I’ll be married soon and would want to pass it down to our children someday.”

Y/n’s eyes widened in disbelief as Evangeline and Alexander stood before her, their engagement bombshell hanging heavily in the air. The room fell silent as Y/n processed the news, her shock palpable.

“You’re getting engaged without even discussing it with me first?” Y/n’s voice cracked with incredulity, her tone carrying a mix of surprise and hurt.

Evangeline, caught off guard by Y/n’s reaction, tried to explain. “Y/n, we thought you would be happy for us,” she said, her voice tinged with disappointment.

But Y/n’s shock quickly turned into frustration and anger. “Happy for you?” Y/n’s tone sharpened, her words laced with bitterness. “How can I be happy when you’re making decisions that affect our entire family without even consulting me?”

Evangeline’s expression faltered, her eyes filling with tears. “But Y/n, I love Alexander, and we want to build a future together,” she pleaded.

Y/n’s emotions boiled over, her hurt turning into harsh words aimed at Evangeline. “Love blinds you, Evangeline,” Y/n snapped, her voice rising. “You’re being manipulated, and you don’t even see it!”

Evangeline’s tears spilled over as Y/n’s words hit home. “I’m not being manipulated, Y/n,” she protested, her voice trembling.

But Y/n’s frustration didn’t stop there. Her gaze turned to Alexander, her tone dripping with disdain. “And you,” Y/n directed her anger at him, “using Evangeline to get to our family fortune, shamelessly preying on her innocence and trust.”

Alexander’s facade of charm faltered for a moment, his expression betraying a hint of unease. “I assure you, Y/n, my intentions are genuine,” he tried to placate her.

But Y/n wasn’t buying it. “Genuine? You’re nothing but a leech, Alexander,” Y/n’s words cut through the tension, her anger simmering beneath the surface. “I won’t let you manipulate our family for your selfish gain.”

As the tension escalates during the argument, Evangeline turns to Y/n, her eyes filled with confusion and hurt. “What do you mean, Y/n?” she asks, her voice trembling with emotion.

Y/n’s expression hardens, her resolve firm as she faces Evangeline. “The whole family can see it, Evangeline,” Y/n’s tone is resolute, her words cutting through the air. “Alexander is just after our money, and he’s using you to get to it.”

Evangeline’s eyes widen in shock, disbelief evident on her face. “No, that’s not true,” she protests, her voice tinged with desperation.

But Y/n doesn’t back down. “Open your eyes, Evangeline,” Y/n urges, her voice filled with urgency. “He drove Arthur away from you, manipulated him to keep you to himself. He’s tearing our family apart for his own selfish motives.”

The weight of Y/n’s words hangs heavily in the air, the truth of the situation sinking in for Evangeline amidst the chaos of emotions and accusations.

In response to Y/n’s accusations, Alexander turns to Evangeline with a dismissive smirk, his tone dripping with condescension. “Evangeline, Y/n is lying,” he asserts confidently. “She’s never been in love, so she wouldn’t even know what she’s talking about.”

Evangeline, torn between her trust in Alexander and the unsettling doubts planted by Y/n’s words, looks to him for reassurance. “But Alexander, I love you,” she insists, her voice wavering with uncertainty.

Alexander’s charm kicks into full gear as he takes Evangeline’s hand, his gaze filled with faux affection. “And I love you, my dear,” he replies smoothly. “Don’t let Y/n’s jealousy and lies cloud your judgment. We have a future together, away from all this drama.”

As the tension reaches its peak, Y/n’s resolve remains unyielding as she delivers a stark ultimatum to Evangeline. “If you choose to marry him, Evangeline, I will never speak to you again,” Y/n’s voice is firm, her words carrying the weight of finality. “You will be disowned from the family and removed from the business entirely.”

Evangeline’s eyes widen in shock and hurt, her voice barely above a whisper as she asks, “Why are you doing this to me, Y/n?”

Y/n’s expression softens for a moment, but her determination doesn’t waver. “I’m thinking of the family business, Evangeline,” Y/n’s tone is unwavering, her words laced with a mix of sadness and pragmatism. “I’m thinking of what will benefit us, not silly emotions like love that can be manipulated and used against us.”

The gravity of Y/n’s decision hangs heavily in the air, the rift between the sisters widening as Evangeline grapples with the harsh reality of Y/n’s ultimatum.

Evangeline's voice trembles with a mix of defiance and sorrow as she tells Y/n, "I'm going to marry Alexander anyway, Y/n." Her eyes reflect a sense of resignation, knowing the rift her decision will create between her and her sister.

Y/n receives the wedding invitation in the mail, her heart heavy as she reads Evangeline's words inviting them to the wedding. Despite the hurt in Evangeline's voice, Y/n remains steadfast in her decision not to attend, unwilling to condone a union she strongly opposes. This choice further deepens the rift between the sisters, leaving Evangeline feeling the pain of their absence on her special day.

“You don’t need her anyway.” Alexander says to Evangeline when she tells him how hurt she was her sibling did not show up.

In 1901, tragedy strikes as Evangeline dies during childbirth. The funeral is held, and Y/n, Arthur, and Evangeline’s only child, a son, attend. However, Alexander chooses not to attend and sends his son with the nanny instead. Y/n isn’t surprised, but she did debate going to their estate to tell Alexander how much of a horrible husband he was.

In 1915, Y/n tragically dies from poisoning due to alcohol. The family faces yet another loss, marking the end of an era filled with turmoil and strained relationships. Arthur is the last sibling left, the head of the business, and serves out his life fulfilling Y/n’s visions, making her the face of the family name forever.

“You always did only worry about yourself.” Evangeline thought to herself as she began her dessert.